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He wore black skinny jeans and a brown cord jacket over a faded band t-shirt. Another man, dressed in a similar ensemble plus a slouchy beanie on his head, accompanied him, watching on with vague interest.
“What are you doing here? Who are you with?” Leon asked in a tone I couldn’t place as either friendly or accusatory.
I was paralysed, too shocked by the confrontation to know what else to do except tell him the truth. “I was at a hen’s. Just waiting for my ride home.”
“Going home already? It’s still early.”
I shrugged.
“Why don’t you come with me? We can go somewhere.”
“No, thanks.”
“Come on.”
“I’m getting picked up. My ride will be here any minute.”
“Don’t be such a bore. Just come with me.”
“No.”
“Uptight bitch.”
The other man snickered.
This seemed to spur Leon on, and he continued. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? I know you blocked me. That’s why you haven’t responded to any of my messages.”
I said nothing. I looked over to where the security guard stood in the entrance, but he wasn’t there. Before I could make a move to go back inside, Leon grabbed my arm and yanked me towards him and his friend.
“Leave me alone!” I shrieked.
“Shut your mouth.”
A third voice entered the fray, calm and measured, but laced with an undertone of fury. “Get your hands off her.”
Leon froze, eyes wide. He released his grip. “Whoa. Okay, dude. Chill out. I wasn’t gonna do anything.”
“Neil!” I gasped.
I had never been so relieved to see him. He came to my side and placed a possessive hand on my shoulder.
Leon gaped. “You’re with that guy?”
I nodded. I wasn’t about to clarify the specifics of my relationship with Neil.
Leon’s friend nudged him. “Let’s go.”
Leon gritted his teeth, his nostrils flaring as he examined Neil from head to toe. One more nudge, and he backed off and skulked away with his friend.
I turned to Neil as a whimper of relief escaped my lungs. I could have hugged him. Hugged my damn boss. He dropped his hand from my shoulder. “Let’s get you home,” he said, all the scary intensity drained from his voice and replaced by a softness that made me turn to mush.
Facing him now, I realised this was the first time I had seen him outside of work. He was wearing casual clothing—jeans and a sweater. He looked much younger without the suit. Maybe I had been wrong about his age? He could be in his late thirties, not early forties. His hair was a bit mussed, and his salt-and-pepper stubble made a comeback appearance. It could have been the alcohol blurring my perception, but I thought he looked kinda good. Attractive even.
No. It definitely had to be the alcohol.
What am I thinking?
“My car’s parked further down,” Neil said.
