Unwilling Ch. 11

"Darwin told me about you. I'm Margo," the bartender said. "Are you going to be trouble for us?"

George blinked at the question. This was the first time in a long time that someone thought him capable of being anything but a sad example, a cripple in need of being taken care of. The way Margo phrased the question almost sounded like she thought of him as a worthy opponent, which he obviously wasn't. It was such underhanded flattery, he almost blushed.

"No trouble. We just have to find him and warn him, and you, as it seems. I didn't know there's a local pack, you know? If we had the time, we would make this intrusion up to you, but we don't. Please, we just need directions, then we'll be out of your hair."

A frown settled on Margo's tanned face, the deep grooves adding another ten years to George's estimate of her age. She was beautiful, for all intent and purpose, a true beauty that was almost ruined by the heap of make-up she wore. Pushing upright, she put her hands on her waist, cocked her head just a little and finally turned, calling out. "Darwin! Your father is here!"

Mary gasped behind George, something he would have liked to do himself but was too shocked to do. Darwin was here? In this run-down dump? Of his own free will? When pounding steps sounded from the stairs leading back and up, George snapped his eyes over there and held his breath.

A whirl of leisure clothes, black hair and the biggest smile George had ever seen on that face came around the corner of the bar area at a break-neck speed, impacting with George's wheelchair and pushing it back a few feet.

"Dad!" Darwin exclaimed, hugging the man fiercely and all but landing on his lap in the process.

"My boy," George sobbed, hugging him back with all the might his broken body offered. Mary sniffed in the background, giving them a moment to themselves.

Only Margo didn't join the reunion enthusiasm. The frown was still in place, her eyes flicked from one front window to the next and she crossed her arms under her impressively average bosom. "So, are your friends going to keep on hovering outside, or are they coming in to join us? Because they surely look pissed off," she observed suspiciously.

Darwin and George tensed synchronously.

"Friends?" Mary mumbled, turning around and having a look at the windows herself. Her hand slapped on George's back rest and suddenly, the stink of fear flooded the room.

"George, it's Carl! He's here!"