Page 4 of Love Me Boldly

“I’m allowed to be here, Mick.” He and my father had a feud. I figured they’d once battled to become the town’s largest drunks. The meanest drunk award always went to Mick. At least I could count one blessing in my life. My dad didn’t smash my face into walls like Mick did to his kids.

“Hey, maybe you should back off.”

How sweet of Graham to jump in to the rescue. I held out my hand and put my body between his and Mick’s. There was a chance Mick wouldn’t hit me, but a stranger taking up for me wouldn’t have the same chance. Snowball’s chance in hell, as it was.

Mick’s face was red and puffy, which wasn’t only from years of drinking and doing who knows what else, but he grew larger and meaner every year. His stomach extended far over his belt buckle, and according to his son Mike, who I hadn’t talked to since high school, the man had a mean right hook.

I felt the pressure of the stranger at my back, trying to get me out of the way.

“Keep your hands off her,” Graham said and tried to tug me backward.

“Stop it,” I hissed at him and dug my heels into the floor.

“We’ll go,” I told Mick, because now that Graham had stood up for me, if I left, the guys would have trouble too. “All of us.”

“Never should have let trash like you in here in the first place.”

“Yeah, well, they can’t keep me out.”

“That’s enough, Mick.”

I almost breathed a sigh of relief at Chanelle’s presence as she sauntered up to us. A quick glance behind Mick made me cringe. He was causing a scene, and it was directing the attention of almost everyone in the place.

No one was going to have my back.

Chanelle wasn’t standing up for me, either. It was her bar. She didn’t want broken tables and shattered glass all over.

“You know I don’t hate you like everyone here, but you should take off,” she warned, sliding in front of Mick.

He huffed and puffed behind her, and spittle might have hit the back of her head.

She’d had worse though, and if she felt it, she didn’t flinch.

“Weweren’t causing problems,” Graham said. He tugged at the back of my shirt again, and this time, I stepped back.

It wasn’t to let him protect me, it was to grab Tracey.

“We’re leaving,” I told her. “Now.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think…”

“Yeah. Well, we’re gone.”

“Thassss right,” Mick slurred. “Go back to that dumpster with the rest of the trash.” He shoved his pudgy finger at Tracey and the guys.

“That’s enough,” Graham snapped. I was tugged back, and then he was in front of me. “You’re a grown man and know better than to talk to women like that. So far, the only trash I see in this place is you.”

“Graham. Don’t.”

“You disrespectful little sh?—”

“Enough!” Chanelle shouted. She turned and faced Mick. “Back off or you’re banned for a week!”

He scowled at her and grumbled something low enough I couldn’t hear.

I tugged harder on Tracey’s hand. “Now. We’re leaving now.”

“Right,” she muttered. Regret was stamped all over her face, but I wasn’t mad. This was standard operating procedure these days.

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