Читать книгу The Marked Men 3-Book Collection: Rule, Jet, Rome - Jay Crownover - Страница 10

It was a crazy busy week at the shop. I think mostly because we were right in the thick of tax refund time and people had extra money to spend. I was booked with back-to-back appointments all the way through Saturday and even went in on my day off to work on a guy’s sleeve I had started a few months ago. Nash was just as booked as I was. When Saturday night rolled around we were both ready to let loose and tie one on. Sunday morning went about the same as last week, only this time when I walked the girl to her car I didn’t have to worry about Shaw bursting in on a scene I didn’t want her to see. I called Rome to see when he was going to come to town, but apparently things at home weren’t any better after last week so he wasn’t ready to leave Mom on her own yet. I wanted to care, wanted to feel bad for her, but I just couldn’t muster it up.

I was getting ready to crack open a beer and plop in front of the flat-screen to relax and watch the game, when Nash came out of his room pulling on a hoodie and a black ball cap over his shaved head. He was a few inches shorter than me, built a lot stockier, but in all actuality was a hell of a lot better looking. He kept his black hair shaved close to the scalp because he had twin tattoos on the sides of his head. His bright, bright eyes looked more purple than blue and always stood out starkly against his much darker complexion. He didn’t have as much metal in his face as I did, just a hoop through the center of his nose and both ears sporting obsidian gauges. For whatever reason, he kept his hands and neck free of ink, which always made me laugh because of the stuff permanently marked on his head. We were a matched set, so when we went out together it was usually a given we wouldn’t have to come home alone. Nash was a much nicer guy than I was; he just looked several degrees more badass.

“Jet and Rowdy are at the Goal Line watching the game. They wanna hang out if you’re down.”

Rowdy worked at the shop with us and Jet was the lead singer of a local metal band we liked—they rounded out the group that Nash and I traveled in. Going to the bar to watch the game sounded a lot more fun than brooding on the couch by myself, so I put my beer back in the fridge and shoved my feet into my black boots.

Nash drove a fully restored ’73 Dodge Charger. It was a monster of black, chrome, and motor. I was pretty sure everyone in the apartment complex knew whenever we were coming or going because it was just that loud and thunderous, but it was a cool ride. I knew it meant a lot to him because he had done the rebuild mostly by himself. Nash’s background was a little sketchy, but since my own was less than stellar I never really pushed him to talk about it. I knew his dad had died when he was really young and that his mom had remarried some rich asshole who, to this day, Nash refused to have anything to do with. Phil, the same Phil who let us make his shop our own, had been integral in getting Nash to adulthood without a criminal record and a whole pack of illegitimate kids.

The bar was in lower downtown, or LoDo as most people actually from Denver called it. It was a popular hangout for mostly locals and industry people, and since I hadn’t been around on a Sunday in years I forgot how packed it could be when the Broncos played. The guys had a table in the back right under a massive flat-screen and already had a pitcher of beer waiting. Fist bumps and head nods for greeting went around the table and a raucous cheer went up in the packed bar as the Broncos scored.

“What up, fellas?” Nash poured us a round as we settled in. Rowdy wiggled his eyebrows up and down and motioned to a spot over his shoulder toward the bar.

“Isn’t this better than family time? Nobody wants to see Mom dressed like that.”

The girls who worked in the bar were all dressed in sexy sports-themed uniforms; some were supersexy cheerleaders, and some were in really small jerseys and hot pants that laced up like football pants. My favorites were the tiny referee outfits that barely covered their bottoms.

“No, they sure don’t.” It was nice to just chill and spend time with the guys on a Sunday when normally Sundays were the worst part of the week. It was way better than getting torn to pieces by my parents just for breathing. I felt a twinge of guilt at my selfishness, but I knew enough beer would squash it.

Jet looked up from the plate of nachos he was steadily demolishing and pointed a finger over his shoulder toward the bar. “Wait until you see the chick waiting on us. Dude, just dude, there aren’t even words.”

