Let Go (23 page)

Christina nods
vigorously at his words. That chick did a number on him. S
he
better stay the hell away or I’ll have to beat her ass.
A smile
spreads at the thought.

Every time the
door opens Greylan glances over hoping Mollie changed her mind. But
the night drolls on and she doesn’t make an appearance. As the bar
closes Christina pulls out two glasses and a bottle but Greylan
puts his hand up halting her. The last thing he feels like doing is
drinking. She swallows two pours before asking, “Are you going to
share or are you going to torture me forever?”

This brings a
smile to his lips. Leave it to Christina to try and cheer him up.
He shakes his head as he finishes up behind the bar, “I went after
her, stuff happened, and she’s going back home now.”

Her mouth
gapes open before she asks, “That’s it? What stuff happened? Did
you sleep with her? Why is she leaving? Did it suck that bad? I
guess it didn’t suck if you’re so heartbroken over her.”

He frowns at
her ramble.

“What am I
going to do with you?”

“Come on Grey
at least tell me if you had a good time.”

“Yeah, it was
a good time. It was
nice
.”

Her eyebrows
quip at the last comment. She winces at his word choice but doesn’t
ask. Instead her next question has him wondering as well.

“Where is her
home?”

He looks up
from wiping down the counters behind the bar and responds, “I’m not
sure.”

She pours and
downs another glass. He squints at her and asks, “How are you
getting home?”

As if on cue
the door opens and Jonathan walks in. He stares at her back with a
wide grin across his face. His accent stresses the words as he
asks, “Are you getting drunk again Christina?”

She turns, her
eyes roving over him.

“Hey baby, you
wanna drink?”

Greylan takes
this as his opportunity to leave. When they start calling each
other baby and shit, he’s out. He asks Jonathan, “You got this?”
referring to his very buzzed friend and the bar. Jonathan nods
wrapping his arms around her and nuzzling her neck.

“Yeah man I’ll
make sure everything is closed up tight and this girl gets home
safe.”

Greylan nods
heading out the door.

When the
chilly air hits his face he contemplates walking the short distance
to the Breaker,
just to see,
he reasons. Further telling
himself that he doesn’t even know where she lives. He’ll probably
never see her again. Of course if he’s going to work with Meyer, he
can find out but his hands long to touch her. His fingers clench at
the thought of never having the chance to see or kiss her
again.

His feet seem
to move of their own accord in the direction he last saw her flee.
As he nears the tall building, doubt forms in his middle.
When
did he turn into such a fucking pussy, chasing after a
chick?

But still he
continues on. He notices how immense the lobby is as he approaches
the counter held up by intricately carved columns doused in white.
A wall of etched golden metal lines the space behind the counter.
The hotel is fancier than any he’s ever seen. The woman behind the
desk dressed in a crisp blue uniform looks shyly at him while
batting her eyelashes. She stutters nervously, “Can, can I help
you?”

He sighs and
asks, “Yes, I was wondering if you can tell me if a guest is still
here.”

She smiles
sweetly but shakes her head, “I’m sorry I can’t give that
information out.”

He eyes her
nametag, “Um, Danielle, I know you have rules and I would never ask
if it wasn’t very important.”

He leans over
the counter closing the distance between them further, “Please
Danielle, I just need to know if Mollie Andrews or Meyer Hansen are
still registered.”

She looks
apprehensively back and forth to either side of the counter but no
one is listening. Uneasily she glances down to the computer screen
before her fingers hit a few of the keys. When she looks up he
already knows the answer by the expression on her face and his
heart falls.

“I’m sorry
they checked out a few hours ago.”

“Thank you
Danielle. I appreciate it.” He starts to turn but she calls out to
him, “Um, wait. You’re that fighter aren’t you?”

He frowns
coming back over to the counter, “What do you mean? How do you know
who I am?”

“It’s all over
the news. They said you were in prison for killing a man and now
you’re going to fight in Vegas. It’s like your second chance or
something.”

He runs his
hand through his hair. How did he not know his face has been all
over the news? Then it hits him, he’s been so concerned with Mollie
that there was never a chance for him to notice. The TV’s at the
bar though, then he silently answers his own question, are all
turned on to football, all the time. Christina probably did that on
purpose.

She puts her
hand up on the counter and slides something toward him. He grabs it
and meets her enamored stare frowning.

“It’s a note
that was left, that is your name isn’t it?” He looks down at the
scripted writing. A knot forms in his stomach. He nods and turns to
walk out of the hotel. He crumples it in his palm debating whether
to read it or not.

