Page 62 of Doozer

“You fuckin’—”

“Jette,” Rabbit warned, even though he’d been trying to hold back his laughter.

Jette raised an eyebrow in Boots’ direction. “Drinks and mess duty for the rest of training and I’ll put everything back where I found it.”

“Yeah,” Boots rushed out. “Whatever the fuck you want.”

“Did you fill your wallet?” Jette asked Boots as we made our way to the entrance of the bar. “Because I’m getting shitfaced.”

Boots rolled his eyes. “Since you’ve given my finances a colonoscopy, you obviously know everything I know, so try not to bankrupt me, yeah?”

She shrugged. “No promises.”

There were two bouncers flanking the door, both as wide as they were tall, and looking every scary bit that their menacing jobs required.

We all grabbed our IDs, and Jette, Rabbit, and Boots made it through the door just as Doozer and I stepped up with Graves behind us.

Douchebag Bouncer Number One shook his head. “We sure as shit ain’t lettin’ scooter trash like you into the Windmill.”

“What the fuck did you just say to me?” Doozer demanded, taking a step closer.

“I think you heard me just fuckin’ fine, Yankee,” he replied, spitting a wad of chew at our feet.

Doozer’s right hand balled into a fist, but I grabbed it, holding it tightly in both of mine. “Doozer, no,” I said softly. “I could get kicked out of the program.”

“You should listen to your friend with the lesbo haircut,” he said, smugly.

“Look,” Doozer said, obviously trying his best to keep his shit together. “We didn’t come here to fight. Sorry for any confusion. How about we all just go on about our own business.”

The bouncer eyed me up and down. “You at Quantico?”

“Not really any of your fuckin’ business,” Doozer growled.

The bouncer pointed at me as he laughed with his counterpart. “Shit. How desperate is the FBI that they have to recruit dykes on bikes?”

I still had Doozer’s right hand held tightly by my own, yet, he still managed to deliver a stiff jab with his left directly to the bouncer’s nose, causing blood to gush instantly, all over his douchey designer shirt.

I let go and his buddy stepped toward us.

“No!” the leader yelled, waving him back. “He’s mine.”

“Apologize to the lady and I’ll let you walk away now,” Doozer said.

“You should be the one who’s worried about walking away, boy,” he said before lunging at Doozer wildly.

I stepped back as Doozer dropped as low as possible, using his shoulder to take him out at the knees. The bouncer’s own forward momentum caused him to crash, face first onto the asphalt. Doozer then took his back and positioned him in choke hold. With his arm securely around his neck, tightly under his chin, it was clear to see Doozer was cutting off both his air supply and blood flow to his head.

“I told you, I don’t want to fight,” Doozer growled. “Tap out and apologize and we can all walk away—”

But the guy didn’t have to tap out because out of nowhere, three guys rushed out of the building and then all of them were suddenly on Doozer, kicking and punching him.

“You fucking asshole,” I bellowed, jumping on the back of one of their crew and biting down on his ear, causing him to shriek in pain as blood poured from the side of his head.

“Get her off me!” he screamed but I held on like a spider monkey, biting down harder until I’d managed to take a sizable chunk out of his ear, spitting the piece of his bloody flesh onto the pavement.

The rest of the crew froze momentarily, and Doozer managed to get back to his feet to square off with the leader once again.

“You made a big fuckin’ mistake,” he said, landing a right to his jaw, sending him to his ass.

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