Page 29 of Elijah's Hope
Shelby
“I don’t know,” I said, looking around. “It isn’t all that much different than Bud’s place.”
Eli laughed. “Yeah, but it’s still different. You sure you want another glass of wine before heading back to the room?”
“Yes, please!”
I had already had two during dinner. At a seafood place on Bering Street where we’d stuffed ourselves with crab legs. I just wasn’t ready to go to the room with him. Wasn’t ready for what that might mean. We’d already lost our minds once that afternoon near the river. A kiss that had turned into more of a groping fest until I backed off and Eli let me.
I had never been in this crazy headspace before. Where I wanted a man. But I didn’t necessarily want sex. It made sense with everything that had happened to me, but it was still making me crazy.
Another glass of wine would both postpone the inevitable and maybe help to loosen me up.
Or possibly two glasses.
“Stay here at the table and I’ll go order for us,” Eli said.
I nodded, then watched him make his way through the throng of people who had limited places to go on a Friday night in Nome.
The place smelled like peanuts, beer and large, sweaty men who had made the effort to wear deodorant.
Classy.
A large portly man with a beard that covered most of his face plunked down in the chair across from me. He had squinty eyes, red cheeks and he was obviously feeling no pain. I had watched enough good ole boys back home get exactly this drunk to recognize all the signs.
Most of the time they were harmless, but still I looked toward the bar, where Eli had his back to me.
“Sir, I’m afraid my friend’s coming back with our drinks.” I used my thumb to show him the general direction of Eli. Except he wasn’t looking at anything except my chest.
“You’re the prettiest thing I seen all year,” he slurred.
“Well, I’m not sure how you would know that since you’re only looking at my tits.”
He smiled in a skeevy way, and when he did some drool trickled out onto his beard.
So gross.
“How ’bout you let me get my face in those tits. I’ll fucking gobble those things up.”
“You need to leave, sir. My boyfriend is coming back, and I don’t think he’ll take too kindly to what you’re saying.”
He smiled again, his eyes never wavering from my chest. “I like the way you talk, too. All polite and shit. You can talk all you like while you’re riding my dick.”
“Hey,” I snapped, doing my best version of Shelby-doesn’t-take-shit-from-drunks. “You’re going to need to leave. Now.”
“I’ll fucking leave when I’m fucking ready to leave,” he snarled, apparently not liking my new tone.
“What the fuck?” Eli came up behind him, and carefully set the drinks on the table. “My girl asked you to leave.”
The man turned in his chair, looking Eli up and down. Not intimidated by his height. “Well, you should know I want to motorboat your girl’s tits somethin’ bad.”
It happened in a second. Eli’s hand was on the back of the man’s head and he brought it crashing down to the table. I heard the sick crunch of a nose breaking. Then he lifted the bloodied man out of the chair, all two hundred and fifty pounds of him I imagined, like he weighed nothing and tossed him out of the bar.
“Disrespecting motherfucker!” Eli was shouting. He might have been kicking the man just outside the door, too. “Walk in here again tonight and I’ll end you. You understand me?”
When he came back inside, the bar grew incredibly quiet.
“Anybody have a problem?” Eli asked.
