A/N: This chapter takes a decidedly serious turn, but don't worry, I will pick up the humor in the next go-round. I think I was just in a weird mood, and a little writer's blocked as to how to change it. Hope you still enjoy it—it does move the plot along though, and hopefully not a total downer, lol. Thanks for all the great reviews! Please continue to let me know what you think!
MICK
It was the afternoon of our last full day at sea. Out of deference to Josef's injuries, we had hung out the rest of the time on the ship, not disembarking at Ensenada like most everyone else had. But by six o'clock, Josef was getting a little stir crazy, insisting that with the sun setting, it would be fine if we all had a look around until we had to be back onboard by eleven that night. His foot was much improved, and he said he needed a good shot of real Mexican tequila, so off we went, Simone pushing his wheelchair down the ramp and onto the cobblestone streets of the little port city.
The girls had to stop at a street vendor and buy some Mexican trinkets to take home with them, and Josef and I stood back like patient husbands until they rejoined us, Beth taking my hand so naturally it seemed almost surreal. It was small moments like these that sometimes overwhelmed me.
"Hey, Mick," Josef said to me as we wheeled him past bar after bar on the main street of town. "You ever heard of Madre y Cervesas?"
"Uh, yeah. Pretty wild place is what I've heard. Lots of their bumper stickers on cars around LA. You're not thinking of going there, are you?" Oh, I'd definitely heard of it. Not a nice place.
"Why not? You ladies are up for it, aren't you?"
Beth and Simone looked at each other, their eyes wide at the suggestion. Then, as if on cue, they both said: "Hell yeah!"
"Oh, I forgot we've got Thelma and Louise with us," I said, only half kidding. Why wasn't I surprised they were interested in some Spring Break hangout where women were tipped over by the waiters and force-fed shooters? My protective instincts warned me this wasn't such a good idea, but I was hopelessly outnumbered.
"It's somewhere on this street, I think," Josef said, clearly excited now. I was glad the girls weren't wearing dresses that evening, given the tipping tradition of the place. Loud hard rock announced the place long before we saw it. Only six o'clock, and it was packed, people spilling out the doors beneath the bar's giant neon sign.
I looked at Beth after she whispered something in Simone's ear.
"You sure you want to go in this dive," I asked her. Beth smiled gamely.
"Come on, Mick. It'll be okay. We'll just go in and have a drink, see what all the fuss is about. Then, if we aren't having any fun, we'll leave." She squeezed the hand she'd been gripping during our walk, batting those baby blues at me in that way she had that would make me do anything. God, I was so whipped. Josef had caught the whole exchange and chuckled knowingly.
At first I thought maybe I'd get a reprieve, and it would be too crowded to get in. No such luck. Everyone cleared out of the way as Simone pushed Josef's chair inside the door, parting the crowd like the Red Sea. It wasn't really as crowded as it had first seemed, and we managed to find a table in a darkened corner. A waiter instantly appeared to take our drink orders, and we settled down to watch the antics of the drunken college students playing their drinking games and generally acting well—like college students. It was certainly too loud to talk to one another, so by the time our drinks arrived, we'd pretty well taken in all that the place had to offer.
The tequila was good, though. I was ready to leave the minute we got a chance, and I was grateful to see the girls were disappointed enough in the overly hyped bar that we could leave right away. They excused themselves to use the restroom first. Looking around us, Josef and I were feeling decidedly old. But did I mention the tequila was good? I ordered another round while we waited. About fifteen minutes passed, and Josef and I were getting a little worried about what was taking Beth and Simone so long.
"I'll go check on them," Josef hollered over the music, forgetting that I for one could hear him even if he had spoken at a normal level. "I need to use the facilities anyway myself." Before I could protest, he had zoomed away through the crush, following the arrow pointing the way to "El Banos." I couldn't leave when I saw Beth's purse and street vendor purchase were still at the table. I sighed. Great. I was babysitting handbags now.
