Chapter 13
Lizzy
Taking a deep breath, I open the door to Duvic’s and walk inside. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a sports bar, and never this one, and yet it’s exactly how I pictured it. Grimy, loud, and dingy.
Taking in my surroundings, I scan the room for Chris. I don’t even realize I’m blocking the entrance until a large body walks into my back, causing me to stumble forward.
“Hey, lady. You’re blocking the entrance,” a gruff voice says.
“Sorry,” I mumble over my shoulder as I make my way to the bar.
Sitting at the bar, out of the way, seems to be the smartest move.
I haul myself onto my stool, having to grip the bar to climb my way up.
This place is clearly made for men. Looking around, I see all the walls covered in sports jerseys and posters.
“What can I get you?” a smooth voice calls from across the wooden divide. My head snaps up, making eye contact with a middle-aged, grizzly-looking man.
“Do you have any wine?” I ask meekly. I don’t typically indulge in alcohol, but I might need it to survive this date. Or being stood up. But my hope is squashed when he laughs.
“I think you might be in the wrong place, sweetheart.” He eyes my outfit speculatively, and I realize Kendra and I were wrong. Only jeans and a jersey would fit in here. I stand out like a sore thumb.
“I’ll take whatever’s on tap,” I amend. He nods and pulls a mug from a shelf. Within seconds I have a beer in front of me. Wincing, I take a pull from it.
He leaves to attend to other customers, and I’m left on my own to drink and commiserate. I check my watch, noting that it’s eight fifteen. I’ll give him another ten minutes before I leave.
The bartender pushes another beer in front of me, catching me off guard. I hadn’t realized I finished the first one. I mumble my thanks then reach for my purse. Part of me is glad Chris stood me up so I can get out of here.
“On the house, sweetheart.” He winks as I pull out my wallet. Smiling awkwardly at him, I put my purse down and start to stand, abandoning the second drink.
“You flirting with my date, Brandon?” a familiar voice rumbles from behind me.
Forcing a smile, I turn to see Chris hovering behind me. This is good. I get to go on my date, I try to convince myself.
“Sorry, man. Didn’t realize she was taken.” Brandon, the bartender, walks away without another word.
“Hey, baby, I didn’t think you were still coming.” There’s a glint in his eye when he says it, but his friendly smile remains. His words confuse me since he’s the one who hasn’t responded to me. But I don’t want to cause any trouble, so I drop it.
“Why don’t we get a table?” I ask instead of following up on his words as I shimmy down my barstool.
When his hands grip my waist and help me down, I don’t feel butterflies.
I feel discomfort. I fight the urge to brush them off.
One hand stays glued to me as he ushers me to a booth.
Sighing, I crawl into the sticky linoleum despite knowing it’ll probably ruin my new dress.
We sit across from each other, and I’m grateful for the table separating us. Something about this entire situation makes me feel uneasy. I try to ignore the feeling, even as he studies me, his stare hardening.
“How was your day?” I ask to break the awkward silence.
He relaxes instantly, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. “It was good. Fixed a few heaters.”
“You didn’t have to reassemble any, right?” When he doesn’t laugh at my joke, I tack on, “You know, like you had to reassemble my oven.”
This time he laughs, a booming sound. “No reassembling. Most people don’t take apart their appliances when they’re broken.”
“Guess I think differently than most people then.” I wince when I realize how closely that sounded to ‘I’m not like other girls.’
Thankfully, he doesn’t think too much about it. Instead, he continues on. “Nope, that’s just you. But don’t worry, I don’t mind a little weird.”
His words sting because of their familiarity.
How many people have turned me down because I’m different.
Because I’d rather spend my time with animals, reptiles at that, than with people.
That I’d rather spend a Friday night at home watching a documentary or doing a puzzle than drinking at a bar.
He doesn’t even know these things about me, yet he already thinks I’m weird.
All I can do is smile weakly at his words. He continues drinking and talking about himself. About how much he can bench, and how many video games he excels in. I take a gulp of my beer, enduring the monologue.
“… I won the fantasy football league and got to decide Ernie’s punishment for coming in last–”
“You won your league?” I interrupt to follow up on the only interesting thing he’s said.
“Yeah,” he boasts smugly.
“How did you win? What was your method? What algorithms did you use?” I’m not as interested in math and statistics as sciences, but maybe underneath his tough exterior, he’s actually intelligent.
