Page 48 of Last Date
I sighed. “Thanks.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I’m beginning to think love isn’t in the cards for me.” I picked up my empty shot glass, twirling it in my fingers.
“I don’t blame you for being in a funk. You’ve had some awful luck with men recently.” He squeezed my shoulder. “But don’t give up. I think something great is waiting for you, if… if you’ll just take a chance.”
“I have taken chances. Allister was definitely not my usual type.”
“No, I mean, like a chance on something you don’t think could ever in a million years work.”
“What?” I laughed. “That doesn’t sound like a great idea.”
“Look.” Thomas sighed. “A good thing can be right in front of you, but you don’t always see it. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“We don’t always see the forest for the trees, right?”
He was obviously trying to send me some sort of coded message, but my booze-soaked brain was too tired to decipher it. “Uh… hold that thought. I’m going to use the little boys’ room.” I slid off my stool and made my way toward the bathrooms.
Going to the restroom in the Rusty Pier wasn’t for the faint of heart. You had to wind up twisty stairs to the upper level that was always deserted. The owners kept spare tables and chairs up there, so it had a storage shed vibe. The bar was in an old, creaky building and had been updated several times. But the family who owned the restaurant didn’t like to shut down for very long, or they lost a lot of business.
Instead of taking their time with remodeling, once a year they piecemealed all the repairs in a big rush job. Because of that, the wood flooring had mahogany planks and oak planks, and the light fixtures were all different. There were seascapes on the walls but also Charles Russell knockoffs donated by their great-grandparents. The décor was a crazy jumble of pirate booty and western flair. But they got away with it because people didn’t come to the Rusty Pier for the décor. They came for the clam chowder, the homemade crab stew, and the warm buttered lobster rolls.
As I finally reached the men’s room, I flipped on the lights. They flickered alarmingly, indicating electrical work might be the next repair job in the near future. I used the facilities and was washing my hands when a guy came in. He had a big coat on, which wasn’t odd considering it was cold weather, but he hovered behind me instead of using the urinals or the stalls. If the restrooms weren’t so secluded, I probably wouldn’t have felt so uncomfortable about his odd behavior.
Feeling uneasy, I quickly dried my hands, so I could get out of there. Unfortunately, before I could leave, the guy pounced on me without warning. He grabbed me from behind and, clamping his arm around my neck, started choking me. I was in shock for a few seconds, instinctively clawing at the arm around my throat. His big winter coat made it difficult to get a grip, so my attempts to dislodge his arm were futile.
Gasping for air, I stared into the mirror, watching the reflection of me being choked. I couldn’t see the guy’s face clearly because he had his hood up, but I thought I glimpsed a mustache. He didn’t speak, which made the moment even more surreal. I had no idea why he’d attacked me. He didn’t seem familiar. My vision began to blur around the edges, and I realized I had to do something fast, or I was probably going to die.
I was still near the sink, and an idea hit me. Since he was much bigger and heavier than me, I decided to try and use that to my advantage. With a grunt, I lifted my feet swiftly and placed them flat against the outside edge of the sink. Then, using his body weight to balance me, I shoved as hard as I could with my legs. We both went flying backward into the stall doors. By some miracle, he actually fell into the stall, but I landed on the outer edge, gasping for oxygen.
Panic raced through me as I heard him swearing and growling as he tried to get to his feet. I scrambled up and bolted for the door, pushing out of that little room so fast, I almost fell over my own feet. I somehow stayed upright and ran as fast as I could for the stairs that would take me back down to the main part of the restaurant.
My throat ached, and I was breathing jaggedly as I half ran and half fell down the stairs. I landed in a pile at the bottom of the steps, directly in front of a waitress with a tray of drinks. She saw me, but she had no time to stop. With a screech, she fell over me, and her tray of drinks went flying. People screamed and glass broke, while I curled in a shivering ball.
People ran over to help me and the waitress to our feet. They brushed me off, and I clutched my painful throat. I realized I’d had a lucky escape. The only reason my windpipe hadn’t been crushed was the guy’s coat had been so bulky, he hadn’t been able to really get enough pressure against my throat.
The waitress was flustered and her face beet red. “I’m so sorry,” she wailed. “I… I didn’t see you until it was too late!”
I pointed toward the upper level. “I was attacked,” I rasped. “Some guy assaulted me in the bathroom.”
“What?” shrieked a woman nearby. “Did you hear that? He was attacked upstairs.”
The manager was now in front of me, and Thomas was there. Everyone was talking at once, so even if I’d wanted to say something, no one would have heard me. My throat throbbed, and my heart pounded as adrenaline flooded my body.
“Did you see them clearly?” the manager, Carlton, asked me. “Can you give us a description, Kip?”
Without waiting for my response, Thomas went charging up the stairs like an angry rhinoceros. Someone handed me an ice pack, and I put it against my throat. The room was buzzing with hysterical energy, and I felt dizzy.
“Who would want to hurt you?” a familiar male voice said beside me.
I turned my head and found Elon standing near me. His expression was quizzical, not concerned really, mostly just curious. “Don’t know,” I said.
Above us, the thump of feet racing around could be heard. My legs were shaking horribly, so I sat in the nearest chair. Oddly enough, Elon lowered himself into the chair beside me. I gave him a puzzled glance, and he shrugged.
“I remember you,” he said. “Do you remember me?”
