Page 3 of The Masked King

The asshole in question turns to face me slowly, mouth open, eyes like dull bullets. Not his finest look, I’m guessing, and his so-called friends don’t step in to point this out either.

“What the fuck has it got to do with you?”

Spit clings to his bottom lip, and my fingers twitch inside my fists. I’m not averse to teaching the guy a lesson, but the thought of getting his spit on my hand makes my flesh crawl.

“The lady told you not to touch her.” Maybe it’s the liquor sloshing through my veins, or maybe Gina’s therapy session was more effective than I realized, but I feel lighter and calmer than I have in the last twelve months.

“Hey, I’m not touching anyone.” He raises his hands, palms facing outward, as evidence. “So, why don’t you crawl back into your hole and leave me to enjoy my evening?”

I ignore him and address the woman whose personal space he was so keen to invade a few moments ago. “Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

She nods, rubbing one arm as if she’s cold. “I’m fine.” She’s short, five-two maybe, if that, with pale skin and huge dark eyes that remind me of those Margaret Keane paintings from the 1960s, of kids with wide innocent eyes.

“What the fuck!” The asshole is still talking. “You accusing me of assaulting her now? Anyone else see me touch her?” His voice has risen a notch, like a politician, vocal in getting his sycophants on board with his narrative.

The rest of his group simply shrug and shake their heads. A couple murmur, “Nah, didn’t see a thing.”

And this is what tips me over the edge, the assholes at the bottom of the shit pile, balancing the loudest asshole on their shoulders.

I don’t even try to talk myself out of it. I swing my right arm in his direction, taking great pleasure from the look of sheer surprise in the douche’s eyes when he realizes I’m not intimidated by him and his nodding-dog pals, who all choose this moment to take a step backwards.

But before my fist can collide with his jaw, strong hands grab my arm and skew the momentum.

Andy.

“I’ve got this.” He’s stronger than he looks, gripping my arm tightly. “Go sit back down.” It isn’t an order, but there’s no room for me to protest.

I nod once, glance at the young woman, who gives me a small smile of thanks. I turn back to the bar as the asshole pipes up, “Do as you’re told, there’s a good boy.”

Anger flares inside my chest. I barely even register his face through the red mist before Andy’s fist follows through on my original intention. The crack of knuckles against jaw bounces around inside my skull. The asshole sprawls backwards, and this time, no one catches him.

It takes him a couple of beats to blink the room back into focus. Then he scrambles onto his feet, rubbing his face, trying and failing to blink back tears.

“You can’t⁠—”

“Out!” Andy grips his arm and marches him towards the door.

“I’m calling the cops. You punched me. I have witnesses.” The slimeball tries to wrench himself free to no avail.

“Go right ahead.” Andy’s voice is calm and steady. “I’m sure they’ll be interested to hear that you assaulted one of my customers, and rest assured that I will have more witnesses than you.”

Someone opens the door, and Andy shoves the guy outside where he sprawls forward across the sidewalk barely missing a passing pedestrian. “My jacket⁠—”

The door closes behind him.

“Finish your drinks and leave,” Andy warns the guy’s friends as he walks back to the counter. “You’re all barred.”

They don’t protest. One downs his beer and slams the empty glass onto a table. The others grab their jackets and head straight outside, shooting glances at Andy’s back but keeping silent.

I go back to my seat at the bar and down the drink I’d hardly touched before the douche caused a scene. Gina isn’t there. Maybe she left while I was wearing my superhero cape. She was good company even if I hadn’t come here looking for any.

“Hey.” Another woman slides onto the stool Gina vacated and smiles at me. She’s blonde too, but that’s where the similarities end. Where Gina was natural, this woman is groomed and glossed to perfection. “I saw what you did back there.”

Time for me to leave.

I signal for Andy to bring my check, as a voice whispers in my ear from behind me: “I know what you’re looking for.”

Goose bumps pop on my arms and the back of my neck from her breath.