Derek watched Layla's back as she went into the bar. Her demeanor had changed the instant this asshole had stepped outside. The strong woman he knew had retreated, her presence overshadowed with a tension and insecurity that didn't fit her at all.
He waited for the door to close before turning his attention back to the man in front of him, smoking his cigarette, an ugly smile crimping the corners of his eyes.
This man enjoyed hurting Layla, so that meant Derek would enjoy nothing more than hurting him. He'd had his friend's backs in enough bar fights to know he'd be the one left standing, despite this idiot's puffed up chest.
"I mean it," Derek said. "You need to apologize."
Brody shrugged. "It's just Layla. She can take it, bro."
Derek clenched his fists, the urge to crack the guy in the jaw almost irresistible. "That's not acceptable. Bro."
Brody took another long drag from his cigarette. Finally he laughed, as if the whole thing was nothing but a joke. "Fine. I'll tell her I'm sorry. Not that she'll believe me. Seriously, though. What are you doing in Maybe?"
"I like it here." Derek only answered because word was bound to get out sooner or later that he'd bought a house there. Plus he did like it there.
Layla was going to be pissed that he didn't tell her about the house, but he pushed that thought aside for now. He'd tell her tonight. He wanted to tell her about his dad, too. He wanted her to know exactly why the thumbtack had been necessary.
As soon as she got her apology, and they were alone again, he'd tell her everything.
Brody laughed again and shook his head. "Sure. You care for a smoke?"
"No. I just quit."
"As in just, just?"
"Yeah. I finally had a good enough reason." Derek reached for the door.
He really didn't want to talk to this guy, but arguing with townsfolk wasn't the best way to fit in. He would not be the asshole from that day at the diner.
"A good enough reason? Wait...you don't mean you quit for her, do you? Dude, she's nobody. You've got to be fucking with her." Brody flicked the ash from his cigarette.
Derek pushed open the door, leaving Brody on the sidewalk outside. One more second with the guy and he'd be spending the night in the county jail for assault. His manager would just love that.
Brody called after him, and Derek couldn't tell if the idiot was trying to provoke a fight or if he really was just that stupid. "Layla would never dream of telling someone to give up smoking. Not even for a single night. Just ask her."
Something about the way he said it--the way his voice hardened at the end--almost made Derek pause. There was more to Brody's words than just general dickheaded-ness. There was a bitterness Derek recognized as the tone he usually used with himself.
The inside of the bar looked like any other you'd expect to find in a homey little town like this and miles away from the places he tended to end up in when traveling with the band. A couple beat up pool tables in the corner. An awesome-looking juke box--which thankfully had moved on to a new band--near a few tables full of people and a retro pinball machine. Scuffed wood, worn booths. Absolutely unpretentious.
He loved it.
Layla stood in front of the bar, talking to the bartender. She hadn't seen him come in, but the bartender did.
He pretended to listen to Layla while glaring at Derek from over her shoulder. Derek nodded at him. The guy lifted an eyebrow to show just how unimpressed he was, then leaned close to say something to Layla.
Derek stepped up beside her, clearing his throat a little to get her attention. She glanced up at him, the blush on her cheeks from whatever the bartender had said to her deepening to a shade of pink that he was beginning to recognize as her "I'm angry to be thinking whatever I'm thinking" blush.
"Hey. I'm Derek." He stuck his hand out for the bartender to shake.
For a second he thought the guy wouldn't accept it, but he did. "Jace."
"Nice rooster." Derek jerked his chin to the taxidermied bird over the cash register. "That your mascot?"
"I guess you could call it that." Jace stared at Derek, his eyes wary.
"Red was Jace's dad's pet when he was a little boy. Right Jace?" Layla smiled at the bartender, a real smile that made Derek way more jealous than it should have.
"Yup."
Okay, then. Great story.
"Hey Ed. Good to see you again." Derek said to the old man a few barstools down from where they were standing.
Ed grunted.
Layla leaned close to him and mock whispered, "That means 'good to see you, too.'"
She was still pretty drunk from what he could tell, so she ended up not just leaning in, but leaning against him. The feel of her, so warm and soft and perfect when he thought he might never feel her again, heated his blood and filled him with the urge to claim her as off limits to everyone.
Especially bartenders who knew her better than he did.
"I'll try to remember that." Derek put his arm around her shoulders, satisfaction welling inside him when she didn't pull away.
"Jace is the owner of this fine establishment. He also used to play trombone in my squad. We were in marching band together in high school." She shook her head dramatically. "Why'd you stop playing, Jace. You should have never stopped playing."
Jace's expression softened as he turned his attention to Layla. "You know I never really played. I just moved the slide around and pretended."
