Let Go (18 page)

Greylan nods
looking to the floor. He knows Jackson’s words are right but it’s
hard when you have demons like his.

Jackson adds,
“You might want to think about going to talk to someone.”

Greylan looks
up with a frown, “You mean like a shrink?”

Jackson
chuckles, “I guess like a shrink, some way for you to get the guilt
out. Grey, trust me I know, it will eat away at you.”

Greylan nods
in acknowledgment. Jackson has probably had some things in his past
that could definitely compete with his own. He was in the army for
fifteen years before opening the gym. He fought in the Kuwait war.
Greylan can only imagine what he endured.

Without saying
anything else Greylan moves to his locker and slips a shirt over
his head. His turns to Jackson but the room is empty. He fits jeans
over his sore muscles and splashes cold water over his face at the
lone sink. He pulls his bag out of the locker and loads it up.
Finally as he leaves the gym he spies Jackson waiting at his truck.
Beside the truck is a familiar car from his past, Meyer’s Mustang.
He shakes his head;
of course he still has that damn car
. As
he approaches them Meyer turns his attention to Greylan. He steps
forward extending his hand, “Hey, congratulations. I didn’t have
any doubts but that second round buddy…”

Greylan shakes
his hand but doesn’t respond to his comment. He turns to Jackson
and asks, “You ready?”

At this point
he’s pissed. Angry with Meyer for coming back and more pissed that
he brought Red with him. At the thought of her he scans the lot
which is mostly empty. His eyes land on Meyer’s car but she isn’t
there either. He turns back to Meyer about to tell him exactly how
he feels but Jackson speaks up.

“Grey, I was
just talking to Meyer here. He wants to take us out for a drink.
Are you up for that?”

Greylan’s
blood starts to boil. He frowns, turning to Jackson silently
questioning if he’s lost his mind. But Jackson explains, “Grey, I
think you might want to hear what Meyer here has to say.”

Greylan stares
at Meyer for a moment and shakes his head, “I don’t have to listen
to shit. I won’t repeat my past mistakes. Have a good night
Meyer.”

He opens the
door to the truck and slides in. His gaze remains forward even as
Jackson climbs into the truck. Jackson doesn’t utter another word
on the drive back to his apartment and he is more thankful for the
other man than he’s ever been.

“Thud!” He
winces as his body shudders with the force of his hand against the
other man’s head. Another bang and he frowns. The sound continues
bringing him out of the same scene he repeats nearly every night,
the sight of Theodore James hitting that wall from the force of his
arm. More banging. His eyes flutter open and he turns to glance at
the time, ten o’clock. He shifts and realizes the banging is coming
from the front door. Someone is insistent on getting his attention.
He considers lying here longer and not answering it. Sooner or
later they’ll give up but it could be Christina. She may need him.
He slides out from under the blanket and pulls on a pair of jeans.
He runs his hand through his hair as he pulls the door open.

A frazzled Red
is standing there looking up at him with the saddest eyes. Her hair
is a mess haphazardly piled on top of her head. Her face is clean
and fresh with no makeup and his heart starts to hammer in his
chest. If she wasn’t so upset he’s sure she would be able to hear
it. They stand for what seems like a full minute staring at each
other before she tells him, “It’s Meyer. He, he was upset last
night when he came back to the hotel. Now he’s gone. I don’t know
where he went.”

Greylan frowns
remembering how he blew Meyer off last night. He offers, “Do you
want to come in?”

As she walks
through the opened door he wrestles with himself.
Why the hell
should I help her? She’s here with Meyer and he’s nothing but bad
news.
She turns back to him once the door is securely closed
and his breath catches at the sight of her. The strength she
displays without even knowing it. He knows in that instant that he
would help her fly to the moon if that is what she wanted. The
feelings he had so long ago to protect her surface full force and
he wants to take away anything that causes her grief.

She asks
seemingly motivated, “Where should we start to look for him? I went
by Mills Pond first before coming here but he wasn’t there. Is
there anywhere else he could be?”

Greylan seems
to come to his senses staring at her. This is Meyer she is trying
to find. She came here
with
his childhood friend who had so
much to do with him losing five years of his life. He shakes his
head and steers around her still, waiting figure aiming for the
kitchen. He suddenly needs the warmth of coffee or anything to keep
his eyes and thoughts away from her. His hands itch to grab her
arms and pull her body flush with his so he can taste those perfect
lips. He can only imagine how sweet they must be. Instead he
focuses on getting coffee to qualm him, trying to distance himself
as far as he can. Something must be wrong with him if he’s letting
this woman affect him this much.

His chest
heaves at his thoughts and he slams the door to the cabinet after
taking the bag of coffee from the shelf. Concentrating on the
routine of filling the water section and pushing buttons, he
doesn’t hear her speaking to him.

Her forceful
tone takes him away from his task as she states loudly, “Greylan,
did you hear me? I was talking to you.” Her voice turns angry, “Why
do you seem so intent on being such an ass? Your friend is missing.
I don’t know what you said to him last night but he came back to
the hotel pissed, and now I’m sure based on your reaction that it
was because of something you said to him.”

Greylan spins
around on his heel blood surging through his veins. He halts a
moment at her determined face but he gathers his thoughts and
hisses, “Don’t blame this shit on me lady, it’s not me he’s
fighting with. It’s that bitch called guilt and he deserves it.” He
picks up momentum, “You know what, I really don’t give a shit where
Meyer is. Let him leave. That’s what he does best anyway. He walks
away when you need him the most without a backward glance.”

Greylan turns
to the counter and braces his hands in a tight grip. His breathing
is coming out broken. A moment later he hears the front door slam.
Fuck Grey, What’d you do?

His feet rush
to the door. As he opens it he watches a red corvette speed down
the drive out of the complex.
Shit, Shit.

