"What in the hell is the matter with you, bitch?" Carl tossed his mug onto the table, sending the empties scattering. Shot glasses went flying and hit the floor around her, shattering when they met the cement flooring. She flinched back from flying glass and put an arm up to shield her wounded face.
Immediately, a waitress was there and helped her sit up. "Shut the fuck up, Carl, you fucking moron, she's hurt."
Carl snarled at the woman, but his eyes never left Meg. "Not my fucking fault, the fat bitch is clumsy."
"Clumsy? Is that what you call it when you clock someone with a beer mug?" The waitress squatted down beside her. "Hey, I'm Tally. Let's get you up. Are you okay?"
Meghan shook her head. "My wrist. I think I may have hurt it when I fell."
"Honey you didn't fall, you got knocked down. Come on, I'll help you up and take you into the back so you can get cleaned up."
"I ain't paying for that beer. She spilled the damn thing, she can pay for it." Carl's insolent sneer wasn't lost in the background of pain radiating from her cheek and wrist. "Clumsy bitch." He smacked his friend. "Remind me to never do a friend a favor again. Look what the fuck I get stuck with."
"Hey, don't listen to him. He's a dick. You ready?" Tally helped her to stand.
The seat of her jeans was soaked in beer. She moved to grab her purse, but Tally beat her to it. She gently pressed Megan’s purse into her hand, and then pushed Meg’s disaster of a date out of the way. "Carl, you are such a douche." Tally turned Meghan and gently guided her to the back of the bar. The men laughed as if hearing Carl called a “douche” was a common occurrence.
"In here. This is the employee breakroom. Who in the hell did you piss off to get set up with that jerk?"
"How did you know I was set up with him?" Megan leaned against the counter and cradled her wrist. A bruise was forming along the side, and it was swelling around the joint.
"Because nobody would go out with that dick otherwise." Tally laughed and grabbed several paper towels. She ran them under the water and moved closer to Meg. "I need to..."she pointed at Meg's cheek. "You got a cut that’s bleeding and a whopper of a bruise. I wouldn't be surprised if that whack doesn't give you a shiner, too."
Meg closed her eyes as the woman dabbed the blood off her cheek. "There you go, hunni. Now what's up with your wrist?"
"I think I may have sprained it when I fell."
"Shit, not good. I'm going to have to tell management. We can call the cops. I mean, it wasn't really an accident, you know." Tally opened a cabinet and pulled out a first aid kit.
"No need to tell anyone. I'll just go home and ice it down." Or go straight to the emergency room, except she'd have to Uber it because her old Toyota was a stick shift and she wasn't going to attempt driving like this.
"Yeah, well, it's a requirement. Anytime someone gets hurt on the property we have to fill out a report. The face, that was all Carl. If you don't want the cops, that’s on you. The falling down, that could be considered the business' fault."
"I'm sure you have a release of liability form I can fill out?"
"Sure, but listen, the business has insurance for this type of thing."
"So do I." Meg smiled. "Thank you so much for getting me away from Carl and his friends. Do you mind if I leave from here? I don't want to go back that way."
"Sure, let me get that form and how about I call someone to come get you?"
Meghan's mind flashed to Rio, but he was supposed to be having dinner with his family tonight. She wasn't going to call her sister or her mother. She could only imagine those conversations. "I'm going to order an Uber. I'll come back for my car tomorrow or Sunday. If you could just make sure it doesn’t get towed?"
"Can do. I'm going to go get that form and fill a bag of ice for your wrist." Tally opened the drawer and grabbed a bag out of it.
"Thank you." Meghan lifted her uninjured arm and deposited her purse on the counter. She fished out her phone and smiled at the name that flashed as the home screen opened. Rio had texted her. She tapped on it.
> Text me as soon as meeting is over.
She rolled her eyes and chuffed out a pathetic laugh.
>The meeting is definitely over.
He responded almost immediately, >That was quick. How did it go?
