Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One by Adam Knight Page B

miracle
the Jets survived a two goal deficit against one of the most potent
offences in the entire NHL and come back to win in overtime. While
it was only a regular season game it was a big win with only a week
left to qualify for the Stanley Cup Playoffs. And since Winnipeg is
perpetually a bubble-team in a huge hockey market this was a really
big deal. The entire city was up and ready to party after this.
     
    So naturally,
people were rowdy.
     
    Three big
fights broken up before eleven thirty was something of a record. So
far no one on staff had been injured beyond a bruise or two so we
were ahead on our own personal score sheet. Though in my mind even
one fight is too much in an evening.
     
    It could’ve
been a lot worse. Thankfully Aaron had us enforce a strict dress
code policy (no sports jerseys, ripped jeans, hooded sweaters, or
sneakers) which made it easier to keep the truly rowdy folk outside
to hoot, holler and generally be hooligans.
     
    As a result,
two of the incidents weren’t actually in the club. They were out at
the Main Street entrance. Big Mike called for backup to rebuff some
fresh from the arena rowdies who were trying to jump the line and
create a scene and we were happy to oblige.
     
    Word of advice
to future sports fans wanting to start trouble in clubs? If you’re
still wearing your team’s jersey when you arrive, be prepared to
have it yanked over your head and get pummeled Dave Schultz
style.
     
    The aftermath
of fights suck. The adrenaline spike is both heady and terrifyingly
addictive. I like to think of myself as moderately sedate when it
comes to the bouncing gig, but I’m as human as the next guy. Once
the blood starts pumping in your ears and your sense of reality
goes into that high speed, gooseflesh inducing state it is a real
rush.
     
    But like any
high the crash is brutal.
     
    I leaned
against a pillar near the main bar with my arms crossed to hide the
shaking in my hands. Taking deep and steady breaths to calm the
hammering of my heart. The last scrap hadn’t even been all that bad
in comparison to other nights but for some reason my pulse was
racing like I’d run the hundred yard dash. There was a cold tingle
rolling down my spine from a spot just at the back of my neck all
the way into my toes.
     
    Weird, but
exhilarating.
     
    I was so damned
tired.
     
    The band was in
my usual spot up on the stage going through a variety of loud cover
tunes much to the delight of the jumping and writhing mass of
humanity before them. Bass and treble at top volume hammered
throughout the club, echoed by the pulse in my chest and making it
hard to calm down. The electricity in the air felt tangible. Almost
like I could taste it.
     
    Shelby caught
my eye in between customers and motioned for a drink. I nodded
shortly, relief filling my eyes. She smiled briefly and put one of
her barbacks to the task. Said barback tossed me a bottle of water
direct from the cooler which I immediately cracked open and
drained.
     
    Better.
     
    Crumpling the
plastic bottle and tossing it into the garbage bin, I pushed away
from the pillar and rolled my neck to loosen some tension. It
popped loudly in my head though no one else could hear it. I closed
my eyes for a brief second and tried to get a grip on my
heartbeat.
     
    Someone clapped
me on the arm. My body reacted instinctively as my eyes snapped
open; trapping an arm, gripping a collar tight and forcing it up on
an angle until my elbow locked out.
     
    “Jesus,
Joe!”
     
    My eyes focused
on Mark’s pain tight face just above the bunched up collar my fist
was jamming under his chin. I blinked a few times, the adrenaline
still blasting in my veins before letting him go.
     
    Mark coughed
and shook out his arm, rubbing at his throat as he eyed me warily.
Nearby bar goers had backed away from the sudden activity. I could
feel their eyes on me. Judging.
     
    I wiped a palm
down my face. It came away sweaty. Greasy.
     
    “What the
fuck’s the matter