Fight

by Paige Hill

  “Hey, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” I give her a wide appreciative smile and use an extra napkin to dry up the spill. The marks on her skin are a thing of the past and she looks more beautiful than I could have imagined. And trust me, I’ve imagined. A lot.

  “Oh, um. Its ok. I’m just having some coffee,” she says, looking anywhere but at me.

  “Yeah, I could really use some caffeine. When I noticed you, I couldn’t help but detour. Maybe finally get an answer as to why you left without a word.”

  I can tell I’ve stunned her with my bluntness. She looks at the table again, squares her shoulders, something I’ve noticed her do often, and looks me in the eye.

  “I was embarrassed. I’d acted foolishly. I couldn’t bear to face you after you’d been so kind to me.” She holds my stare long enough to impress me. There is a confidence in her eyes, one she is only recently allowing herself to feel. Her honesty is refreshing. Most women would have made up a lame story or pretended to be shy.

  “You have no reason to be embarrassed. He attacked you. That is in no way your fault.” It feels like she is insinuating that she provoked his attack. It pisses me off, but I tamper the emotion.

  “Maybe not, but I put myself in the position to let it happen. Poor decisions seem to be my forte these days.” She lets out a small depreciative laugh. She is overly critical of herself and it’s starting to piss me off. I know I need to change the subject before I go all alpha and scare her.

  “So, you start work tonight, right?” I ask, hoping to initiate lighter conversation. Something akin to relief floods her features as she responds.

  “Yeah. I’m actually pretty excited. I enjoy being around people and it’s been a while since I’ve had a real job.” She smiles, and the vise on my chest tightens. She really needs to smile more. She’s gorgeous.

  “What did you do before?” I ask, hoping she is forthcoming with information. She pauses a moment, deep in thought and I’m afraid she isn’t going to answer.

  “I worked at a tattoo shop for a while as a receptionist. I really enjoyed interacting with people. I used to be a really social person.”

  Her response leaves me with more questions than it does answers. What happened? Why did you exile yourself? But before I can straighten my thoughts to ask, she continues.

  “I was married for a while. A long while, actually. He was incredibly jealous, so I didn’t leave the house as often. Just seemed easier that way.” She shrugs, and my gut tells me she is omitting important details in her story, but I let it lie. This is the most forthcoming she has been, and I don’t want to risk her pulling away. I have a million questions swirling in my mind but instead, I nod my head in understanding. I pause a moment, thinking about what to say next, but she beats me to the punch.

  “What about you? What did you do in a past life before you became a bartender?” The question is innocent, but I fear I must be careful with my response.

  “I’ve had a few gigs here and there. I slung auto parts for a while, and when I moved to Miami, I sought work at a surf shop. That’s when I learned how to surf.” None of it was a lie. But I was no better than her at this point as I too omitted important details.

  “How long have you been in Miami?” The strain in her tone has eased and I can tell she is getting more comfortable with my presence.

  “About fifteen years. I moved here right out of high school. I hated to leave my grandma but we both knew I needed the change.” That last part caught me off guard. I had no intentions of telling her that.

  “Are you and your grandmother close?” she asks, taking a genuine interest in my life.

  “Very. I wish we were still that close, but I don’t get the chance to see her as often as I should.” This conversation brought out feelings of nostalgia and for whatever reason, I am compelled to share bits of my personal life with Taryn. “She raised me when my mom died.” I exhale and my voice catches. Its barely audible but she notices. The flood of memories that engulf me suddenly eat away at me like acid until I am raw.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry. How old were you when your mom died, if you don’t mind me asking?” The sincerity in her eyes is heartwarming and I take a moment before answering to get my emotions in check.

  “Fourteen. I came home from school to find the town drunk on top of her naked body.” Sighing, I take a sip of coffee, trying to force the bile down and let my words sink in.

  “Oh, Declan.”

  Those are the only words she can get out as her eyes turn glossy. She places a soft hand on top of mine and squeezes lightly. I can’t help the overwhelming feeling of pride knowing that she is comfortable enough to console me. Given our previous interactions, this is a small victory.

