Page 15 of I Blame the Club

What’s he doing out this late, anyways?

I frown, glancing at the clock above the gas station. Almost 2AM. Seems a little late for an assistant coach to be grabbing a snack.

Humming to myself, I make the mature decision to bypass the snack and get the hell out of here before the grumpy O’Brien comes back outside.

A huge Ford truck pulls up behind my car, its headlights momentarily blinding me. Rowdy laughter explodes from the back as a group of guys stumble out of the truck, the loose jeans and flannel shirts leaving no question as to what group they belong to.

My neck pricks with unease as I watch the numbers on my fuel station slowly tick by. A beer can gets thrown my way and I flinch, making one of the guys laugh.

“Fellas, would ya look at that. We found ourselves a queer all dressed up on the outskirts of town.”

Ignoring them, I reach for my phone in my pant pocket. The fabric presses against my leg, empty.

Shit. I left my phone in the car.

“Hey pretty boy! Were you out getting some dick tonight?”

I make a show of looking around before turning to the idiot stumbling towards me.

“Looks like the only dick here is you, Johnny boy.”

The pump in my hand clicks and I yank it out and screw on my gas cap.

“What the fuck? He knew your name, man.”

Someone hops out of the driver seat, and I quickly make my way to the safety of my own door.

“Wasn’t hard to guess given that most men from incestuous families are named Johnny. Tell your daddy I say hi.”

I hop in my car and turn the ignition just as something smashes through my windshield.

I throw my hands up and jerk back, trying to shield my eyes from the glass shards falling around me. My palms burn as glass slices through my skin, the exposed column of my neck and upper chest just barely missing the impact. My door gets ripped open and I lunge for the phone lying on the passenger seat. I let out a curse as the device slips through my bloody fingers and suddenly I'm being dragged from the car by rough hands.

My body hits the concrete with a loud thud, the jarring impact vacuuming the air from my lungs. I twist and turn on the ground, feeling my shirt start to tear as I frantically scramble back onto my feet.

"Look guys, I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot-

A punch to the stomach has me hunching over with a groan. The four guys have surrounded me now, the sneers on their faces not putting the odds in my favour.

Let's face it: I'm a lover not a fighter.

The one with the hideous mullet steps forward, the greasy strands of hair putting a bad taste in my mouth before he shoves me backwards.

"Shut your fucking mouth. We don't like queers around here."

I stumble back and another guy shoves me forward. The momentum throws me off balance and I go crashing down, skin burning as gravel scrapes the cuts in my hands. I make an attempt to crawl to my knees but a well-placed kick has me sprawling face down on the blood stained concrete.

Fuck this shit.

Spitting the blood and grit out of my mouth, I flop onto my back and make blurry eye contact with the leader.

“I’m flattered babe, but you really aren’t my type.”

He looks down at me with a sneer, “You're fucking disgusting.”

A boot comes down and then everything goes black.

Chapter 5

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