3. Watcher
3
Watcher
“ Y ou come here often?” I rub the back of my head and get off the bench. Jessica rolls her eyes and walks away from the bars separating our two cells.
I get that I’m older, but that’s never stopped the young ones from wanting to jump in the sack. They know what an older man brings to the table. Though, to be fair, none of them know what they’re getting into with me after that initial fuck, assuming they come back for more.
I grasp two bars and rest my head against the cold metal. Jessica doesn’t look up. She plops down on a cot and stares at the ceiling. With a black eye and a bloody nose, she looks kind of cuter. Definitely my kind of woman.
“I probably saved your ass from brain damage at the rink.”
Jessica scoffs and rolls her eyes. “I didn’t ask for your help, just like I didn’t ask for this fucking conversation.”
“What’s up your ass?”
“Watcher, leave her alone,” Kentucky says. He’s on a cot staring at the ceiling as well.
“I’m just wondering why she’s being a little brat after we saved her life.”
“Jessica, you’re up.” A deputy unlocks her cell door, and she leaves without so much as a glance or a thank you, still wearing the tight-ass derby shorts that gave every one of the girls a delicious cameltoe. “Thought the Memphis chapter was coming to get us?”
“They are, but I’m sure they’re getting the run-around. We don’t have the money your little girlfriend’s daddy has.”
I liked the sound of her being my girlfriend, although I would rather her call me Daddy. She will, eventually. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“So that was her momma or stepmom at the gas station?”
Kentucky sits up and plants his feet on the ground. “Stepmom. I read her father’s biography a few years back. The man had his dick in almost as much pussy as you.”
“Doubt that.” I move to the cell door when another deputy enters. He unlocks the door and opens it. Doesn’t say a fucking word. “We need to get your nose looked at.”
Kentucky waves me off, but his nose starts bleeding again as soon as he stands. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You know one of those bitches hit you.”
Kentucky follows me from the cell. “She was pitching a hissy fit with a tail on it. I’ve never hit a woman and ain’t about to start now, but I’d sure bend her over my knee and give her a good whoopin.’”
Dent and a couple of Prospects are waiting in the parking lot when we leave the county jail. “Roller Derby? Really?”
“Seemed like a good idea at the time.” I look around for Jessica. “You see a sweet little piece come out while you were waiting?”
“What did she look like?” Dent climbs on his bike. A prospect gets out of a nearby van.
“She had on shorts that were so tight you could see her religion,” Kentucky says.
“Her old man picked her up in a limo.” Dent points at Kentucky and his fucked up face. “Prospects will take you to the ER and then to get your bikes. We’ll handle the guns tonight. I spoke with Beast and told him you two would spend the night in town. Told me to just keep ya. I said no fucking way.”
We climb into the van with the Prospect and head to the ER. Kentucky holds his head back, but the blood keeps on coming.
“Can’t fucking believe she wouldn’t give me the time of day,” I say.
“Who?” The Prospect looks at me, and I point him to keep his eyes on the road. “Jessica Stallone?”
“You know her?” I scoot up between the Prospect and Kentucky.
“My ex is one of the blockers on the Memphis Macabre. Kat’s her name.”
“Well, now.”
“Don’t, Watcher.” Kentucky turns, the skin around his eyes now a deep dark blue. He nods at me. “The porch light’s on, but no one’s home.”
“Ain’t nobody touching that piece,” the Prospect says. “Some people think she killed the last man who put a move on her. Son of a bitch has just up and disappeared. Bitch is bad news.”
“You still talk to your ex?”
The Prospect nods. “We got a kid together. Got to.”
I always look for a sign when trying to make a decision. Doesn’t matter what it is or if it’s from God or the universe or fucking Mother Nature.
The Prospect drops us at the ER door, and I help Kentucky inside, where the place is packed.
“Going to have to share a room,” the receptionist says to Kentucky. “Bus accident has us swamped.”
I get Kentucky checked in and hear a familiar voice behind the receptionist giving it to someone. The receptionist closes the door behind her and has a nurse take Kentucky’s vitals.
“Where you going?” the nurse asks when she leads Kentucky back into the ER.