  “What happened to the man who murdered her?”

  That was the question I wasn’t sure I wanted to answer. Outside of the court system and my grandma, no one else knew what I had done. I need her to open up to me and in order to get there, I know I have to be honest.

  “I killed him.”

  My voice comes out deeper than I intended. Dragging my eyes from our hands to face her, I expect her to blanch or jerk away from me. Anything but the reaction I received.

  “Good.” Her reply comes with a thoughtful look on her delicate features. Smiling softly, she continues. “It’s nice to see the justice system work in favor of the good guy for once. I don’t know what it’s like to be responsible for taking a life, but you were justified in your actions. You likely saved another woman from the same fate. That’s a hero in my book.” She smiles, and honest to God, my heart stops beating.

  “I’m assuming you weren’t charged since you’re having this conversation with me.”

  “No. I was a minor and even though I acted with excessive force, not a judge around wanted to charge me. They even left it off my record. Sometime later, they discovered my mother was his third victim. So, yeah, maybe I did some good. Although it took me years to accept that. I wasn’t mature enough to grasp what I had done. When I finally did—” I exhale deeply. “Well, let’s just say my grandmother is an amazing and patient woman. I owe everything I am to her.” She squeezes my hand again, conveying her support and it sinks in that not only have I never had a conversation quite like this with a woman, I’ve never told another soul what I’d done. It’s a big revelation for me but one I do not have time to analyze.

  “She sounds like an amazing woman. You are lucky to have her. But, what about your father?”

  “I never knew him. She told me a little about him, but he died some years ago. Apparently, he was married but my mom was madly in love with him. He swore to her he was going to leave his wife, but he uprooted his family before I was born. She never saw him again.”

  “That’s quite a history. Thank you for sharing.” Her smile is genuine, and I am amazed once again at how beautiful she is. Inside and out.

  We spend the next hour or so chatting about work, what she should expect, what the atmosphere is like, etc.… When it’s time to go, I literally have to force my legs to move.

  “Well, thanks for crashing my coffee break. It was nice to have someone to talk to for a bit,” she imparts honestly.

  “Anytime, sunshine.” I throw her a wink over my shoulder. “See ya’ in a few hours.”

  I am still reeling after Declan’s confession. He’s a beautiful man who’s been forced to deal with situations he was far too young to understand. My heart aches for the boy he once was. We all have a history, something to run from. What separates the strong from the weak is how we choose to deal with it.

  As emotional as the conversation was, I am left confused by my carnal reaction to him. That man is sex with legs. Every time he smiled, a small dimple appeared on his left cheek and I found myself wiggling a little more in my seat. The black Henley he wore hugged his thick chest and biceps in a way that practically had me panting. Since when did I become a horny teenager? But, considering I thought that part of my anatomy was dead, it’s nice to know she still
works.

  In a gas station bathroom, I prepare myself for my first day at work. I am not nearly as nervous about it as I expected to be. I am still a wanted woman, so I know I should be careful. Staying here doesn’t seem like the wisest of ideas, but I feel I have no other options. I’ll take prison over him.

  Redirecting my attention to the mirror, I assess myself. Based on what Wendy has worn and well, it’s a bar, I decide on a form fitting royal blue sheath dress with a zipper that runs the entire length of the back. From the empire waist up to the inch-wide shoulder straps is black leather and a slightly plunging neckline. I slip into my most comfortable black wedge sandals and scrutinize my appearance. I must say, I look pretty hot. My confidence is through the roof and I feel ready to take on the world. What’s that Marilyn Monroe quote? “Give a girl the right shoes, and she can conquer the world.”

  I haven’t felt this good about myself in years. It’s a sexy dress, just edgy enough but not over the top bordering ‘getting paid for it’ territory. I leave my hair down, choosing to let my natural waves loose.

  I gather my things and head for my car, my thoughts on where to park my car for the night. If you stay too often in one place, people notice. Staying in the parking lot of Celeste’s salon seems like my best option. Deciding that’s a decent plan, I start my car and pull onto the street.

