Book 2, Chapter 3
1169 Words
Zeke
It’s been three weeks since the rogue attack and everything has been quiet. I talked to Ricky, and he cut back my hours, so I could help ready our warriors for whatever was to come. I won’t lie, it’s been kind of nice being a part of the pack again. At first, everyone was leery of me and kept their distance, but I understood. After a while, they came around and we fell into a routine. Even Alec stopped glaring at me so much. He and I would spar together, showing the warriors different moves and techniques to improve their effectiveness. I found myself looking forward to these training sessions. It gave me something to do besides sit in my cottage and stare at the walls.
I was helping Drake, one of the pack warriors, help clean up after training as he and the others started discussing plans to go out.
“I’d like to try out that place over off highway 515. What’s it called?” Alan asked.
“Oh! You mean the Fox’s Den?” Drake asked.
“Yea! I hear they got this little thing over there with a voice like an angel and a body like a Goddess.” Brad said. I rolled my eyes. I wonder if I sounded like a douche when I talked about women too.
“What do you say, Zeke? Wanna go check it out?” Drake asked. I shot my head up.
“What? Me?” I asked, stunned. Drake chuckled.
“Yea, man. Come out with us. Who knows when we’ll be able to go out again with all the s**t goin’ on here lately.” Drake said as the other men nodded.
“I don’t think so… I stopped drinkin’ a couple years back.” I said as I lifted one of the mats over my shoulder and started walking towards the shed where it was usually kept.
“Even better! You can be out DD!” Brad said happily.
“What do ya say? You ain’t gotta drink nothin’. Just get out of that little shack you call home.” Drake said, knocking into my shoulder playfully. I looked between the three of them before sighing in defeat.
“All right, but the second y’all start actin’ like a bunch of assholes we’re comin’ right back.” I said firmly. They began to whoop in excitement. I just laughed at them as we made our way to the shower house. We cleaned up and met up outside the pack house.
“Who’s car are we takin’?” Alan asked as he looked around.
“Just hop in my jeep.” I said as I walked over to the old girl and patted her hood. The rest of them climbed in, and we sat off towards the bar. It was on the edge of town and when we got there we all piled. We were stopped at the door and charged a cover charge that I thought was ridiculous before we were allowed in. The place was dark and dingy. The smell of stale cigarettes, old beer, and s****l frustration lingered in the air. The boys bounced on their heels excitedly as they pushed their way over to a table that was situated next to the stage. A small brunet girl came immediately to our table and started talking to the men. She was cute, but so young. Some of us could have been her father.
The men ordered their beers and a few shots of whiskey, while I just ordered a Coke. The little waitress flitted off to grab our drinks, giving me time to look around at all the faces of the men who came there to see the show. Just as the waitress was sitting our drinks on the table, a tall, fat balding man came onto the stage carrying a microphone.
“Hey fellers! What drags y’all way out here tonight?” He said as he cupped his ear waiting for the response from the crowd.
“The Songbird! Bring out the Songbird!” the men yelled. The man on the stage just laughed.
“Y’all ready for the Songbird?” He asked in true showman’s fashion.
“Yea! Bring ‘er out!” The men were screaming.
“All right! Come on out, Melody!” The big man said. A tiny woman with flames of long red hair slowly walked onto the stage. I didn’t miss the scars that littered her small frame. To the untrained eye, they would look like glitter dancing on her skin. But I knew better. She looked out at the crowd.
“Seth, be a dear and bring me the stand please.” Her Irish accent was thick.
“What the f**k are you doin’?” The fat man cursed, but the little woman ignored him. A young kid, no more than nineteen, stepped onto the stage carrying a microphone stand. He placed it in front of the beauty and raced off the stage. Music began to drift through the air before she closed her eyes and began to sway. She wasn’t here with us, she had put herself somewhere else.
I will light the match this morning, so I won't be alone
Watch as she lies silent for soon night will be gone
Oh, I will stand arms outstretched, pretend I'm free to roam
Oh, I will make my way through one more day in hell
How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?
I will hold the candle 'til it burns up my arm
Oh, I'll keep taking punches until their will grows tired
Oh, I will stare the sundown until my eyes go blind
Hey, I won't change direction and I won't change my mind
How much difference does it make?
Mm how much difference does it make?
I'll swallow poison until I grow immune
I will scream my lungs out 'til it fills this room
How much difference
How much difference
How much difference does it make?
How much difference does it make?
She stared transfixed ahead as she belted out verse after verse. She spread her arms out wide as if to bare her soul to us, and no one seemed to notice. I felt my heart breaking for her. Something deep inside me said this woman was crying out for help. As the song drew to a close, the bald man scampered back on the stage and all but shoved her off.
“Remember Gents, if you want to spend a little extra time with our little songbird, come find me.” He stepped off the stage as the crowd cheered and howled. My eyes widened in disbelief at the man’s declaration. He was auctioning off the woman to the highest bidder. I raced to the DJ booth and grabbed the young man by the collar.
“Get the bald guy. I will pay whatever it cost to get her for the night.” I said.
- Writer
