The Bar and Grill Pt. 03

She looked at me and smiled. "How's that going, by the way? When you babysit?"

"He's almost potty trained," I said. "Thanks be to Jesus."

The smile got a little brighter, then slowly faded.

"So maybe seven or eight months after Alistair died, he starts taking me out for a drink or two. Then it's dinner here and there. Pretty soon, he kisses me. And I kiss back. Then . . . you know . . . ."

"I know," I said. "You can skip this part."

"So we moved in together, and that's when it started. Real slow at first, but then the comments started. 'You were sure giving ole Johnny the eye at work today,' or, 'So, you gonna try fuckin' your way to the top the way you're hanging all over Stafford?' and stuff like that. Joking at first, kind of, but getting nastier and a lot more frequent as time went on."

Her eyes started welling up with tears, and she brushed them away with her hand. "Then he hit me. Hard. A backhand across the face. We'd been out, and he'd been drinking. He said I was a slut who was chasing after every guy there. I wasn't, but he wouldn't listen. He just got madder and madder and then, out of the blue, he knocks me across the room. Then he's over there, over me, and his face is a mask of hatred. But then, it must've been the look on my face or something, but then he just gets a look of horror, too. What he'd just done. And he's crying and begging me to forgive him and everything."

Her eyes turned to the television screen.

"I should've left the bastard then," Nicole said. "Right after that first time. But I didn't. I believed him, that he was sorry and it wouldn't happen again. And for a month or so, it didn't. But then it did. It did happen again. When I told him I was going to leave, he told me he wouldn't let me. He'd find me and he'd kill me. Or he'd take Alistair and I'd never see him again."

She turned and faced me. "After that, he knew he'd won and the slaps and punches and kicks were a lot more regular. Coffee not ready when he got up? Punch Nicole in the stomach. Smile at any man, no matter why or even if I'm just laughing at a joke? Take a belt to the slut Nicole and teach her a lesson. And on and on."

"Why didn't you tell someone?" I asked.

"Who?" she said. "My parents? What're they gonna do? Tim, you don't know what it's like. What it's like to be all alone with your baby, then you aren't anymore. And when you move in, and everything's going good for awhile and then it's not, it's like you almost just accept it. I mean, I just leave, where the hell was I gonna go? And then, to make it worse, I saw his face. He meant it. I didn't really care what he did to me, but he threatened to take my baby. And he was serious."

"So what happened?" I asked.

"The last time he went overboard," she said. "I don't even remember what set him off. Just a bad day at work or whatever. And he really went after me, put me in the hospital. And Alistair was there. He'd always done it when Alistair was with my folks or babysitters or at least asleep in the other room. But this time, he was there. And that's when I knew I couldn't take this anymore. That sooner or later, whether I stayed or not, he was going to do something to Alistair. So I pressed charges."

"What happened?"

"He was thrown in jail. His lawyer got him a real good plea bargain, but he still had to do some time. Six months. And I was given an Order of Protection. He's not allowed to come near me or call me or anything for two years."

"That's still in place, right?"

She nodded. "Another thirteen, fourteen months or so."

"And the black Toyota?"

"Yeah," she said. "That's what he drove."

I nodded.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I should've told you this before we moved in. I just didn't really think . . . I didn't . . . I thought he'd stay away."

I shrugged. "Don't worry," I said. "I'll take care of it."

"How?"

"I just will," I assured her. "You don't worry about it, okay?"

So the next day I called Jammer. And he called somebody--a pal in the State's Attorney's office--and he called somebody with the coppers, and they started staking out my place when they had the time.

Every time I saw the black Toyota, I took down the license number, date, time, and where it was and called the cop's name I'd been given. The cop told me to keep doing that so they could show a pattern, and he'd drive over and nonchalantly drive past the house. That usually led to the Toyota--and boyfriend-of-the-year--taking off.

But Nicole was a lot nicer and more open from then on, too. It was like a weight was being lifted now that someone was doing something about Randy.