  Once parked, the nerves kick in. Closing my eyes, I grip the steering wheel tight and breathe deeply, trying to channel my earlier confidence. I haven’t had a job since I was twenty. I can’t help but second guess my every decision.

  Can I really pull this off?

  Am I as foolish as everyone said I am?

  What if they find me?

  Stop!

  Mentally slapping myself for my doubts, I kill the engine.

  Get it together, Teagan. You are smart and strong. You will make cocktail waitressing your bitch.

  My little pep talk seems to help. Gathering all the confidence I can muster, I exit the car and head toward the bar, ready to face my future.

  Wendy’s gorgeous face greets me as I walk through the door.

  “Hey Doll, you look hot this evening.” She smiles while gathering her tray.

  “Thanks. So, um, where do you want me to start?”

  “Grab a tray over there. I’m going to drop off these drinks then I’ll give you a run down. We are due for a rush around ten, so get ready,” she instructs as she saunters away in an off the shoulder purple top and curve hugging skinny jeans.

  Ready to get the ball rolling, I do as I’m told and grab an empty tray. Looking around the room I spot a few drinks that look low. Figuring I might as well make myself useful while I wait, I head to the nearest table.

  “Hey guys, anyone ready for refills?” I ask in the bubbliest voice I can muster.

  The bride to be, evident by the crown of penises on her head, giggles.

  “Can we get eight wet pussy shots?” she asks in a hushed tone. Her question ignites a round of giggles from the surrounding group of women.

  “You got it! Eight wet pussies coming your way!” I practically shout, smirking to myself as I walk away to fill the order. There is a moment of silence followed by a boisterous helping of laughter from the ladies. This is going to be fun!

  I make my way up to the bar to place the order, my nervousness suddenly resurfacing. Declan’s vibrant green eyes run the length of my body, setting my skin on fire. I’m certain my entire body is pink. Setting my tray on the counter, I try to spit the order out as coherently as possible.

  “Hey, Declan. Can I, umm, I need eight wet pussies.” Wow, that took entirely too much brain power to get out. Realizing how my request sounded, I can’t hide the chuckle that escapes my lips and my eyes fall to the wooden bar top. Not exactly mature, but it’s either envelop the hilarity or die of embarrassment.

  Seeing Taryn in that dress… I had to remind myself to breathe and adjust my pants at the same time. Damn. This woman is going to be the death of me.

  Of course, that would be her order… She really is trying to kill me! Derailing my train of thought from wet pussy to the job at hand becomes even harder when she bites her glossy red lip, trying to stifle a laugh.

  “Damn, Sunshine. You trying to get me killed?” She looks at me, still smiling but far more confused.

  “Huh? How am I going to get you killed exactly?” she asks chuckling.

  “You in that dress. I’m going to spend my entire night threatening every mother fucker in this bar.” That is the absolute truth. Finishing her order, I place the glasses on her tray and wink with a predatory smile.

  “Wet pussies for the lady.”

  Her tongue snakes out to wet her lips as if they were dry. Fuck. Me.

  She recovers quickly, throwing sass and a sexy smile my direction.

  “No need to threaten them away, Cowboy.” She throws a wink over her shoulder and struts off with the drinks I’ve just mixed. Damn. It’s sexy as hell seeing her come out of her shell. She was blatantly flirting with me. The Taryn I met in this very place just over a week ago, would have never been that brazen.

  “This is going to be fun,” I say to myself sporting a ‘cat that ate the canary’ smile.

  As the night goes on, so does the flirting. Taryn is great with the customers and Wendy is thankful for the help. I’ve spent more time than I care to admit watching her as she maneuvers around tables, chatting with everyone and wearing a huge smile. She fits in well here, and the thought of seeing her every day excites me. I can’t recall the last time my mood was this jovial.

  I might have threatened a patron or two. Or the new bouncer, Lee. What can I say? I’m a man of my word.

