Chapter Eight
Mickey sat in a ward room of Foothills Hospital.
Across from him was an elderly man being waited on hand and foot by a woman Mickey assumed was his wife.
He imagined that they’d been together for most of their lives—married right after high school, if not before.
Two—no, three children, none of whom would take the time to come and visit.
It was all supposition of course. What wasn’t, was the fact that the man had badly broken his hip and might never walk again.
As soon as he drifted off to sleep, she lost her composure and cried quietly.
Mickey knew she wouldn’t let him see that. It would just worry him.
In the bed beside the man with the broken hip was a younger man.
Mickey guessed that he was twenty-one or two.
Mickey was good at guessing people’s ages.
You had to be when you ran a bar. The young man had been in a motorcycle accident.
His right leg was badly smashed. It was all bandaged up and suspended slightly above the bed by a steel cable.
His family was visiting—father, uncle and a few brothers or cousins.
They’d smuggled in some cans of beer and were getting a bit ‘happy’, but not enough to arouse the suspicions of the nursing staff, at least not yet.
The third bed, the one beside Angel, was unoccupied. Mickey hoped it would stay that way.
“I wish I knew who did this to you, Angel,” Mickey said, rubbing the back of Angel’s hand.
He just lay there, not moving—not responding to anything.
His face was badly cut and bruised. The doctor had said that he had several broken ribs and the ulna of his right forearm was fractured.
He thought that with all of Angel’s injuries, he must have been in a bad car accident.
The doctor was horrified when Mickey told him it was from a beating.
He just pursed his lips and said nothing.
Angel had not regained consciousness since he’d been brought in sixteen hours ago.
I swear to God I will kill the son of a bitch who did this to you.
There was movement at the hospital room door.
Mickey looked up and saw Dave and Rob, two of the regulars that worked at the bar.
Mickey had spread the word that one of their own had been attacked and Angel needed their help.
In reality, Mickey was the one who needed the help at this point in time. He waved them in.
“Hey, Mickey,” Dave said at a volume just above a whisper. “I hope it was okay to bring Rob with me, seeing as how you said Angel was beat up. I was thinking maybe, you know, we’d be safer not travelling alone for a while.”
Rob nodded. “We spread the word around.”
Dave and the younger Rob were inseparable at the best of times. It’s not that they were romantically or sexually involved. It was more of a brotherly friendship.
“Good idea,” Mickey said. “And thanks for coming in. Would you be able to keep your eye on Angel for me for two or three hours? I’ve got to get something to eat and grab a few things from home.”
“Sure. Anything for you and Angel,” Dave said.
Rob stared at Angel with a look of shock on his face. A tear ran down his cheek.
“Have you guys had any supper yet?” Mickey asked.
“Yeah,” Dave said. “We grabbed some at the Good Samaritan before we came over.”
“Good. Now—do either of you have a cell phone on you?”
“Yeah,” Rob said, holding his up.
“Call me if anything happens, like Angel wakes up, or the hospital staff have any news. If a stranger comes poking around and seems to be interested in Angel, one of you run down the hall to the nursing station. You know where that is?”
Both boys nodded.
“Tell them there’s a stranger in Angel’s room. They’ve been apprised of the situation and they’ll deal with it.”
Mickey gave them a hug and slipped each a twenty, then headed out.
* * * *
Declan decided to take Charlie out for a night at Bar-None in order to help him shake off his first-time-being-sued blues.
As they walked to the bar Charlie asked in a worried voice, “What are the chances that I’ll lose the lawsuit?”
Declan put his arm around Charlie’s shoulder.
“When the guy’s lawyer tells him how long it’ll take the case to be heard in court, the slim odds of him actually winning, and how much it will cost him when he doesn’t—I think it’s safe to say you’ve probably won the case already.
Charlie, trust me. You’ll be fine. And if for some reason he wins, that’s what our insurance is for. ”
Declan turned and gave Charlie a kiss. “Now, let’s go forget about all of our problems.”
They walked into the bar and Declan was surprised that he didn’t see Mickey. André was behind the bar, and André usually only helped out on Saturdays.
“Before you say anything,” the bartender said, “I do know what day it is. The usual for you two?”
“You got it,” Declan said as André poured him a vodka and soda and cracked open an Alley Kat Ale for Charlie.
“Mickey under the weather tonight?” Declan asked.
“I’ve got no idea. Just had a text asking me to fill in. That’ll be fifteen bucks. Do you want to run a tab?”
“A tab’d be great. Thanks,” Declan said. “We’re taking a holiday from a problem.”
The tables were all full, but they found space at the end of the bar.
“To the end of our problems,” Charlie said, raising his bottle. Declan clinked his glass against it.
