Page 5 of Dragon in Denial
A fist slammed into her chin, whipping her head to the side as bloody spittle flew from her mouth. Damn, that hurt.
The dealer. Usually, these fights were one-on-one.
A crowd had gathered on the other side of the fence, and no doubt the human police had been called. Antoinette needed to wrap this shit up and get the hell out of there, pronto.
Shaking off the pain, she delivered one-two punches in quick succession, until the guy wobbled on his feet, his eyes glassy, his mouth hanging open. Then, ignoring the idiot user, she grabbed him by his collar and dragged him away from the spectators and into an alley on the next block. She slammed his back against the brick wall and wedged her arm under his chin, forcing him to look her in the eye. Luckily, she was pretty damn tall.
While he was still dazed and in no condition to resist, she searched his pockets, finding another handful of the figurines that hid the coveted dragon’s blood. She stuffed them all into the front pocket of her hoodie and then focused on the guy who was finally starting to gather his wits around him.
She pressed her arm more firmly against his windpipe until he grabbed her and tried to loosen her hold. She relaxed, marginally, and said, “This is your one and only warning, dickhead. Find a new career path. If I catch you dealing this shit again, you don’t get to walk away. Got it?”
He nodded so eagerly, she had a slight glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, this one would listen the first time. It rarely happened, though. These confrontations didn’t always end with some other dragon’s death, but more often than not, there was a broken limb or two involved. Whatever it took to get a verbal commitment out of them to lay off the dealing.
Except that for every dealer she convinced to leave the streets, another popped up to take his or her place without fail, or so it sure as hell felt like.
Being a vigilante sucked dragon balls, to be honest. The only reason she didn’t give up was because Eulalie’s face haunted her dreams, reminding her that she should have done something back then instead of pretending her best friend wasn’t actually addicted to the drug, wasn’t wasting her life away, wasn’t convinced she loved the guy feeding her the shit that ultimately killed her.
And since it didn’t seem like anyone else was trying to stop the disease taking over their colony, Antoinette had no choice. She had to keep at it.
She let the guy go and he bolted. She fell back against the wall, breathing heavily. Fuck, her face hurt. She touched her cheek, gingerly, and winced. It was already swelling. Would definitely be a nasty bruise by evening.
With a sigh, she straightened and brushed off her clothing. The glass figurines clattered together in her pocket. She needed to dispose of them and check in with Henri. Although she had a little time, and truthfully, she wanted a drink. And her favorite watering hole was only two blocks away.
It was a little off-the-beaten-path place with this cool outdoor seating patio in the back, and, yeah, even though it was January, it was fifty degrees outside. The outdoor area would be open and not very busy. Perfect.
It was also run by a dragon who was sympathetic to Antoinette’s plight.
“Hey, Mitch,” she greeted the owner-slash-bartender. “I’ll take your iciest, coldest bottle of beer and a bloody mary, heavy on the Tabasco.”
“Used your day off to take down another one of those little assholes, I see,” he said as he popped the cap and placed a bottle of Pabst on the counter.
She scooped it up and pressed it against her swelling cheek and then sighed as the cold seeped into her heated skin. “I think this one actually listened without me having to take extreme measures.”
“For once.” He set about mixing her drink. “I appreciate what you’re doing, but I sure wish you’d get some help.”
“I’m fine.”
“You have more to think about than just yourself, you know,” he chastised.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He was right, of course, but Antoinette wasn’t very good at saying that.
“I hate knowing you’re out there all on your own,” he continued. “One of these days, you aren’t going to show up for your shift, and I’m going to hate it.”
He set the hurricane glass on the bar and added a strip of bacon, a fat pickle, a couple of marinated green beans, and a jumbo shrimp. The damn drink was a meal in and of itself. She reached for it and he grabbed her hand, holding it while he added a couple extra drops of Tabasco.
“You’re my hero, Mitch. I’m going to go sit outside.”
“I’ll send Bebé to check on you in a bit.”
She nodded and then headed to her sanctuary.
She’d frequented this place long before she was old enough to drink. Her mom used to work here, and Mitch used to let her and Eulalie and Eulalie’s brother, Ketu, hang out here after school. All three of them had worked in the kitchen at one point or another, and now Antoinette was the daytime bartender, four days a week.
And yeah, this was where she’d had her first alcoholic beverage. Her first kiss, too. And when Ketu had found out, he’d scared the shit out of the kid and run him off. Eulalie had found it hilarious because for once, he wasn’t scaring offhersuitors.
I hate these memories. That’s all they are, all they’ll ever be. I’ll never have more.
Still holding the bottle to her face, she took a hefty swig of her bloody mary and stepped out onto the patio. There was only one other person out here, a guy tucked into a corner, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles while he nursed a draft beer and drew circles with his finger on the plastic table cloth. Even though his face was in profile and mostly hidden in shadows, something about him felt familiar. It was probably just that he was a dragon. Not anyone she recognized right off the bat, though, and honestly, she wanted to be left alone, so she sat at a table as far away from him as she could get.
