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He already said he’d be here, and it was bad form to ditch them on the first time they had asked him to hang. He was sure if he did that, there wouldn’t be a second one.
Lucas squared his shoulders and figured if worst came to worst, he’d just walk away. It’s not like he couldn’t control his temper, he knew exactly when to back off and when to fight back, and he hoped it would be enough.
He reached out to open the set of double doors when a group of men came barreling through laughing and yelling at each other.
He stepped back as he waited for them to pass shaking his head at the silly things they were saying.
“Hey, you!” a voice slurred behind him. Lucas didn’t know who he was talking to until the man seemed to make a conscious effort of talking, Spanish.
Lucas took a deep breath, a practiced smile in place. “Yes?”
“Yes?” he mimicked in that deep baritone most Spanish men seemed to have.
Lucas kept the smile in place. “Can I help you?”
“Help me? By what? Stealing my job?”
Lucas raised an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
The man narrowed his eyes into slits as he stumbled forward and pointed a finger accusingly at Lucas. Lucas gazed down at the man, who was very small compared to him. He had on a shirt that supported some baseball team Lucas knew nothing about, a pair of oversized jeans, and his hair carelessly stuck out at all ends. When he leaned in close to Lucas, he could smell the alcohol on his breath, and it wasn’t a pleasant smell, so he involuntarily took a step backwards.
“That’s right, cower in fear, Spaniard,” the man puffed out his chest and sneaked a glance at his friends at the back who hung behind awkwardly, unwilling to help him out, but riveted by the train wreck in front of them.
“I’m not afraid.”
The man glared at him. “Yes, you are. Who do you think you are anyway? Cristiano Ronaldo?”
The man’s friends snickered as Lucas rolled his eyes and laughed. “Cristiano Ronaldo is from Portugal not Spain.”
His friends laughed even harder at that, and the man began to grow red with anger and shame. “I knew that. I just wanted to be sure you knew.”
Lucas rolled his eyes. “Right, okay, Listen, why don’t you just go home, I’m sure you have a nice girlfriend or something waiting for you.”
The man began to jab Lucas. “Are you implying that I can’t take you on, or are you trying to hit on my girl? Because I can take you either way.”
Lucas held his hands up in surrender even though he was beginning to feel mildly irritated. “Look, man. I’m not doing either, okay? I just think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, and you’re looking for a punching bag, and while I do try to be a good Samaritan, that’s not what I feel like doing today.”
The man’s eyes blazed with a fury that was entirely directed at Lucas even though Lucas had done nothing but try to defuse the situation. “And now you’re saying I can’t hold my liquor,” he spat out with as much venom as he could muster which wasn’t much considering he was inebriated and kept stumbling around.
“That’s it. You’re going down,” he swung his left hand in what Lucas can only assume was meant to be a punch, but instead it ended falling short.
Lucas eyed him with mild annoyance. “I’m not going to fight you, man, so just let it go.”
The man began to advance forward again. “Aww, the Spaniard is a pussy. I’m a lover not a fighter,” he mocked as he swung another punch.
Lucas deflected, and he ended up punching the air again which only made him more agitated.
“Stop moving,” he yelled furiously as he kept trying to lunge at him. Lucas kept deflecting until he felt his patience wearing thin. He pressed his mouth into a thin line as he tried to keep his temper in check until the man distracted him and managed to clock him on the jaw.
Stunned, Lucas sat there unable to believe that this small man could punch with such vigor. The man was stunned too as he stared at his hand, and the place where it hit as if unable to believe that he was capable of doing that.
Suddenly the man looked less stunned and more crazy as a look of manic glee crossed his face, and his eyes shone with malice. He made to punch him again, but this time Lucas brought his hand up and intercepted him in one deft stroke. He held the man’s hand in his and gazed at it dispassionately.
He began to move it backwards, and the man grunted with effort as he tried to release his hand, but he was clearly no match for Lucas’s strength.
“Walk away,” Lucas said with a deadly calm that sent a shiver running down the man’s spine. The man looked visibly afraid as he swallowed audibly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down eagerly.
Lucas released his arm, and the man began to rub his tender hand before he jumped Lucas from the back. He tried to force his hands around Lucas’s neck in a deadlock, but Lucas although taken by surprise, was quickly able to throw him off.