Jet’s band, Enmity, was pretty big in the local scene and I knew from firsthand experience he had his pick of groupies and rock chicks to choose from. If he was impressed by a chick, then she was probably a dead ten and I couldn’t wait to check her out. We chatted and pounded the pitcher away in under thirty minutes and the guys were getting louder and rowdier, but we were having a good time. We needed another round sooner than later, but I had yet to see the elusive Waitress of Hotness. Suddenly the hair on the back of my neck went up and I snapped to attention. There was a blonde making her way toward the table. Her hair was so blond it was almost white and it was in twin pigtails on either side of her head. Her startled green eyes were looking at me from under razor-straight bangs. Her mouth was a bright slash of red against a pale face I was as familiar with as my own. She had on the requisite referee outfit, complete with ruffly little black shorts and fishnet stockings. She also was wearing a pair of black boots that looked a hell of a lot like my own, only girly, and they went up seriously awesome legs to rest below her knees. While I struggled with recognition and my idiot friends leered at her, Nash climbed to his feet to enfold her in a bear hug.

“Hey, girl, what are you doing here?” Shaw gave a little squeal as she returned my roommate’s hug, but her eyes never left mine.

“Uh … I work here. I have for a while. I normally have Sundays off, but since my schedule changed and it’s busy I picked them up. What are you guys doing here?”

I knew the question was directed at me, but I was still too stunned at how different she looked to respond. Nash left an arm around her shoulder and pointed at our friends. “The guy with the chops is Rowdy—he works at the shop with me and Rule. The guy shoving his face full of nachos is Jet—he sings for Enmity and we grew up together. Guys, this is Shaw—she grew up with Rule and his brothers.”

I watched with a mixture of awe and repulsion as my friends practically fell over themselves to shake the hand she extended. I still hadn’t said anything and it was starting to get awkward, but she just smiled and picked up the empty pitcher and told us she would be back with another in a few minutes. All four sets of eyes followed the swish of her hair and the ruffles on her ass as she walked away. I wanted to punch everyone, including myself, in the face. As soon as she was out of earshot Rowdy turned to me and reached across the table to smack me upside the head. I swore and glared at him, but made no move to retaliate.

“What the fuck was that for?”

He shook his head and pointed a finger at me. “That’s the girl you complain about driving home with every weekend? That’s the girl you whine endlessly about walking in on you when you’re acting the fool? That’s the girl you dodge calls from and avoid like the plague? Geez, Rule, I never knew you were gay.”

Nash snickered and Jet busted out in a full belly laugh. I flipped Rowdy off and narrowed my eyes.

“Shut up. You don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? I have eyes and that chick is killer, so either you’re blind or stupid, because if I was cooped up in a car with her for two hours every week I’d be thanking God—not bitching about it.”

Nash shook his head. “I can’t believe you didn’t know she worked here. Do you really just ignore everything she says to you?”

I glared at him. “You didn’t know, either, and you talk to her when she comes over on Sundays.”

“I ask her if she wants coffee, not how she makes a living. Dude, admit it, you suck.”

I was going to argue but he kept going. “And she is hot—she’s always been hot. You just don’t like her so you can’t see it. She looks good in all that fancy crap she’s normally in, but man, in that uniform …”

“I like her fine.” I refused to comment on her hotness or lack thereof because it was weird. Of course I had eyes in my head so I knew logically she’s a beautiful girl, but she always seemed so cold and so untouchable that I never really thought of her as attractive—more like an impressive work of art that was meant for viewing in a museum than for everyday enjoyment.

“Don’t lie. You two can’t stand each other.”

I shrugged a little. “She’s like family. You know how I feel about my family.”

Jet lifted an eyebrow. “I wish my family had members who looked like that.”

I rolled my eyes. “Knock it off. Stop being a creeper.”

She came back with not one pitcher but two and a plate of wings. She smiled at Nash and the other guys but when her bright gaze landed on me, the shutters came down. “The wings are on me. I just can’t help myself from trying to make sure you eat on Sundays.” She turned away with a flip of one of her pale pigtails and moseyed over to another table full of middle-aged guys in ill-fitting jerseys. I narrowed my eyes when one of them put his hand on her ruffle-covered butt. Clearly used to it, Shaw flashed her killer grin and easily sidestepped the groper. It was such a different way to see her that when she walked past the table again, clearly intent on ignoring me, I reached out and grabbed her arm.

Her eyes flashed emerald sparks as she looked at the tattooed fingers I had wrapped around her wrist. I was surprised when a jolt of electricity shot all the way up to my shoulder at the contact. I lifted both eyebrows at her and gave her a nasty sneer.

“Do your parents know you work here? What about Margot? I have a hard time believing any of the adults you try so hard to impress know that you’re prancing around here half-naked.”