They stood in silence for a few minutes, scoping out the crowd.
Declan turned to Charlie. “I wonder why Mickey’s not here?”
“It could just be that he was held up at the hair stylist—after all it’s about time he changed his hair colour. Or maybe bar stock was low and he went to the distributor to pick some up. Or maybe, God forbid, he’s developed a life outside of this place.”
Declan couldn’t ignore the tightness in his chest. He sensed that something was really wrong.
As if on cue, the front door opened and Mickey walked in.
He made his way over to André, leaned across the bar and softly said something to him.
André patted him on the arm, then pointed toward Declan and Charlie.
Mickey turned and made his way to them. He pulled up a bar stool and sat.
“I was going to call you, but I haven’t had time. Something went down here last night.”
Declan could tell that Mickey was trying to control his emotions.
“What happened?” Declan asked as he shifted his leg and placed his foot on Charlie’s. Charlie would understand that he was to remain silent.
“Angel was ambushed last night when he was cleaning up,” Mickey began. “We’d closed up for the evening and I’d left him alone. I drove Fred home. You know Fred—he can…overindulge at times. Anyway, I couldn’t have been gone for more than twenty minutes…”
Mickey paused for a second. “When I got back Angel was nowhere in sight, but his stuff was on the bar. And I knew he wouldn’t have left before I returned.”
Mickey went silent.
“Mickey—what happened?” Declan prompted.
“I found him out back, shoved behind a dumpster. Someone, or some group, beat the shit out of him and left him with the garbage. He’s in Foothills right now, and he’s still unconscious.” His voice cracked as he said, “He’s in pretty bad shape, Dec.”
Charlie finally spoke. “I assume the cops are involved.”
“They’re treating it as just another gay-bashing.”
Before either of them could comment, Mickey blurted out, “They think it was a one-off and doubt anything else will happen, but I just have this gut feeling that they’re wrong.
It feels like there’s still some danger out there.
Some of the other Kids are taking shifts looking out for him. Just in case…”
Mickey looked around the room. “Bar-None’s always been a safe space. A home for us. Now it feels like our home, and everyone here, has been violated.”
He looked deep into Declan’s eyes. “It was all my fault, Dec. I shouldn’t have left him alone.”
“Don’t blame yourself for helping Fred get home,” Declan said. “Any one of us would have done the same thing, and it was the right thing to do at the time.”
Declan paused. “Do you have CCTV coverage out back?”
Mickey shook his head. “Just out front. I installed it to protect the customers, and that’s where they come and go. I never thought I’d need it out back.”
“Well maybe I can check the CCTV and see if anyone suspicious came into the bar last night,” Charlie offered.
“Thank you,” Mickey replied. “We’ll set up a time to do that as soon as I can.”
“Hey, watch it,” Charlie yelled out.
Declan and Mickey jumped. A big guy wearing a fisherman’s cap and a Van Dyke-style beard had bumped into Charlie, spilling his drink all over him.
“Oh, sorry, man,” the guy said. He immediately started wiping Charlie’s shoulder. “I’m such a klutz.”
“It’s okay,” Charlie said. “It happens in here a lot.”
“It’s just vodka, so it shouldn’t stain,” the guy replied.
“Trust me,” Charlie assured him, “I’ve had a lot worse spilled on me.”
“Well, thanks for not making me feel like an idiot. Have a good night,” the guy said, then made his way to the front door of the bar and left.
Declan followed him with his eyes. “You know that guy, Mickey?”
“He was in here the other night.”
Declan said nothing.
Mickey continued. “Look, guys, I’m gonna head back to the hospital, but I’ll be in touch soon.”
Declan gave him a big hug, then a kiss on the cheek. “Let us know when Charlie can come in and look at the footage. And keep us in the loop as far as how Angel’s doing, okay?”
“Will do,” Mickey said.
Declan and Charlie finished their drinks. Declan paid up and they headed back to the apartment. The night seemed darker than usual. Declan held onto Charlie’s hand a little tighter than normal.
“Do you think Mickey’s right that something else is going to happen at the bar?” Charlie asked.
“I never rule out Mickey’s gut feelings.”
They walked on for half a block before Charlie said, “You know, if you want to visit Angel in the hospital, I understand.”
“In spite of the dreams, you mean?”
“I never blamed you for having those dreams. You didn’t have to tell me about them, but you did. I just wished I could have been there watching.”
“Pig,” Declan said, putting his arm around Charlie and holding him close. “No, I don’t need to visit Angel yet. But maybe, when he wakes up, we can help Mickey figure out who did this. In the meantime, I better get you home to bed. I want to show you what happened in another dream I had.”