Soon, our evenings were spent chatting about our days or movies or books or how soon until Alistair would be out of diapers for good.

We became less like roommates and more like a family.

Without the sex, of course.

Then again, Uncle Jack always said that getting married wasn't exactly the perfect cure for a nonexistent sex life.

And with the exception of three exciting weekends with Jenny months before, my sex life was nonexistent.

TWENTY-SEVEN

I was just getting ready to leave the Bar and Grill on a Friday evening three weeks after the black Toyota conversation when I heard arguing at the bar.

I made my way through the dining room, where every head was turned to the bar, and saw Nicole trying to break free of a guy about my size and age.

"I said we need to talk, Nicole," he was hissing as she tried to free her arms from his grip. A few of the regulars--big, middle aged factory workers with beer bellies and massive forearms--were hovering nearby, making sure things didn't get out of hand and ready for direction from Moe or me.

"We got a problem here?" I said as I approached.

"Not your business," he said, not bothering to turn my way.

"'Fraid it is my business," I said, "since it's my bar you're making a scene in it, mister."

He held the struggling Nicole tightly, but his face turned to me and sneered.

"This your shithole?" he said.

"You Randy?" I said.

He was surprised for a brief second, then he smiled. "So you know. You know this ain't none of your business."

"But it is my business," I said. "First, because she works for me. Second, because she's a friend of mine. And third, because you're doing this in my place. Any of those three things say I can pretty much deal with this however I want to."

"Yeah?" he said. "And what the fuck're you gonna do about it?"

I turned to Moe and said, "Call the cops. Tell them there's a guy here, driving a black Toyota, license one jay three two two, and he's violating an order of protection, trespassing, and committing . . . Jammer?" I said to my buddy in the corner.

"That would be battery and unlawful restraint, Tim."

"What he said," I said to Moe, who was already dialing before I'd finished speaking.

Shooting a look at my bartender calling the cops, Randy let go of Nicole and turned to me.

"You shouldn't be gettin' in the middle of this," he said, turning his shoulder back in preparation for a punch.

Before I could react, Lonnie Mackie, Bill Shelton, and another big guy they'd been bringing in with them lately had Randy held tightly.

"I think we need to go outside and wait for the police," Lonnie rumbled into Randy's ear. "Don't you?"

He tried to twist away, but they held on tight and dragged him through the door and to the parking lot.

"You okay?" I said, turning to Nicole.

She wasn't. She was shaking like a leaf, her face a mask of terror.

"C'mon, babe," Jammer said, placing his hand on her elbow and guiding her toward the kitchen, "let's get you something to drink and settle you down."

He looked at me and jerked his head to the parking lot, then guided her toward the kitchen. I saw Clara unfreeze in the dining room and start telling everyone the excitement was over, and most of the heads turned back to their meals and their dinner companions.

I went outside to wait with douchebag, Lonnie, Bill, and the other Samaritan.

"You kick me one more time you little fuck," I heard Lonnie say from fifteen feet away, "and I swear to God I'm gonna knock your fucking teeth down your scraggly ass little throat."

That didn't seem to stop Randy from fighting against his temporary jailers, though the sight of me did.

"So you're the one she's fucking now," he said.

"Who the fuck you think you are coming to my restaurant and pulling this shit?" I said.

"You're gonna regret this," he said. His face looked crazy. Hatred, anger, fear, laughter, it was all there at once. "I'm gonna get you fuckers."

The big guy I didn't know hit him in the guts, hard, and poor Randy looked ready to puke.

"You ain't gonna do shit, dickhead," he said. "We ain't little girls like she was. You wanna pick on someone, you pick on men. Not women and babies and old ladies and small puppies, you pathetic little fuck. Y'hear me?"

"Fuck you," he said, spit flying from his mouth.

A cop car pulled in and Sgt. Moss stepped out.

