Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24429 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
I held down my Chicken Nuggets and held my stare. "Go sit the fuck down. Or you're out."
Another lesson you learn doing this job, is don’t try to reason with drunks. I may just be the chubby girl behind the bar, but I’ve got some stones.
“I wanna drink.”
I got a whiff of the quintessential sour, nicotine-highlighted odor that came with so many of these guys.
“Sit your ass down. No more drinks.”
The music pounded against the club walls that always had this slick, wet look, like they were as sweaty as the men that surrounded the stage, but I knew dear Romeo could hear me just fine. Jesse was watching, I could feel it. He knew I could handle myself, but there was only so far things would go before he appeared next to me.
"Get me a fuckin' drink! You want me to cut you, bitch?"
"Cut me? What, you think you're a gangster now?" Hollow laughter overtook me. Dropping my chin to my chest, I choked back the belly laugh on a cough.
"Don't you fuckin' laugh at me!" He spat.
A glint in the light drew my eye. The swing he made at my face went so far wide it may as well have been aimed at Renee or Vanessa. I was laughing at his pathetic attempt, but before he could try again, a familiar giant wall of muscle was next to him.
I gave him a smile with all my teeth. “Time to go.”
I tipped my head to the side on a sarcastic little pout as the slow realization came over him that I had backup. Before he could step away, his wrist was twisted so hard I heard bones scrape against other bones, and the knife clattered to the floor.
“Like the lady said," Jesse murmured, his voice a baritone like hot, brandied coffee. "Time to go.”
He stood 6’6” of pure muscle, a rock solid, ex-Green Beret. He was unflappable. Intimidating, not just in form, but in presence and demeanor, even with a slight limp from a knee injury that ended his military career. In fact, in some ways the limp just made him seem more dangerous.
But even so, alcohol can work wonders for some guys' self-esteem. After a few beers and a couple of shots of Jager, they think they're able to take on someone like Jesse, when they should be thanking their lucky stars they still have all their remaining teeth.
“Get offa me! This fuckin’ bitch needs to get me my fuckin’ drink." Romeo did his best to stand straight. "I’m with my buddies over there, so don’t fuckin’ mess with me, man.”
“Time to go. Last chance to use your own legs.” Jesse’s voice was clear and flat as he crossed his massive arms over the flexing pecs under his stark white t-shirt.
I could see it coming. So fucking predictable.
“I’m not going nowhere, azz hole! Me and my buddies'll kick your azz.”
Don’t do it. Oh, please, don’t…
I mean, yes, please do. I want to see this.
Romeo turned as though he was going to walk back to his table. I don't think any of his buddies had noticed what was going on. They were still drooling over the girls on the stage, oblivious or deliberately ignoring the whole altercation.
Then, like a cartoon, he swung. Offering his best roundhouse punch that seemed to move in slow motion, the movement upset his center of gravity. As he teetered, his enormous belly weight and the copious amounts of alcohol he had ingested conspired to gyroscope him like a careening truck into the nearest table.
Jesse was a monster, but his reflexes were feline like. He was four steps in front of the punch even before the giant Weeble got started.
“Stupid motherfucker,” I heard him growl even over the pounding music.
He caught Romeo's arm before he could use it to cushion his fall. Empty glasses were swept from the tabletop to shatter into shards on the floor, before Jesse swung him around with the force of his own drunken inertia. A palm on the back of his head slammed his face onto the bar, grinding it into the beer-slick wood with such force, it bounced my boobs in my shirt as I leaned on the long wooden counter.
I knew better than to get involved. My job now was to step back and keep an eye on the girls dancing. If things got too hot, I would give them the signal to stop their dance and get their asses backstage.
Blood was trickling out of Romeo's swollen nose, and before he could center himself for any more fight, Jesse had his hand behind his back in a half Nelson.
He was pushing him through the door before his four friends even noticed what was happening.
“Night’s over, asshole. And if you ever want back in here, you'll find the words to apologize to the lady.”