Page 7 of Tattered
Three
MAVERICK
My body was starting to wear down. I was glad when the cab pulled up in front of the hotel because I felt like I was riding a high after seeing Ryan, but it all came crashing down when she said her goodbyes and I was forced to watch her walk away from me.
Graham texted me on my way to the hotel asking to meet up later tonight for a drink at the local bar, Champions. A nap was in order if there was any chance of me doing that. My alarm clock goes off, and I slide my hand under my pillow, grabbing my phone. Holding it in front of me, I peek one eye open and turn off the alarm before pulling the pillow over my head.
It feels like only a few seconds pass when the phone starts ringing. Groaning, I don’t bother checking the screen as I swipe to answer.
“’Lo.”
“You alright over there, man?” Graham’s husky voice filters through the phone.
“I’m getting up right now. This jet lag is killin’ me.”
“I hear ya. I’m just getting home from dealing with all sorts of bullshit today. I’m going to hop in the shower quick. You think you’ll be ready in about twenty minutes?”
“Yeah, man, I’ll see ya there.”
We disconnect the call and I finally pull myself out of bed. I quickly put in a request for an Uber to pick me up. I splash some water on my face and brush my teeth before throwing on a change of clothes. We pull up a little early since the bar is close and it only takes a few minutes to get there.
Heading inside, I bypass the server station and make a beeline directly to the bar. I know Graham will be here any minute, and I’m not wasting any time to put in my order for a beer.
A few minutes later, just as I take a long pull from my beer, I feel a clap on my back, taking me off guard and causing me to nearly choke. Turning my head, I see a rare smirk grace Graham’s face. After catching my breath and forcing out a cough, I hold up my middle finger before I stand to give him a hug.
After all the shit I’ve witnessed overseas, it feels real fucking good to see someone who reminds me of happier times. Growing up, Graham was always a dare devil, Dean was the rowdy one, and I was usually the mellow voice of reason that went along for the ride.
A lot of things have changed with Graham since we were both together in Everton. The paths our lives have led us down have forced us to evaluate where we were going. Graham isn’t the same person he was back then; life has shaped him in a different way.
“Good to see you, man. Glad to have you back home. I hope this means you’re stayin’ for good.”
“It’s good to be home.”
I see his eyebrow rise, as if he is waiting to hear if I’ll be staying in Everton. The answer is I’m not sure where I’m going now that I’m here. I hadn’t given it much thought but after seeing Ryan today, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t considered staying and spending more time with her.
“Speaking of being home, I thought you were still livin’ in Chicago. What made you decide to plant roots back here?”
After I left and moved in with my Aunt Patricia, we all started going down different paths. Graham and Dean have stayed close friends, but I know the drinking picked up after I left. Things started to spiral, especially after Graham lost his cousin, Gage. After graduation, he took off for Chicago and vehemently denied coming back home.
“Yeah, my mom hasn’t been doing so well. The doctors were concerned when her health took a turn. She was in the hospital a couple months ago. I decided it was time I came back and look after her.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom, man. I am sure she’s glad to have you back though. It sounds like things are going well with the business, too. I’m happy for you and Dean.”
“Thanks. He’s staying back in Chicago for now, but the plan is to open two locations for Compass Security. He’ll run the operations in Chicago and I’ll oversee things from our office in Everton. I swear though, it’s been one thing after another this past week.”
“I can imagine it’s not easy but I’m sure it will all work itself out.”
He grunts in response, nodding his head. He raises his hand, flagging down the waitress.
I almost wouldn’t recognize her right away until her eyes and mischievous smile light up her face.
“Nadia,” I say in greeting.
“If it isn’t the bad boy himself,” Nadia retorts as she pulls two glass bottles out of the cooler. Popping the tops, she slides them along the counter toward us.
I’m reminded just how small Everton really is, after only being here for a day.
“Something like that,” I drawl, taking a pull from the beer as she leans forward to take my empty bottle. I need to slow it down. It’s been awhile since I’ve drank, and they are going down like water.
