Burnt Reflections by J Roman

Author:J Roman [Roman, J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-11-19T19:49:43+00:00

Chapter Eight

“I WANT you to go to the free clinic and get checked out, Jean,” Butch said as he dried glasses for the tray that would go out to the bar. We only had twenty minutes until open and one of the bartenders had called out sick. Getting the bar stocked would be almost impossible if we waited much longer. Everyone was pitching in, Jean included.

“Why?”

“Because we want you to get a doctor’s approval before you start manhandling drunk people,” Tony rumbled from the other side. He was stacking beer. “And I don’t want any lip about it. It’s open until ten. You’re going.”

“Can I go with him?” I asked. The free clinic was not in the best neighborhood.

Butch nodded. “I was expecting it. You’ll need to be back by close.”

“Of course.”

Tony leveled another glare at Jean’s head. “You better watch his little ass.”

I snorted. I wasn’t some small fry. Jesus.

“I will,” Jean said solemnly. I resisted rolling my eyes. Barely.

I grabbed his hand. “Come on. We can grab a ride on the Canal Street line and walk the rest of the way.” I had a few bucks in my pocket to buy us a ride on the streetcar. It was much cheaper than calling a cab.

We moved through the Quarter at a clipped pace, ignoring the street performers who tried to get Jean’s attention. Most of them recognized me by that point, but Jean was definitely a new face, and clean, he looked like fresh meat. I eyed him up and down. Or a tourist. Definitely a tourist.

“This is cool,” Jean said as we reached the rail line. Transportation back home was either on foot or by car. Public transit was kind of overwhelming in comparison. The bus schedules, streetcar routes, and a million other things had overwhelmed me when I’d first arrived.

I showed him how to put his money in the collection device at the front before nodding to the streetcar operator and grabbing a seat. Jean looked like he was unsure of the rickety moving vehicle as we pulled away from the stop, but it wasn’t like I gave him a choice in the matter.

“This is pretty cool,” he announced as we trundled down the rails. “I saw these things on TV but never thought I’d take one.”

“It’s the cheapest way to get around within a certain mileage.” I looked over at his still blackened cheekbone. “How you feeling today?”

“Sore. But then that’s to be expected.”

I should have made him take some more Advil before we left. “Maybe they’ll give you some medicine at the center.” They had an on-site pharmacy, but I doubted we could afford the meds. Thirty or forty bucks at the cheap end was still expensive as hell. I had that much in my pocket, but it was grocery money. Not that it mattered. I knew me. I would part with it to ease some of the suffering in Jean’s eyes.

“Are you ever going to tell me who beat you up?” For what seems like the millionth time since I left.

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