“He’s my support dog,” Kentucky says and chuckles.
“We don’t want any trouble,” she says as if the sight of us is the worst thing that has happened to her all week.
“No trouble, ma’am.” I follow the nurse and Kentucky through Do Not Enter doors and down the hall. We take a right and enter a room where a monster of a woman lies on a bed. The nurse takes Kentucky to the other bed and pulls the curtain between the two beds.
“Doctor will be in as soon as he’s done with his other ten patients.” She glances my way, and this time, she smiles. They all eventually come around. She leaves, and I take a seat next to Kentucky.
“I’m fine,” he says.
I hold a finger up to my lips when someone else enters the room and stops to chat with the monster in the other bed. The voice is the same as I heard harassing someone moments earlier. The voice is the same one who gave me shit in the cell.
“My father made some calls,” Jessica says. “He’s going to have you moved out of General and taken across town to Mercy. Better doctors.”
“The little whore was trying to end my career.” That’s when I realize the monster on the other table is the player the fans called Diablo. “I don’t think anything is torn.”
“You have my word. We’ll fuck her up the next time we play the Cannibals.” I hear her move around the room, and it sounds like she sits.
“Those two bikers saved you from a stomping,” Diablo says.
“Yeah, I know. One of the assholes tried to hit on me.”
“You ever date a biker?” I hear Diablo shift on the bed and then moan in pain. “They’re some crazy motherfuckers. My dad was a biker. Giant son-of-a-bitch. My mom was a waitress at a bar and grill when they met.”
“They aren’t my type,” Jessica interrupts. She gets up from the chair and paces the room. She stops, and I can see the outline of her ass against the curtain separating the two beds.
Big Kentucky shakes his head when I get up. “Don’t,” he mouths silently.
But I do. I walk to the curtain and lower my hands as if I were squeezing her ass. I look at Kentucky and stick out my tongue as I start air-fucking Jessica’s ass, having a good old time until the curtain jerks back. Both Jessica and the doctor stare at me.
“Fucking shit!” Jessica steps away. The doctor moves around me to check on Kentucky.
“Can’t a man have a little fun?” I straighten up and put on my serious face. “Sorry about your knees,” I say to Diablo.
“Thank you.” She looks at Kentucky, and they smile at each other.
A nurse enters and gives Diablo a couple of pills. Within minutes, she's asleep like a newborn.
The doctor tells Big Kentucky that nothing is broken, but he'll be sore for a week, and the bruising will take at least two weeks to go away. The ride back to Pine Bluff will be painful. The doctor prescribes pain medication, and in a few minutes, the same nurse comes back and has Kentucky pop pills. Like Diablo, Kentucky is out in minutes.
Diablo’s doctor returns and speaks to Jessica as Diablo sleeps. “She’s being transferred,” he says. “We don’t believe there’s any structural damage. She’ll need to be off those knees for a good six weeks. Nothing strenuous.”
“Great! Down one more player.”
They stop talking when the intercom overhead buzzes. “Code Silver. Code Silver. ER, Code Silver.”
“Damnit,” the doctor says and goes to the door.
“What’s a code silver?” I join him at the door.
“Active shooter.” Before the words finish slipping from his mouth, the doctor walks out and snakes his way down the hall. I watch him slip into another room and close the door.
I see the shooter on the other side of the ER and close the door. There’s no lock on the door, so if the asshole decides to come in and play doctor, there’s no stopping him.
“This is just great,” Jessica says. “I have shit to do, and I’m stuck in a hospital room with two baboons.”
“Shouldn’t talk bad about people who are sleeping,” I say.
“I’m talking about you.”
I ease the door open again and see the shooter getting closer. Police enter the ER and begin talking to the man, though it doesn’t stop him from moving our way. I shut the door and lean against it.
“You’re stuck here with me. Might as well get used to it.”
Something bumps against the door and Jessica freezes in place. “It’s him.”
“I’m gonna look.”
“No, you aren’t.”
“Let Daddy take care of this,” I say amusingly.
“You aren’t my Daddy, thank God.”
“Not yet.” I ease the door open, and the shooter bullies his way into the room, knocking me back and pointing his gun at Jessica before closing the door.