“What? No. I just know my players and my team. It’s like they spoke to me.
” I sag at his response, deflated by his ego.
“Now Ernie. He lost, and I got to choose his punishment. We went to a club, and I made him hook up with the ugliest, fattest bitch I could find.” Disgust at his words overwhelms me.
He doubles over laughing at the memory, a hiccupping sound.
When he sits up to face me, I notice for the first time how bleary-eyed he is. This man has definitely had a couple of drinks already. In fact, I’d bet more than a couple.
“That’s…” I can’t even find the words to respond to his nasty words.
“Well, I had to make sure he did it. So, he recorded the whole thing. It’s disgusting.” He makes a choked sound, then stands abruptly. “I need a refill. I’ll get you one too.”
Before I can turn down his offer, he’s gone. And I’m left with an impossible decision. Do I leave right now and escape while he’s not paying attention? Or do I stay and do the polite thing and turn him down to his face?
I’ve been bailed on mid-date, and it doesn’t feel good. But this man is awful. A huge sleazebag. He would deserve it if I snuck out on him. Plus, he’s drunk. And men can be dangerous when they’re offended and inebriated.
Quickly, I gather my purse and slip out of the booth. I sneak my way through the bar. With the door handle in reach, a hand grabs my arm and pulls me against a hard chest.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Chris demands. His grip on me tightens to the point of pain, but I don’t flinch. Instead, I turn around and expertly muster a sincere look.
“I am so sorry, Chris, but my dad just texted me that he’s coming to my house for a surprise visit.
I have to leave now to go let him in.” I’m beyond impressed by my lie.
I’ve never known my dad, but he doesn’t know that.
The lie ensures that Chris won’t follow me home.
Because the only thing that can scare a drunk man is another man.
Chris’s eyes sharpen though. “I don’t think you’re telling the truth. I think you’re a lying bitch trying to bail on me while I’m buying you a beer.”
It’s getting hard to breathe. I can barely hear over the blood rushing to my head. Dark memories threaten to surface, but I know I need to stay calm until I can escape.
“Chris, please let go of my arm. I need to go home to my dad.” I soften my tone until I’m practically whispering to him. Feeding into his ego.
His eyes tighten as he inspects me. “When does your dad get to your house? You could stop by my place on your way home.”
Frantically, I glance around the room, begging anyone to intervene. But no one seems to care. None of these men will step in.
Deciding to fight back, I twist my arm until his grip loosens, and he drops me with a hiss. “I’m leaving now. Goodbye, Chris.”
Almost running, I race out the bar and down the sidewalk. But before I can even inhale the cool air, I hear the door slam open behind me.
“Come back here! I wasn’t done with you!” Chris bellows. He’s gaining on me, his heavy footsteps following behind.
And at that exact moment, I feel the two beers hit me. I try to turn into a parking lot, only to wobble, causing me to trip. I manage to stay on my feet, but the second of unbalance costs me dearly.
Chris grips me and pulls me upright. “I don’t think you’re in any position to drive. Tell your dad that you can’t make it. I’m going to take you home with me.”
“NO!” I demand, fighting his grip.
“Shut up, bitch–”
“I believe the woman said no,” a firm but smooth voice cuts off Chris.
As if a figment of my imagination, my neighbor stands behind me in all his glory. From his glasses to his green sweater, he’s just as dreamy as always. I blink a few times, trying to make sense of his presence.
“Mind your own business. She’s drunk–” Chris bites back.
“If the woman is drunk, then I will order her a cab home. She said no, so she will not be going home with you.” The air of authority in his voice sends chills down my spine.
Chris sputters as my neighbor carefully pries his hand from me. Once freed, I immediately step into my neighbor’s personal space. Being bold, I wrap my arm around him and get close. Chris glares at me with a shocked look of betrayal mixed with something dangerous brimming beneath the surface.
“Oh, there’s no need for a cab. You can take me home,” I tell my savior. Then, turning to a red-faced Chris, I explain. “This is my neighbor and running buddy. Don’t worry, he’ll get me home safely.”
My neighbor straightens at the words. I feel his sharp inhale more than hear it. In an instant his arm surrounds me and pulls me closer.
“Yes, this settles it. I’ll bring Lizzy home.”