New Story - again written exclusively on Steemit - WiP - Bouncer Part 13

I started a new story to share on Steemit. It's not my usual type of tale, but I decided it has legs so I'm going to let it run.

Meet Zack, my newest character. I hope you like him.

The first part was written a few weeks ago and since then, I've been mulling it over in my head where the story needs to go.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12

Pictures from Google free to use search

Please note: This is the FIRST DRAFT, no editing, written straight onto paper. I don't know how to highlight that any more than it is. I'll NOT be making any alterations to what's already been written. As a good friend and excellent author has said, First draft is a race to get the story down before it decides to stop telling itself to you. Thanks Glenn. @alienbutt

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“Yeah, it was always a burden going off to University to earn a degree when everyone I knew was getting on with their lives, getting married, having kids, making a career for themselves,” Taylor said from his seat at the bar.

Zack looked at his brother, keeping one wary eye on Sinbad. Zack moved his head from side to side in a gentle movement to warn Taylor ‘no’, but Taylor was on a roll.

Others started taking more notice of the crowd at the bar. Everyone stood still, waiting and watching to see what would happen next.

“You see, Sinbad, when I moved away to go to university, I was still young enough to look up to guys like my brother. Even then, Zack had an air of integrity about him. On the other hand, you were always just a brawling bully,” Taylor said.

He spoke quietly so his growing audience strained to hear his words.

“You used to like to ‘rough-up’ me and my friends. ‘Toughening us up’, making us ready for the big, wide world. I was lucky, I had Zack to watch out for me, but some of my friends copped it bad from you. You were a brawling bully then and you’ve not changed. I know why you’re pissed-off tonight. It’s because you’re not the man you think you are. I’m guessing you didn’t get asked to step up and fill Zack’s shoes.”

Taylor paused long enough for his words to sink in with Sinbad, but not quite long enough to gain a reaction.

“That’s because you can’t fill Zack’s shoes. You don’t measure up and you never have.”

Anyone listening outside the doors would have been forgiven for thinking the place had closed up and everyone had gone home. Silence reigned for a moment or two. Not one snooker ball moved, no one spoke. A deathly hush hung in the air.

Sinbad’s brain processed Taylor’s words and he erupted in absolute fury.

The insult had been heard by every one of his peers – friends and foes alike – and he was livid.

Three men grabbed hold of him as he launched himself at Taylor.

Taylor stepped off his seat and backwards, out of reach. The crowd behind Taylor moved to allow him the space.

“I’ll fucking kill you!” Sinbad screamed. He fought the three men holding him, trying to break free from their grip. He broke loose from one guy but the other two held him – just.

Taylor stepped forward, following the guys dragging the struggling Sinbad down a couple of steps, to a clear area of floor space.

“I’ll fight you if you want to, Sinbad,” Taylor said.

Sinbad heard the words and stopped struggling. The guys holding him didn’t let down their guard, however.

Taylor nodded to Sinbad as though he’d asked a question. “Yeah, I’ll fight you if you like,” he said.

“Taylor…” Zack said from the bar.

Taylor turned to look at his brother. “It’s OK, Zack. I said some insulting things and if Sinbad wants to make a thing of it, I think it’s only right that he’s allowed to do that.”

“Do whatever the fuck you like. I’m staying here,” Zack said, lifting his drink in a salute.

Taylor stepped onto the clear floor space just in front of Sinbad.

Sinbad hadn’t renewed his struggle to get free of the men holding him.

Taylor took off his jacket. Someone took it from him and passed it back to Zack.

Taylor took his time rolling up his sleeves and Sinbad’s eyes grew wide as he took in the toned muscle of his forearms.

One of the guys holding Sinbad whispered to him. “I wouldn’t if I was you. It looks like he’s been working out and I know I wouldn’t offer someone out unless I was more than a bit certain that I’d win… especially not in front of this lot.”

Sinbad listened. He heard the words and some part of his brain must have registered the sense in the statement. Sinbad, unfortunately, was in the middle of a storm of steroid-fuelled rage. Sense – common or otherwise – didn’t make a dent.

Sinbad nodded that he understood. The guys holding him took that signal to mean he understood and agreed and were wrong.

As soon as he was free, Sinbad launched himself at Taylor.

The strategy of grabbing Taylor and wrestling him to the floor where he could pummel him, like he used to back when Taylor was younger, had always worked before.

On taller guys, the advantage was with Sinbad because of his low centre of gravity. He would hit his opponent low and lift him off his feet to slam him onto his back where Sinbad had him at his mercy.

Taylor wasn’t as green as Sinbad remembered. The younger man took a step back and sideways, dodging Sinbad’s headlong charge.

Sinbad crashed into the audience behind Taylor and they grabbed him, steadying him so he didn’t fall to the floor and also keeping hold so he couldn’t renew the attack.

“Give it up, Sinbad. He has you outclassed this time,” Joe said.

If anyone else had told him to give it up, Sinbad would have ignored the advice – again. Joe’s voice rumbled with more than advice. There was also a warning there and Sinbad’s ‘roid-rage’ had abated enough to enable the advice to trickle through.