Page 19 of Hooked

“Uh, so what brings you out?” Sia asks. “I know you’re not big on social stuff.”

Well, I was trying to give shit to Kristi for giving shit to me, and it blew up in my face.

But I can’t say that.

I take a swig from my drink. “The fine beverages,” I say.

She giggles, and the virtues of going out start to reveal themselves a little more.

We manage to keep it civil, despite Kristi’s best efforts to promote chaos.

A couple of times Sia whispers conspiratorially with Kristi, but it’s always when Sven’s back is to them, so I have an idea what that’s about even though I can’t hear them over the mediocre band. Sia’s excitement about everything is surprisingly refreshing.

Her interest isn’t just contained to only glamorous topics, but she’s curious about everything from where I get my summer fish supplies to how Sven learned how to bartend.

It isn’t until I get up to use the restroom that I realize she’s told us nothing about herself directly. Interesting.

Weaving through the crowd, I wonder what Sia finds so compelling about big events. If they were all as clean and beautiful as her drawings I’d understand, but the reality is often this—a bathroom floor covered in the piss of sad, lonely drunks.

There’s a kind of anonymity in larger groups if you want to lose yourself in a space, but that’s always been too depressing to me. It’s not how I choose to forget the hard stuff.

Does Sia have hard things to forget? And if she does, what do they look like? Her interest in other people is genuine, but what’s her story?

Maybe she doesn’t have one.

Then I remember the flash of pain that passed between her and Danny and I feel guilty again.

I zip up, wash my hands, and head back to the bar. I’m not surprised to see a group of townie dudes circling Sia and Kristi when I get back. My presence was the only thing keeping them at bay. No offense to Sven, of course.

Really charming how some men only keep their distance from women they see as other men’s property.

Kristi’s posture very clearly communicates “I am going to turn you into so much chum.”

Since I generally don’t spend a lot of time talking, I’ve become a keen observer of body language and unspoken communication.

A young woman has taken my seat, and she’s welcome to it. I don’t want to make assumptions about the help Kristi and Sia do or don’t need, but Sia looks as uncomfortable as Kristi looks mad. She’s hugging herself and smiling in that way women do when they’re afraid to piss off an aggressor.

I’d seen that exact smile on several of my foster sisters.

Which is why I learned how to fight.

I prefer not to, and it’s not like I enjoyed getting whipped instead of my foster sisters, but I’ll be damned if I let some insecure loser abuse or intimidate women to feel big.

I shoulder aside one of the men, coming to stand directly behind Sia and Kristi. “Excuse me.”

Sia looks up at my baritone, and the controlled panic in her eyes is enough for me.

“Vinny,” she says, her shoulders relaxing.

“You ladies ready to go?” I ask.

Sia looks at Kristi. She obviously doesn’t want to spoil her friend’s good time, even at her own expense.

“Let’s bug out,” Kristi says. “It’s lame as fuck in here now.”

“Do you want to say bye to Sven?” I ask.

Kristi smiles at Sia. “Nah. Let’s go.”

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