Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Dragon

Some demons you never slay. Some you just have to learn to live with.

Tim’s words haunt me as I walk around downtown Denver.

It’s nearing midnight, and the clubs are hopping, and of course the smell of marijuana is on every corner.

You can’t escape it in Colorado, especially on a Saturday night.

That second piece of cherry pie and my chocolate malt are heavy in my stomach. Not a good idea. I’ve never been one to substitute food for alcohol or drugs, so I’m not sure what got into me tonight.

Going to the party with Diana… Having that woman, Tracy, flirt all over me as she sucked on an IPA bottle.

Was it her lips on the amber rim? Or was it the beer itself?

Because Tracy was hot for sure, and she dressed like she’d be up for anything.

Still…aside from the malty beverage, all I’ve been thinking about is…Diana.

How attracted I am to her.

I’m going to have to find another place to stay.

But first I have to find a job—at least for a few months, until the band is back in business. We’re not booked for anything else yet, and we couldn’t take anything anyway until Jesse and Rory get back from their honeymoons. Brock and Rory went back to Europe and are going to be gone for at least two months. Jesse and Brianna are hanging on a beach in Jamaica, and they won’t be back anytime soon either.

Part of me wants to go home. Hang out with Cage and Jake, the other two members of the band. Except the two of them like to drink as much as anyone.

I’m better off here with Diana. Diana, who doesn’t keep booze in the house and rarely drinks herself.

As I walk by a twenty-four-hour liquor store, its neon sign pulses at me in sync with my heartbeat.

It says liquor .

But to me it pulses with different words.

Dragon…

Come in…

I’m waiting for you…

All you have to do is grab the door handle…

Open the door…

I’m waiting…waiting…waiting…

Come in, Dragon…

You know you want to…

Want to…

Want to…

I force myself to pass, to ignore the yearning to walk in, grab a six-pack of some mellow IPA, and drown myself in it.

How long have I been walking? I don’t have a clue. I pull out my phone. It’s after midnight now, and I’ve walked all through downtown Denver. I’m getting into the seedy area toward the north.

A young lady stops me in my path. “Looking for a date?”

She’s a pretty young thing. I’m not even sure she’s of age.

Blond hair, smoking-hot body, but there’s something worn about her. Her face is so made up that she looks like a fucking clown.

“No,” I say.

She walks alongside me. “You sure? I can make you forget your troubles.”

If only.

I’d grab her, take her roughly behind the building, and pay her whatever she asked if I thought that were actually true.

“No,” I say again.

Then she steps in front of me, her eyes wide and pleading. “I’ve got to bring in some cash tonight. If I don’t…”

If she doesn’t, what? Her pimp will beat the shit out of her?

“No.”

She grabs my arm. “Please. I have to.”

God, she looks so much like…

No. I don’t know what Griffin would look like as an adult. This woman has blond hair and blue eyes, but I know nothing after that. Still, the look in the young woman’s eyes pulls at me. It’s one of desperation—a look I know well.

I pull out my wallet. I still have some cash. I don’t want this woman to get beat up because I’m turning her down. “Look,” I tell her. “This is for you. I’m not going to do anything with you, but take this. Maybe it will save you for tonight. But after that, get the hell out of here. Go back to school. You’re better than this.”

She takes the money from me, and then her eyes widen. She turns tail and scampers off into a nearby alley.

I turn around. Headlights are on me. A car.

A police car.

And a cop.

Two cops.

Within seconds, my face is pushed into a brick wall. “You’re under arrest for solicitation,” one cop says.

“What? You’ve got to be kidding me. I was trying to help the woman.”

“We saw money exchange hands.”

“Just ask her. I told her it wasn’t for?—”

“Did you get her?” the cop holding me asks the other one.

“She darted into a shadow. Sorry. I lost her.”

“Fuck it all,” I grit out.

So the little hooker’s gone, and she can’t validate my story.

“You have the right to remain silent,” the first cop says. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights?”

“I didn’t fucking do anything. I was trying to help her.”

He nudges me into the wall. “Answer me. You understand your rights?”

“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth. “Now what?”

“Now, we take you to the station. We fingerprint you. And we stick you in a holding cell until someone comes to bail you out. If no one comes, you’ll be arraigned on Monday.”

Monday? I’m not sitting in a jail cell until Monday. “I want my phone call.”

“I’m not sure you’re in any position to be making demands.”

Fuck. Just what I need. In the shitstorm that has been my life, one thing I’ve avoided is the inside of a jail cell.

Until now, apparently.