Page 58 of Sky Song
“Can you make a fist and not fart?”
Cricket turned to Lyle. “Maybe we should go. This place sucks.”
Lyle’s large monochrome eyes didn’t switch toward her, but she knew he heard her.
“Let Paloma take you home,” he said.
Cricket pursed her lips. He wasn’t leaving. And she wasn’t leaving without him.
The guys were still here, laughing uproariously at their dumb jokes and pestering Lyle.
Well, then.
“Stop it,” she snapped and stood up. They were big, yeah, but they were idiots. “Leave him alone and go kick rocks.”
The man, Gus, trained mocking eyes on her. “What are you, his mom?”
The Tarai sniggered, idiotic as expected. “No, wait, don’t tell me… She’s hiswife!”
This sent the pair into another fit of roaring laughter.
Lyle wasn’t going to drink his ale anyway. Cricket picked up his glass and threw the liquid at Gus - nothing personal, he was the closer of the two.
That took the laughter right out of him. “What the fuck!” He blinked fast against the beery foam.
His friend froze in shock for a second and then coughed, fighting hard against a new bout of laughter, now at his friend Gus’ expense.
Gus’ upper body tensed under the splotchy sheen of ale, and he took a threatening step toward Cricket, his intent aborted by the table he forgot separated them.
“You fucking bitch! I’m gonna wring your scrawny neck!”
With her peripheral vision, she saw people at the next table pause over their food as they watched the scene. She plucked a steak knife out of a patron’s hand. “Try it and feel me cut your dick off.”
His swarthy face reddening, Gus roared and hit a wall in utter fury, his fist going down like a hammer against masonry. “I’ll make you sorry, you worthless cunt!”
“Don’t be seething so hard or you’ll develop an embolism. It’s deadly.” She should shut up, but it was that rowdy, reckless part she had lectured mama about coming to a fore, reminding her that there was a part of mama in every girl.
Their commotion was attracting a wider attention. The music stopped, and other patrons turned to watch. A black-haired man was rapidly approaching from the back.
“Hey there, baby girl,” he addressed Paloma. “Are the boys giving you any trouble?”
“Yes, Zaron, they’re being annoying assholes.” Paloma let her displeasure show.
Black eyes took in the scene from beneath bushy black brows. “My, my, a knife! One of ours? Allow me.” He gently but insistently caught Cricket’s wrist and pulled the knife away. Lyle’s energy seemed to draw together and solidify.
She didn’t resist and gave up the knife, glaring at Gus. When Zaron released her, Lyle’s energy slowly dissipated.
The hooked nose drew in the air. “Why does it smell like a brewery?”
Someone hacked out a laugh, probably the Tarai. Cricket dropped her eyes. She hadn’t meant to cause a scene. Her only intent was for them to stop harassing Lyle.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled and picked up a napkin, rubbing it across the table to wipe the ale that hadn’t made it to Gus’ face.
Seeing that the conflict was winding down, the patrons went back to their drinks, and the music on the stage resumed.
“She drenched me!” Gus pointed an accusing finger at Cricket like they were in grade school and Zaron was the teacher.
Black eyes roamed over her. “I see,” was all he said before turning to Paloma. “New friends of yours?”
