Chapter 44 Bar Fights.and Regular Fights
Chapter forty-four
Bar Fights...and Regular Fights
Jo
Ah, there’s nothing better than working at Andre’s on a weekend.
Just kidding.
I would rather be doing literally anything else right now.
I’ve run Andres for the past couple nights while my parents have been away. For the most part, I’m used to it. I’ve been working here ever since I was a kid–even though I’m sure some sort of laws were broken by having me do so.
Usually, it’s a fairly chill bar. Yes, it gets busy since it’s one of the only bars in town, but it’s normally not crazy. Tonight is a whole other story, though. There’s a UFC fight on Pay-Per-View that my parents got, and this place is packed.
Not only is it packed, but do you know what watching people fight does to guys? It makes them want to fight too.
I’m behind the bar, helping the bartenders however I can and trying to keep the peace amongst the patrons.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a text from Beau.
How’s everything going?
A little crazy, but it’s alright.
Need some reinforcements?
I smile because it’s cute how he worries.
No, that’s okay. Enjoy the quiet for a little while. I’ll see you when I’m done here. :)
Even though Leah and the girls haven’t been contagious for over a week, I’ve still been staying with Beau.
I love my brother and appreciate all he’s done for me, but I know having me there was an imposition.
Maybe it is for Beau too. At least with him, I can get naked, and it seems to make it a little less of an imposition.
As I’m washing out some glasses, I hear a couple of guys over by the pool tables starting to get loud. And this isn’t normal loud. This is angry loud.
“You want to go, man? I’ll kick your ass right here!” One of them shouts.
“Let’s go, bro!”
Good lord, they can’t think of anything better?
I’ve already told these guys to quiet down once, or I was going to have to ask them to leave. I guess they don’t remember that conversation from no more than twenty minutes ago.
When one of them physically pushes the other, I’ve seen enough. Grabbing the large baseball bat that’s housed behind the bar, I rush over to where they’re standing.
“Hey!” I shout. “What the fuck did we just talk about?”
Neither one of them seems to pay me any attention. When I step right in between the two of them, they’re still trying to push each other but are pushing me instead.
“Knock it off!” I scream, but once again, nothing.
As loud as I possibly can, I yell, “Motherfuckers!”
That gets them to both stop and look at me.
“I’m tired of your bullshit! Get the fuck out of the bar!”
As though the alcohol has made them even braver, one of them looks from me and down to the bat.
“And what are you going to do about it if we don’t? I highly doubt you’re going to hit us with that bat.”
“Do you want to fucking bet?” I ask. “You know what? I’ve got an even better idea.”
Turning on my heel, I walk out to the parking lot. The crowd of people that was watching inside has now followed us. I start walking the rows of cars, slowly and methodically.
When I get to a jacked-up pick up truck, one of them shouts, “What the fuck are you doing by my truck?”
Man, he fell right into that one.
I jump up on the hood, careful not to do any real damage.
“Here’s how this is going to go, buttercup.
You are going to get in this truck that screams that you have a small penis, and you are going to leave this bar.
If you don’t, I’m going to take my time busting out all of your windows.
And if you think I’m kidding, please I beg you to ask anyone here who knows me.
I think they’ll all be more than glad to tell you just how crazy I really fucking am. ”
He stares at me for a moment, and I think he’s going to have something smart to say, but instead, he pulls his keys out of his pocket and says, “Okay, okay. I’m going.”
I turn my attention to the guy he was about to throw hands with. “Anything from you?”
All he does is shake his head.
I jump down off the hood and walk back inside with all the onlookers following me. These people should all know better. My mother normally runs this place, and she doesn’t take any of that shit.
And she wonders where I get my crazy from.
***
“Honey, I’m home!” I call, walking through Beau’s front door.
It’s so late I figured he’d be asleep, but when I texted him to tell him I was closing up, he sent me a thumbs up, so I assume he’s still awake.
Walking into the den, I find him sitting in the dark, playing on his phone.
“Hey, you,” I greet. “Man, you would not believe the night I had.”
“I saw the night you had.”
“What?” I ask, flipping on a light.
“Jamie got a video of you breaking up a fight and then threatening to bust out some windshields.”
“Jamie was there? It was so busy I didn’t even see him.” I walk closer to him, and I see the stressed out look on his face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”
“Jo, did we not just talk about you being more careful?”
“What do you mean? I wasn’t in danger or anything.”
“Really? You getting in between two guys who were ready to start swinging wasn’t putting yourself in danger? What if one of them wanted to teach you a lesson, and they followed you to your car when you got off?”
“I don’t know,” I stammer. “I would have handled it.”
“Jo, I get it. You’re a badass, but do you really think you could have taken on two full grown men like that?”
“There’s a baseball bat behind the bar and a gun back in the safe,” I say.
“Really? Are you just going to carry them with you all the time?” He questions.
“Beau, where is this coming from? You know who I am. You know that I am not one to back down from a fight.”
“I’m not asking you to back down, but maybe don’t go barreling in head first either.”
I feel all of my defenses start to rise. “I don’t need you to protect me,” I tell him. “I’m a big girl. I’ve been doing it on my own for many years. I can handle myself.”
“From what you’ve told me–or not told me–it seems like maybe there were some things you couldn’t handle yourself.”
“You’re being ridiculous,” I tell him. “Nothing happened. I’m here. Safe and sound.”
“That’s not the point.”
“Then, what’s the point?” I’m basically shouting now.
“At any point during the night, did you ever think maybe this is a bad idea?”
“No. I don’t tend to think about things like that.”
“And that’s the problem, Jo. Sometimes, I just need you to be a little more self-aware. Maybe doing backflips off couches while you're drunk or getting in between two guys who are about to fight aren’t great ideas.”
I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I’m not sure who exactly he thinks he is, but I don’t like his tone.
In order to try to end this conversation, I say, “Okay, I’m sorry. Maybe I should have thought about things a little bit more than I did.”
I take a step closer to him and run my finger along his collarbone. “How about I make it up to you?”
“Jo, not everything can be magically fixed with sex,” he says, moving my hand off of him.
It feels like he just metaphorically slapped me. I’ve never had anyone tell me no before. I’m not really sure how to react.
Should I yell some more? Should I cry?
No, I shouldn’t cry, but I feel like I’m about to, so there’s really only one thing to do.
“I have to go.”