She scowled at me and shook my hand off. “No, my parents don’t know because they’ve never asked, and Margot knows I work in a sports bar but she doesn’t know what the uniform looks like, and I’m not even close to being half-naked. Leave me alone, Rule. My roommate works here, too, and she’s giving me the look that means she’s about to call in the troops. Unless you want to be carted out of here by three very big bouncers you’ll keep your hands to yourself and your trap shut. I like Nash, he’s always been nice enough to me, but I have no problem getting you and the rest of your friends eighty-sixed if you continue to piss me off.”

We glared at each other in a hostile standoff until one of her other tables flagged her down.

“Just one weekend,” she muttered so low I almost didn’t hear her.

I frowned. “What?”

Those eyes blazed so much at me I couldn’t even pick out one solid emotion. “Just one weekend I wanted a break from dealing with you.” She flounced away from me and for the first time since I had met her I realized that maybe spending time with me was as much a pain for her as it was for me. When I turned back to my friends they were all looking at me with a mixture of pity and awe. My scowl darkened even more as I chugged back my full beer in one swallow.

“What?” I could hear the surliness in my tone.

“Dude, what’s the deal with that?” Rowdy was the one who asked the question, but Nash and Jet both looked like they wanted to ask the same thing.

“What are you talking about?”

Nash lifted up his beer to hide a smile. “You both looked like you either wanted to box each other or tear each other’s clothes off and go at it right in the middle of the bar. What gives with that? I thought she bugged you.”

“She does. She’s rich and spoiled and we don’t agree on anything; we never have.”

Rowdy gave me a look that outright called bullshit on my claim. “I know what I saw and there is no way you wouldn’t take her if she offered it up to you.”

I wanted to yell at him that he was wrong, so very wrong, because before she was any of the things that annoyed me and got under my skin, she was Remy’s, and there was nothing in heaven or hell that would make me forget that. Pulling in my temper, I poured another beer and lapsed into a moody silence. I wasn’t attracted to Shaw. I was just seeing her in a new environment, seeing her in something other than her fancy outfits that cost more than I made in a month.

We were almost to the bottom of the second pitcher when, silently, Shaw dropped off a replacement and a really pretty girl with supershort dark hair suddenly appeared at the edge of the table. She was tall and had eyes the color of Jack Daniel’s, a mouth that would give Angelina Jolie a run for her money, and a body that was meant to stop traffic. She was wearing the same uniform as Shaw; only instead of kick-ass boots she had on a pair of spike heels that probably made her taller than Nash and Jet. There was nothing on her lovely face that came across as welcoming.

Jet sat up straighter and Rowdy, who was by far the drunkest of all of us—he had started adding shots of tequila twenty minutes ago—almost fell off his stool when she posted up at the table between the two of them. Her gaze was trained directly on me, though, so I met her look for look until she finally spoke. She had a soft Southern twang and I could swear I saw Jet fall in love on the spot.

“You’re Rule.” It wasn’t a question so I just nodded. “I’m Ayden Cross. I live with Shaw.”

I wasn’t sure why that was supposed to matter to me so I kept silent while my best friend whipped his head around to glare at me. I was being kind of rude, but I was buzzed and still pissed at Shaw, so I didn’t really care.

“I don’t know what your deal is, but leave her alone. She doesn’t need you screwing with her head anymore, so just back off.”

I blinked because I honestly had no clue what this babe was talking about. “I don’t mess with Shaw.”

She narrowed her eyes and pointed a finger at me. “I know exactly what you do and don’t do, Tattoo Boy. I adore Shaw. She’s sweet, nice, and the best roommate ever. You need to just go do your troubled, bad-boy act somewhere else, she doesn’t need it …” It looked as if she was gearing up to lay into me even more, but something caught her eye and suddenly her eyes were glowing with gold fire. “Oh my God! I cannot believe that asshole had the nerve to show up here. I need to go get Lou.” She spun on her heel and marched through the crowd, leaving me reeling. I had no clue what she was talking about but clearly something had crawled up her butt. I looked over my shoulder and felt every protective cell I had suddenly come alive.

