“What the hell did they do to you, Angel?” I asked, looking her over. “Are you hurt? Did he harm you?”
“I think I’m okay now. Mom gave me some of my anxiety pills…” She sounded weak still, but at least she could hold a conversation. It was progress that I was willing to take. “She said she just wanted to calm me down. I didn’t really have any withdrawal symptoms before, but I guess my body forgot how to hold them like I used to…”
“And that sick fuck, Roger?”
“I think he was going to kill me,” she replied, her voice quiet and fearful.
“That will never happen,” I snarled. “There’s no statute of limitations on the things he’s done. Soon as we get back, you’re reporting that bastard. I don’t care what it costs, I don’t care how long it takes, we’re taking him down.”
Angel glanced up at me, strands of her hair falling in front of her eyes. I was afraid that she was going to resist me on this, but the night had sapped her strength. Instead, she surprised me: “Do you really mean that, Trent?”
My resolve hardened. Even if I hadn’t just walked in on a complete atrocity, the forlorn, hopeful look in her eyes only made me more infuriated. How can someone hurt somebody like this? “I’ve never been more serious about anything in my entire fucking life.”
Quietly, a small smile crossed her lips.
I took Angel by the hand and walked her away from the bike, my other arm around her shoulder. Her footing only slipped slightly twice as we crossed the gravel towards the front door of the old, decrepit saloon.
Old Greg was tending at the Riverton Bar when we stepped in from the darkness. Angel was still a bit shaky on her feet, and he faltered at the sight of her, instantly abandoning his patrons. A silence fell over everyone as they turned and recognized their usual, plucky bartender – trembling and clutching onto me in the doorway for support.
“Angel!” He held back tears, hobbling around to greet us. “You’re back!”
She looked at him strangely for a moment, then back to me. “Old Greg, I’m so sorry… I shouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. I just couldn’t look you in the eye.”
“You look like hell,” he muttered huffily.
“Thanks a ton,” Angel grumbled in return.
I glanced between them, confused and only growing angrier by the second… until I realized that the two of them were softly smiling.
“Tell me what those people did to you, girl.”
Angel looked away, unwilling to speak.
Old Greg peered at me curiously, instead.
“There was trouble,” I answered carefully.
“You saw what was happening to her,” he stated bitterly. Not as a question, but a recognition. I wasn’t sure if he really wanted to have this conversation, particularly in front of his patrons, but I nodded sternly.
“First time something out of the ordinary happens, I always write that up as a fluke,” Old Greg told me, “but when it happens again, there’s a pattern. You are no fluke. You’ve saved my Angel again.”
“If happens a third time, I definitely don’t want a shotgun involved.” I allowed the corner of my lip to curl up, watching his reaction harden with realization. “It was cute when she did it the first time, but I’m getting real sick of that.”
Before Old Greg could open his mouth to retort, Angel chuckled weakly. “I think it’s your turn next time, Trent.”
“I’ll just rely on my fists, thank you,” I grinned.
Old Greg’s lungs heaved with a deep, reflective sigh. “The last time we spoke, I sent you from this place a different man than the one who entered. Tell me, Trent… have you decided what kind of man you are?”
“I have,” I nodded.
“And what kind of man is that?”
For the first time since meeting, I looked at him for who he really was. He wasn’t an obstacle to a sexual conquest. Nor was he a crotchety, elderly fool in a rundown bar, or a hurdle in my quest to find her.
Old Greg was a mentor…and a friend.
“The kind that will keep Angel safe and protected for as long as she’ll have me, and even past that,” I told him. “I give you my word that, no matter who I was before…Angel will always be safe with me.”
He stared me in the eyes, searching for any chink in my resolve. After a moment, he finally nodded. Angel seemed confused, but she hadn’t said a word.
“I don’t expect miracles, son… but I see how she looks at you, and how you look at her… and it makes me believe.”
He extended his hand.
I thought back to when I made that gesture to him. He’d seen me for what I really was, back then. I’d been an idiot, fueled by the erection in my jeans, eager to take and use whoever came crawling my way. Angel hadn’t mattered to me. She had just been my latest sexual conquest, ripped away from me before I could claim her. Old Greg had me rightfully pinned as a lecherous snake from the start, and had ignored my grasp before.
With these thoughts in my head, I gratefully, appreciatively shook his hand.
I was a changed man…
No longer the king of the filth.
And it had only been because of them.
“Thank you for bringing her to me,” Old Greg smiled, the first sincere expression of joy he’d had towards me, “and for giving me one last time with my Angel...”
He pulled me in close, whispering in my ear.
“And promise me, son, that you will never let her step foot in this state ever again.”
“You have my word,” I solemnly agreed.
I saw unmistakable sadness flood his expression. It was only there for a brief moment, before cold, hardened resolution replaced it. It was the only sliver of weakness I ever saw penetrate this old, hardy man.
Old Greg nodded curtly, gave Angel a quick but emotional hug. This time, when he and Angel parted, I knew that it had happened the proper way – no stealing away in the middle of the night with a hastily scribbled note.
I knew that they could both live with this.
We parted ways for the final time, before he turned back towards his patrons. As I held the door open for her, proud that she didn’t need my support now, I glanced across at him for one last moment. With a grave expression on his face, Old Greg never once looked our way again.
It wasn’t until I got outside that I realized he hadn’t come clean. He never told her who he was, or the history they had together before the bar.
Maybe he just wanted to stay forgotten.
Angel
In my darkest moment when I needed him most, Trent had come for me. The impact that had on my world was profoundly changing, and I finally realized that I could truly, honestly trust him. From that moment on, nothing was ever the same again.
I felt like the most special girl in the world.
Once we had dropped the motorcycle off, Trent and I took a cab to the airport. While he checked in with the airlines and bought us a pair of tickets back north, I couldn’t help but reflect upon everything I’d been through.
It seemed so crazy to remember myself as being trapped in Riverton and desperate to leave. It felt so long ago, although it had only really been a few weeks. From the night he’d walked into my bar, he’d changed my world… and I’d changed his.
We brought out the best of each other.
“Are you ready?” He asked, dispelling my thoughts.
I turned to face him. Trent was smiling down at me, the most loving grin I’d ever seen plastered across his face.
This was it. No breakaway bag, no clothes, no history, no family, and no money. He was truly, honestly looking at me like I was the most valuable thing in the whole world.
“Yeah… I’m ready,” I smiled back.
“Next few days are going to be hard, Angel. We’re meeting up with a detective back home. You’re going to tell him everything you remember… can you do that for me?”
“I’ll do anything for you, Trent.”
“Good,” he replied, sighing w
ith relief. “Listen, I snagged us a pair of first class tickets. There’s an outbound flight that’s leaving in about fifty minutes. You ready to get the hell out of here?”
I nodded. “I was born ready.”
We walked together, side by side.
He and I were a force to be reckoned with.
Occasionally, someone would glance over at him with faint recollection. Occasionally, he would earn a quick double take. He popped into a small shop and quickly bought a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, handing me a pair as well.
“Just like old times, huh?”