Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22496 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 112(@200wpm)___ 90(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
My first instinct was to expect rowdiness. Another batch of tough bastards coming out to challenge me. Twenty years ago, it was the kind of stupid shit I’d do to pass some time. Look for the biggest guy I could find, and show him that I’m top dog now. To my surprise, it’s been a pleasant evening so far.
Laura’s parents stopped by to say thanks for what I’d done. Felt peculiar. Unwanted and unwarranted. I don’t do what I do to get handshakes and praise; I do it because people like Laura can’t do it themselves. Someone has to step up for those being weighed down.
“Are we expecting trouble, Judge?” Frasier asks from the seat he hasn’t gotten out of all afternoon.
Ah, who am I kidding? Apart from catching some sleep and taking a piss, he never leaves that seat.
“Doubt it.” I scan the crowd. We’re a few hours in now, and a couple of tables are getting rowdier after their third rounds, but I don’t see anyone giving my waitresses trouble.
And a busy night like this would be their opportune time. People along the bar blocking my view of the main hall. Tables packed with friends, families, and the odd straggler hanging around in the back corners. Noise levels so high, I have to stand real close to Frasier to hear what he’s saying.
Yeah, there’s no better time for shenanigans. Yet, no complaints have come my way. Everyone in my pub is on their best behavior, and I couldn’t be happier.
“I don’t mean with them,” Frasier shoves the end of a hand-rolled cigarette into his mouth and lights up.
“I’m talking about the girl upstairs.”
I look at him sideways, eyes narrowing and jaw flexing. He’s lucky I like him, or my response might’ve been very different. “Probably, but when isn’t there trouble?”
He scoffs and ashes his cig. “You’ve got a point there.”
“I’ve got a more important question.”
It’s not that I don’t want to talk about Carrie; in fact, it’s the opposite. Any time I think about her, my body starts burning up. Feels like I’m blushing, but the heat isn’t quite the same. It barrels out from my core and leaves me weak-kneed and desperate for another moment in her presence. To see another attempted smile that hides her woes so well. “How the hell did I agree to buying a bar with you, and you don’t do any of the work?”
“Age and wisdom, my friend.” Frasier slams a flat palm against the bar counter, belting out a laugh that catches way too much attention. “Give it time and you’ll learn all the secrets.”
“Someone sell you a course on the secrets of laziness?” I roll my eyes at him and look away.
Only to see Carrie descending the staircase slowly. Her focus darting from one end of my bar to the other as she inspects the patrons. Searching for a familiar face, maybe, but not in hopes that they’re here to get her out. It’s the same panicked gaze I saw when she entered this afternoon.
“Man the bar a second, will you?” I speak to Frasier, but don’t take my eyes off Carrie.
“Sure.” He stands and wraps around the closer side opening. “But I’m gonna be grumbling while I do it.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” I’m already walking away.
I brush past a few people, almost in a hurried jog, to reach the flight of stairs. I arrive too late, finding Carrie had completed her descent and was no doubt wading through the sea of people to meet me at the bar. If it weren’t for that horrified look in her eye, I might’ve chuckled at my mistake. Played it off as both of us being too eager.
But this is no laughing matter.
“My, my, what do we have here?” A man asks, and as soon as the question hits my ear, my blood starts to burn. Spinning on my heels to see who spoke it doesn’t do a damn thing to calm me.
Some balding fuck sitting at a table of three is the speaker. One of the others catcalls but doesn’t get involved in the conversation. Smart move on his part. It might end up saving him a trip to the emergency room.
“Why don’t you join us for a drink?” Balding asks, patting the open chair beside him. But what tips me over the edge is his tongue slithering over his lips while scanning Carrie from toe to crown like some perverted predator.
I’ve never been much of a hunter myself, but there’s a first time for everything, right?
Taking the three steps over, I stop right behind Carrie, who, in turn, is a few feet away from the guy harassing her.
“These guys giving you trouble?” I ask Carrie.
I have to remind myself that this doesn’t have to turn bloody. I echo these words in the back of my mind like a mantra. I must do everything I can to keep the peace. But all I need is a reason, just one reason, and I’ll make this piece of shit regret ever speaking to her.