Page 76 of When the Smoke Clears

Instead of walking down the middle aisle as we did, Alan skirts along the side of the room farthest from us. If looks could kill, he’d make sure I was six feet under. He’s always been less than tolerant of me, but this is a new level of hostility.

He doesn’t acknowledge Melissa.

Sutton’s arm around my shoulders tightens. Anger sizzles beneath his composed demeanor.

Alan seats himself in the center of the front row on the opposite side of the aisle. The closest club member is about three rows back from him.

An older man in a suit comes in, eliciting everyone’s attention. The tension doesn’t dissipate as he approaches the podium. He goes through a short service that concludes in a matter of minutes. No one else speaks, and there’s hardly a mention of what Colt did with his life. There’s just a small photo on the table where his simple gray urn sits.

There’s no invitation to a lunch, which isn’t surprising, considering this isn’t a group that’s going to spend any time together.

Colt’s mother stays in her seat as Sutton and I rise. Pete nods from two rows back as he exits before us, but James makes his way around to Melissa. He begins to speak, but a different voice breaks the quiet first.

“I can’t believe you had the gall to show your face here.” Alan stands on the other side of the aisle, his eyes shooting death rays at me. His behavior is different than I’ve experienced. I’m used to his furious faces, as if his top could actually blow. Today, he seems smug, like he knows something I don’t, despite his anger.

James turns and eliminates the space between Alan and him in three long strides. “You don’t know me, but that’s my daughter, and if you so much as breathe wrong in her direction, you’re going to join your son as a pile of ashes.” His accent is the thickest I’ve heard, leading me to believe he tempers it.

Alan’s head snaps back and his weight shifts, though to his credit his feet remain planted.

James’ voice quiets, but I don’t think for one second it’s to hide it from anyone. The fury rolling off of him is palpable, and for once, he’s actually a little scary. “You’re lucky I don’t take care of you now. I know you put your hands on my daughter.”

I’m rooted in place, silently wondering if Alan’s teeth may actually break into pieces like in the cartoons considering how tightly he’s gritting them.

Somehow, he has the balls to say, “Maybe someone should’ve put their hands on her sooner. She’s a spoiled brat.”

In the time it takes Sutton to jolt, and me to grip his arm to stop him moving, James wraps one hand around Alan’s neck and sends him stumbling backward toward the far wall, until they’re both pressed tightly to it. His grip doesn’t loosen as he squeezes the life from Alan.

It seems no one followed the officiant out, because the Falcons are still scattered around the room, none moving to or away from the situation. Melissa is frozen next to me. She hasn’t made a sound the entire time.

James’ voice is lethally quiet. I almost miss what comes out between the volume and distance between us. “You’re a vile piece of shite. You pick on people to counterbalance your tiny dick. But you will not disrespect my daughter again, or it will be the last thing you do.”

Alan’s face is turning a deep crimson, and he flounders like a fish in James’ grasp, his own hands trying futilely to open my father’s hand. The maneuver accentuates the difference in their builds, despite the relatively similar height.

James is unbothered. He continues to hold fast on Alan’s neck. After a few long seconds, he asks, “D’you understand?”

Alan’s flailing must somehow be affirmation, because James seems to accept whatever it is and releases him. Alan almost falls to the ground but ultimately manages to stay on his feet, using the wall as support.

James turns casually and walks back over to Melissa. He gestures for her to exit before him and she does without question. With a final glance at Alan, whose color is slowly returning to normal as he coughs fitfully, Sutton and I follow after James and Melissa into the parking lot.

The other club members follow suit, then mill around their bikes as the four of us stand together before the left side of the building. The only person to exit after Alan is McCoy. He waits for Alan to get in his car before joining the rest of the group.

James takes the opportunity to speak to Melissa. “I couldn’t help but notice that Colt’s military time wasn’t mentioned today.”

Melissa’s brows come together and her lips purse in confusion. “Colt wasn’t in the military.”

“Is that so?” James exchanges a look with Hawk nearby. “It’s not a requirement of the club, but many have history in the military. Colt used to talk about it frequently.”

Melissa’s face softens. “He always wanted to be in the army. A sniper. I don’t know for certain, but I think he attempted to enlist and didn’t pass the evaluation.”

Understanding dawns on James’ face. “I see.” He touches Melissa’s shoulder lightly. “You reach out if we can help you in any way.”

The corner of her mouth tugs into a smile. “Thank you. And thank you all for coming.” Her eyes well with tears. “I know Colt burned a lot of bridges, but he struggled with his demons.”

James continues to look at her softly, though he doesn’t say anything else.

She turns to me. “Thank you for coming, Maci. I’m sure this couldn’t have been easy for you. I hope the trouble with Alan blows over. Is your mother ok?”

My heart rate picks up. “Yes?”

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