  Finishing up wiping the bar down, I toss the rag in the bucket and cross the room to join everyone else as they say good night. Taryn looks exhausted.

  “Taryn, let me walk you to your car.” It wasn’t a question.

  “Um, you don’t have to do that. I’m just parked across the street.” She gestures with her hand toward her car.

  “I’m not about to let a woman walk to her car by herself at nearly three AM. Please let me make sure you make it there safely?” I plead.

  “What about Wendy?” She asks. Before I can form a response, Wendy beats me to it.

  “Nate is walking me to my car.” She turns to wink at me and I can’t help but smile. I owe her chocolate and she knows it. Plus, she isn’t lying. Nate walks her out every night. He has it bad for that woman, she just hasn’t figured it out yet.

  “Oh, well then, okay.” She smiles faintly at me. What is she so afraid of? Shit. Is she afraid I’ll come at her like Dickwad did?

  Stepping out into the slightly chilly air, she wraps her arms around herself. I gently touch her arm to get her attention. I need to know that she isn’t afraid of me.

  “Taryn, please tell me you’re not afraid of me. I swear I would never touch a woman against her will.” A wave of nausea flushes my stomach at the thought of her fearing me.

  Her eyes bug out at me.

  “Oh, God no. I’m so sorry if I came off that way. Trust me, it’s fine. Thank you for walking me out.” She looks remorseful and I feel like a jackass. We walk in silence; the clacking of our shoes hangs in the air. As we approach a well-worn black Honda, she turns to face me.

  “Well, thanks again,” she says quietly with her eyes following the lines of my face. I have to touch her, and for reasons I can’t comprehend, I lean forward and place a tender kiss to the top of her head. A light floral scent teases my senses and I fight the urge to pull her into me.

  “Good night, Sunshine,” I say, stepping back to put space between my desires and her scent. I stand to the side with my hands in my pockets, feeling like a teenager, watching until her car pulls away.

  It literally takes all I have not to melt into him when he places his lips in my hair. I should be alarmed at how quickly he seems to be knocking down my defenses, but I can’t bring myself to be. That may be the most terrifying part. His pres
ence makes me feel safe, and that’s a feeling I am afraid of. Letting myself feel anything but defensive is dangerous. He is the kind of man that demands respect but only because he gives it.

  I know he’s going to stand there until he’s satisfied that I am safe, so I put the car in gear and give a slight wave as I pull out onto the street. I have no idea where I’m going but I drive around a few minutes until I’m sure everyone has gone.

  Pulling back into the parking lot, I position the car in a decently lit area, check the locks and begin changing into a pair of yoga pants and a sweater. Doing so in the front seat of a Honda is a tad challenging, but I manage. Looking around the deserted lot, I try not to let paranoia control me. Realizing I need to relax, I pull the blanket from the back seat and settle in for a few hours before I know I’ll have to be up again. Knowing that tomorrow is Sunday and I don’t have to work, brings on a sense of loneliness. Silent tears prick my eyes as the gravity of my situation takes hold. I am the only person who can control my happiness.

  My feet are killing me, but not as much as I expected. Heels and standing on your feet for several hours are usually not a good combination, but the look on Declan’s face was worth it. I can lie to myself and say I didn’t dress for him, but who am I kidding?

  Those are the thoughts in my head as I drift off to sleep.

  Unlocking the front door to my house, all I can think about is Taryn and how bad I want to fall face first into my sheets. Hmmm, Taryn in my bed. Saving that thought for another time, I toe off my boots and begin to empty my pockets.

  Shit.

  I’ve left my phone at the bar. I’m too distracted for my own good. Dragging an exhausted hand down my face, I sigh heavily. I need it in case Briggs calls, so that leaves me no other choice. Sliding back into my boots, I begrudgingly grab my keys and head back to my Jeep.

  My body aches as the excessive work hours start to take a toll. This job never sleeps. The drive is short, but my wearied mind shifts to autopilot. Before I realize it, I’m pulling into the parking lot with no recollection of the drive. Wow, I’m more tired than I thought.