Chapter 5 #2
“Yeah. It shouldn’t surprise you.” He laughs, leaning over to line up the cue.
“It doesn’t—,” I sigh, placing my hands on my hips. “But if he gets one then, I should too.” I add jokingly.
Bear drives in his stick, smacking against the black ball. It hits the edge of the pocket, bouncing off and rolling back to the other end.
Bear drops his head, wringing his fists around his pool stick.
“Don’t break another one.” Cici laughs as we all look to the pile of broken sticks barely hidden beneath an empty booth.
Nyx points his cue to the far right pocket.
“Calling it.” His eyes flicker briefly to mine.
He winces, as if the movement pains him.
Jasper stands behind him, tilting his beer to his lips as he watches Nyx carefully lean into position.
If I would have blinked, I would have missed it— the cue strikes the eight ball, sending it right into the called pocket. “Pay up.” Nyx grins at Bear.
Bear groans, shoving his hand into his jacket pocket as he mumbles under his breath.
“Flossie, can you grab us some more chalk?” Jasper calls.
I give him a thumbs-up, and trot back to the bar island. “Billy, can we get some more chalk?”
The old man fumbles around in the drawer beneath the cash register, adjusting his tinted glasses as he searches. “Let me go check in the back,” he says, disappearing behind the curtain.
I pull out the stool next to Scott’s and plop down.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes. Can I buy you a beer?”
I whip around to the breathy voice. One of the college boys has one hand placed on the back of my stool and the other steadying himself against the island.
He leans in like he’s practiced this in his dorm-room mirror.
I raise my brows, eyeing him from head to toe.
He crosses his polished boots that have clearly never seen a spec of dirt.
He wears a red-patterned half collared shirt, fitted a little too tightly around his long torso and clean khaki slacks.
The air in the bar thickens, voices dying out.
I snort. “No thanks.”
That should be the end of it. But they’re never that smart.
He grins confidently. He thinks I’m playing hard to get. “Oh, c’mon. A pretty woman like you can’t sit here all by herself without one.” He keeps his tone light, leaning in closer. Too close. “One drink. I’m just trying to be nice.”
I return my gaze to the curtain, ignoring him. “I didn’t ask you to. The answer is no.” Every man in this town should know better by now. Wyoming isn’t large enough for my reputation to stay hidden and neither is my patience.
I don’t want a man’s company. Don’t want his cliché flirting like the right line picks up a woman just as easy as picking one of these liquor bottles off the shelf.
Men have a habit of treating personal space like a suggestion.
Mine isn’t a suggestion. It’s a line I welded straight into the earth itself, buried so deep nothing short of God could move it.
He laughs softly. “You always this cold, or am I just special?”
I jerk my chin back to him, narrowing my eyes in warning. “You’re persistent,” I snap, “not charming.”
His expression shifts along with his feet, then he impatiently runs a hand through his slicked back hair.
“Hey,” he says, reaching out. The boy’s fingers land on the small of my back, the feeling sending a shot of venom straight up my spine.
My veins scream beneath my skin, every cell in my body now wide awake.
That’s when the noise halts. Even the jukebox seems to quiet. Something in me snaps clean.
I latch onto his wrist, fingers locking and twist it back until the joint pops.
“What the hell!” he yells, voice cracking as I bend him forward just enough to steal his balance.
I catch movement out of the corner of my eye; the three friends immediately scramble up from their booth at the sudden commotion.
I bite back a dangerous smile. Barely. The warm sensation of violence fills me to the brim.
“Mama never taught you to keep your hands to yourself?” I murmur, sweet as a confession.
I step into him and torque his arm higher.
He swings with his free hand, sloppy and desperate.
Big mistake. I duck under it, dragging him forward and slam his shoulder into the edge of the bar.
Whether it’s wood or bone that just cracked, I don’t know. And I don’t care.
“Let him go!” One of his friends shouts, rushing forward.
Jasper jolts to his feet in my peripheral, but Nyx stops him with a hand to his heaving chest. I send the boy sprawling to the floor hard enough to rattle the tables.
The others rush me all at once. I let his first swing miss on purpose, feel the air of it pass my cheek and duck beneath the curl of it, driving my elbow up under the second’s jaw.
Bone clicks and he falls limply to the floor.
The second grabs my wrist. I can only laugh.
I twist, feeling the tendons protest and snap his fingers back until he blurts out an ugly scream.
The sound disgusts me. I slam his head into the wooden pillar to shut him up but his body still feels stiff beneath my pulsing hands, so I slam him again, the fight finally leaving his eyes as he falls unconscious.
The third hesitates as I motion him forward.
This is my favorite part. But the man grows some balls, reaching for the nearest beer bottle and smashes it against a table.
The glass is jagged and wet, the break uneven like teeth.
He lunges at me, swinging wildly. I leap back and dive low, spinning on my heel as I sweep his legs from under him with the connection of my shin to his calves and mount him before he can inhale a breath.
I plunge my right fist into his nose, pinning down his hand still tightly gripping the broken bottle with the left.
I strike. Again. And again. Each punch measured and efficient.
The room fades as electricity hums in my veins.
Someone shouts my name, loud and desperate. But I keep going.
I reel back for a final blow as my name echoes again.
I glance at my fingers tightly curled in the man’s shirt and slowly, I release him.
The men lie groaning on the dusty floor.
I stand, brushing my hair from my face, my chest still heaving and snatch the broken bottle from the third’s hand before pulling out the empty stool next to Scott’s and plunge it into the old vinyl of the cushion.
“Anyone else?!” I shout.
Heads drop and the bar suddenly resumes as if nothing ever happened. I peer over to Bear who stands eagerly with his grin plastered wildly across his face at the sight of my stool. I wipe my hands vigorously on my jeans as if I can scrub them clean of the men I just laid out.
Billy bursts through the curtains, fresh chalk in hand. “I found it!” he yells ecstatically, but confusion quickly takes over his expression.
“I’ll clean up.” I mutter, stepping over the limp bodies beneath me. Jasper shoves Nyx’s hand off, fury rolling off of him in waves.