Shaw was standing by the bar. It was crowded but her white-blond hair was unmistakable. She looked stressed and freaked out while a guy in a white polo shirt crowded her into the edge of the bar. He had a hand on her shoulder and was leaning down into her face. Whatever he was saying to her made her look like she wanted to punch him in the nuts or puke on his shoes. I’d never seen a look of panic on her face like that before; she was normally so cool and unflappable. Against my better judgment I was climbing to my feet. I wasn’t the type to give two shits about a damsel in distress, and this damsel, I knew for a fact, could take care of herself. But she looked like she was struggling and, despite how I felt about her, I was going to intervene.

“I’ll be back in a second.”

Since I’m tall and have a good portion of visible skin covered in designs that cry “don’t mess with me,” I didn’t have to worry about people in the crowded bar moving out of my way. When I got close enough her eyes snapped to me and I was pretty sure I saw relief flood into their sparkly green depths. Polo Shirt leaned in even closer to her, and I thought I heard him say something about how things were going to look when he went home alone over winter break. I saw her stiffen and try to pull away, but Polo Shirt just moved in closer to keep her pinned against the bar.

“I don’t care what my mother told you, Gabe. We’re over. I have no interest in going to Aspen with you or your family. Stop calling me and stop showing up where I’m at.”

“Baby, we’re meant for each other and once you stop being stubborn you’ll see how great we could be together.” I hated guys who called girls “baby.” Baby was what you used when you didn’t remember the girl’s name or you were just too lazy to come up with your own nickname for her.

She wiggled a little more and I noticed the way the guy’s eyes followed the deep vee of her revealing outfit.

“Let go of me, Gabe. I didn’t want to be with you like that when we were dating, and I sure as hell don’t want to be with you like that now. Leave me alone.”

Polo Shirt got red in the face at her blatant rejection. He was about to lean even farther into her, about to put his other hand on her, when I reached out and grabbed her wrist and tugged her free. Polo Shirt was a good four inches shorter than me so I tucked Shaw’s small frame under my arm and glared at him over the top of her head.

“Sorry I’m late, Casper.” Without missing a beat she put an arm around my waist and practically collapsed into my side. I had used the nickname to tease her when we were younger because her hair was almost white and I knew she hated it. Now it sounded intimate and personal, like we had some kind of secret Polo Shirt wasn’t in on.

“No problem. I’ve got an hour or so left of my shift. Can you hang out until I’m off?” Her eyes were pleading with me to play along but I was too busy wondering why my side felt like it was on fire where we touched.

“No problem. Who’s your friend?”

Polo Shirt was glaring at me and turning an alarming shade of red. He didn’t even give Shaw a chance to respond.

“I’m her boyfriend, Gabe Davenport. Who are you?”

Shaw went stiff next to me and I felt her fingers clutch the back of my shirt.

“Gabe, this is Rule Archer. Rule, this is Gabe, my EX-boyfriend, only he’s having a hard time getting the ‘ex’ part down.”

“Shaw, get away from him. What are you thinking? You can’t possibly think anyone is going to believe you would go from me to someone like him, can you? Just look at him, he’s a mess.”

I was immune to the “someone like him” tactic—I heard it all the time—but apparently Shaw wasn’t. She bristled like a wet cat and made a move like she was going to poke the guy in the chest. I wrapped her back up against my side and subtly tried to calm her down by rubbing a hand up and down her bare arm.

“I’ve known Rule most of my life, Gabe. I couldn’t care less what he looks like because he isn’t anybody’s puppet, and the same thing cannot be said about you. Don’t think you can stand there and judge him or me, not when you’re practically stalking me and trying to bully me into a relationship by manipulating my parents because you know they like you. Ayden is here and you can bet your ass if she saw you she’s going to go get Lou. Lou doesn’t like to see his girls upset so unless you want a scene I’m sure you’ll never live down, go away and don’t come back. You can call my mom, talk to my dad all you want, I don’t want to be with you and nothing is going to change that.”

He looked like he was gearing up to keep fighting but there was a sudden surge toward the bar, knocking Shaw even farther into my embrace and I took full advantage by pulling her small frame completely in line with mine. The girl was rocking some serious curves and I wondered what in the hell I had been smoking to miss it right up until now.

“We got a problem, bro?” I asked him. She pulled away from me slightly with a scowl and put her hands in the center of my chest to get a little space.

“Yeah, bro, we do. But now isn’t the time or the place. I don’t have time to mess around with a peon like you. Shaw, I’ll see you later. This isn’t over.”