>Worse than anticipated, but it is over.
>U OK?
Meghan bit her lip as she stared at the phone.
>Will be fine. Just glad it is done. Boy, was she ever glad it was over.
>Wish me luck. Tackling bro and sis-in-law 2night
>Good luck. Call when you can. Hearing his voice tonight would make all of the crap that had happened in the last ten minutes better, and that was a damn good thing.
>ASAP
"Here you go, hunni. The boss said if you were going to sign a waiver, he'd pay for your taxi home. That cool with you?"
"Perfect. Thank your boss for me?" Meg read and signed the paper and exchanged it for the bag of ice Tally was holding.
"We can go out this way. The cabs line up over here, and I'll settle with the cabbie." She slipped a piece of paper into Meg's purse. "That's my cell phone number. You call me when you get home, okay? Carl is not at his table, and I don't trust him farther than I can throw him. He's bad news. He used his last girlfriend as a punching bag, and she has a restraining order against him. Whoever set you up with him doesn’t like you very much. Don't ever trust them again, okay?"
"A restraining order?"
"Yeah. You call me when you get home, okay? So I can sleep tonight?"
"I will. Thanks." Meghan followed Tally out the back door. The woman stopped abruptly, and Meghan almost ran into her.
"Danny, do me a favor? Get out of the cab and come help me?"
"Do I need Ty Cobb?"
"Wouldn't hurt, hunni."
Meghan watched the massive man exit his cab. He held a baseball bat in his right hand as he slowly walked around the hood of his car heading to where Tally had stopped. Meg peeked around Tally. Carl and one of his friends were smoking cigarettes, leaning against the brick of the building.
"Ah, dammit, did one of those bastards hit you?" The massive man cast a glance toward Carl and his friend.
"It was more like an accident." Meghan had caused the beer to spill.
"Right. You accidently gave yourself a black eye. Happens all the time. Wait until I open the door. You get in and then you lock both back doors."
"Okay, thank you." Meg instantly like the big guy. He had nice eyes.
“Tally, sweetheart, when she's in the cab, you go back in and lock that door. I'll be here when you get off work and make sure you have no problems." The man stood by the vehicle and opened his passenger side door for Meg.
"Thank you for coming to my rescue." Meg gave Tally a quick hug and folded into the cab.
Tally spoke as she grabbed the alleyway door. "Remember what I said, girlfriend. We've got the tab on this one, hunni."
Meg nodded and waved to her before she slid across the seat and awkwardly shifted to lock the other door with her uninjured hand.
"We'll settle it when I get back."
Danny waited for her to lock both doors before he turned his attention to Tally. He waited for her to go back inside and then tried to open the bar door ensuring it was locked. He swung the wooden bat over his shoulder and walked back to the driver's side door. The car dipped when he lowered his massive frame into the vehicle. He lifted his eyes to the rearview mirror and asked, "Where to?"
Meghan gave him her address in Pooler. Carl watched her as the cab pulled past. There was plenty of ugly and menace in that look. Meghan shivered involuntarily.
"You got any reason to think that guy would show up at your apartment?" Danny's deep voice floated back to her as they worked their way through downtown Savannah's traffic.
"No, not really."
"Okay, but you need to make sure you're aware of your surroundings for a couple weeks. I've seen that bas… guy before. He's bad news
on the ladies front. He should be in jail. Don't know how he keeps finding women who put up with his shit." Danny stopped at a four way intersection and waited his turn before he spoke again. "You got good locks on your apartment?"
"I do and nosey neighbors." Meghan was shaking now. No doubt Danny thought he was doing her a favor by warning her that Carl was dangerous. He was, and he wasn't. She let her head drop back on the seat and moved over toward the window, wishing it was earlier and she could catch the setting sun's rays through the car window. She was cold and shivering.
"That's good. Real good. Nosey neighbors are a pain in the ass sometimes, but then again, when you need them, they are worth their weight in gold."
