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hundredth time, I glance at the clock
on my nightstand. Hopping off the bed, I start stripping off my
lounge clothes. “That’s it,” I tell the silence in my room. “I’m
not sitting around here thinking about him for one more night.” Ten
minutes later, I’m dressed in jeans and a BULLDOGS t-shirt, in my
car, heading toward Cuff’s. There are many ways to live and I’ve
got many things to prove. Tonight, my focus will be my obtuse
family. Maybe if I can make some headway in that department, my
confidence will get the boost it needs to propel me back to
Hemi’s.
    When I walk into the bar that my brothers
have gone on and on and on about for years, my initial reaction is
less than earth shattering. I’m not impressed. It’s just a noisy,
crowded bar, like any other. Only this one, I happen to know, is
frequented by local law enforcement.
    If I didn’t already know that, I’d never
guess. No one is in uniform. As I look around, I just see a bunch
of guys dressed in regular clothes, drinking and laughing and
slapping each other on the back.
    The one thing I do notice is the
marked lack of women. I mean, there are a few scattered here and
there, but it’s not like other places where the ratio is more
female-heavy. At least it looks like that on TV. No, this one looks
more like a gay bar with a few beards thrown in for good
measure.
    I scan the hundreds of faces, looking for a
familiar one. Considering their crazy schedules and need to
decompress after a long shift, I figure at least one of my brothers
will be here. Maybe even my dad, too.
    And I’m not wrong.
    Over near the pool tables, I see a dark blond
head pop up. I recognize Steven immediately. He stands a good two
or three inches taller than everyone else around him. He’s not as
tall as Sig and Dad, but he’s a big guy at six-four. Makes him easy
to spot in a crowd. That and his naturally-streaked hair—dark blond
with a few pale highlights. Nobody knows where he gets his light
hair. Mom used to say that what darkness missed his head went
straight to his eyes. Rather than our dark brown eyes, Steven’s
eyes are almost black. Like onyx. As a cop, they give him an edge.
He can be pretty intimidating when he turns them on you, especially
if he’s unhappy. It’s almost enough to give me a chill, and
I know he’d never hurt me. I can only imagine how criminals must
feel.
    Turning toward the bar, I slide in between
two men and wait to be served.
    When the burly bartender spots me, he lumbers
down to me and asks in his scratchy voice, “I.D.?” Proudly, I take
out my driver’s license and hold it up for him to see. He examines
it closely, looks at my face, and then studies my card again. In a
cop bar, no doubt he feels the need to be extra careful. Finally,
he nods. “What’ll you have?”
    I order a rum and Coke (one of the few drinks
I know how to order). He nods and ambles off. I smile. That
felt good. Very mature. Very independent. I’ve only ever sipped a
beer or two in my life. Dad made sure I never really got a chance
to do much in the way of rebelling. Or breaking the law. But now
I’m of age. And no one can stop me. Not even my father. Or my
brothers. And I’m here to show them exactly that.
    A couple of minutes later, the bartender
slides me my drink. I hand him a ten, casually, as if I’ve done it
a million times. He looks at it and I wonder briefly if I’ve made a
mistake. I thought surely that would be enough to cover the drink
and a tip. But maybe I was wrong.
    “Want change?”
    Inwardly, I sigh in relief. “No, you keep
it.”
    He grunts and I pick up my drink and squeeze
back out from between the two men.
    Now for the hard part…
    I square my shoulders, take a deep breath,
and head for the pool tables. Before I can get there, I big hand
clamps down on my shoulder.
    “What the hell are you doing here?”
    I turn to see Sig glowering down on me. He
must’ve just arrived, as his partner is right on his heels. I give
him my