Suzie’s House 283 : I Am the Predator

Crap. What was he doing with helping that girl get over stage fright? Bruce yanked a black, knitted beanie out of his coat pocket and jammed it on his head as he walked away from Emma’s neighborhood. He wasn’t running away. Not at all. He was going back toward State Street and downtown, where he belonged.

As for helping Emma, he was just protecting his place in the band. That’s all. He’d been watching the band members the whole time he was playing his audition, just like he watched the people on the dance floor when he did his thing in a club. Gene wasn’t the only one all closed off at first. Justin, Kate, even Emma stared unsmiling. The only one backing him was Tracy, and he bet that wouldn’t last if he couldn’t talk any of the clubs into taking him back, even with a band behind him.

Then Emma started singing and something happened. Bruce still wasn’t sure what it was. It sounded good, sure, but it was like something more too. Since he never really made music with anyone before, he thought maybe it was just what was supposed to happen – with everything becoming more. But how was he supposed to know?

So she was his passport into the band, and that meant it was ok if he helped her. His gang couldn’t dis him too much over something like that. They didn’t understand his music thing anyway, but that was all right with him.

And if he had a moment when he might have done something not so nice to Emma… well, that had to be expected. Right? He liked her. She was terrified of him, and that made him feel big and mean – just the way he wanted.

But maybe he should wait until he wasn’t on probation with the band. He could thank Gene for that neatly done road block. If he labored under the misconception that he’d get away with it, Bruce would show him otherwise. He’d dangle something just as good as the band in front of Gene then take it away. Right after it was too late for him to do anything about it.

Bruce hauled ass, ready to get out of the cold and into a club. He knew just the one, too. The Warehouse in the old Gateway building was only a couple more blocks away. And Gary should be working tonight.

“Hey,” he said to the bouncer at the door.

“Wait.” The bouncer, a beefy skinhead who usually let him in without a glance, stuck and arm out to stop Bruce. was everyone out to get him today? “There’s a cover.” He wiggled his fingers in a give-me gesture. “Ten bucks.”

“Ten?! I’ve only got five.”

“Forget it. Ten bucks or fck off.”

“But…” Bruce eyed the man. He’d already gone a round with him a few weeks ago and lost. And it wasn’t like the club wanted him back. With Gary still mad at him about it, Bruce couldn’t count on a rescue this time. Besides, the whole point here was to get back in his good graces. “Whatever,” he muttered.

He went around to the back side of the building. Maybe he could slip in the back door when someone came out. Yeah, like a whipped dog.

He shouldn’t have run off just because someone drove up when he was about to mess with Emma. It made him feel like a wimp. First he backed off from Justin, then he stayed out of Gene’s face, and now running from mousy little Emma? It made him grind his teeth.

About the time he started seriously thinking he’d just bag it and go home, some idiot came around the corner, and started pissing against the wall. Something about the steam coming off the yellow stream, and the way the guy totally didn’t care that he was there set Bruce off.

“Hey. You.” Bruce shoved off from the wall. He stalked over to the guy. “Got any money?”

“Huh? What?” The guy looked up with a stupid grin.

“Give me.” Bruce leaned against the wall way too close to the guy, crowding him.

The guy was drunk enough that Bruce could have just grabbed the wallet out of the man’s pocket and taken what he wanted, but what was the fun in that? Instead, he scowled a little, and waited for that sweet, cold-sweat moment when the guy realized he was in a shit load of trouble. Make him pull the wallet out himself. Make him know what he was doing as he handed over the money.

“I don’t have anything.” The guy kept pissing like nothing was going on.

“Yeah, right.” Losing his temper, Bruce slapped the guy in the back, hard.

The guy started coughing. Bruce shoved him face first into the wall. “I said, give me some money. I thought we could be dignified about it, but with you pissing all over yourself, not to mention my shoes, I guess that isn’t going to happen. So you just stay there while I see for myself.”

Bruce fished into the guy’s pocket and came out with a leather wallet bulging around a thick wad. Only it wasn’t a wad of cash. It was a bunch of papers – receipts and torn napkins with shit written on them, and clipping. Bruce pulled it all out and dropped the wallet on the ground. papers floated through the air like snowflakes as he tossed aside anything that wasn’t money-green and spendable.

The guy dropped to his knees, even with his zipper still down and schlong hanging out, and scraped together what Bruce let fall. When the last scrap fell, Bruce had pulled out exactly ten dollars, half in ones.

“Thanks,” he called cheerfully over his shoulder as he headed for the front door and the warmth waiting inside.

Just goes to prove, you should never take a whiz next to a predator.

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