Meg made a noncommittal sound. Her wrist was throbbing in time with her heartbeat as the cab ate up the miles in between the pub and her apartment. She hoped it was nothing more than a sprain. She had movement and there were no sharp pains when she made circles with her wrist, just discomfort. All in all, she was lucky. Her cheek was swollen. She could see a bump when she looked down. If she iced it tomorrow and Sunday, hopefully she could cover up any bruising with makeup.
When they pulled into the apartment complex Meg thanked Danny and offered him a tip. He shrugged her off and told her she was his good deed for the day. Meg smiled, albeit lopsided because of the swelling on her cheek. She headed up the stairs to her floor. He honked once when she waved at him from in front of her apartment, but he didn’t pull away until she opened the door and walked in.
She threw the deadbolt behind her the second she closed the front door. Overkill? Maybe, but Danny and Tally had both seemed to think Carl could be the type of bastard who might follow her. She hadn’t given him her address, but goodness only knew what her sister had done.
Meg made her way into her bathroom and sucked in a big lungful of air at the sight of her cheek. There was a small cut and a contusion that had puffed up, making her look like she'd gone a round with a professional MMA fighter.
She carefully removed her mascara and gently washed her face with her one good hand. Talk about an interesting time. After cleaning up, a search of her medicine cabinet revealed an old, slightly stretched out ace bandage that she'd used when she twisted her ankle about a year ago. She carefully wrapped her wrist tight enough to provide comfort but not so much that the wrap would cut off her circulation. The support immediately lessened the throbbing, but she took two extra strength pain relievers before she ditched her beer-soaked clothes and wiggled into her laze-around-the-house clothes. Yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, no bra.
Her feet made little padding sounds as she headed to the kitchen. She opened the refrigerator door and pulled out her box of Chardonnay. Because she was classy like that. She balanced the box on her toaster oven and shoved a stemless wine glass under it. With her good hand she pushed the release button and filled her cup past the one serving line, past the two serving line, and topped that puppy off with a home pour that would make a closet alcoholic's chest fill with pride. The box went back into the fridge and she grabbed a pre-portioned bag of cheese and crackers. The dinner of champions. Fruit, also known as wine, plus cheese and crackers. Damn the calories, full speed ahead and all that shit. She was fortifying because she knew her sister would be calling.
She made two trips from the kitchen to the corner of her sectional. The wine sat on the coffee table. The cheese and cracker bag landed on the couch with her. Meg threw the remote onto the couch next to her dinner and retrieved her phone from her purse. With a little extra care, she lodged herself into the corner of her sectional and leaned forward to retrieve her wine. There would be no answering of telephone calls before the entire glass had been consumed. It was a rule. Well, if it wasn't, it should be. Getting manhandled and talking to your sister in the same evening had to come with rules like that. It only made sense. She flicked the television on, navigated to Netflix and found a mindless series to binge.
Halfway through her second house-poured glass of wine her phone rang. She closed one eye and turned away from the comedy on the television. Her sister. Of course. Well, she had finished one glass.
"'Lo." Meg took another drink as she answered.
"How did your date go?"
"Wasn't a date. It was a meeting." Meg stared at her wine as she spoke.
"Whatever, how did it go?"
"Carl didn't tell you?" Meg may have been a bit short with her sister.
"Ahh… no, or I wouldn't have to call you." Mindy sniped back.
"Well, let's see, I have bruises on my arm where he grabbed me and hauled me through the bar. I have a cut on my cheek and a black eye where he punched me in the face with his beer mug and a sprained wrist from when I was knocked down by the force of the hit to my face. So, all in all, I think I can say I'm lucky to be alive."
"What? What the hell, Meg?"
Meghan had hoped that there would be concern in the question, but there wasn't any that she could detect. Shock would have been okay, too… but nope. Her sister was pissed. Probably at her, not Carl, so she decided to add the few tidbits she'd learned. "Did you know his last girlfriend put a restraining order against him? That he beat her?"