“Don’t fucking do anything stupid!” the man says.
“You let him in,” Jessica says.
“I did not. He let himself in.”
“Do you know who I am?” she says to the man. “I’m Jessica Stallone.”
“Who the fuck cares?” the man points the gun in her face and snarls like a bear. Except the man is anything but a bear, his skinny frame suggesting he hasn’t eaten in a month.
“Hey,” I say gently, holding out my hands. “No need to do that.”
Jessica frowns. “What’re you doing?”
“Look, friend. Put down the piece, and let’s talk about whatever is bothering you.” I motion for the guy to relax and lower his weapon. “I get it, man. I really do. Let’s you and I talk.”
“Fuck me,” Jessica says. “You’re the voice of reason?”
“You know what? For now, shut the fuck up and quit being a brat.” The words come out more stern than they were meant to be, but they do their job. Jessica shuts up.
The guy’s trigger finger eases away, and I let out a breath. Jessica takes a step back, and at least momentarily, I think I have them both under control.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“I’m going to pull this chair over. Let you have a seat so we can all relax.” I ease the chair over, and the guy takes a few steps away from Jessica. He lowers the gun to his side. “Cool,” I say.
Though I’m looking at the man, I see Jessica easing her way closer to Daiblo’s bed. She eyes the metal bedpan. Using only my eyes, I encourage her not to do it. But she’s a brat, and there’s nothing I can do to stop her.
Before the man turns to sit in the chair, Jessica grabs the bedpan and clocks the guy in the back of the head, knocking him into the chair and out cold.
“You didn’t have to fucking do that,” I say.
“What? Because you had everything under control.”
Six police officers rush into the room and push us aside, dropping down on the man and cuffing him before he wakes. He’s led out in cuffs, and the next man who enters is wearing an expensive suit, shoes, and a watch. He looks like death, all dressed up.
“Jessica,” he says and hugs her. “We were watching on a monitor outside.” He points at the security camera in the room’s far corner. He turns to me with a grateful look on his face. “Thank you for protecting my daughter.”
“Father,” Jessica says nervously.
“I understand you and your biker friend protected her at the roller derby.”
I smile at the man but really smile past him at Jessica. She rolls her eyes. “When I see a damsel in distress, I help, Mr. Stallone. I feel like it’s my civic duty.”
“I appreciate that,” he says. “The Stallions just got back into town from a West Coast series. I would be honored if you and your friend would join me at the stadium tomorrow for an afternoon game.”
Jessica makes a vomiting gesture behind her father’s back.
“We would be happy to,” I say. When he turns to Jessica, I make a vomiting gesture to her. “Jessica, we hope to see you there as well,” I say astutely.
“She will be,” her father says.
The door opens and a nurse arrives with a wheelchair. I help get Diablo into the wheelchair because they would have let her fall flat on her face without my help.
“You bastard,” Kentucky says when everyone is gone. Wobbly, he sits up in bed and hops off. “I wanted to introduce myself to Diablo.”
“Maybe she’ll be at the game tomorrow.”
The nurse comes back in and blocks the door. “You haven’t been discharged, Mr. Kentucky.”
“Earl Vance,” he says. He looks back at the bed. “I’m leaving. Consider me discharged.”
“You have a co-pay!”
Outside, the Prospect and van wait across the street. “You look like shit, Kentucky,” the Prospect says.
“It’s Earl Vance,” I say.
“Shut the fuck up, Watcher.” Kentucky crawls his big ass into the passenger side, and I climb in behind him.
“Where are we headed?” The Prospects pulls away from the curb, and I watch Jessica’s limo go by. Maybe her stepmom is a better choice.
“Our bikes,” Kentucky says. “I’ll call Beast on the way.”
“Bikes were impounded by the locals,” the Prospect says.
“Fucking great.” Kentucky calls Beast, and I sit back and listen to Beast chewing us out. When Kentucky ends the call with half his ass left, he says, “You really like that young chick.”
“Fuck you.”
Kentucky laughs, and the Prospect looks at me in the mirror.
I search for Jessica Stallone on my phone’s Internet browser. Kentucky was right. I do like the young woman. I don't know why, but I do.