Bad to Be Good - Andrew Grey
Chapter 1
RICHARD MARSDEN—yes, that was his name now. It was always at the front of his mind that his old life was over. Everything had been stripped away, and the person and the life he’d had before were gone. And that included his real name. Well, now Marsden was his “real” name. At least it was supposed to be, but it didn’t feel like it. Though to be fair, nothing about where he lived and what he did each day felt real to him. He doubted it ever would.
“I ain’t never gonna get used to this shit,” his brother Terrance grumped as he stalked into the empty bar, looking around. “You know what went down?” He came closer, stomping on the wooden floor. “A customer got in my face ’cause we didn’t have the size flange that he needed, and I fucking had to stand there like a dope instead of ripping the fucker’s head off.”
Richard shot his hand out and smacked Terrance on the back of the head. “No talking about that stuff. Not here—or anywhere, for that matter. And no street talk. Remember that we need to speak properly so we don’t stand out.” He rolled his eyes and then puffed up his chest, glaring hard at his younger, but built like a brick shithouse, brother in spirit. “And no ripping anyone’s head off,” he added in a hiss just above a whisper. “Sometimes I wonder what the hell is wrong with you.”
Terrance inhaled, and anger flared in his eyes but then abated slowly. “At least he isn’t dead.” That was better.
Richard took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of fish, ocean water, and whatever seasoning the guys in the kitchen were using. The damned stuff had been stoking his appetite since he arrived an hour ago. “What are you doing here instead of being at work?”
“Break. I walked down to cool off,” Terrance said.
“Okay. Go on back to the hardware store and finish your shift, because you are not to get fired. And don’t draw any extra attention to yourself. Remember the rules.” He crooked his finger and lowered his voice. “If you do decide to rip anyone’s head off, remember that yours is next. You know I’ll do it, and piss down your damned neck. Now go back to work, and no talking about…. Just keep your mouth shut. You know how to do that.”
Terrance nodded and turned away, leaving the bar and smacking the door shut with a bang. Richard picked up his tray of glasses, shaking his head as he went back to work stocking the bar for tonight.
It wasn’t that Richard didn’t understand how Terrance felt—he very much did. Richard had spent the past four months stocking glasses and getting drinks, listening to guys who sat at the bar bellyaching over the fact that they thought their wives were having an affair or that things at work were going to shit. Richard could tell them all about things going to hell. It had happened to them—him and his brothers—and now he was tending bar instead of running an entertainment organization. Now that was the shits of epic proportions.
Richard finished stocking and stepped outside the bar for a breath of fresh air. They didn’t open for another half hour, and he was ready.
The sun beat down on the empty parking area, the Florida heat wafting off the blacktop. If he looked carefully across the street and between the houses and palm trees, he could see the Gulf of Mexico, the water sparkling as the waves caught the light. To most people, this would be paradise. Richard knew that, and yet he missed Detroit and his home. Yeah, to most people Detroit was not the kind of place you missed. Richard could understand that. But it was the city he’d grown up in, his home, and he had been somebody there. He thought he was going places, in line for big things, and then everything fucking changed at the drop of a hat, and just like that it was gone.
The familiar white Focus with the ding in the front bumper pulled into the parking area and up next to where he was standing. His youngest friend and brother from a different mother, Gerome, lowered the window. “I saw you standing out here. You out to get sunstroke or something?”
Richard rolled his eyes. “No. Getting some fresh, water-filled air before I go back inside and pretend to be a bartender.” That was it—his entire life was pretend.