Transitions
an excerpt

Small town in northern Kentucky, Tuesday, May xxth, 2008, 3 AM
Charlie glanced at the cop fueling up on the other side of the gas pumps, then at the couple walking out of the convenience store. The woman, carrying the full load of their shopping trip, looked like she might have been pretty, but hard times wore at her face, her eyes darting around like an animal looking for an escape route. The man said something to her, lighting a cigarette, while she struggled to manage the two cases of beer, and the sack of whatever else they had piled atop the beer.
“Ah, fuck,” the cop muttered, just loud enough for Charlie to hear.
Turning back to the couple, Charlie figured out what the cop meant.
“Stupid bitch,” the guy stated, backhanding the woman. The groceries hit the concrete, sending the contents of the sack scattering. The woman went to her knees, trying to get the groceries gathered as the man came to his full height.
“Get that shit picked up,” he ordered, “I’ll make sure you learn to carry shit right when we get home.”
Pitching his voice low, Charlie looked at the cop, “You gonna do anything?”
“Been here before. She won’t press charges.”
“Got it. How about you go find a speeder to pull over.”
“What can you do? She won’t leave him.”
“He can leave her,” Charlie shrugged, “And I’m not a cop.”
The cop pointedly turned his back to the couple, hanging the gas nozzle back on the pump.
“Enjoy yourself.”
The woman was loading the groceries into a battered twenty year old SUV. Charlie heard a baby crying in the cab as he walked toward them.
“Shut that fucking brat up,” the man ordered, from the driver’s side as he slid behind the wheel.
Blocking the man from closing the door, Charlie smiled.
“We have a problem.”
“Fuck you. This ain’t your business. She ain’t gonna call the cops.”
“I’m not a cop.”
“Then what’re you gonna do?”
“Kick your ass for as long as it takes to convince you to leave her,” Charlie explained.
“You think you can –“
Charlie’s punch came up from the belt line, striking the side of the man’s ribs hard enough to compress them, forcing any further words into a gasp of air. Grasping the front of the man’s shirt, Charlie leaned back, dragging the man out of the SUV, to drive him into the concrete, his face scraping the rough ground.
“Alright. You called it, “ Charlie shrugged, stepping back to allow the man to rise.
The man got up, rage in his eyes. Charlie waited, relaxed, noticing the man’s height and build. The punch came hard and wide, a haymaker cruising in from Charlie’s left. He waited until the man’s wait shifted on his lead foot, then stepped toward the man, delivering a block to the man’s punching bicep, and a vicious slap to his face.
“You can call it quits,” Charlie suggested as the man staggered back.
The man glared down at Charlie, his eyes refocusing as he grimaced in rage and hate. He covered the space fast, arms spread wide to catch his foe in a tackle. Without a thought, Charlie shifted his left side toward the brawler, dropping low at the last second. His right hand punched into the brawler’s face, then slipped past, face planting the brawler into the parking lot.
Standing on the man’s opposite side, Charlie stood out of the crouch the throw had forced him into. When the brawler started to push himself up, Charlie kicked him, hard, in the ribs. He kicked again, driving his foot into the brawler’s gut, forcing the man onto his side.
Going to one knee, Charlie pulled the brawler’s bloody face toward him by the hair, and spoke.
“Here is what’s going to happen. You are going to leave. You are not going home. What you are going to do is start walking, in the opposite direction of home, as fast as you can. You are writing this piss poor excuse of a life off, and you are going to go somewhere else, and start over. Personally, I figure you’ll fuck up, and get killed by some one’s daddy or brother. I’m fine with that. But, what the hell, call this your second chance at life. Now get up.”
Rising to his feet, Charlie dragged the bigger man up by his hair, pointed him toward the street, and shoved. The brawler stumbled a few paces, glancing back once, then started into the night.
Waiting until the man was well out of earshot, Charlie turned to the woman.
“Must be a night for second chances,” Charlie smiled, “You know he’s going to head for your home, right?”
“Yeah.”
“You got any family that’ll take you in?” Charlie asked.
“Not around here,” she shrugged, “Daddy’s worse’n he ever was.”
“You got friends you can get to?”
“Yeah, I have a friend up in Toledo.”
“That’s good. Wait here a minute.”
Charlie went to his rental, opened the duffle bag sitting on the passenger seat, pulled an envelop out, and returned to the SUV.
“You go see your friend in Toledo. Take this,” Charlie ripped the envelop open, and passed a rubber banded stack of bills to the woman, “It’s about five grand. That ought to be enough to get to Toledo, get your bills sorted out, and do a divorce by publication, so that shitbag doesn’t track you down. Then you get started on putting together a decent life for you and your kid.”
“How do I pay you back?”
“Build a decent life for you and the kid, lady. Don’t go home, just head that thing to the next town, fuel up, and keep going for Toledo.”
Turning away, Charlie was nearly to the rental, when she spoke.
“Thanks, Mister. What’s your name?”
He smiled for the first time in several months.
The woman wasn’t the only one to need to disappear for a while.