“Great DJ, Mr. Orso!”
“Let me offer my condolences…”
I close my eyes, ignoring all their words as I politely get rid of them, one by one. I don’t need to hear additional offers of sympathies tonight. I’m well aware that this luxurious couch, much like the office chair, is supposed to hold Micha’s ass by now, not mine. I don’t need the reminder that he’s gone.
I open my eyes. My father has departed, hopefully to go home. When I look back at the woman at the bar, I see Antony standing next to her date. Antony leans over the bar, grabs a bottle of vodka, and checks the label while Jude tries to get it back. In the process, Antony elbows the drink of the T-shirt wearing, bad date dude.
The man immediately jumps up, cursing as his beer dribbles down his jeans and onto the floor. He balls his hands into fists, rounding on Antony.
I can’t hear the words, but Antony’s smile and calm demeanor make it clear that he’s trying to apologize and get the man a bar towel and a new drink, but the guy isn’t interested. He gets up in Antony’s face, yelling words I can’t understand, while Antony’s smile goes from friendly and apologetic to something else entirely.
Jude quickly wipes the counter, also speaking calmly as he places another beer on the bar in front of the man’s seat. He moves around the bar to clean up the floor as well.
Forgetting the mess and Antony’s confrontation, I keep my eyes on the woman at the bar, watching the two men argue. She glances around, watching to see if anyone will intervene, but everyone here knows Antony, and no one is going to get in his way.
Except maybe her date, who is obviously an idiot as well as an ass.
Antony leans a bit closer to the man, narrows his eyes, and speaks. The man tenses before he pulls back his fist and lets it fly toward Antony’s face. It’s a glancing blow, and Antony barely flinches. He speaks again, and the man takes another swing. This time, Antony ducks away casually, grabs the man’s arm, and then pins him against the bar. Jude jumps back, hands raised.
The woman gets out of her seat and takes a step away, hands over her mouth as if to hold in a scream. No one would hear it over the music anyway.
Antony shoves him, and the guy goes sprawling on the floor, feet flying up into the air as he falls on his ass. Antony laughs, and Jude moves to finish cleaning up the spilled drink on the floor. He’s saying something, but I can’t hear him over the music, so I focus back on the woman.
She doesn’t go to her date’s aid, and I watch her more carefully as the man grabs the leg of the barstool to pull himself back to his feet. He rubs his shoulder, looks at Antony, and wisely decides to just sit back down. He puffs out his chest and smiles at the girl like he just won the fight. She looks more horrified than impressed.
She clearly doesn’t know him or at least doesn’t know him well. They exchange some words. He makes a casual wave in her direction, and her expression darkens. She speaks again, and he rounds on her, one hand balled into a fist.
Is he fucking threatening her?
I stand immediately, but Antony and Jude are closer. Jude says something first, but I only catch the tail end of his sentence.
“…time for you to go.”
“I didn’t fucking do anything!” the man yells and points to Antony. “That asshole is the one who should go.”
“I tried to apologize to you, dude,” Antony replies.
“Fuck you!”
“I think I’ll just leave,” the woman says as she starts trying to pay Jude for her drinks.
The idea upsets me instantly. This asshole has been, well, an asshole, and she’s the one who feels like she has to leave. I don’t like it at all. I shove the girls away and head over to the bar.
She starts to get up from her seat, but I place a hand on her shoulder.
“Hang for a minute, please,” I say calmly but loud enough to be heard over the music. “I hate to see your evening ruined based on his behavior. I also don’t want you to walk out of here by yourself with him still around.”
She looks up at me, a strange look in her eyes, but lowers herself back onto the stool. I nod at Antony, and he grabs the man’s arm, wrenching him off of the barstool. Threes appears out of nowhere, places his hand on the guy’s shoulder, and squeezes hard enough for the jerk’s knees to buckle.
“You’re gone, dude.” Antony hauls him toward the exit with Threes following behind, his hand still locked on the man’s shoulder.
I turn back to the poor woman who has had to endure all this crap and immediately start to wonder why I didn’t interrupt the date earlier. She’s absolutely gorgeous with bright green eyes lined with just the right amount of makeup to enhance but not look like a painted whore. A smattering of freckles dance across her cheeks, and it makes me think of old pictures of my mother.
Reminds me of mom. How cliché is that?
“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s all good.”
“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I can’t stand that kind of behavior. I’m hoping you don’t know the man well.”
“We just met,” she says, and my suspicions are confirmed.
“Internet date?”
“Yeah.” She laughs hollowly. “How did you know?”
“A hunch. Do you mind if I sit?” I indicate the now empty barstool next to her.
“I guess not.” She looks toward the exit. Jude and Antony
