by Carlos Dash
Her facial expression lets me know that I said exactly what she wanted to hear. Nothing turns a female on more than a man insulting his own gender.
It’s closing time. The redhead is almost halfway out the door already. I just have to finish the job.
“This place is getting a little crowded. You want to get out of here?”
The redhead opens her mouth to say something, but her words disappear into nothingness. I’m blocking them out—Not on purpose. It’s just something that’s happening all of a sudden as a strange sensation comes over me. A sense that I need to do something right away, right at this exact moment.
What is it?
What do I need to do?
Turn around?
Turn around and look where?
And why do I have to do it right away?
Chapter 5
Usually it’s not a good idea to listen to voices that no one else can hear, but I know I can trust this one. It belongs to me. It’s the voice of my instincts. It’s urging me to listen, and I do so without further delay.
Shifting my gaze to the back of the bar, I scan the area. Several other people are doing the same thing, trying to locate the source of a commotion that has just broken out.
I get to my feet and crane my neck to get a better view. I see the back of a very large man. He’s leaning over a table, and judging by the way he’s staggering here and there, the guy is blasted. Just drunk off his ass.
Mr. Drunken Jackass. An appropriate name for him.
Why is he so hot and bothered? Has to be a woman. What else can cause such wild emotions?
As if on cue, the large man moves a little to the left, and that allows me to confirm my suspicions.
Yup. It’s a woman.
A girl, actually. That’s a better term for her. I’m not sure if she’s old enough to be considered a proper woman just yet. Hell, I’m not even sure if she’s old enough to be inside that bar. But that’s the way bars work (Or at least most bars). If you’re a good looking female, chances are that you won’t get carded.
Lucky you.
Yeah, I’m willing to bet my life the girl didn’t have any problem getting in. What’s more, she’s really something. Very pleasant on the eyes. Almost too dainty looking to be considered a sexual option. You know the type I’m talking about. The sort of girl who looks like she just crawled out of an anime cartoon. Doughy brown eyes to match her long brown hair. Flawless skin. One of those noses that most women would need to get plastic surgery to acquire.
Some guys might have said she’s more pretty than sexy, but I’m basically salivating at the mouth. Every man has a different opinion of what the ideal woman looks like, and she suits my vision perfectly. For example, while she wouldn’t fit in very well at a Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, she would be right at home as a character in a Jane Austen novel.
Not that I’ve ever read a Jane Austen novel (pretty sure you have to provide proof that you don’t have a penis if you want to purchase one at a store), but I’ve seen a few movie adaptions of her work, and the females in those are never drop-dead gorgeous supermodels. They’re old-fashioned English Rose type beauties, and that works just fine for me.
Someone clears their throat to my right and does it in a manner that’s far from subtle.
Thirty percent of me says I should turn my head and investigate. The other seventy percent tells me to keep looking at the brunette and focusing on the best way to approach her.
The majority wins.
Mr. Drunken Jackass doesn’t look like he’s going to be walking away from the brunette anytime soon, so I’m going to have to find some way to get rid of him. The girl is obviously not interested, so it will look like I’m doing her a favor if I go up to the man and tell him to get lost.
Yeah, not a bad plan. None of the other guys in there look like they have the guts to confront Mr. Drunken Jackass, so it might as well be me.
Bang!
I flinch slightly at the sound, and I’m not the only one. Everyone around me appears to be taken aback as well.
It’s the large man. Mr. Drunken Jackass. He slammed his hands down on the table in front of the brunette.
She must have said something that really pissed him off.
I need to act, and I need to do it immediately.
Someone clears their throat again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was the same person as before. Nevertheless, I continue to ignore the sound.
Then I feel a tap on my shoulder. I sigh and turn to the side, finally accepting that I have no other choice but to do so.
I’m greeted by the sight of a beautiful redhead with emerald-colored eyes. And there’s a wild gleam in those eyes. She’s looking at me as if deciding whether or not she should kick me in the balls.
Crap. I recognize her.
That’s the girl I was talking to before I saw the brunette. I forgot all about her. Out of sight, out of mind. That wouldn’t normally be the case with someone so gorgeous, but the thought of spending the night with the brunette has scrambled my brains.
I have to get my wits back around me to deal with this new development.
Chapter 6
No girl wants to be treated like she’s invisible, and that’s what I did to the redhead.
Don’t worry. You don’t have to lecture me. The memory of those last five minutes is flooding back into my head. I know what an asshole I’ve been. I behaved in a way I usually never do, but that isn’t an excuse that’s going to bail me out of this.
I don’t have a choice. I’m going to have to lie.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?”
That’s what I say to her. Those exact words. I pretend as if I have no idea why she has flames coming out of her nostrils and smoke from her ears.
“What’s up?” she repeats, spitting the words out in a dangerously calm voice.
I would have almost preferred angry yelling to this tone. There’s nothing more terrifying than a woman who is somehow managing to keep her anger at bay when she should be losing it. Being near a woman like that is the equivalent of prodding a sleeping bear in the chest.
