Page 15 of Inglorious
Moon nodded, and I headed out. As I approached the sheriff’s office, I straightened my shoulders. I’d no doubt what I’d find. And I wasn’t wrong.
Silently, I bypassed the desks and walked out back to the jail cells. Inglorious was ranting as I entered. Doc Paul sat there looking resigned.
“How is he?” I asked, studying the sweating, dishevelled man.
Inglorious glared at me with hate. “Bitch,” he seethed.
“Whatever. I’m not talking to you,” I replied.
Doc Paul snorted. “As charming as ever.”
“Somehow, I’m not sorry. I’ve no time to deal with an alcoholic who’s disrespecting Seth and his dead brothers. How long will the shakes last, Doc?”
“Several more days. Inglorious been delirious one minute and the next he’s switching into paranoia. He’s convinced you’re here to take the MC,” Doc Paul replied.
“Well, Inglorious ain’t wrong. The club is mine until asshole here sobers up and gets help.”
“Nanci, you fuckin’ bitch, let me out. I’m going to strangle you,” Inglorious raved.
“Inglorious is riddled with guilt, Nanci. That’s why he drank. Alcohol dulled the pain he was feeling,” Doc Paul said, and I stared at him.
“Think I’m not aware? Shit, Doc, I know Inglorious better than he knows himself. But he’s disrespecting those who died. Inglorious needs to man up, take responsibility for his actions, and get therapy. When he’s on the straight and narrow, then I’ll hand president back. But Inglorious isn’t getting it until I’m convinced he’s sober and learning to cope. I might be a bitch, but Unwanted Bastards meant everything to Seth, and I’ll honour his memory.”
“Especially as you’re Psych’s Legacy?”
“Yes. That means something to me.”
I wasn’t trying to guilt Doc Paul, but that emotion crossed his face anyway.
“Nanci, I’m still considering it.”
“Doc, you’ve got time. However, I require an answer soon. If you’re not interested in the position and clinic, I need to find a doctor who is.”
“No, no pressure at all, Nanci,” Doc Paul replied dryly.
I grinned and ignored the ranting maniac locked behind bars. “Lunch is being delivered shortly. He’s alert enough that you can leave him and eat.”
“Have Moon deliver it please, I don’t trust him,” Doc Paul said.
I sent him a searching glance, and he elaborated.
“Cold turkey goes through several stages. We’re at the begging and pleading stage, which seems mixed with paranoia and blame. Inglorious will do anything for a drink, which makes him unstable. I’d rather not leave him right now.”
“Fair enough, Doc. I’ll have Moon bring lunch over for you.”
“That’s grand, Nanci, thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
Inglorious
It fuckin’ hurt. Everything burned. My body was wracked with pain, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Somewhere inside me, I understood this was alcohol withdrawal. I’d not acknowledged I was a full-fledged alcoholic, but I was, and this was my suffering. This, I deserved. Because of me, they were all gone.
Their faces kept spinning through my mind, never leaving me alone. One moment they were healthy, the next their dead eyes stared at me. They stalked me through the clubhouse, demanding to know why I’d lived and they hadn’t. What had they done to deserve to die so horrifically?
Psych was the worst. He constantly made demands, ordering me to join him, and I was too much of a coward to commit suicide. Instead, I’d tried killing myself with booze. And nowshewas here and giving orders and upsetting what I’d planned. Nanci never understood the word no, and if she did, Nanci bucked against it and did as she wanted.
My body curled in on itself as waves of pain flooded me. I was coming out of my skin, desperate for a drink. Just one to take the edge off. I was down to begging and pleading. But that bitch wouldn’t bend, and Doc Paul, the fuckin’ traitor, shook his head and upped my IV instead.
