Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(52)

He didn’t. Like I said, sometimes size matters. Joe tossed the fucker out the door.

I covered my right eye with my hand. Ow. “Cock-sucking son of a…”

“I called the cops,” said Lydia, turning to the kitchen. “Curt, grab an ice pack for his face, please.”

A woman was crying. The idiot’s girlfriend probably. And the otherwise happy hum of conversation had been replaced by a frenzy of whispers. The bartender had gotten punched in the face. Exciting times! Not.

My brother came back inside, rubbing his arms to get some warmth back into himself. “Dickhead took off in a car. I’ve got the license plate number.”

A wail from the idiot’s girlfriend and she ran out too, followed fast by her friend. Good. Not only was my face pounding, but we could definitely do without the drama. Though she and her friend had probably just stiffed us on their bar tab. Dammit.

“Show’s over,” Rosie announced with a smile. “Sorry about the interruption to your evening, folks.”

A heavy rock song was replaced by something a little calmer and happier. The Dive Bar had a playlist for just these sorts of occasions. Eventually, all of the nosy folk who’d left their tables dispersed. Things slowly started to settle back to normal. But my heart was still thumping in my chest, adrenaline pumping around my body. I glared after the dickhead, wishing I’d had a chance to give him one back.

“You all right?” Joe clapped me on the shoulder.

“More annoyed he got the drop on me than anything.”

“What can you expect? You’re getting old.”

I just gave him the finger while he walked back over to the bar.

Curt ran over with an ice pack and I held it to my abused eye. Better to hide out in the kitchen until I was presentable again.

“What the hell happened?” asked Nell, moving the ice pack aside for a moment to check out the wound. “No blood. Just swelling and bruising.”

I grunted.

“What are you doing? Keep the ice pack on.”

“Asshole accused me of flirting with his girlfriend. Then he leaned across the bar and punched me.”

“Were you hitting on her?”

“No,” I snapped. “Joe and I had been chatting with a couple of women. One tried to get handsy, but I stayed back. She seemed to get the message. No different from any other night.”

“Hmm.” And you had to know the noise was loaded full of doubt.

“I’m a bartender, Nell. People expect me to talk to them.”

“Yeah, but how heavy on the charm exactly were you?”

“Nell, that’s enough,” said Lydia, her face unimpressed. “Eric’s the victim here.”

I just shook my head. “Forget it.”

Once the cops had been by and I’d given my statement, I was out of there. What a night.

*

“Talking to people is part of my job, right?”

“Keep still,” said Jean, holding a new ice pack to my face since the last one had turned to sludge. I sat slumped on her couch, my head back against the cushion, feeling deeply sorry for myself. All while she played nurse. Or at least, knelt by my side, holding the ice over my eye. Maybe the playing nurse thing was more a figment of my imagination. But it had definitely been worth knocking on her door. If a beat-up face can’t get a bit of sympathy from a pretty girl, then life would be too grim to bear.

“We were just having a laugh. I get that it’s a fine line between a little harmless flirting and actually hitting on a woman,” I said. “I’m not an idiot. Nothing I was doing was crossing that line. I’ve thought about it, a lot.”

“Okay. I know you’ve been putting a lot of effort into moving away from the whole frequent different sex partners thing.”

I nodded.

“Not that there’s any excuse to hit anyone anyway,” she said. “But if you say you weren’t coming on to the woman, then I believe you.”

“Nell didn’t,” I grouched.

“Yes, well. Nell and you have a complicated history.” She winced. “It might take her longer to come around. Plus, she’s not exactly at her best right now. The pregnancy has her anxiety sky-high.”

I said nothing.

“Sounds like this girl is dating a violent jerk.”

“Hope she’s got the sense to dump his ass,” I said.

“I hope she has people to back her up in case he decides to retaliate against her.” Jean sighed particularly heavily.

I swear my heart stopped beating. “Did that happen to you?”

“No.” She shook her head. “But a friend of mine had some issues with this one guy. He just wouldn’t take no for an answer. Kept calling her and stopping by, following her sometimes. It was scary there for a while.”

“What the hell makes people act like that?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Overblown sense of entitlement? Maybe they just get away with behaving that way so often that it seems like a good bet to them. Some people just seem to think violence is always the answer. Trying to control someone, having someone afraid of them must feel good to them I guess.”

I moved the ice pack aside, trying to see her better. Not that it worked with my eyelids all swollen. “I want you to know, I would never want you to be afraid of me.”