Page 12 of Girl in the Water
He was too smooth, his dark hair had more gunk in it than hers, the kind of guy who was probably manscaped under his slick suit. His buddy was the same, their fancy suits nearly identical. The girl had on a modest little black dress. She wasn’t dressed to seduce, but to impress.
Ian had a fair feeling for what was going on. Jerk took his new girl out, told her she was going to meet his best friend. Now he was pressuring her to go home with them, where they wanted to share her. She was smart enough to have caught the vibe, but between the two of them, they would railroad her into their car before anyone noticed something was up.
He stepped up to the threesome as they reached the door. “Everything okay, miss?”
“She had a little too much to drink.” The boyfriend flashed a half-embarrassed, what-can-you-do smile. “We’ll help her get home safely.”
Ian pulled his phone from his pocket. “Why don’t I just call her a cab?”
The boyfriend leaned closer to him and slipped him a twenty. “I wined her, I dined her, I’m entitled to a little fun. Don’t be a cock blocker, man.”
The guy wasn’t lying about the wine-and-dine part. The dance club had a pricey restaurant upstairs. Ian had seen the three of them come down earlier. But he didn’t think the two dickless idiots had a right to the woman’s body for the price of the garden salad she’d likely had.
They pushed for the exit, and he walked out with them, shoving the twenty into his pocket as the summer heat hit him.
“Would you like me to call you a cab, or would you like to go home with your friends, miss?” he addressed the woman directly.
She moved toward him, but the boyfriend hung on to her elbow, so she didn’t get far. She looked between them, hesitating only a second before she said, “Could you, please?”
“No problem.” Ian pushed the cabbie on the speed dial, didn’t say anything. Hung up. Afiz would see the call and come. That was their deal.
“Listen, jerk.” The boyfriend shoved the girl behind him and stepped forward, no longer smiling. “How about you mind your own business?”
“The safety of our customersismy business, sir.” Ian kept his tone polite.
The man glared at him for a second, then backed away, dragging the girl. “Come on, Madison. Screw this guy.”
“Madison will be staying,” Ian said, still very civilized. “Her cab is on the way.”
And then the two guys turned andreallylooked at him.
They weren’t built like gym rats, but weren’t wimps either—the kind of preppy guys who might have been on the rowing team at college.
From the way they exchanged a glance, Ian knew the exact moment they realized they weren’t going to get Madison without a fight. Then he knew the exact moment when they decided that, hey, what the hell, between the two of them, they could take Ian. They thought of him as nothing but a dumbass bouncer, their inferior in every way. And older. Like Madison, they were in their early twenties. Close to thirty, Ian probably seemed halfway to ancient to them.
Boyfriend shoved Madison aside. And then the punches started flying.
Ian let them get in a few, let them get going. He didn’t mind the pain; it woke him up. Made him feel.
When he let loose on them at last, the release of his deep, endless anger felt like physical pleasure. He knocked them back, knocked them down, until they were a single bloody heap on the ground, the girl screaming.
A horn blared. Ian pulled back, barely breathing hard. Hey, the cab was here.Too damn fast.But he put the whimpering girl in the backseat.
She couldn’t get away from him fast enough.
He filled his lungs. Hadn’t meant to scare her. “Stay safe. All right?”
He gave the twenty to Afiz, then went back inside, let the dickwads crawl off at their leisure. He washed off his bloody, throbbing knuckles in the bathroom, straightened his tie, then returned to work.
When the bar closed at two a.m., he checked around outside to see if the pricks had waited for him. Not that he wanted another round, but hey, free entertainment. If he was tired enough, sometimes he could actually sleep when he went to bed.
But no more fights tonight.
The walk home was quiet.
Sharon wasn’t on the corner.
Ian was content not to run into anyone, but his new neighbor, a redhead with impossibly pillowy breasts, waited for him with a bottle of Jameson in the hallway outside his apartment. Skimpy tank top. Short skirt.