Back in his
room he shoves a T-shirt on over his head and grabs his phone and
keys almost running to his truck. The whole way out of the
neighborhood he curses himself for doing this.
Why the fuck
should he care what happens to Meyer? Who the hell is she, waltzing
into his home demanding he help her find the shithead?

He maneuvers
the truck through the streets with familiarity. The reality of
where he’s headed hits him as he makes the last turn facing his
past and his present. The truck gains distance on the two lane road
and unintentionally Greylan’s foot raises from the gas pedal. He
has second thoughts telling himself that Brutis’ would be the last
place Meyer would go. But as he inches closer at a snail’s pace, he
knows that is exactly where Meyer would go. He curses the other man
again for making him do this.

As he parks,
his hands rest on the steering wheel and his eyes look out of the
window at the bar front. The neon has changed from five years ago.
It’s pink and blue now in fancy lettering. It figures Brutis would
open up at the crack of dawn, nothing like a whiskey to wake a
drunk up. His breathing becomes shallow and he doubts he can even
leave the truck. The images he is so familiar with start playing
through his head. Like the ally, dark and full of foul smelling
garbage and the brick wall lining one side and a scream in the
silence. His vision jumps to his arm moving forward. He wants more
than anything to stop it. He tries to focus on his other arm
grabbing the weapon that is a part of him but as it did five years
ago and hundreds of times since, his fist makes contact and the
sound that follows makes him want to vomit. He slips out of the
truck landing on his hands and knees. His stomach dry heaves
continuously as his breathing slows and the numb follows flowing
through his body. He stays in that position for a few minutes
trying to get a grip. The nightmare has never hit him this hard
during the day.

He looks up at
the bar directly in front of him. His heart starts to speed up
again. Slowly he gathers strength telling himself that he needs to
do this for Mollie, not Meyer, for Mollie. Carefully he stands
bracing his hand on the side of the truck. He looks back down the
street wishing he could retreat back to his apartment and forget
about her. His eyes swing back to the bar and he focuses on putting
one foot in front of the other. The space between him and the door
shortens with each step and his doubts that he can do this rise in
his stomach again.
I’m such a pussy. I’m such a pussy.
He
repeats this mantra over and over trying to motivate himself into
the bar.

As he reaches
for the handle the door swings out to reveal Meyer with a shitty
grin across his face. That’s all Greylan needed. He lurches
forward, his fist swinging into Meyer’s stomach. Meyer doubles over
bracing himself on his knees from the hit. He states, “I definitely
deserved that.” He looks back up and asks, “Are you finished?”

Greylan is so
mad he can barely see straight. He’s pissed that Meyer made him
come back here. Broken, that the one woman that has ever affected
him, is here with this douche bag. He shakes his head and grabs
Meyer’s arm pulling him out of the doorway. Meyer doesn’t protest.
When Greylan turns back to his oldest friend he wants to spit in
his face but he clenches his fists instead, itching to hit him
again. Meyer juts his chin out and exclaims pointing to the side,
“Here Grey, right here, it’ll make you feel better.”

Greylan takes
a step backwards, a moment of uncertainty passing through his mind.
He shakes his head while Meyer taunts with slurred speech, “Right
here, just hit me, right here. I deserve it.”

Greylan looks
up glaring. His hand clenches again and he pushes it into Meyers
face. This time Meyer falls to his knees coughing through the blood
running out of his nose. He laughs, “You’ve got some right hook.
Feel better now?”

Greylan turns
to go back to his truck but Meyer calls out from his perch on the
ground, “Wait Grey, don’t go. I know I was wrong. Please, let me
try and make it up to you.”

Greylan halts
in his progress to the truck cursing, “Fuck Meyer.”

“I know, I’m a
fuck up, just give me one more chance Grey. I think I might be able
to make things better. I
know
I can make things better.”

Greylan spins
back and stares at his hovering figure. He forces his legs forward
and helps Meyer up onto his feet. Meyer chuckles, his breath still
coming out broken with blood seeping into his mouth, “I knew you’d
give me a chance. You’re too good Grey.”

Greylan shakes
his head turning both of them towards the bar. He takes a deep
breath for whatever emotions will hit him once he enters that door
and pushes on. His grip on Meyer’s arm tightens but Meyer doesn’t
seem to notice. As they enter dull lighting greets him. He looks
around noting nothing on the inside has changed. Brutis calls out
from behind the bar, “Well if it ain’t Greylan Pace. Bout time you
showed your face up around here.”

Instead of
dread, as he expected, warmth spreads through him at the
familiarity and the feeling of family. He forgot how much Brutis
was a part of his past. The big man skirts around the bar and grabs
him in a bear hug. He has always been bigger than Greylan but he
notices Brutis’ gut has grown over the years. When they part,
Greylan tells him, “Glad to see you still standing.”

Brutis brushes
his comment off, “Shit, boy, did you learn nothing growing up round
here? I’m gonna be buried in this here spot just to make sure this
place stands for another hundred years. They ain’t gonna be able to
get rid of me even after I’m dead and in the ground.”

Greylan laughs
as he angles for a stool beside Meyer. He eyes the swelling nose
and the rag full of blood he is holding up to it and smiles.
Serves him right.
Meyer looks at the smirk on Greylan’s face
and asks, “So did you go for my nose because you felt lonely having
the only swollen beak around? Why couldn’t you just go for my jaw
like I told you to?”

Greylan shakes
his head and grabs the whiskey that Brutis has placed in front of
him. He holds it up considering a toast, “To…” Meyer holds his own
glass up in anticipation, wide eyed. Greylan shakes his head once
again finishing, “Damn, I can’t think of anything. Maybe to shitty
friends.” He tips back the glass and downs the contents slamming it
back against the smooth wood for a refill.