The Stalker #2
“If the girl wants to go… let her go,” I say, pushing my chair out, joining them in stance. Red blotches prickle up his neck, creeping onto his pale face in aggravation. I take a step backward, not wanting to catch the splatter if his head explodes.
“You don’t even belong in this conversation. Who are you to tell me what to do?”
He sizes me up, even though he is five inches shorter than me. I’m not fazed one bit. I actually think it's quite amusing. He’s making an ass of himself. Not only in front of Dahlia, but in front of the folks around him trying to have dinner.
Quiet whispers tickle my ears from the surrounding tables. I see a man dressed in black, appearing closer and closer. I wave my hands in surrender, putting on my charm to convince my Little Flower and the rest of the restaurant that I’m not the bad guy.
“Calm down there, tiger. Let’s not make a scene in front of these classy people now.
They’re trying to enjoy their dinner.” I say.
The condescending tone ignites the flame within him.
His now pink skin turns scarlet. His head bobs in shock, peering around us and noticing the judgmental looks and whispers he is receiving.
“Is there a problem?” the man in the suit asks eagerly. It’s the same man from the front. His eyes move side to side in question at Parker and me. The look on his face telling that we need to leave, and I am more than happy to.
“N–no. We were just leaving,” my Little Flower speaks up.
She walks past the rows of dinner tables, making her way toward the entrance of the hotel.
I pull out my wallet and throw a handful of cash onto the table, knowing it’s more than enough to cover my bill and theirs.
I nod at the host, assuring him we are making our way out.
Parker storms out, trying to keep pace with my girl. I follow closely behind. I don’t trust him. Especially now that he’s pissed off. Who knows what he will do. And I am here to ensure no one harms my Little Flower.
Dahlia stands under the street lamp with her arms crossed.
She is probably pissed at both of us for embarrassing her.
I’m not sorry. I knew she needed my help.
She may not feel it now, but she will feel glad that I did.
I could argue it wasn’t my intention to get him riled up, but that would be an obvious lie.
“Come on, I’ll take you home,” Parker tells her by grabbing her forearm a little too tightly and pulling her. She jerks her arm back in defiance, but the grip he has on her stops her from getting away. She pulls away again.
“Let go of me!” she screams out. Wetness in her eyes glimmer under the night light, and my temper explodes. Tension in my jaw sears upwards with my grinding clench. I’m trying my best to look calm, but on the inside, my madness is stirring.
The crack of my fist connecting with Parker’s face causes Dahlia to gasp in horror.
The shock alone is enough for his grip to loosen, resulting in her getting free.
Her boss falls onto the sidewalk, grasping his lower face.
Blood splatters onto the floor as he spits.
The thick red liquid coats his lips like a bloodsucking creature.
“If you touch her again, I’ll cut your fucking hands off,” I spew at him in promise.
The valet in front watches the altercation happen.
Contemplating whether to intervene. They all take a few steps backward, protecting themselves from any collateral damage.
It’s not a part of their job to break up a fight, especially if it's off company property.
“Are you okay? I can give you a ride home instead,” I ask, offering my Little Flower an alternative. Her hands are still clutched in front of her face as she looks at me, then back down at her boss. I give her a moment to weigh her options. Fear still written all over her face.
She nods her head slowly in acceptance of my proposal. At this point, she is better off riding with me than spending another minute with that jackass. We both know I’m the better choice, even with the violence.
A rev of my bike gets closer as one of the valets pulls in.
Wow, five-star service. I didn't need to tell them to fetch it. I’ll be sure to leave a review.
My girl gives me an “are you serious?” look, and I return it with a grin.
I glance around, forgetting that I left my helmet and mask inside.
Fuck, I can’t grab my mask without revealing I’m her stalker.
“Stay here, I need to grab my helmet,” I tell her, then turn to the valet.
“Make sure this fucker stays away from her.”
I run to my table, seeing that my possessions are still there. I grab both my mask and helmet. Just as I’m about to exit, I toss my mask into the garbage, watching it sink into the black plastic. I guess I’ll have to make another one.
Parker is now standing on the sidewalk, refusing to leave. This motherfucker is relentless. I pull the helmet over my angel's face, watching her cheeks pucker at the tightness. She is so fucking perfect. I fasten the strap under her chin and give it a slight tug.
“Does it feel too tight?” I ask her before removing my hand.
“No, it’s okay. I–Uh, I’ve never been on one of these before,” she tells me, uncertain of the ride she's about to receive.
By the way, she is standing here still; it seems she would rather hop on the bike than be left alone with Parker.
Not that I would let her. I lower the visor for her, hearing it click into place.
“You can't put her on one of those–—” Parker begins to give his opinion that very much isn't needed. I continue with my girl, ignoring him. And she does the same.
“Just hold on to me tightly. Lean when I lean, and you’ll be fine,” I give her the reassurance she is hopefully looking for.
She gives me a nod of confirmation. I can hear her boss still babbling in the background, waving his hands all over the place like a madman.
A few of the valets are standing in front of him, blocking him from both of us.
He definitely won't be welcomed back here.
I look at my Little Flower from head to toe, wondering how the hell she's going to sit comfortably with a tight, ankle-length skirt on. I scratch the back of my head. She’s not going to like what I’m about to propose, but she has no other choice at this point.
“You’re going to have to hike your skirt up,” I say, signaling to her lower half. Her expression goes still, surprised at my demand. She looks down at herself.
“Excuse me?”