“Kyle? What’s wrong?” Kinleigh comes out of the office and immediately joins me at the bar as I pour myself a drink and slam it back.
“It took me months of work to make her perfect!” I pour another drink. “And someone dares to fuck with her?” It goes down as quickly as the first shot had and I enjoy the burn of it.
“Kyle.” Kinleigh lays a hand on my arm and stops me from pouring a third drink. “Tell me what happened.”
“The Scrambler…my bike…” I let my voice trail off and think about the carnage I just discovered.
A few minutes ago, after hours of working on some new advertising promotions for the bar, Kinleigh’s stomach had started voicing hunger complaints loud and clear. Being the decent guy that I am… and fucking starving myself…I’d offered to run down the street to the new Thai place for some takeout. Leaving her alone in the office, I’d gone out to the back parking lot to jump on my bike. What I found had made me sick.
“What happened?” she asks again, looking more panicked than the situation probably warrants. My anger is justified, it’s my bike after all, but I hadn’t meant to upset her.
“Some asshole knocked my bike over, kicked a huge dent in the gas tank, and busted my mirrors.” It hurts to even say it.
“Oh…” She responds, nervously playing with my discarded shot glass. “Could it have been an accident? Like, maybe it fell over?” She’s acting like she is somehow responsible for the damage. Does she feel guilty that it happened behind her dad’s bar? It isn’t her fault, but someone is to blame. There are assholes in this world that take pleasure in ruining what they don’t have themselves or just to see if they can get away with it.
“No. This damage was deliberate and if I find out who is responsible, they’re dead!” My anger is escalating again and right now a murder charge doesn’t seem like the worst thing. “We need to install security cameras out back!”
“I’m so sorry!” Kinleigh starts to cry and I feel like shit. The security camera remark had probably added to her guilt. Maybe my anger is scaring her too.
I fold her tightly into my arms and kiss the top of her head. “You don’t have anything to feel sorry about. It’s not your fault. I’m pissed but I’ll get over it.”
Now she starts to sob even harder. “Kyle…”