Lion's Lair - 16. A Visitor. And, It's Time.

The 4^th of July party was well underway. Despite the insanity of the attempted bar robbery last night, and my near kidnapping, a thin veneer of normalcy prevailed.

Ryan—my hero/savior/lover—stayed over last night. We really didn’t talk much, just huddled together in bed. Surprisingly, we both slept in.

I’d already picked up everything needed to cook burgers at the outdoor kitchen on “the porch”, as Ryan calls the screened building by the dock. It’s got a big refrigerator/freezer there, along with a stainless steel range and built-in grill. All we had to do was a little prep, so our later start to the day didn’t create issues.

After quick showers, we headed down to do the prep work: chopping tomatoes, shredding lettuce, slicing onions (Ryan did it far more quickly than I would have), opening the jars of pickles, and forming the hamburger patties. We were done before noon, and snacked on some of the chips, dips, and veggie trays knowing we’d have a mid-afternoon lunch of fresh-off the grill burgers.

I’d also made up the mix in advance for a freezer of homemade ice cream. I’d gotten a recipe from one of the neighbors after a 4^th of July party at their place, and bought an electric freezer. Remarkably easy to make, it’s kind of a traditional thing to do at such events. I’ll get it frozen after we have the burgers.

We really need to talk about last night. No doubt Ryan, and Joe, saved my life—and with no concerns for anything other than me. Maybe tonight after everyone leaves.

By 2 pm, people started showing up. Most were at the bar last night, and the few that weren’t had already heard of what happened. It was a pretty quiet group at first, but I’m confident that will change after a few beers, and maybe playing in the lake.

I’d posted a sign on the front door, “Come on back to the lake”, and people were arriving throughout the afternoon. It’d turned into a laid-back group, maybe 30 or so, with easy laughs and the smell of the burgers going on the grill had most folks clustered around waiting. That’s when a surprise guest showed up.

Dave opened the screened door, and the room stopped all activity.

He looked like shit. Still in his jeans and boots from last night, but wearing a scrub top. Obviously little sleep, based on the circles under his red eyes.

“Dave, come on in! It’s really great you’re here. Fill us in—how’s Barry doing?” None of us had heard anything, and it was a question, unspoken, on everyone’s mind, so I had to ask as I reached up to hug him. He’s a big guy, so the reach was needed.

“Thanks, Clayton, I can’t stay long, but wanted to let you know what’s going on.” He turned to the rest of the group. “Y’all need to know, too, so I’m glad you’re here,” he said, looking at everyone, before heading over to give Ryan a hug, as well as Joe and Rex.

“Bulldog is hanging in there. He got a big-time concussion, and he’s still unconscious.” Dave’s shoulders slumped as he talked about Barry—he’s obviously worried as hell. “They tell me he’ll come to when his brain is ready for it, but it’s hard. I spent the night with him, talking with him, holding his hand, but … nothing.” It’s killing him that Barry’s unresponsive.

“Don’t worry, Dave. He’s hearing ya. I heard Rex the whole time I was out, and it made a difference. Don’t give up, and don’t stop talking with him.” Joe grabs Rex’s hand as he speaks, each man with obviously nasty memories of a time more than 3 years ago when Joe was a victim of an attempted murder by vehicle.

“Yeah, that’s what the docs say. It’s just tough, ya know?” Dave’s exhausted, but even without that, his emotions are obviously high. “But, he’ll recover fine from that. When his head hit the wall, the rough stucco basically partially scalped the back of his head. And when he hit the half-wall face first, he broke his nose in several places, as well as his cheekbones. He bled like a stuck pig—you know how scalp and facial wounds bleed—but the docs shaved his head, and got that all stitched up.”

I started pulling burgers off the grill, and putting ‘em on a platter, toasted buns on a separate platter. Before Dave could say more, I grabbed him, pulled him to the table, and made him sit. “Eat.”

