Southern Storms (Compass 1)

I went back to my whiskey and tried my best to shake off my annoyance when Lars hollered. “Well, if it isn’t Jax Kilter out at the bar. What a treat for everyone in this place!” he shouted, clapping his hands together.

My chest tightened, but still, I ignored.

“Leave him alone, Lars,” Amanda said. “He’s been through enough today.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot that was okay. I bet that’s why he’s here, though. I’m sure he’s having a celebration drink for his deadbeat father. Is that what you’re doing, Jax?” Lars asked, marching toward me and placing his hands against my shoulders.

My hands gripped the glass and I stayed quiet.

“Lars, come on. Let’s grab a table and eat,” Amanda begged, as if she was surprised by the fact that Lars was being a dick. It was in his DNA. “Leave him alone.”

Did she really believe that was something Lars was going to do? He hadn’t left me alone ever in our lives. Why would he take it easy on me that evening? Besides, Lars’ favorite pastime was kicking people when they were already down.

Nothing like beating the fallen with a stick.

“How about you get a table, and I catch up with an old friend.” He ordered.

“I’m not your friend,” I muttered.

He tilted his head toward me and moved in closer. “What did you say?”

Amanda took a few steps toward us. “Lars—”

“Go,” he said, giving her his cocky smile.

I looked over to Amanda. Her eyes were filled with concern. I wasn’t sure if the concern was for me or herself.

“Don’t let him talk to you like that,” I softly spoke. “Don’t let anyone talk to you like that.”

“Jax,” she started, and Lars once again cut her off.

“I said get a table,” he snapped.

How did she end up next to him? She was better than that. She deserved better. Based on the way she dropped her head and went to find a table for the two of them, she didn’t know that she was better off without him.

She knew I wasn’t a fan of Lars. I couldn’t help but wonder if she went for him to try to get my attention.

“Does it bother you?” Lars asked me, still not backing up. “Me fucking your ex-girl?”

“Dude. Are you serious right now? We’re almost thirty. How about you get over this shit already?” I muttered. “It’s a bit old.”

“It must be killing you. Truthfully, I’m surprised Amanda stayed with you as long as she did. And you know what? After I’m done screwing her, I’m going to go ahead and screw your new chick, too.”

That took it too far. “If you step anywhere near Kennedy,” I hissed, turning his way.

“Ohh, there he is.” He smirked. “The beast is waking up.”

“What do you want from me, Lars?”

“I want you to leave this town. We’re better off without your toxic ways. And you think you’re slick? Starting up a landscaping business? Taking my client?”

“I’m not starting a landscaping business,” I mumbled.

“Then what the hell is this?” he barked, tossing a business card my way.

I picked it up and tried to focus my stare the best I could. Of course, Connor made business cards and was handing them out around town. I should’ve known he’d end up doing something stupid like that.

“It’s not real,” I told him.

“It’s real to me when people talk about getting quotes from another business. I can’t have you out here taking money out of my pocket.”

“Nobody’s taking your money,” I groaned. I was too drunk for this. Why was Lars even talking to me? Didn’t he have a date to get back to?

“Of course, you’re not, because you’re a deadbeat, just like your dead ass father. Nobody in this town wants to work with you, outside of having you fix their shitty toilets. A shit man handling shit, that’s all you are. I wish you would’ve shot yourself when you killed your fucked-up mother,” he whispered, his voice low and coated in venom.

And just like that, the numb parts of my soul lit up inside of me as he spoke about my mother. “What do you want, Lars?” I snapped, standing up from the stool. “You want me to flip out? You want me to lose it? You want me to fight you? You want to make me out to be an asshole? Fine. Here, I am, Jax-fucking-Kilter! The asshole who killed his mother. The asshole who got beat by his father. The asshole who has nothing. You want the monster in me to come out? Here you go! Have at it! Give me your best shot,” I hissed, holding my arms out wide open. What did I have to lose?

“You really want to do this, Kilter?” Lars asked, seemingly surprised.

No. I didn’t want to fight Lars. I didn’t want to do anything. I was drunk, everything was spinning, and the numbness that I held was fading away.