Page 26 of Single Girl in the City
“Cindy,” Owen said, and they all groaned. After a fun round of “Not it,” ending with Owen the last guy standing, he shoved his plate back and stood.
Cindy was a bit of a regular. The last time the Beavers lost to the Ducks, she’d crawled up on her table and started throwing things at the big screen—starting with her jersey and ending with her thong. She was wearing layers this time—bonus—but she’d already hopped up on the table.
Some of the patrons had blocked off the area around her, but all eyes were on Loose Cannon Cindy to see how far she’d go tonight.
“Bad call, ref,” she shouted, jabbing a finger at the big screen nearest her. “Worst call in the history of sports.”
And just like that, a brown and orange Beaver jersey went sailing through the air. One of her friends tried to reason with her, but all that did was make Cindy move to the exact center of the table, putting her right out of reach.
What had begun as a one-man mission had quickly morphed into a team effort kind of situation. Owen couldn’t get to her without fear that she’d move to the far edge of the table and topple over. And since he couldn’t cover four corners all by himself, he needed backup.
He leveled his brothers with a look and they all shoved their hot plates away and begrudgingly stood. They all knew what this meant. If they didn’t get there soon, they’d have to deal with a naked chick streaking through their bar. Not only was having a naked woman on the table a health violation, it also violated a few other county and state regulations.
“This is why you need more help,” Rhett bitched, hot on Owen’s heels. “If you weren’t trying to be all things to all people, you might have a bouncer worth his weight.”
Owen did have a bouncer. He’d given him the night off, which in retrospect had been a bad call. He knew it would be a busy night but when one of his employees had a good reason for requesting time off Owen usually caved. Even if it meant putting himself out.
“Speaking of employees, any news on the new manager or bartender?” Josh asked.
“Seriously, we’ve got Cindy on the loose and you want to talk employee records?”
Owen led the way through the crowd, moving the crush by his sheer size. People always tended to give him a wide berth, which as a bar owner came in handy. When they reached the table, Cindy had lost her tank top and right flip-flop. Not wanting things to go any further, the brothers worked out a plan of action.
Rhett, the sweet talker of the group, was first going to try to reason with Cindy so that she’d come down on her own terms. In the case that Cindy wasn’t having it, which, based on history, was the likely outcome, then four brothers would take a side and one would lift her off the table. Throughout the entire planning session, Cindy continued to scream vulgarities at the screen, threatening to unman the ref and any other man who thought the Ducks were superior to the Beavers.
“Okay, now put your height to use and go get you some crazy,” Josh said to Owen.
“Wait. Why am I the one who has to risk life and limb?”
“We all played roshambo and you had the losing hand,” Gage said.
“I didn’t even play.”
“Don’t worry, I played for you. It was a clear case of rock takes scissors.” Rhett grinned. “Now get out there and snag you a woman.”
Snag was putting it lightly. While his brothers surrounded the table, Owen reached out to grab Cindy, who took a cheap shot to his chin. She might only be a buck twenty, but the woman had a wicked right hook.
“You fight like a girl,” Rhett said to Owen and of course Huey, Dewey, and Louie had to laugh at the ha-ha-funny moment.
“If you’d promised to take a selfie with her, none of this would be happening.”
“Me in a photo with a drunk, naked girl would do wonders for my career,” Rhett explained.
Gage piped in. “Since it would be a media nightmare, I made the official call and kiboshed it.”
“Then, when this is over and I need someone to blame, remind me about that so I can kibosh you right out of the bar.” Lowering his voice, he said to Cindy, “How about you come down and I’ll give you a seat right up front by the big screen. Maybe get you a burger on the house.”
“How about you go screw yourself!”
By this time every eyeball and cell phone in the joint was on Owen and Cindy. People were live streaming, placing bets. One of the pools had Owen losing his right nut, another had him losing the left.
Using her jersey as protection, Owen reached across the table and, guarding his boys, wrapped his arms around her. She shoved off the table and the traction knocked Owen back a step.
“You’re blocking my view!” Cindy yelled, then wrapped herself around him like a koala clinging to a tree. Her legs were like a vise around his waist, her arms so tight he was suffocating under the pressure, and then there were his brothers—laughing their asses off.
Promising himself that he could kill them all later he said, “Can one of you give me a hand?”
No one moved, except Cindy, who arched backward like she was some MMA fighter trying to take him down to the mat. Clay took out his cell and snapped a selfie, holding a big thumbs up while Owen was turning blue from lack of oxygen.