Hesitating a
moment in the middle of the lobby he makes a decision and moves
toward the bar situated in a wide room on the other side of the
expansive entrance. Maybe a drink will do him some good after all.
As he sits down and orders a drink, he puts the note out and
carefully presses it into the bar smoothing out the wrinkles. The
first thing that strikes him is her slanted handwriting that fits
her perfectly. Not girly but not masculine, strong script which
matches her independent personality. He reads it twice, just to
make sure he gets exactly what is written before him.

He frowns as
the words start to blur together the more he reads her short
message. He rests his head in his palms more confused than ever. A
few beats of his heart have the blood rushing in his ears. His
hands itch to punch something. A day without going to the gym is
not good. He has too much pent up energy he needs to get rid of.
After paying his bill he carefully folds up the note and slides it
back into his pocket. As he steps out onto the side walk he palms
his phone and dials Meyer. It rings with no answer. Finally a
robotic voicemail message sounds; he leaves a message for Meyer to
call when he has a chance.

He aims back
toward Juno’s, realizing he might have had more to drink than he
thought. As he nears Juno’s he notices the lights still shining
onto the walk out front.
Dammit Christina, she’s still fucking
drinking.
As he rounds the building and looks through the
window, he spots Juno sitting at the bar by herself.

He knocks on
the glass. She crosses the room to open the door for him. Her brows
raise as he enters.

“Grey, what
are you doing back here?”

Greylan
doesn’t answer right away. He walks behind the bar grabs a bottle
forgoing a glass and slides into the chair beside her. She lights
up a cigarette and takes a long drag as she slides back into the
chair.

“I’ve been… I
don’t know Juno. I’ve been a mess.”

She smirks,
“You can say that again.”

He takes a
long draw from the bottle before admitting, “This fight in a couple
of weeks, I’ve wanted it my whole life. Twenty-eight years I’ve
wanted this.”

She nods
encouraging him.

“Why, in just
one night, can I want something else so much more?”

She laughs a
rough belly laugh.

“This is about
a woman, isn’t it?”

He doesn’t
answer but bows his head.

“The pretty
red head that was here the other night?”

He nods taking
a sip, determined to drown her face from his memory. He knows it
won’t work but he can try.

“Grey, I don’t
have any words for you. I’ve had my share of friends but this here
is my love.” She pats the bar affectionately.

“I will tell
you that, I’ve heard it happens like that. One minute you’re
minding your own business and love comes along sweeping you up in
its grasp and you don’t know which direction is up or down.”

He shakes his
head, “I don’t love her. I just fucking met the woman.”

She frowns at
his choice of language.

“Sorry.”

“Greylan, why
are you here drinking with an old lady? Where is the girl, I’m sure
she’s much better company.”

“She
left.”

“So you drown
your sorrows with this shit.” She grabs the bottle and moves to put
it back behind the bar. He looks at her wondering where the double
standard came about.

“You go home
to bed and look at things in the morning. They might seem
different. Oh and you owe me a brand new bottle of Jack.”

She grabs the
phone behind the bar and calls for a cab as she holds her hand out
to him waiting. He rolls his eyes and places his keys into her palm
and rests his head on his folded arms.
Bed sounds good.

He pushes
the screen door, frowning as he steps out into the damp alley. A
rotten smell rises up from the dumpster on one end. He takes
another step halting his foot as a scream rings through the night.
He squints into the dark at two figures obscured in the shadows.
The scream calls out again, this time he hears Mollie’s voice yell
his name. He crosses the space in three long strides, pulls the man
away from her and forces his fist into his head as hard as he can.
The sound of his skull hitting the brick wall is music to his ears.
Blood splatters across his cheek and Mollie’s neck. But when he
looks down at her it’s not her face looking up at him. It’s the
blond girl from his memories.
He looks to his hand
splattered red and down to the ground where the lifeless body
lays.
His body starts thrashing in his bed. He wakes up to
nausea moving through his stomach. He runs to the bathroom leaning
over the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach.

As he makes
his way back into the bedroom he checks the time, five o’clock,
still too early to go to the gym. He sinks back into the mattress a
whiff of her from the other day filling his nostrils. Closing his
eyes he tries not to think about the dream but it returns. His
fucked up head has now put Mollie into his nightmare. Drifting back
to sleep, he pictures her face the day she found him at the pond.
He knew Meyer told her where he might be but she made the effort.
She searched him out. That means something, doesn’t it?

A few hours
later Greylan wakes to the sun shining straight into his face. He
rolls over relieved that he didn’t have the nightmare again. But
when he drags himself out of bed he realizes he does need to go and
see someone. It’s getting bad if he’s picturing Mollie now.