Chapter 23 Cam W — The cougar’s husband
I will stop your mouth
Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare
I was ridiculously tired, but Marcus convinced me to go out for our usual crew drinks.
O’Malley’s was a Friday tradition, and I usually enjoyed winding down with my colleagues after a hard week.
I hadn’t expected a small wooden coaster to be pushed my way or for a glass to appear as if conjured.
I read the note. For a second, I was amused and touched and a little bit curious.
I looked around the bar, only to see Marcia the Cougar winking at me from four seats up.
Great. I’d fended this woman off so many times, surprised she hadn’t been barred from the venue for the drama she frequently caused.
Her obscenely long eyelashes fluttered at me, and she licked the edge of her glass and winked again.
I had always been polite, but it was time for this to end.
I was tired, and sick of her ruining our Friday tradition.
She’d actually flashed Marcus last week in the parking lot.
It was amusing but also very sad. Her huge husband always came to fetch her in the end, often throwing her over his shoulder while throwing apologetic looks at the crowd.
“Marcia, I appreciate the drink, but I can’t accept it. I’ve made it very clear that I’m not interested. You’re an attractive woman but—”
“What the fuck do you mean she’s attractive? You bought this asshole a drink?” A deep voice rumbled from behind me. The husband. The very large husband. For a man in his 50s, he was stacked.
I put up my hands in a placating motion. “No, I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding.”
Years of anger and frustration showed on his face. He glared from Marcia to me and back again. Marcia stood, speaking shrilly. “See, Howie? Men still find me attractive. Cam here has wanted me for months!”
I turned to explain to Howie, who surely knew what his wife was like, but before I could utter a word, I found myself on my backside on the floor.
“Fucking hell, back off!” Marcus stood in front of me, chesting up to the angry Howie. What the fuck just happened? I touched my face. Ouch. There was blood on my fingers.
Security, and Euan O’Malley himself, grabbed Howie and his wife and led them to the door. If that didn’t result in a lifetime ban, nothing would. The bartender brought me some ice for my face. I sat in a stool, stunned, while Marcus and my colleagues debriefed with each other.
What on earth just happened? Marcia bought me a drink and somehow I get punched, even though I was just making it clear I wasn’t interested? I texted Damon to cancel our plans later that night. I just wanted to go home. Maybe veg out to an action movie.
Me: Can’t do tonight. Some dickhead just punched me at O’Malley’s because his wife bought me a drink.
Damon: Shit! Hitting on women, huh? You okay? Need to go to hospital?
Me: I don’t think so. Might just send a pic to Juliet and ask her what she thinks.
It was handy having a nurse in my contacts. I sent her a photo, damn certain that I didn’t need stitches and that nothing was broken, but Marcus was in my ear demanding to take me somewhere. The bartender buzzed about furtively, almost guiltily. Probably worried I’d sue or something.
Jules responded almost immediately.
Juliet: Looks fine. Heads bleed a lot, but it really depends on how you feel. No need for stitches but always best to get checked for head injuries. Do you feel dizzy? Vision okay? I’d recommend getting seen to.
Of course she’d recommend that. She was a nurse. I’d taken blows to the head before, but they were always accidents in play fights or sports. I’d be fine. But what a shitty way to end the week.