One Rough Man

It was my day off from physical training, so I didn’t have anything I really needed to do. I kissed my finger and touched the picture of my family. Who am I kidding? I never have anything I really need to do.

25

Jennifer and Skeeter, along with six other girls, entered the front door of the Windjammer a little after eight at night. The floor was already crowded, but nowhere near as crowded as it would be in a few more hours. At least at this hour they could move around without pushing and could hold a conversation without leaning in and yelling into each other’s ears.

Jennifer had shown up at Skeeter’s condo on the Isle of Palms a little over two hours ago. Skeeter appeared surprised that Jennifer had shown up, and went out of her way to make sure she was settled in, kicking out the coed currently sleeping in one of the guest rooms and giving Jennifer the bed. Surrounded by the other girls having a good time, Jennifer began to feel glad she had come. Now, standing inside the Windjammer, she wasn’t so sure.

Four frat boys stood in the middle of the large dance floor, loud and obnoxious. Jennifer recognized the ringleader. His name was Tad, and he reminded Jennifer of her ex-husband both in looks and attitude. Great. Just what I need to ruin the evening. Tad himself seemed to think it was his destiny to sleep with Jennifer and came on to her at every opportunity. Just ignore him. He’s not your ex-husband. He’s just a loudmouth. She felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hello… are you listening?” said Skeeter.

“Yeah. Sorry. What did you say?”

“What do you want to drink? I’ll go fight the bar.”

Jennifer laughed at that, because she knew Skeeter’s idea of “fighting” the bar entailed “accidentally” brushing up against a man with her breast, saying excuse-me, then scooting through the gap made when the man turned around.

“I’ll come with you. Maybe we can get a stool.”

Skeeter moved through the crowd like she owned the place, using her hand or breast to part the crowd, depending on gender. When she reached the bar only one man separated her from her goal. Seated on one of the few available stools, he was holding a beer and staring unfocused at the bar top, apparently deep in thought. He was clearly easy pickins, as he was here on his own and probably looking for a date. Skeeter brushed his upper arm with an ample breast and said, “Excuse me, can I get in here?”

Jennifer waited to see his reaction when he saw Skeeter. It was always funny watching a man’s face turn from a normal expression to a drooling mass of testosterone upon looking into her eyes.

In this case, the guy looked up at her with no more expression than if he were talking to a cabdriver. Saying, “Yeah, go ahead,” he scooted over, giving her space at the bar. As Skeeter moved forward he locked eyes with Jennifer, nodded, then returned to his beer. His stare made Jennifer want to take a step back. It wasn’t exactly mean, just annoyed, as if they had interrupted something important. Older than most in the bar, wearing a simple T-shirt and sporting a day-and-a-half beard, he had a white scar that ran through his cheek, charting a path through his stubble.

Skeeter ordered a couple of margaritas and moved back from the bar. “What’s up with that guy? He looked at us like he was wondering if we owed him money. I’ve had more interest paid to me by a transvestite. He’d better watch himself, or he’s going to find himself on the short end of the Skeeter Slam.”

“Come on. Leave him alone. He doesn’t look like someone with a very good sense of humor.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s easier to screw with Tad anyway. Let’s go make those guys drool.”

“Can’t we just stay here? I don’t feel like putting up with Tad’s shit.”

“What’s the big deal? He’s just a blowhard. If he gets obnoxious we can leave. How about—”

Before she could finish, they both heard Tad’s raised voice. He and his little group had surrounded another college student and were in a face-off. She heard Tad telling the student to get the hell out of the bar on his own two feet or leave in an ambulance. Friggin’ great. Now there’s going to be a bar fight. Why did I come out here?

From the other side of the group, the man from the bar suddenly stood up and walked over to Tad, saying, “Leave him alone. He’s been sitting there listening to your shit for a half hour. You’re even.”

Jennifer stared at him, surprised. The penetrating gaze was gone, replaced by an unfocused alcoholic haze. She must have been imagining things, because this guy was clearly drunk. No wonder he hadn’t hit on them. He probably hadn’t even been able to focus on them. She knew that he was in trouble, because Tad would kick his ass just to make his night, and no matter how good a fighter the man might be sober, now he was swaying back and forth and would be lucky to land a punch. Jennifer saw Tad look at the drunk, sizing him up. She could tell that Tad had come to the same conclusion she had.

Tad said, “You know what makes me sick? Shitbags like you who come into the Jammer stinking up the place instead of hanging out at the VFW next door with the rest of the winos.”

With that, he threw a hard right punch, catching the drunk full in the face.

To his credit, the man didn’t fall, but he had no coordination to protect himself. Tad waded in, throwing right after left, almost all of them connecting in one way or another. The drunk staggered back, protecting his face and feebly throwing a succession of worthless jabs that Tad batted away. He finally fell over, whereupon Tad set about kicking him relentlessly in the ribs.

Tad’s sycophant friends wasted no time jumping on the other college student, all of them falling to the ground and rolling around. The bouncers came screaming in, focused on the three-to-one fight, flinging bodies left and right to separate them, not realizing there were two fights occurring, and leaving Jennifer to watch the punishment Tad was dishing out. She flashed back to her ex-husband and snapped. Without thinking, she dropped her drink and ran the ten feet to the fight. She grabbed Tad’s arm and jerked him back, screaming, “Leave him alone! You’re going to kill him!”

Tad shook her off, intent on continuing the assault. Jennifer threw herself onto the man, shielding his body with hers. Tad stopped, looking at her in a murderous rage as if he was considering kicking her as well. Instead, he made a hasty exit out the back onto the deck. In seconds, the bouncers had control of the other fight and proceeded to escort the offenders to the door.

Jennifer helped the bloodied, pathetic fighter to his feet, talking to the bouncer headed their way. “I have him. I’ll get him out of here.”

“You’d better. Before I have him arrested.”

She didn’t know why, but she began leading him out of the bar, apologizing to the bartender as she walked. Maybe she saw herself on the floor four years ago. Maybe she just wanted an excuse to leave. Maybe this just wasn’t such a great idea…

Skeeter ran over to her. “Where are you going? You didn’t do anything! You need to stay. All the assholes are gone now and the music hasn’t even started.”

“Skeeter, I appreciate it, but I’m no longer in the mood. I’m going to get this guy wherever he needs to go and head on back to the condo for some sleep. I’ll pack up and go home tomorrow.”

Skeeter watched her leave. Another sorority sister asked, “Where’s she going with that loser? Is she desperate? She can do better than him.”

Looking at her friend, Skeeter replied, “She’s just saving another lost puppy. Like every other time this happens, that puppy is going to end up doing nothing but peeing on her floor. I’ve seen his type. He’ll give her nothing but grief.”

26

Jennifer led the man to her car, a beat-up Mazda RX-7, which she had left at the end of Ocean Boulevard. He