This earned him a laugh from Layla, and it was everything Derek could to not to pull her even closer. "This place is great. I'd hang out here all the time if I lived here."
Ed made a noise, but thankfully didn't say anything about the house. Maybe he didn't know yet. Emmett from the hardware store knew about it since he and Derek had talked woodwork for over an hour earlier, but tough old guys like them weren't exactly prone to gossip.
Besides, Derek had told Emmett the house was a project, not that it was going to be his home, because that was the truth. It was a temporary project, nothing else.
"And why are you here?" Jace said.
"That's exactly what I asked him outside. Maybe you'll have better luck getting a real answer." Brody came in, his voice pitched at just the right level to draw the attention of the people at the tables.
Derek could sense all their eyes on him, almost feel the moment the recognition hit. His stomach twisted in that nervous way he never did learn to shake, and he fought the compulsion to put his sunglasses on. Even indoors. At night.
When he had them on, he could almost pretend that people weren't always looking at him. He'd have thought he'd get over it by now, but that nervous feeling was always there. Like if they looked too hard, they wouldn't like what they saw.
A man who only ever had time for his music and never the people who mattered even more. Just ask his sister, Rose. Just ask his parents.
Oh yeah. His parents were dead.
At the sound of Brody's voice, Layla tensed and pulled away. Derek hated Brody for that.
Layla hitched her purse over her shoulder. "It's a free country. He doesn't need to give anyone an explanation for why he's here. Why don't you just go back to plotting all the ways you can screw me over? It seems to be your favorite hobby."
"You're then one obsessed with hobbies. You make a living at it, don't you? Well...at least you do for now." Brody smiled.
"And what exactly do you call football?" Layla took a step toward the jackass.
Jace exchanged a look with Derek across the bar that made it clear they were on the same side with this one.
Brody smirked and tossed a five dollar bill onto the bar. "I'll have another beer."
"I don't think so." Derek edged his way between Layla and Brody. "Now you owe her two."
"What?" Brody said.
"Apologize. Now."
"Fuck you, man."
"You'd better choose your next words wisely, asshole." Derek stepped toward Brody, who blinked as if someone calling him out on his bullshit was less likely than a full solar eclipse at noon.
Red flooded the man's face, and his mouth worked as if he was going to spit. "Or what?"
"Let's just go. Everyone's looking at us." Layla pulled on Derek's arm.
He jerked away from her. He knew everyone was looking, and for once he didn't care. "Apologize."
"No. I don't give a fuck who you are. Fuck you. And fuck her, too."
Derek pulled back his arm and swung, aiming his fist at Brody's jaw. Layla gasped, not quite drowning out the thwack as his knuckles connected with the side of Brody's face.
Brody stumbled back, the legs of the barstools scraping against the floor as he struggled to keep his balance. When he straightened, there was a trickle of blood seeping from his split lip. He wiped at it with his fingers, then balled his hand into a fist.
Layla threw herself between them, her hands outstretched in an attempt to de-escalate the situation. "Stop it. Now."
"Get out of the way, Layla," Derek said calmly.
"No."
Jace had come around from behind the bar, and he pulled Layla back. "Listen to him. You'll get hurt."
Brody laughed and dropped his fist. His eyes were hard, but they were aimed at Layla, not Derek. "Oh, don't worry. I'm not going to punch him back. I'm going to file charges."
"For what?" Ed turned on his stool. "Getting what you deserved? I saw you throw the first punch, isn't that right, Red?"
Jace folded his arms across his chest. "Yup."
"Apologize," Derek repeated.
Brody looked between the three men for a moment, then slid his gaze to Layla. His jaw ticked for a few moments before he spoke. "I'm sorry."
Ed made a sound of disgust and turned back to the game.
Layla's fingers curled around Derek's, catching him off guard. He gave her a little squeeze, ready to push her behind him again if Brody decided to take a swing after all.
"Time for you to go," Jace said to Brody. "And I'm going to be out of your beer for a while, so you might as well not come back."
Without a word, Brody left. Noise resumed at the tables as the people sitting there began to speak in hushed tones.
"That. Was. Awesome." Derek turned to see a woman with blond hair piled in a messy bun on the top of her head grinning at him.
"Derek, this is Amelia. My friend," Layla said. "Amelia, Derek."
"Obviously." Amelia held her hand up for a high five, leaving him no option but to comply. She grinned some more. "Like I said. Awesome. That punch couldn't of happened to a better guy. Get Derek a drink, Red. This round's on me."
"No...I'm fine, thanks. Actually, the next round's on me. For everyone." Derek caught Jace's eye and nodded at the people at the tables. He tried to ignore the way his heart thumped because Layla still hadn't let go of his hand. "And don't forget Ed."
"Alright, then." Amelia demanded another high five. "Welcome to Maybe."