“Er, yeah. Is something wrong?” I do my best to fix an expression of innocence and ignorance on my face.
The redhead isn’t buying it, though.
“I thought you were different. I thought you weren’t like every other asshole. Stupid me. My mistake. You’re even worse than the others. At least they have the decency to openly flaunt what dipshits they are. You pretend to be a nice guy before showing your true colors.”
Speaking of colors, the redhead’s cheeks are turning red out of anger. Instinctively, I bring one hand down over my genitalia region just in case she does actually think about aiming a kick in that direction.
The amount of pain a shot like that causes is legendary.
I’ve never felt such a thing myself, but I’ve heard stories… and most of those stories end with the kicked man having to make a very embarrassing trip to the nearest emergency room.
“It’s not like that,” I say. “I just spaced out for a moment. I’ve got a lot on my mind. My job is pretty stressful.”
“Oh, give it a rest. Spaced out, my ass. I saw you staring at that other girl. I’m surprised you don’t have drool running down the side of your face right now.”
I scan the area around me and see that we still, as of yet, haven’t drawn much attention to ourselves. Most of the customers are currently focused on the brunette and Mr. Drunken Jackass.
“Look, just calm down. Relax.”
I regret the words the moment they come out of my mouth. It was a dumb mistake to say that. You never ever tell a woman to calm down and relax. You never impede on her right to feel whatever she wants to feel.
“Calm down?” the redhead says to me, now fighting to get the words out while she grinds her teeth together. “Calm down?”
“Um…” That’s all I can think to say. Most of the time I’m fairly articulate, but right now proper speech is failin
g me.
Damn. How did it all become such a mess? Everything was going fine before I saw that brunette. I was on my way to leaving with the redhead and having a fun night with her.
“You know what, I’m going to make this a whole lot easier for you. You don’t have to worry about me. Go talk to that girl. Propose to her for all I care.” The redhead promptly turns around and stomps away, her head held high like she just turned down an offer to become queen of the universe.
The night has turned into an absolute nightmare.
I consider cutting my losses and just leaving. But something is stopping me. The same something that coerced me into turning my head to look at the brunette.
It’s those damn instincts again.
Chapter 7
Once the redhead is completely out of my sight, I notice the bartender who served me earlier watching me with a grin on his face. He sees me looking and playfully says, “Ouch. Better luck next time.”
I feel a strong compulsion to take off my shoe and throw it at his head. He’s the only bartender there who’s no longer watching the brunette and her drunken suitor.
“Shouldn’t one of you do something about that situation?” I ask the guy, gesturing with my head.
“None of our business.”
“None of… are you kidding? It’s happening right inside your bar.”
“As long as the guy doesn’t threaten her with violence, we can’t do anything about it.”
That’s some of the most absurd logic I’ve ever heard.
Right. So I’m on my own then. No one is going to back me up, but I’m not going to let that stop me. It’s only a matter of time before Mr. Drunken Jackass does something he normally wouldn’t do if he were sober.
I’m not going to let that happen. I start to move forward.
Twenty yards away.
Some of the people sitting at nearby tables turn to look at me, following my progress. They know what I’m about to do.
Ten yards away.
I sure as hell didn’t come to this bar with the intention of getting into a fight with someone, but what other choice do I have? I can’t just stand idly by.
Now it isn’t even just about impressing her so that she’ll would sleep with me. That’s part of the equation, of course, but the compulsion to be a decent person is the guiding force here.
I’m basically at the guy’s elbow. And let’s just say that it’s one hell of an elbow. Wouldn’t surprise me if the goon could penetrate a solid barrier with that thing.
And I do mean “goon.” It’s the perfect word to describe him. I’m about six-one myself, but this guy has a good solid three inches on me. In addition to that, his shoulders are wider than those of most men, and his hands look like they belong on a seven-footer from the NBA.
What were this guy’s parents feeding him when he was a kid? Steroid smoothies?
I’m finally close enough to hear the conversation between Mr. Drunken Jackass and the girl, but it seems I’ve already missed the good bits. The only thing that’s left is a word. Just one word. The last thing the man says before stumbling a little to the side. Something you never say to a female.
“Tease.”
The girl doesn’t respond verbally, but she flares her nostrils and glares at the guy as if willing him to burst into flames.
With most women (probably with most men as well), taking on a facial expression like that will make you look very unattractive. But with this girl, her cuteness is completely unchanged. If anything, that angry look makes me want her even more.
This is the moment to act.
“Okay, buddy,” I say to the man, now standing right beside him and looking him in the face. “How about you go back to your seat? Or go tell one of the bartenders that you need a cab to take you back home. I’m sure they’d be happy to call one for you.”
Mr. Drunken Jackass totters and barely succeeds in regaining his equilibrium. He squints at me as if he’s looking at a distorted image, and then he puffs out his chest and tries to look even more intimidating.