He shoulder-checked me and glared as he pushed around us. I gave Shaw a squeeze and let her take a step back but kept my hand loosely at her waist. I was watching Polo Shirt walk away and trying to catch Nash’s eye over her head. She let out a breath that fluttered against my throat and sent a chill running across my skin.

“Thanks.”

“No problem. That guy needs to get a clue.” Nash finally looked up and I jerked my head toward the door, where Polo Shirt had just exited. He gave me a slight nod, stood, and said something to Rowdy and Jet, which had the two of them climbing to their feet as well. I saw Shaw’s dark-haired roommate hanging by the door with a mountain of a man. She gave my friends an odd look as they filed out the door but didn’t say anything. I dug my Amex out of my wallet and put it in Shaw’s hand. Her luminous eyes were watching me curiously.

“Close our tab out on that, will ya? I’ll be back in just a second.”

She took the card and fell back a step. I tried not to notice what it did to her breasts when she crossed her arms over her chest.

“Where are you going?”

“To run an errand.”

“Leave Gabe alone, Rule. He isn’t like you and Rome. He was born to be a politician—threats and intimidation don’t mean anything to someone like that. Just forget about him. The idea that I would leave him for a guy with tattoos and purple hair is enough of a blow to his ego to get him to leave me alone for a while, trust me. Besides, I’ll talk to Lou, the bouncer. If I tell him that Gabe is harassing me they’ll eighty-six him for good.”

“Look, Rome would kick my ass to Nebraska if he found out some douche bag was giving you trouble and I didn’t say something, plus I hate a guy who thinks he can just do whatever he wants to a girl because he has an in with the parents. I’ll be back in a second; just close our tab and hold on to the card in case you have to bail one or all of us out of jail.”

I thought it was funny, but she didn’t even crack a smile. She was just looking at me like I had suddenly grown another head. I needed to get a move on before the asshat left.

“It’ll be fine, Shaw. Seriously, I got this.”

I set her fully away from me and moved around her to follow the guys out the front door. The pretty roommate caught my eye and lifted a brow. “Maybe you have redeeming qualities after all, Archer.”

I flipped her off, because, well, that’s what I do. I made my way to the edge of the block, where Nash and the boys were leaning against a white Lexus. A very nervous-looking Polo Shirt was pacing back and forth in front of them threatening to call the cops, waving his iPhone around and asking repeatedly if they had any idea who his dad was. I tucked my hands in my front pockets and cocked my head to the side. I could see why Shaw’s parents loved this guy. He was all right looking, if you went for a dude who looked like Banana Republic threw up all over him. He actually had coloring similar to mine, dark hair minus the purple and spikes, and light blue eyes, but he oozed entitlement and vanity in a way only the idle rich can. He was custom-made to be the husband who had a piece on the side while the pretty wife smiled for the cameras during election time. While my relationship with Shaw tended to be tumultuous at best, I knew on a soul-deep level that she deserved better than whatever this slimeball was selling.

“Hey, Polo Shirt, slow down a minute. I just wanna talk to you for a second.” He was in the middle of telling Nash that he was going to sue him for this or that and that his dad was a judge so they would throw the book at him when he finally noticed I had joined the party. He lowered his wildly flailing arms and glared at me.

“I know who you are, you know. Shaw might think she’s clever but she has a picture of you and your brothers in her room on her nightstand. Her parents have told me multiple times about her unhealthy attachment to you and your family. Her father has even threatened to stop paying for school for her if she keeps showing such questionable judgment in who she spends time with. This little encounter might just seal the deal.”

I had to give the creep credit—on my own I am a fairly intimidating guy, but he was surrounded by guys who were just as big and a hell of a lot more used to physical violence than he obviously was, but the little puke held his ground. “I don’t know what her fascination with a freak like you is, but it’s time for her to outgrow it. She belongs with someone like me, not someone who can’t go through a metal detector without clearing out his face.”

Nash snickered and Rowdy laughed outright. I just shook my head a little and lifted my mouth in a twisted grin. “I think she belongs with someone more interested in getting into her pants than into her daddy’s wallet. Shaw’s a good girl and she has a good head on her shoulders. The fact she wouldn’t let you even round first base in six months is pretty telling, bro. From the sounds of it, you would have better luck taking her folks on a date than her. Look, she’s like family, and I don’t like it when people mess with my family. This is a friendly little chat because we’re on a public street and I’m feeling generous. Next time it won’t be public and my generosity has a time limit. Leave her alone, end of story.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, wanted to say something back, but the mountain of a human being who was clearly the bouncer for the bar came around the corner. Lou looked at the guys leaning on the car and then to the heated Polo Shirt and shook his head.

