Chapter 1 #2
As they argued about the finer points of Castle Doctrine, I thought about the other reason I was feeling so glum this evening.
Across the table, Nataly met my eye. She looked regretful, and I made a mental note to talk to her later.
It wasn’t her fault I was in this funk. She hadn’t meant anything by it when she’d mentioned that Cade and his new wife had announced their second pregnancy.
It was complicated for her because Amy, the new wife, had a sister who had played basketball with Nataly at UW.
I didn’t want to think about what Wife Number Two had that I didn’t. Why had he been so quick to have kids with her but refused with me? I had my suspicions, but even thinking about them made me sick to my stomach.
Somewhere behind us, two men started to get loud. I turned in my seat and saw them squaring up next to the pool table. A third man intervened, making a joke that seemed to soothe the angry nerves. Their game resumed, but it made our tables a little nervous.
“Maybe we should head out?” Amanda asked from her spot next to Emmy. “It’s getting late, and my boys have golf in the morning.”
Even though it was summer break, most of us had busy mornings planned. One by one, we agreed it was time to leave.
“Let me settle the tab and hit the bathroom before we go.” I drank the last ounce of my beer.
I always enjoyed treating the book club, especially since it was technically on my ex-husband's dime.
He might have used me to support him through medical school and his residency, but I made sure to use him right back by getting every penny he owed me for the pain and suffering of being married to him.
“Watch out for the bathroom,” Daisy warned as she gathered up her purse. “It’s a disaster zone.”
“Duly noted,” I muttered, not looking forward to it.
On my way to the bar, I noticed the group at the pool table getting rowdy again.
I quickly paid the tab, added a fat tip, and then headed for the bathroom.
As luck would have it, the stranger with the green eyes had moved to the doorway near the hall I needed to access.
He leaned against the wall, powerful arms crossed in front of his chest, his dangerous tattoos on display.
He laughed at something his equally as intimidating friend said, and I hated how my body reacted to the sight of his grin. He had no business looking that handsome. Like, seriously, the fucking nerve of him.
The bathroom was nearly as bad as I had imagined.
I held my breath and then tried to breathe as shallow as possible while quickly using the toilet.
I hovered over the seat, terrified to touch the cracked plastic, and silently thanked the heavens there was actually toilet paper on the roll.
I almost skipped the grimy sink, but my years of handwashing indoctrination wouldn’t let me.
I couldn’t exactly tell my students to scrub their fins if I didn’t do the same.
The soap dispenser had a thick ring of dried, crusted soap sticking to it.
My stomach churned, and I made the best of it, washing quickly in the scalding hot water.
There was a stack of paper towels on the edge of the sink.
I grabbed a few, dried off, tossed them in the overflowing trash can and got the hell out of there.
I emerged from the bathroom hallway to the sound of a surprisingly good cover of La Grange.
I’d grown up playing around in my dad’s shop on the weekends, handing him sockets and playing on stacks of old tires to a constant soundtrack of ZZ Top.
The nostalgic side of me wanted to stick around and listen, maybe see if the band would hit their stride.
But I had kept my friends waiting long enough. We had come together in four different cars with four of us volunteering as designated drivers for the others. I had ridden over with Nataly but intended to ride back with Becky who lived close to me.
Except as I scanned the bar, I didn’t see my friends anywhere.
Okay. Well. Rude to leave me alone in here.
The sound of arguing near that pool table drew my attention.
I suspected that was the reason my group had chosen to wait outside.
The men seemed drunker and angrier than when I had gone to the bathroom.
Considering the amount of shot glasses sitting on the tables around them, I shouldn’t have been surprised.
Halfway across the bar, I froze mid-step as the two men ratcheted up the fury.
Chest to chest, they shouted in each other’s face, spittle flying along with the most creative combinations of F bombs and other curses I had ever heard.
More men started to crowd in from the sides, and the band lost the beat as the drummer’s attention was snagged by the fight.
A woman grabbed the arm of the bigger of the two men and tried to talk him down, to get him to leave it.
He finally relented after telling the smaller man to shove that pool cue right up his ass.
The couple turned to walk away—and the smaller man swung his beer bottle at the taller man’s head, cracking it open and sending glass shards everywhere.
The whole bar erupted.
And I was stupidly standing right in the middle of it.
Until two powerful hands grabbed my waist and effortlessly lifted me out of the fray.
“Careful, sugar,” the green-eyed stranger drawled before placing me on a stool away from the fracas.
Still reeling from how I had been manhandled, I watched in shock as he rushed into the violent melee.
The crowd parted as he advanced, further convincing me he was a well-known entity.
He snatched up a pool cue, and like a pinch hitter coming in to save the game, he swung that wooden stick at the instigator, cracking him across the backs of his knees.
The man dropped instantly and howled when that pool cue slammed into his upper back.
The stranger hit him again, driving him almost to his belly, and then stomped on the offender’s hand, crushing the fingers that had swung that beer bottle.
Using the pool cue as a tool, he placed it under the attacker’s chin, forcing the man back up onto his knees into a praying position.
I couldn’t hear what was said over the noise of angry voices. The green-eyed stranger lowered his head, rasping something threatening in the man’s ear. With a look of terror, the dumbass started to sputter what looked like an apology.
Not wanting to see what fresh hell might start next, I decided to take advantage of the lull and escape.
I skirted the edge of the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight and managed to get outside without being jostled too badly.
I couldn’t wait to find the rest of the girls and tell them what they had missed.
But they were gone.
The parking lot was jam packed with motorcycles and a few trucks, but none of our more sensible vehicles.
Did they leave me behind?
Surely not.
Right?
Oh, no.
No.
Shit.