"Evening, Tim," he said. "Lonnie, Bill, Ted."

We all nodded in response.

"This him?" Moss said.

"They hit me," Randy shouted. "Right in the stomach. Probably got a bruise."

"Shut up," he said, then turned to me.

"What happened, Tim."

"You know Nicole, right? The one that's been working here for awhile?"

He nodded. "Clara's niece. Sure, I know her."

"She has an Order of Protection against this asshole. Still active. And he came here tonight and grabbed her and wouldn't let her go. When I told him to stop and leave, he wouldn't do it."

"That where these fellas come in?"

"Yeah," I said. "He was taking a swing at me. They restrained him and brought him out here."

"We just stopped him from hitting Tim," the guy named Ted said, "and from getting away before you got here."

"This all true?" Moss said to Randy.

"I'm not saying nothing," he spat at Moss. "I get a lawyer. And I'm not saying nothing without his say so."

Moss nodded, then turned back to me. "The girl inside?"

I nodded.

"Why don't you go see if she's got a copy of that Order on her."

I did, and she did. A minute later, Moss was reading the Order.

"You just fucking stupid or what, son?" he said to Randy. "Seems pretty clear to me you're supposed to stay away from her, right?"

Randy just glared at him in response.

"Okay," Moss said, pulling his handcuffs out and walking around Randy to cuff him, "here's how this is gonna work. I'm gonna arrest you and charge you with violating this OP and battery and unlawful restraint and trespassing and anything else I can think up between now and the time I get all of this paperwork drawn up. You're gonna wait in the jail while I get this. But this is Friday night, so we probably won't have anyone free to get you down to the county jail in time for Saturday morning arraignment. Matter of fact, I can promise you we won't get you there on time, got it?"

"I wanna press charges," Randy shouted. "These fuckers punched me and hit me. I want them arrested."

"Shut the fuck up," Moss said, his voice bored. "Anyway, because we can't get you there on time for arraignment tomorrow morning, that means you're gonna be sitting in jail until Monday morning until your bail is set. So you're gonna spend the weekend in jail. Got it?"

"You can't do that," Randy protested, the weekend in bars now looming big.

"Watch me," Moss said, taking Randy by the arms and getting him in the back of the squad car.

"Thanks, fellas," he said. "Have the girl come down after work to swear out the complaint."

"Does she have to?" I said, not sure Nicole was up to it.

"I didn't see it, so someone who saw it all will have to do it," he explained.

"I saw it all, Mike," I said.

"So did we," the three big guys chimed in.

"Can any of us sign the complaint?"

He shrugged. "So long as you saw it all, sure. Don't make no difference. She'll probably have to testify, though. Sooner or later."

"Call me at home," I said. "I'll swing in and sign whatever you want."

"Okay," he said. "I'm working a double, so morning's good for me. About eight."

I nodded.

Back in the bar, I caught Moe's eye and pointed to Lonnie, Bill, and Ted.

"Free drinks all night," I said. "And a gift certificate so they can take their families out to dinner. Whatever they want to eat."

"Sure thing," Moe said.

I looked at Ted and remembered the punch he'd given Randy. It was a good punch.

"Get Ted two of them gift certificates, okay?"

Ted got a great big, ear-to-ear grin. He knew what it was for. So did Lonnie and Bill, but that didn't stop Lonnie from complaining.

"Jesus, Tim, I'll go punch the little prick right now, in front of Moss and the rest of the coppers, if it'll get me another gift certificate."

I laughed, then shook their hands while patting their backs and thanking them for covering my ass.

What I said somewhere toward the beginning of this tale about good friends in a small town? This is what I meant.

None of them went to school with me, were related to me, or had ever been to my house for dinner.

I'd only learned Ted's name after he helped me.

Sure we have our shitheads in small towns.

But we also have people who cover your back when the shit hits the fan.

If you got that kind of crowd in the big city, then maybe you're as lucky as we are here in Grant City.