Reckless

SAMANTHA

I was totally disgusted with myself for downing the entire pint of ice cream, I couldn’t even begin to think about calling Christos to come over. I imagined burping up the taste of ice cream in his face while asking him if something was wrong.

It didn’t seem like the right tone.

I went for a jog instead. Slowly, at first, until I was certain I wouldn’t puke, then settling into a normal pace until I’d run four miles.

I came back to my apartment, hoping there would be a message from Christos telling me he was on his way over. Nope, he still hadn’t called.

I took a shower and got ready for bed.

I considered driving to his house and surprising him by waiting in his bed. As much as I liked the idea, I felt like I should at least call first. I didn’t know the number to the Manos house, or Spiridon’s cell phone number, or if he even had one. I didn’t want to just show up unannounced. Although I suspected Spiridon probably wouldn’t care if I did, it still seemed rude.

I laid down on my bed with damp hair. My phone lay on the night table beside me, the ringer set to low, in case Christos tried to call. I did my best to keep my eyes open while willing my phone to ring.

Ring, damn it!

It didn’t work.

I woke up in the morning to an empty bed.

CHRISTOS

Inside Hooters, Jake and I had to buy drinks for MacKenzie and Kylie. We would’ve looked like dicks if we hadn’t.

Me and Jake drank colas. It was as good as coffee, I guess. And we both drank plenty of water on the side. Didn’t need a hangover tomorrow.

It turned out that MacKenzie and Kylie were not really drunk. I kept an eye on what they drank, and noticed neither did much more than sip. They were kind of fun to talk to. Both went to USD, over in Morena, just east of Mission Bay. They were law students, and they were pretty fucking sharp. Me and Jake couldn’t believe it. Not that they were smart, but that they were so good at pretending to be stupid drunk chicks, because it was a total act.

When it was last call at Hooters, I hit the Men’s room and drained for what seemed like an hour. At least I was down to a light buzz. I could probably drive.

Me and Jake walked the girls to their car, like gentlemen.

“You guys okay to drive?” I asked.

Kylie held up keys to her Audi and jangled them. “I’m as sober as a judge,” she joked.

“Then you better not drive,” I smiled.

“Touche,” she smiled. “I’m fine.”

“Since you’re law students,” Jake said, “You can represent yourselves in court if you get DUIs.”

“You guys could drive us home. In your car,” MacKenzie said.

“Sorry ladies,” I said. “Me and Jake are sworn to our girlfriends. We may as well be married.”

“He’s right,” Jake smiled.

MacKenzie shook her head. “You guys are two of the good ones,” she sighed.

“Damn right,” I smiled my cocky grin.

“If either one of you men ever ends up single, look us up,” Kylie said.

“Yeah,” MacKenzie blurted to Kylie, “I think either of them would be more than enough for the both of us.”

Jake chuckled.

“Will do,” I grinned. “But don’t wait around. Go find some eligible bachelors. I’m sure there’s some around San Diego somewhere.”

They waved after climbing into their Audi, then drove off.

Me and Jake turned around on the dark city sidewalk and headed back to my Camaro. At the end of the block we ran right into Hunter and his boys.

“Fuck, Hunter,” I smiled casually, “how long have you been waiting for us?” I laughed. “We were in Hooters for three hours. You must want a beating real bad.”

Hunter ground his jaw and curled his lips over his teeth.

“Dude,” Jake said calmly, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

I knew what Jake was thinking. My trial. Me out on bail. If there was the slightest chance of cops driving by, or Hunter crawling to the cops after getting his ass beat, I was in for a good reaming. Bail revoked. Sitting in jail until trial. The new charges I would get for pounding Hunter would be further evidence used against me in my pending trial.

Jake had a point.

“I knew you were a pussy,” Hunter sneered.

I smirked at him. “I thought I taught you a lesson the other day, Hunter.” The question was, did I need to give him the graduate course on why he should not fuck with me? And would I stop myself before I murdered him? Fuck it. He deserved a full-ride scholarship. I was tired of his shit. “I’ll give you a free swing. Go for it, Hunter.”

I stood tall, waiting.

Hunter glanced at his buddies. They nodded. They were ready to rumble. His buddies were pretty big. Thick-necked gym rats. One of them was busy cracking his knuckles while making fists. Another lowered his center of gravity into a crouch. He maybe knew what he was doing.

Did Hunter?

“Throw it, bitch,” I said.

Hunter was considering.

I knew Jake was down. He turned to a forty-five degree angle facing the other guys. Fighting stance. He shook his arms loosely and cross-stepped to the side, lining himself up so that Hunter’s second buddy, the one beside him, blocked the path of the third guy behind him. It would give Jake more time to take down the second guy before the third guy in back could get at him.

That left me with Hunter and the fourth guy.

“Are we cracking heads?” Jake asked me quietly. It was his way of saying he had my back while giving me a final chance to walk away from this bullshit. He didn’t really care what we did. But we both knew the wisest path to tread in this situation.

Fuck wisdom.

“I’ll let Hunter make that call,” I grunted.

I watched Hunter swallow hard.

This bomb was about to go off.

I glared at Hunter. There was no way I was going to throw the first punch.

Please, I thought to myself, let me take you out. Please, come on, please.

Hunter was psyching himself up.

Shit, was this going to take all week? I was ready yesterday.

Hunter dropped into a boxer’s stance and fainted left with a jab a split-second later. I saw where this was going. Wrong move. His torso twisted as his shoulder tensed to deliver a hard right.

Too slow. I snapped forward on the balls of my feet and slapped his lead hand down before he launched his fist. The backs of my knuckles crashed down on his nose. At the same time, the toe of my boot slammed into his shin. Boxers never expected a simultaneous strike to come from that low. Their nervous systems weren’t accustomed to dealing with a low attack when their hands were busy.

Hunter tumbled to the ground, shocked. He was on his ass, staring up at me wide-eyed. He probably wasn’t even hurt. But he would have a bloody nose in about five seconds.

“Who’s next?” I asked calmly.

Jake laughed and glared at Hunter’s three pals. “Any time, ladies.”