He grinned and said thanks. “I haven’t had anything since dinner last night—I just couldn’t leave Bulldog. I’m just running home to shower and get more clothes, then back to Oschner’s. The nurses promised they’d call if anything changed. My shirt had Bulldog’s blood all over it, so they gave me this.” Of course, no one cared that I made him a priority for food. I got him a beer, and he sat as he wolfed down the first of the two burgers and continued to fill us in.

“So the scalp wounds were nasty, but treatable. The bigger concerns come from his facial injuries. When he flattened his nose and broke the cheekbones, he also broke this ridge of forehead over his eyes.” He rubs a finger along his right eyebrow as he speaks through a mouthful of food. “The cheekbones and that part of the forehead form what’s called the orbit of the eye. We learn to see with our eyes in a certain position relative to our skull layout. If the layout changes, the brain views it as bogus input, and shuts down what that eye sees. So, your brain ends up making you blind even if the eye and optic nerve are ok—and in this case, we don’t know yet if the bones’ changes will impact his vision.” Dave stops speaking; that’s when I notice his hands are shaking.

“The cheekbones they can repair. The vision thing is far more complex. We’ll know when he wakes up, I guess.”

Horrible.

No one says a word, but Ryan rolls over next to him, and throws his arm over Dave’s shoulders.

“You gotta believe, brother … it’ll all work out.” Ryan holds all our hopes out there.

Dave attacks the second burger and it’s gone in seconds, along with his beer.

“It’s gonna work out. I know it.” Dave squares his shoulders as he says it, a sign of resolution. “The thing that’s so frustrating is that Bubba called me as it all happened. He had his phone by the cash register and managed to hit the speed dial on it, so I heard it all. Never been so frustrated in my life—hearing what was happening and unable to do anything about it. Had to put the call on hold then call the cavalry in to the bar. And when I heard the gun fire, I just knew Bubba had been shot. Thank God Benoit fired the gun as he was falling backwards from Joe’s uppercut, and the bullet hit the ceiling.”

Barry was remarkably cool on all of this. That’s probably part of what saved our lives—along with Ryan and Joe.

“Well, guys, I need to get out of here, need to shower and get back to Bulldog. Thanks for the burgers and beer. They hit the spot.” Dave is surrounded by everyone, each giving him hugs, and words of encouragement as he stands to go. “By the way, if they didn’t say so after their interviews with you last night, and getting your contact information, this is still an on-going investigation, so say nothing to anyone about it.” Dave turns to Ryan and Joe. “Especially you two. The papers have already contacted the sheriff’s office for comment, and they’ve said nothing. They’ll probably contact you as well—so a ‘no comment’ is probably the best answer at this point.” Everyone nods agreement.

“And, the bar is gonna be closed all this week. We’ve got some cleanup to do, and the police are still treating it as a crime scene, so … well, we’ll get it open when we can.” Dave has a wry smile; he recognizes it’s as much of a community center as a bar.

“Come on, we’ll walk you out.” Ryan motions to me as he yells back at the group. “Go ahead and dive in; we’ll be back in a minute.” Ryan, Dave, and I start walking back toward the main house on the breezeway.

We got back to the main house on the breezeway, and I couldn’t keep from asking. “What about Ben?” If Benoit had left him … well, it can’t be good.

“Ben will be ok. We …uh, they got there in time, and he’s part of the evidence in the on-going investigation. What I’m about to tell you can absolutely, positively go no further, understand?” Ryan and I both nod.

“The FBI was investigating Benoit. Apparently he had a rap sheet as long as your arm, all previous violence and drug related charges. He’d been in prison twice before, but had gotten released due to overcrowding. Can you believe that bastard got out?” Dave rolls his eyes as he continues.

