Page 56 of Jackson's Redemption
Still, I could barely focus I was so drunk. I rubbed my hands over my face trying to clear my vision. I figured I would get up and take a piss. I got off the stool and felt someone bump into me from behind. Or had I bumped into him.
It didn’t matter. I was offended.
“Get the fuck off me,” I growled.
The guy I had bumped into was a big dude. Large, round belly, thick neck and red, bloodshot eyes. Good that meant he was drunk, too.
“Fuck you, man.”
I got up in his face. “You got a problem?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I got a problem with your fucking face. Now back the fuck up.”
I pushed him in the center of his chest and he stumbled two steps before coming in with a right hook. I let it connect. Felt the pain rip through my jaw. He took the first swing. He wouldn’t take the last.
I pulled my arm back to retaliate even as he was gearing up for another swipe at me.
“Take it the fuck outside!” I looked over my shoulder. The bartender was holding a shotgun against his chest. A warning, not a real threat. He didn’t care if we pounded the shit out of each other just as long as we didn’t do it in his bar.
I grabbed the guy by the collar of his shirt and all but pulled him outside the bar. Once the door closed behind us, I went for a gut punch, which had him bending over. Spit dripping from his lips. Then an uppercut, which snapped his head back.
He came at me then, trying wrap me up with his heavy arms. To prevent me from hitting him again. Normally, this wouldn’t have fazed me, but I was too drunk to keep my balance. I went over onto my ass with him on top of me. With his position above me, he got a few good shots to my face. Before I managed to roll him over and break his nose.
“Fuck!” he yelled then he was scrambling to get away. This was usually when I stopped. When I let the man who I had clearly beaten get away. Save face. Whatever. But I was shitfaced and angry at the world, and I wanted to hurt someone. I started to get up. I was going after him to haul him up again just so I could knock him down.
“Police! Hands up where I can see them!”
I heard the voice behind me, but it didn’t register. Police? Was she kidding me? Someone had called the cops over a simple bar fight? I turned around and that’s when I really got sucker punched.
“Kate?”
She smiled. She fucking smiled like I had done something to make her happy.
“Hi, Jackson,” she said as she walked toward me. One hand on her holstered firearm. The other pulling a pair of cuffs off her utility belt. “I’m really sorry, but you’re under arrest. Drunk and disorderly, disturbing the peace, and some other stuff.”
Disturbing the peace. Was she fucking kidding me right now? “What the fuck are you doing here?”
She smiled again. “It appears I’m arresting your ass. You have the right to remain silent…”
I didn’t hear the rest of it. Couldn’t process any of it. There was another officer with her. He was doing the same with the guy I had laid out on the sidewalk. Reading him his rights, handing him a towel to clean up the blood on his face before putting him in cuffs. I saw the SUV pulled over to the side of the street with the lights flashing and it made it even more surreal. I was going to be sick.
“If you’re going to puke, can you not do it in the squad car?” she asked even as she led me toward the back door.
The feeling of it, my hands in cuffs, not under my control, set off a trigger memory and, for a second, my whole body roared up as if I had the physical strength to snap the metal chain binding them together.
I didn’t want Kate to see me like this. I didn’t want her anywhere around where I might hurt her accidentally.
Then I felt a hand on my chest.
“Jackson, look at me. Look at me.”
I did and, even through my blurry vision, I could see it was Kate. How was that possible?
“You’re okay. We’re going to take you back to the station, let both you guys sober up. Got it? I’m not going to let anything bad happen.”
I shook my head. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I think I’ll wait until your sober for that, too. Are you going to puke?”