After another ten minutes of clock watching, I was about to stoop to the manly level of carrying my girlfriend's purse when a sudden crash and some women's screams made their way past the deafening music to my vampire hearing. Well, shit. I slung the bag over one shoulder and headed for the bathrooms, pushing kids out of the way--gently, I hoped, despite the fuck you's that followed me.
I hadn't realized it before, but the restrooms were actually accessed by a boardwalk outside, surrounded by a courtyard, where more tables were occupied by more young people drinking. At least that's what they had been doing before the fight had broken out. I was seeing the aftermath, apparently.
"Josef!" The wheelchair had somehow rolled off the walkway with Josef in it, and he lay pinned beneath it, his right arm at an awkward angle, blood pouring from his nose and the corner of one eye. But I didn't quite have time to help him out, for I saw that Beth and Simone were being held by two hugely muscular men in gray t-shirts, "security" emblazoned across them. The girls were struggling in the men's strong grips, especially Simone, nearly hysterical at Josef's state on the ground.
I tried to remain calm and not burst into fangs at the sight our women being manhandled by some goons
"What's going on here?" I asked in mock politeness, trying hard to ignore Josef's moans.
"These your senoritas?" asked Beth's captor.
"Yes. Why are you holding them?"
"They were doing drugs in el bano, senor," said the other guy, "and we were searching this one's bag for them. The man in the wheelchair, he went loco. He attacked us, so we attacked back, eh Guzman?" They both laughed raucously.
"We don't have any drugs!" Beth was saying for probably the hundredth time. "I've never even tried any—well, does Black Crystal count? But we have nothing now, I swear."
I noticed the man holding Simone had taken her camera, phone, and wallet from her bag; the wrist straps encircled his arm. This must have been what he'd confiscated in his "search." I was painfully aware of our audience, which was all that kept me from turning. That, and the close quarters on the boardwalk made me fear that Beth and Simone might get hurt in the scuffle.
"Let them go," I said in my deepest, most persuasive voice, "and we'll leave this fine establishment. Keep what you've 'found' in her bag—no hard feelings."
"Sorry, senor, we're going to have to hold your friends on suspicion of drug use and resisting arrest," said Guzman almost happily. "The policia should be here any minute. And gracias—we'll be happy to keep what we found in her bag." The two men laughed again, Simone's guard sinking his nose into her hair, inhaling luxuriantly.
"You get your hands off them right now, or I swear to God I'll rip your throats out!" This had been Josef's standard threat when he had been a vampire. Now, with him prone on the grass, it just seemed a little ridiculous. But I certainly knew what he was feeling.
By this time, Josef had struggled to a sitting position and was trying to get the wheelchair upright. Had it been just one short week ago, we would have beaten the hell out of these guys and escaped with our women. As it was, I didn't see how I could do it and get away without leaving Josef behind. But it was taken out of my hands, for by then, the police had arrived, coming in the courtyard through a side gate. I jumped off the boardwalk and helped Josef up, grabbing a handful of napkins from a table to help staunch the blood from his nose. I hate to say it, but Josef's human blood smelled very good. I turned my face away the best I could, helping him into the wheelchair, then feeling his arm, which I could tell right away was broken in two places.
Seeing the police, our drunken audience suddenly cleared out, heading back inside the bar. Some were laughing at our plight, but most were too drunk to care. I felt as helpless as Josef likely did as the bar security updated the policemen in rapid Spanish, and my three friends were taken to out through the courtyard gate to a police car and pushed inside, the wheelchair left on the side of the road. Beth and Simone looked like they were in shock, and Josef had his head in his one good hand, his broken arm awkwardly pulled up to his chest.
"Don't worry," I said to them through the glass. "I'll get you out of this."
My last sight of them before they pulled away was of Beth's huge, pleading eyes, moist with tears. My last thought as they pulled away was decidedly filled with anger.
Dammit, Josef.