“Mind your own…” He stops momentarily before continuing. “… business.”
“You harassing some poor girl is my business. Now get lost before I lose my temper.”
The guy isn’t going to make things any easier for me. He’s probably too inebriated to know what he’s doing or saying.
I almost feel sorry for him.
Almost.
“I’m serious. Go away. Leave the girl alone.”
“Why don’t you go away?” He swings his body towards me as he says that, which allows his breath to waft down into my face.
It’s all I can do to not start gagging right here on the spot. There are traces of whiskey there, as well as a bunch of other stuff. He’s obviously no stranger to mixed alcohols.
“If the lady,” here I spare a quick glance in the direction of the girl, “wants me to go away, then I will. But you’re the one she’s looking at right now. You know what that means, don’t you?”
Mr. Drunken Jackass furrows his brow in concentration. I think his brain cells took a vacation when they detected the presence of so much alcohol going into him.
I dare to take my eyes off of the guy and openly frown at the bartenders, who are all just standing there and watching us like we’re reenacting a scene from a movie.
Useless.
Chapter 8
Turning back, I refocus my attention on Mr. Drunken Jackass. The man’s eyelids are fluttering. He doesn’t have much time left before he falls flat on his face.
“Please just leave. There’s no need for this to go any further.”
“Leave?” He scoffs, some spit flying out of his mouth, narrowly avoiding making contact with me. “Oh, I bet you’d… you’d like that. You just want me to leave so that you can have her all to yourself.”
He isn’t entirely wrong about that. I’m definitely hoping the girl will be very “grateful” about what I’m doing.
Once again, not behavior that Prince Charming would be proud of.
“I don’t want any trouble, buddy. Just go away. You’re bothering everyone now. Look at how many people are staring at you.”
“I’m not your buddy.”
“Okay, you’re not my buddy. Just be a gentleman and leave the lady alone. Go away.”
“Make me.” Mr. Drunken Jackass follows up that comment by taking a step towards me. There’s very little space between us now.
“Okay. Enough.”
Both of us turn to the source of the sound.
It’s the girl. This is the first time I’ve heard her speak. She’s looking pissed off, to say the least.
I feel slightly emasculated and want to tell her that I have everything under control. This is on me. I have to deal with this goon. If I have to flat out threaten him, then so be it. The peacemaker routine obviously hasn’t worked.
I take another step forward. Now I’m so close to him that someone who didn’t know what was going on between us might have wondered if we were about to kiss.
Not to sound homophobic, but I would rather kiss the floor than this creep.
“You’re really trying my patience now,” I say. “If I have to, I will drag your ass out of here by force.”
“Oh yeah? You and what army?”
“I don’t need an army to beat some sense into you. Leave now and you might just get home without any injuries.”
I haven’t been in a fight since high school, but the same logic for sex applies: Once you’ve done it, regardless of how much time passes by, you never forget how to do it again.
“Oh, for God’s sake,” the girl exclaims, “will one of you grow a backbone and do something about this?”
I’m sure she’s talking to the bartenders, but I’m not going to look away from Mr. Drunken Jackass again to confirm that. He isn’t the type who would be above sucker-punching someone.
“Grow a pair! It’s your bar.”
She’s fiery. Remind to never get on her bad side.
It’s okay,” I say to the girl. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got this.” It isn’t false bravado. I mean it. Mr. Drunken Jackass is bigger than me, but I’m confident I can drop him like a bag of dirt. The fact that he’s drunk is obviously something that leans in my favor.
“Don’t be stupid,” the girl replies back. “Why get into a fight if you don’t have to?”
That’s a good question, but I’m not about to answer her. If a guy wants to be thickheaded about something, you just have to let him make his own mistakes. Remember that, ladies.
“Come on! Do something,” the girl pleads. She hasn’t given up on the bartenders yet, but I have. There’s no point in waiting for them to save the day.
“They’re not coming. They’re not going to do a damn thing. I’ll handle this.” I glare at the man, letting him know that I’m on the verge of taking a swing at him. “You don’t want this to get physical. Trust me on that.”
The wobbles in his fat cheeks let me know that he’s grinding his teeth together. As for his head, who knows what’s going on in there.
I’m ready for a punch to come my way. My posture is set accordingly. Shoulders squared, legs planted.
Come on, you ape. Make a move.
“Pfft. Fine. You can have her.”
And just like that it’s over. Mr. Drunken Jackass is turning around (none too gracefully, I might add), and walking away towards the other corner of the bar. He doesn’t look back even once.
All bark. No bite.
The rest of the people in the bar seem to be surprised by this outcome as well. They were probably hoping for a fight. Anything that would entertain them for a few minutes.
But now the conflict has been resolved. Mr. Drunken Jackass is out of my sight. People are starting to turn away and return to their own conversations—although I doubt many of them will go the whole night without once discussing what they saw.
Before long, the area around me is clear and I can feel a pair of eyes watching me. I know without looking that those eyes belong to the girl. It’s time to face her.
