Page 14 of Nova

5

Nova

It's Friday night, and the bar is packed with bikers who have come into town for tomorrow's event. Needing a breather, I step outside for a bit of fresh air. Looking around, I take in all the people strolling Bourbon Street. Across from the bar, a man playsUse meon his saxophone. He has his case splayed open on the ground at his feet, for those dropping dollars and coins as they walk by. On the balcony above him, partygoers take in the spirit of the city, throwing beads to passersby on the street below as they drink from their solo cups. Pulling a small packet of matches from the front pocket of my jeans, I rip one of the matchsticks out, and slide the tip across the black strip, sparking the flame. Cupping my hands, I light the cigarette I bummed from Everest before walking out here. Leaning against the brick wall behind me, I continue to listen to the sounds of New Orleans.

"Hey, brother." Fender appears, lifting a beer to his lips, taking a long pull from the bottle. "Fuckin' hot as balls in there. We haven't had a full house like this in a few weeks." I nod a few times, agreeing.

"How's your momma doin'?" I ask, knowing her being sick is the reason he went back home for a few days.

Fender's face falls. "Her cancer is back."

"Shit, man. I'm sorry." I can tell Fender is wound a little tight, so, instead of asking a shit ton of questions, we stand together in silence for a number of minutes. Dropping what's left of my cigarette to the ground, I snub it out with the toe of my boot. "She's beat it once before," I remind him.

"This time is different. I see past her brave smiles and optimism. She's tired, brother." Fender downs the rest of his beer then tosses the empty bottle into the trash can near the front door.

Before this conversation goes any further, some dipshit stumbles into Fender. "Watch where you're fuckin' going asshole," the young man, clearly drunk off his ass shouts.

Fender, who is already in the wrong headspace for someone to give him a reason to brawl, squares off with the dumbass. "You'd better mind who the hell you're talkin' to, you little pussy ass motherfucker." Fender's fists tighten at his sides.

"You gonna let that piece of shit biker talk to you like that?" one of his muscled-up friends, who is just as intoxicated, goads.

"You're not so bright, are you, motherfucker?" I zero in on the dumb fuck, and take a step forward, standing beside Fender. The two friends share a look between each other, then glance behind them at a couple of good looking ladies. The moment the redhead smiles my way, I know these two knuckleheads won't walk away. I know the type. They'd just as well tote an ass-whooping than get shown up and look like a bunch of pussies in front of their women.

"Fuck you, old man. I bench press more than you weigh." The one doing most of the smack talking steps up to me and takes a swing. Stepping to the side, his punch misses its mark, and I land a solid blow to his ribcage. He falls to his knees, trying to catch his breath.

"I'm done fuckin' around," I warn him.

His friend makes a slight move, causing Fender to grab him by his throat, shoving his back against the brick wall of the bar. His hands go up, pleading. "Shit, man. We don't want no trouble."

"Collect your friend there and get your drunk asses out of here." Fender's fingers flex around the guy's thick neck before cutting him loose. I can tell it takes every bit of restraint he has to not pummel the guy just for the hell of it.

"Shit. Come on, bro, let's go." The guy reaches for his buddy, who catches me off guard by rearing up, punching me in the nuts.

"Goddamn, motherfucker!" I roar, and bring my knee up, catching the sack of shit in his nose.

His hand covers his face, blood dripping onto the sidewalk at my feet. "You broke my fucking nose."

"You punched my fuckin' dick, you piece of shit!" I want to plant my boot in the side of his head, but instead allow his friend to pull him to his feet, completely forgetting the two females they were with as they disappear into the crowd of people passing us by as if nothing ever happened.

"You good?" Fender asks, his shoulders relaxing, as some of the tension leaves his body.

"Yeah, brother. Not like I haven't been nut punched before." I turn to the two ladies, who were left behind, with shocked expressions on their faces. "You two with those dumbasses?" I ask them.

"Not anymore," the redhead grumbles, her irritation evident.

"Why don't you two go inside and take a seat at the bar. Order whatever you want." They share a look, giggling as they whisper amongst themselves before sashaying past Fender and me. "Hey," I call out. The girls turn their heads in my direction before they step through the front door, "Tell the bartender Nova's payin'."

Fender laughs. "You're the only man I know who can get nut punched by some random dude then buys his woman a drink afterward."

"I'm hospitable, brother," I laugh along with him as we stroll inside. "I gotta hit the head. Make sure the ladies get what they want." I take my leave, heading toward the back of the bar where the restrooms are located, taking wider strides than usual. Not gonna lie. The guy had a damn decent uppercut, and my balls are still hurting like a motherfucker from his sucker-punch.

Once I'm done, I make my way across the room to join Fender, who I notice has already made his way to the stage and started his set. "Goddamn, would you take a look at the legs on her." A burly biker seated at a table to my right yells over the noise as he elbows his brother sitting beside him. Curiosity getting the better of me, I follow his line of sight, catching a group of women, who look more like they should be in an upscale club, strolling in. To say they look out of place in a sea of leather and ripped jeans is an understatement. Except for one. Immediately my attention shifts to the sexy as fuck brunette amongst the three, who looks less confident to be here than her friends. I stand rooted in place as her friends lead her across the bar, her eyes cast down, avoiding any eye contact with those around her, which only makes me more curious. The closer she gets, the more I take her in. She's wearing a tight leather skirt, with the hint of black lace hiding beneath her leather jacket. The moment she brushes by me, the intoxicating scent of sweet caramel, mixed with the smallest hint of roses, invades my senses, and I find myself drawn to her like a bear to honey.Does she taste as sweet as she smells?Then her chin lifts, and her eyes lock with mine. All the air leaves my body as I find myself drowning in the bluest eyes I have ever seen. All too fast, she tears her gaze from mine, breaking the spell she held on me.

What the fuck was that?

I run my hand down my face and through my beard, utterly perplexed, as I weave around a few tables and sidle up to the bar, keeping my eyes on the bewitching brunette with eyes like the ocean.

"Nova," Payton's voice pierces my concentration or lack thereof. Turning my head, I regard her standing behind the bar.

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