“Enough. You four go back in. Ayden told me what was going on so your tab is on me. You”—he pointed a meaty finger at Gabe—“you are no longer allowed at the Goal Line; consider yourself eighty-sixed. If Shaw doesn’t want you here, I don’t care how much you got in your wallet or what kinda pull your old man has, this is my house and you aren’t welcome. Next time you want to get all up on one of my girls or put your hands on them, you won’t have to worry about these guys because I’ll make sure they never find your body, understand?”

Even I didn’t question that this monster meant business, so Polo Shirt gulped and nodded his head slightly. My boys pushed off the car and Nash “accidentally” shoved into him as they made their way over to where I was standing. Gabe swore and jumped into his car. He pulled away from the curb and flipped us all the bird as he squealed into traffic. The bouncer looked me up and down and flicked his impassive gaze over our motley crew.

“You friends with Shaw?”

I mean we weren’t friends, exactly, but it was as close as any other explanation so I shrugged and answered, “Sure.”

He nodded. “I’m Lou. I look out for the girls who work here. Shaw and Ayden just happen to be two of my favorites. They’re good girls and they work hard here—they aren’t here just to show their asses and get into trouble—I respect that. I don’t let anyone mess with those two; in fact, I take it personally when someone tries to.”

I wasn’t sure why he was telling me all this but, frankly, he was one scary mother so I kept my mouth shut and just kept making eye contact.

“Shaw is a sweet kid but she tries to do too much by herself. If that asshole keeps bothering her she’ll just suffer it in silence.” Now he was looking at me pointedly, so I lifted an eyebrow. “I wanna know if something needs to be done about him.”

“Shaw and I aren’t exactly close—she wouldn’t tell me something like that. You might want to have this talk with her roommate.”

“I’m having it with you, son.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but just as I was about to say something sarcastic, the door to the bar opened and the middle-aged guys in the jerseys came spilling out and got between us. Lou gave me one last direct look, which I took as him meaning business, and went back inside. I looked back at my friends and sorta threw my hands up in the air.

“Is this what I miss when I go out of town on Sunday?”

All three of them burst into laughter and Jet decided it was time for us to move on to another bar and I ran inside to get my card from Shaw. The guys pitched in ten bucks each for me to give her as a tip and I wound my way back to the bar, where she was talking to another waitress with honey-gold hair and dressed in a cheerleader uniform. Shaw stopped midsentence and looked at me through narrowed eyes. I grinned at her and handed her the money. “Your bouncer friend picked up our tab, but the boys wanted to make sure you got taken care of.”

She handed me the Amex card back. “What did you do to Gabe?”

“Nothing.” She sighed and I didn’t even try to not watch the way it stretched her tiny little uniform across her chest.

“Well, thanks for intervening; I don’t know what his problem is.”

The cheerleader was having sex with me with her eyes, and while I was normally a fan of hot chicks doing that to me, I barely even registered her because Shaw was bending over to get her drinks, and the ruffles on her butt were suddenly the only thing I could see. She was short, so I’d never really thought about her having such great legs, but they were toned and curved just right. Given enough time, I could work up some seriously awesome fantasies involving those legs and those boots and nothing else.

“His problem is you’re hot, richer than hell, have parents who are connected out the ass, and you wouldn’t put out. You not only left him physically hard-up but blue-balled his visions of playing golf with your dad at the country club and sitting next to your mom at the Republican convention. You dismantled everything he was trying to build.”

She flipped one of her pigtails and picked up a tray full of drinks. “I gotta get back to work. You think we can ever have a Sunday not filled with drama and fights?”

I ran a hand over my messy hair and shook my head ruefully. “Sundays have never been a great day for me. I’ll catch you later, Shaw.”

“Bye, Rule.”

I made my way back out of the bar thinking that this had probably been the first time since I had met Shaw when she was just a kid that I had ever seen Shaw be Shaw. It made me a little nervous that when she didn’t have all her guards up and all her haughty defense mechanisms in place, she seemed so fallible, so undeniably human, so approachable, and so … attainable.