Such Are Promises
He was a fighter.
That was enough for him to know. He wasn’t introspective by nature. In point of fact, most of his time was spent in a deliberate attempt to avoid introspection. He avoided attachments, because when you got attached you were asking for trouble. He avoided responsibility, because something that was hardwired into him wouldn’t let an obligation go unfulfilled. This was probably why the very few people who ever saw him more than in passing seemed to depend on him more than he liked, which was why he saw them as seldom as possible.
Tonight he was in a bar belonging to one of those people, and he was pissed, because Toby was in trouble and he’d asked Logan to help him get out of it. That meant sticking around, and making sure the gang that was trying to shake down the bar owners in this part of New Orleans were either floating in the river or convinced they soon would be. He’d known Toby for a long time; the big man had done the fight circuit some years back, after a short career as a boxer. He’d wound up a cage fighter-cum-wrestler dubbed the Cajun Cannon; he’d retired a few years back and apparently moved back home to open this place. It didn’t surprise Logan a bit that the guy was having trouble with the locals; for a fighter, Toby had one of the gentlest natures he’d ever run across.
He hunched over his beer, ignoring the other patrons of the bar.
Toby wandered down and stood in front of him. “Hey. You need another?”
“I’m good.” He really just wanted to get this over with and leave.
“Okay. I’ll check back in with you in a little while.” Logan jerked his head in reply and the big bartender moved away.
“Hey.” A female voice came from behind him, and he turned his head. “This stool taken?”
“No.” He hitched to the side a little as she sat down.
“You know Toby?”
“Yeah.” Exactly two words to her, but she didn’t seem to get the hint.
“You visiting? From where?”
He stood up, grabbed his beer and simply walked away. He could spot an attempted pickup as well as the next guy, but he wasn’t interested. Not tonight and probably not this trip. He stalked to the back of the bar and leaned against the wall in a dark corner. His eyes scanned the bar idly, wondering if any of the crowd were the ones he was going to gut later that night.
“That was rude.” He looked down and the woman from the bar was standing there, holding her glass.
“You want rude? Okay, how’s this—leave me alone.” He took a deep draught and finished his beer. She stood there for a minute, during which he studiously ignored her, and finally she left. He stayed where he was.
Twenty minutes later, he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned and she was back. This time, holding out a Molson. “What’s that for?”
“Third time’s a charm.” He took a good look at her for the first time. She was young, maybe twenty-one or twenty-two. Way too young to be trying to pick up men like him in bars.
He took the beer anyway. She smiled and leaned up against the wall next to him. He went back to scanning the crowd.
“Some people go to bars with the idea of being sociable,” she ventured.
“Some people do a lot of stupid shit,” he returned bluntly. She stared at him for a second and then she laughed.
That was strange.
“You always this sociable?” He ignored that. She sighed and leaned back against the wall again. “You’re welcome.”
He looked down at her, nonplussed.
“For the drink. You’re welcome.”
His mouth twisted, completely against his will. “Thanks.”
She opened her eyes wide in an exaggerated expression of surprise. “Good lord almighty, he knows the word.” His expression turned to a scowl and she ducked her head. “Sorry.” He went back to scanning the crowd, fully expecting her to get bored and leave.
“You come here often?” Christ, she was persistent.
“No.”
“No, he doesn’t come here often. Therefore I deduce he’s not from around here.” She looked up to see his reaction; he didn’t give one. “Okay…so maybe he comes from around here, maybe he doesn’t. And…he doesn’t care whether I live around here. In fact, he isn’t interested in talking to me at all. In fact, he really wishes I’d just pick on some college boy and leave him alone.” She sighed. “All right, all right. I’ll be over there playing pool if you change your mind.”
He watched her as she made her way across the barroom. She was cute, he had to admit. No, more than cute. She had long auburn hair that fell halfway down her back and she was wearing tight jeans and a little green top that hugged her curves nicely. She wore a scarf around her neck and she had on long black gloves that came almost to her elbows. She leaned over the pool table, setting up her shot, and she caught her full lower lip between her teeth—
Logan turned around and almost knocked over a blonde woman making her way towards the ladies’ room. He ignored her outraged look and went back to the bar. Toby came over to him immediately. “You met Marie.”
He raised an eyebrow. “’Marie’?”
“Yeah.” Toby looked confused. “She bought you a beer, right?”
“I didn’t get the name.” He leaned against the bar, checking the crowd again. The fact that he had an unimpeded view of the pool table was, of course, purely peripheral.
“You’re kidding.” Toby picked up some glasses that had been drying and began slotting them back into the rack. “She’s somethin’, that one. Plays a mean game of pool.”
“Yeah?” She made her shot and threw her arms up triumphantly, grinning at the other players. “You seen any of these guys you’re talking about?” Definitely time for a change of subject.
“No. Not yet. But they tend to come in late.” Toby’s concern for his bar overrode any lingering interest in what was going on with the girl.
Logan was still leaning against the bar when she left around two. She waved to Toby as she went out the door and then, for just a second, her eyes met his. Her smile changed just a little and she gave him a wave of his own; just the least flutter of those black-gloved fingers. Then she was gone.
He didn’t talk to anyone else the rest of the night, because he wasn’t here to play pool or get laid, he was here to break a couple of kneecaps so an old buddy would quit getting hassled by punks. Which didn’t exactly explain why he kept noticing various women. This one had long dark hair, another was wearing a top in a particular shade of green, another had full, lush lips—
Okay, that’s enough of that. Rule number one was don’t get involved, especially with little college girls looking for thrills in the Quarter late at night. He turned his mind firmly back to business. He stayed until closing, but nothing happened that night. Toby got tenser as the night went on, but none of the thugs that had been shaking him down made an appearance. He waited until Toby was locking up and giving instructions to the night porters before heading upstairs to the room where he was crashing for the night.
He didn’t think he was going to sleep too well, somehow.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
This was my second story. Started out as one, wound up as two. What can I say? They asked, I answered. 'Artist' completes the story.