"You're drunk. I'll call you in the morning and get the real story."
"You didn't answer my question. Did you know?" There was silence on the other end of the line. “Yeah… I thought so,” she said softly. "You know, I can't do this anymore, Mindy. I shouldn't be asked to. Just do me a favor? Leave me alone. Don't call, don't text, and I'll return the favor."
"You've obviously into your wine. I'm sure things aren't as bad as you think they are. I have a feeling your being melodramatic again, Meg."
"Think so?" Meghan flipped her phone, took a selfie, and sent it to her sister. "There, that's evidence. I have a bar full of witnesses. Go ahead and spin it any way you want to, you will anyway."
Meghan hung up the phone and unmuted the television. She felt like she was wrapped in cotton candy, a cloud of fluffiness to keep the pain and the worry at bay. She'd reached the tipping point. She’d become that stupid toy bird kids got at the carnival. The one with red or blue colored water in the belly and when you pushed its head down it did that perpetual motion thing rocking back and forth. She used to put a small paper cup next to the one she had when she was little and pretend it was taking sips from the cup. Well she'd been in her own perpetual motion course for far too long. She was done taking sips out of her fucked-up family's cup of criticism.
Meg drew a deep breath and stared at the sitcom on the television without really seeing it. Severing connections with her family would be a marathon, just like losing weight. She'd been successful doing the latter, despite what her family thought. She would wake up tomorrow and start the journey she'd initiated tonight. One step at a time and on her own. She lifted her wine glass and toasted Ross and Rachel as they kissed and then danced about the apartment. The toast was to her happily ever after, not theirs.
Chapter 15
Rio heard Deanne before he saw her. The woman was bemoaning the fact that she'd had to cancel with the Foresters so they could come to dinner tonight.
"Why would we celebrate him coming home? He's an ass and he's treated you like a leper. I see no reason to make nice."
"My mother asked us to come." Mason sounded tired, as if the argument had gone on for a while.
"Why? What could be possibly gained by forcing us to have dinner?" Deanne's hiss was low, but the words were clear at the top of the stairs where he'd stalled. Where Rio stood, his brother and sister-in-law couldn't see him. He glanced at his watch and turned around, heading to the back stairway that would take him to the kitchen.
He jogged down the stairs and caught his dad eating a biscuit slathered in butter. "Did Mavis let you have that?"
"Yes." The answer sounded like a question.
Rio chuckled and grabbed a paper napkin off the counter and handed it to his dad, motioning toward his chin and the butter than had managed to trail down. "You better catch
that drip before you get it on your shirt. Mason and Deanne are here."
His father dabbed his chin. His face drew into a concentrated frown. "We are doing the right thing, aren't we?"
"We are. We have two sides to this four-sided story. I know this could hurt Mom, but she needs to know the truth the same as we do, in whatever form that takes." They'd planned this dinner like an op, with Rio taking the lead. His father would lob in support rounds as needed. Hopefully his mother would not become collateral damage. They'd tried to consider all avenues of retreat or redirect that could be applied to the battle, but all plans were solid until the first contact with the enemy.
"Ready?" He squeezed his father's shoulder.
"I am. You know this could blow up in our faces." His father fell into step as they headed to the front of the house.
"I do. If that happens, I'll take the blame. It isn't like he could hate me more than he does now."
He and his father moved to the side as Mavis turned down the hall to the kitchen, returning from the formal dining room.
"Mason is home." She trundled on past them muttering under her breath.
"What was that?" His father asked.
"Never you mind." Mavis kept on walking as she spoke.
"What did she say?" His father once again matched his stride as they continued on.
"Not sure." Rio smiled because he’d definitely heard the word "witch" muttered as she passed by—or words that rhymed with witch.
Rio let his father go first into the sitting room. He could hear his mother and Deanne visiting. The caustic tone Deanne had used on Mason was missing.
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