“Benoit had gotten cocky, and had wanted to wrestle the drug distribution business from the other group here. He’d started making deals with the lieutenants of the competition’s syndicates hoping to buy them over to his control with his deals. Since Ben was being ‘used’ by these lieutenants, and he saw the deals being made, the FBI believes he may be able to act as a credible witness, despite the forced drug use; he apparently was lucid enough most of the time to identify ‘em. And, they have the videos showing Ben’s use by these guys as backup. The videos alone may be enough to make them cooperate.

“Benoit apparently double-crossed one of his suppliers, and heard they were coming for him last night. To make sure they couldn’t use Ben against him, he tied Ben up, and deliberately over-dosed him before leaving to rob the bar and get another car.”

Wait … what?! That son-of-a-bitch ….

“The FBI got there in time, gave him Naloxone, saved his life, and got him to a hospital. He’ll be in a rehab program for a while, but with any luck, he’ll be back before long. It’s a huge challenge for him, but I’m thinking he’s gonna make it.”

“What’s Naloxone, Bubba?” Ryan’s just as curious as I am.

“It’s an antidote that can be given in cases of overdose of any opiate. In a lot of states it’s sold over the counter—it’s that good and that safe to use. In this case, they actually had the time of the injection, since dumbass Benoit had left the camera running as he told Ben what was going to happen, that he’d be found OD’ed, and no one would give a shit.” Dave is fuming, even though he’s running on empty. “That’ll be part of the evidence used against him for attempted murder. He deliberately planned to kill Ben, and the tape’s the evidence.”

Ben will make it--thank God!

“So he’s going back to jail, Dave?” It sounded certain but I had to know.

“For the rest of his life, Clayton. He’s getting hit with attempted murder for Ben. Armed robbery at the bar. There may be a case to be made of attempted murder on Barry, but more likely armed assault. Attempted kidnapping on you, Clayton. Organized crime because of the drug dealing. Sex trading. Hate crimes, since he apparently regularly referred to Ben as ‘that faggot cocksucker’ and said a couple of times that he’d picked him up just because he was a “queer whore” in the videos. And I’m sure the FBI and sheriff have enough other charges they can throw at him that he’ll be underneath the jail by the time it’s all done. And if that’s not enough, he’ll get nailed under the ‘third-strike’ rule—third felony offense and it’s life with no parole.”

“Ok, back to here and now, Bubba. What can Clayton and I do? How can we help?” Ryan’s concern is sincere; he was just faster than me at getting the words out.

“Ryan, I appreciate it, but there’s nothing to be done at this point. It’s a waiting game. If y’all are praying men, now’s the time.” Dave sags as he says it. He’s far more afraid than he can admit—and he may know more about Barry’s condition than what he’s said publicly.

“You got it, Bubba. But know we’re here for ya, man, and if you need us or there are any changes, we’re as close as the phone.” Ryan motions Dave down for another hug, this one longer, more intense than before.

I move in to hug him as well.

“Thanks again, guys, for the burgers. And remember, not a word of any of this until my law enforcement buddies give the word.”

“Absolutely, Dave.” My promise is for both of us; for all of us.

With that, Dave heads out, and seconds later, I hear the truck speeding down the drive and onto the street.

Dave’s barely hanging on, but Barry’s strong. They’ll get through this. And Ben has made it out, too—just a long road ahead of him.

We headed back to the group by the lake. Still somewhat subdued, but there’s a real sense of relief just because we now have an update on Barry. Some have already changed into swim gear and a few are splashing around in the water.

The group thinned out later after everyone had tried some of my ice cream, but the rest of us headed over to the subdivision’s dock to watch the fireworks at 8:30. We still had plenty of beer, so some of the guys loaded up ice chests, and we took ‘em and shared with the other folks from the subdivision on the dock.

Ryan and I took the same spot on the pier’s benches we’d used on our first date and watched the maybe 30 minute fireworks display. Hard to believe it’s been just a few months, but this is the most natural thing, to have him leaned up against me, stealing the occasional kiss. The night was every bit as magical as our first night out here.

It just feels right.

I’m telling him my secret this week. Not tonight, I just want to enjoy this.

It’s time.