Still Life With Taylor

::SIX::

The guy who grabbed Christine's ass is gone by the time I get back. The ditzy waitress went with him. It's just Matty and me.

"I told him he should be gone when you get back."

"Probably a good idea."

"He was worried you were going to beat the hell out of him."

I don't say anything to that. We both know I would have. It wasn't really a question anyways. Shut the lights down, lock the place up. Standing out front, waiting for a break in the traffic. Matty's got a question waiting, looks like it's one he doesn't really want to ask. Maybe he shouldn't.

"It's not going to be a problem working with her, is it?"

He just had to ask. "I don't want to talk about it, Matty. She stays."

Matty's known me forever. Knows enough to let this drop. I let him call the shots on a lot of things. But never about a woman, and not this time.

"Of course she stays, Taylor. Just had to make sure." I can't stay pissed off at Matty. Sure as hell don't want to be pissed at him over a woman. I notice his girl has disappeared.

"What happened to the one you were with?"

"She wouldn't stop talking. I asked John to take her home." We both start laughing.


Sirens are background noise. I hear them, just enough to make sure they're going somewhere else, and go back to sleep. These go right by the street outside. Fire engines though, not cops. No sound from Matty, in the next room. Eight in the morning on a Sunday. Stopped at a place down the street.

Get cleaned up, take a walk by. Water pouring down the street. Blackened tufts of fabric. Broken glass. Every window shattered. Eight doors down from the bar. Keep walking. The light is off at Christine's window. She doesn't have a phone. What would I have said anyways, that I just happened to be walking under your window at 8:30 in the morning?


Your hair's still wet, it looks nearly black, in the dim light of the back hallway. Leaves a wet trail down your shirt. I hadn't expected to see you here this early. Not that I minded. Don't think I'll mention seeing if you were home first.

I leave my hand on your knee, when Matty sat down.

"This is the last thing we need. I'm sorry, I was rude. Good morning, Christine. So what the hell are we going to do about this, Taylor?"

"I walked by this morning. It looked professional. Any way to check that out quietly?" Matty shoots a look at Christine, at me. Neither one of us says anything. It's like he's waiting to see what should be said, or not, if it could be said in front of Christine.

"I could ask around."

"You may want to start with the bikers first. They used to own this place, and lost it to the guy you bought it from. They've been pilfering staff from us for months. And we had no cops here. None. No one came by to ask about anything."

She goes quiet again, nibbles on a piece of toast, as though she's said nothing at all. She really doesn't miss much.

Matty goes out back, to the office, closes the door. Makes phone calls that he would probably rather not make. Not every connection got severed. It couldn't. It just doesn't work that way.

By ten at night, we're empty. Benny Chains, Matty's old man, has sent a guy out to talk to him. I hate that this shit has been dragged in here, but where else are you going to go for that kind of information. We sit at a table in the lounge. Christine is mixing drinks. Everyone else has gone home.

We still had two hours to go. I probably should have just locked the doors. Two guys come in, want to speak to the owner. Bikers. Armed. I don't think they came to ask nicely.

Neither Matty or I have carried in months. It was never Matty's thing anyway. That's what you get for trying to go clean. Benny's guy pulls a piece, but there's not much conviction in him. It's not his fight, he's just a messenger. The bikers know it.

I'm worried about Christine. She was scared, talking about the turf war this morning. I said nothing would happen to her. Look up to the bar.

Christine may be quiet, but she sure isn't weak. I knew there was a shotgun under there, I just never imagined her actually using it. She has it trained on the bigger of the two bikers. Her hands aren't shaking, not even a bit. She kicks the side of the bar to get their attention. She's not going to miss. Not at that distance.

"Not in here." Her voice isn't shaking either. Completely calm.

"Put that fucking thing down, bitch, before you get hurt. You don't know what you're doing." Mouthy guy, in the front.

"I know enough to know you're on the wrong end."

The two guys don't seem so certain anymore. I don't think they expected anyone to be armed here. It's a standoff, they both have weapons, but they're pinned down by Christine, and by Benny's man, who has slipped around to the door, and locked it. I already know where this is going. Everyone else here has seen it. The only person I'm worried about is Christine, and whether she can hold it together.

"Drop it. On the floor. Kick it under the table." Her voice has dropped. Never thought a woman's voice could sound dangerous before.

"Fuck you." The guy closest to the door. He's got his gun raised to Christine now.

"She looks pretty determined to me. I believe you gentlemen should do as the lady asks." Benny's man, now blocking the way to the door, with his own piece trained on the guy Christine isn't pinning.

The big guy looks to his friend, and starts to lower his gun to the floor. Christine tracks him with the shotgun.

"What the fuck are you doing!! She'd never be able to hit you with that thing!!"

Panic setting in. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

"I'm not getting shot for this Steve"
"She's not going to shoot you, asshole!"
"Yes, she will, Steve."

The big guy's gun is kicked under the table. He's standing again, hands up, looking nervously at Christine, who keeps the gun trained on him the whole time.

Steve goes down at the first hit. His friend makes move for him, looks at Christine, and rethinks it. Kick the chair out of the way. The first is a quick right to the nose. The nose bleeds a lot, hurts like hell. Takes the fight out of most people. Steve is no different. I know he's just a messenger. Too bad for him. Holding his busted nose, he tries to crawl, but doesn't get far. A boot to the ribs. Pull him up off the floor, so I don't have to chase him around down there. Bust a couple of ribs on the other side. A left in the kidneys that will have him pissing blood. A right to the jaw finishes it. He's out.

"Take him with you." Matty, to the big guy, who looks to Christine first before moving. "Tell whoever sent you that we're not selling. Leave this place alone."

The big guy drags his friend out, the shotgun tracking him the entire time, Christine stepping back to keep him in her sights as he moves past a pillar by the door. Benny's man opens the door for him. Repeating the warning to leave this place alone.

She sets the shotgun down on the bar, and moves back, sliding down the side of the cooler to sit on her heels, hugging her knees, the shakes setting in.

She weighs almost nothing, gently pull her up, help sit her down out front. Wipe the blood off my knuckles before I touch her chin, try to get her to look up.

"Get me a cloth."

Matty goes behind the bar, getting a cloth, pours a glass of whiskey. Puts the shotgun back underneath the bar.

"Is she all right, Taylor?"

"Yea, just shock. Here.." , give Matty the cloth, he's wiping her forehead. Her hands are shaking too much to hold the glass, so I hold it for her. Slowly her shaking stops, her heart beat slows a little. I'm not letting her go.

"I'm taking her home, Matty."
Matty locks everything up. We're both worried about whether our warning will hold. So we say nothing about it. Benny's man has a car parked in the back. I sent Matty back home when I get to Christine's.