Page 8 of Tied

CHRIS

This wasn’t my job anymore, and it sure as shit wasn’t my job today.

But…

Here I am, stepping towards the stage before Fester puts a bullet in Jack, and before Bullet has a heart attack. Sitting at our table earlier, I noted how red his face is naturally. His blood pressure must be through the roof. Greasy foods and heavy beers must be the only thing in his diet.

“Come on, Galen. We can’t let those two take on Jack.” Lifting out of the chair, he pushes it into the table. “Plus, if I go down, you’re about the next biggest thing to take their old asses out of here before the police show up.”

Rolling his eyes, Galen downs the remainder of his drink and finally joins me as I walk down the aisle. “If you go down, we need more than police. We’ll need a crane.”

Snickering at the reminder that I’m a big guy, we continue on towards them.

“Come on, smart-ass. We need to save the old folks from their own destruction.”

While all this is happening, most of the attendees have scattered, or are watching from a distance with camera phones clicking away. This will be uploaded in moments if things get totally out of hand. Unfortunately for us, Jack is a dumber jackass than I originally thought. Tossing the microphone to the side and leaving the stage, Jack pokes Bullet in the chest. Fester steps up beside Bullet, flanking the skinny idiot.

Coming up short beside them, “You little cum shot,” Bullet’s seethes. His voice is calm, but there’s a hint of menace. I’m glad he left the gun behind now. “You ain’t nothin’ but one little state, and a shoddy one at best.” Winding his hands tightly together, Bullet is poised and at the ready to slam his wizen fists into Jack’s flawless botoxed face. If it weren’t for Fester holding his arms, it would’ve already happened.

And I was worried about my possible drunken antics today.

Striding up, I listen as the two toss insults about the size of the states they control, the best places to lose someone, and what it feels like to pull the trigger to defend their own. Been there, done that. I have the scars to prove it and I don’t want to add to my wounds.

Normally I’m pretty good at defusing situations, but I’m taking my chances with an armed Southerner. It’s not what I had in mind coming to New York. Hoping I can calm him enough to drag him away without incident, I place my hand on Bullet’s shoulder, “Bullet, man. He’s not worth this.”

“I’m not backin’ down on this, son. So either get out of the way or I’ll take pot shots at him through your big ol’ black ass. Because this pansy ass,” pointing to Jack, “gay, crossdressing, makeup wearing, botox lovin’, disco dancin’ cockstick is about to get what’s comin’ to him.”

I turn to Fester. “Help me on this, please?”

Shaking his head, he gives me a toothy grin that tells me he’s about to side with Bullet. He lifts the deserted semiautomatic, tapping it on side of my shoulder. “Either you’re in the way, or about to get out of it, son.”

“I can’t let you shoot him.” I look over my shoulder at Jack. “No matter how much he deserves it.”

“Come on, let’s get another drink,” Galen states, swaying to some nonexistent music.

“Jesus H. Christ, sit the fuck down. You’re gonna hurt yourself, son,” Fester says calmly, pushing Galen in the chest. It doesn’t take much, as his ass falls into a chair behind him.

Looking back at the two wizened warriors, I say, “Fester, Bullet, come on. Sooner or later the police will arrive. The last thing you need is an arrest. You can’twant this in the news.” Thinking of all the things I could end up on the news for, this isn’t one of them.

Bullet reaches back, receiving the offered handgun from Fester. Smiling up to me, he points it with a ‘move, son,’ and clicks the safety off.

“In for a penny,” Fester states, grinning wide. They really will shoot me to get at Jack. This is crazier than I expected.

I decide to either do something or end up dead. “Fuck it,” I mumble, reaching for the loaded Colt. Pulling it out of Bullet’s hand fast, I snap the cartridge out, empty the chamber and click the safety back on in the blink of an eye. I hand Bullet back the now secure gun.

I turn to face Fester. “Don’t make me do it twice.”

Holstering his own weapon, he raises his hands in defeat. “Chris,” he says seriously.

“Son, that was fucking fast.” Fester states. I’d almost laugh, but Bullet made me do something I hate to do. I touched a gun. Yeah, I’m not that old, but I swore I wouldn’t do it again after retiring from the military.

“Can we all agree to disagree?” I train my sights on Jack. “You take a seat, shut up, and get on with your symposium. And you two, go back to the chairs and let’s get through this afternoon affair without arrests or bloodshed.”

Before looking back at the two elderly men grinning like fools, I find myself shaking my head, exasperated at the whole debacle.

“I’m going to grab another well-deserved drink. Please sit nicely and listen to the presentation without taking offense to everyone who insults your livestock.”

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