Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

didn't stand out as much when his hair was black, after all. I went on scrubbing and told myself I was an idiot for being disappointed at not watching his tired trudge across the front of my station.
    By midnight, despite the wild night, I was done, and the station was stocked and clean for Jamal in the morning. I was so tired, though, that I was driving past the island before I realized I'd left the OPEN sign on. I shut the truck off and went to deal with that. As I was getting back in my truck I saw Alan, walking slower than I'd ever seen and smoking like a chimney. Drat. I wanted to offer him a ride, but I didn't want to let him smoke in my truck.
    I also didn't want to accidentally speak my thoughts, which were that cigarettes were expensive and if he quit buying them he could get a phone. He had a right to spend his money how he liked, even if it was killing him.
    While I was dithering, it happened. I don't know if they'd been following him or hiding waiting, but those same damn four jocks appeared out of the darkness and surrounded him. A jolt of electricity ran through me, waking me up. They weren't touching him yet, but they'd got physical with him before. And Alan wasn't likely to try for appeasement—
    One of them grabbed Alan's arm. I reached for my phone to call 911, grabbed my anti-theft club instead. Two feet of solid metal—
    I wanted to, God knows I did. But if Alan couldn't defend himself, he might be seriously injured before I got them all. If I did. I'd studied boxing but I was no Mike Tyson, and even with a club I was no Bruce Lee. I dropped the thing, put the truck in neutral and pushed it. Took a picture with my phone while I coasted closer. Then I hit the lights and blasted the horn.
    The jocks dropped Alan and ran. I pulled the parking brake and ran to Alan.
    He greeted me with "Are you fucking kidding me? Fucking Batman!"
    "Batman would have done something faster." Damn it. They'd hit him. At least once in the face. "Did they hit you anywhere else? Anything broken?"
    "I'm fine." He threw off my hands and wavered to his feet. "You scared the shit out of me."
    "I wanted to scare the shit out of them ." Or worse. Much worse. Despite being "fine" he looked pretty shaky. His cigarette was still burning, lying on the pavement. Best not to leave it there. I managed to sound neutral. "Do you still want that?"
    "God, yes!" Alan picked it up, almost falling as he did, and wiped off the end. "I only have one." He stuck it in his mouth and inhaled.
    "Come on." I took his arm, guided him towards my truck. "Let me give you a ride."
    "I don't—"
    "Shut up and get in the truck, Alan."
    "Ooh, love it when you're masterful," he said, more habit than actual snark. But he flicked the fire off the cigarette and got in the truck. I turned on the interior lights to have a look at him as he stuck the butt in his pocket.
    His makeup was running. That was expected. When you get hit in the eye, you tear up. His eyes and ears were clear of blood, though, pupils equally reactive to the light… I tilted his face to the light and he winced away.
    "Head hurts enough already, asshole."
    A headache would be a natural reaction to getting decked. It could also be a sign of a deadly head injury. "Can you see all right?"
    "I see you, acting all knowledgeable. What's the diagnosis, Doctor Wilson?"
    "I thought I was Batman."
    "I'll make up my mind," he said, "when you make up yours."
    "Here." I handed him the ice cream bar I'd meant to eat on the way home, to give me energy to get in the house. "Put it on your eye."
    "Screw that," he said, opening it. He slumped against the door and closed his eyes. "Home, James," he ordered, taking a bite of my dessert. He rested the still-wrapped portion on his eye as he chewed.
    "I'm taking you to a doctor," I said, starting the truck.
    "Lukas, it is a goddamn sock to the eye. I had worse in Sunday School." But he still leaned heavily on the door, his head on the window and his eyes closed.
    "You should—" I began.
    "No."
    "Fine." I pulled on my seat belt, and pulled out into the street.
    "I live the other way," Alan said.
    "I'm taking you to my house."
    "Fuck no!" He jolted upright. "Lilia—"
    "She's asleep. If you keep your voice down, she'll stay that way. It's my house or the ER, Alan. Someone needs to keep an eye on you for a while."
    "What if I just get out of the truck at the next light?"
    "I've been driving this route five nights a week for two years. I won't hit a light on the red