Not wanting to be anywhere near the scene of the crime, I glanced up and down the street. The sun had set, or would soon. The streetlights made up the difference. A warm and inviting brightness came from the open doors to the reception hall down the street. Even if I hadn’t just seen another guest get knocked unconscious, the reception I’d already gotten from my father’s family had me walking the other way as quickly as I could in my heels.
The doors to the pub opened behind me with the same squeak of the hinges. I’d earned a new record for fastest heel walking, but it wasn’t fast enough. The White Knight jogged only a couple strides to stand beside me. He kept pace without effort so I slowed a little.
“I didn’t need a white knight back there and I don’t need you now,” I said, not looking his way.
“What do you mean by white knight?” he asked.
“A guy who loves to come to the defense of women, but usually has ulterior motives,” I answered and pointed a waggling finger at him. “Whatever your game is, whatever you are selling, I’m not buying.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he replied after a long moment of uncertainty. “I can tell from your accent you’re not from around here.”
“You have a keen eye for the obvious,” I shot back, still looking forward.
At the next intersection, I turned down the side street. My knightly shadow fell out of step with me. He jogged to catch up and remained silent for the rest of the block. I kept going straight.
The church and pub had been on a larger street, lined with businesses. The few blocks I’d wandered from that street had taken me to a more residential area. Terrace houses lined both sides of the street. They weren’t in shambles or anything, but could have been maintained better. In a nicer neighborhood, they would have been. And I’d already had my guard up thanks to my unwanted companion.
Movement in the shadows down the street stole my attention. A streetlight had been broken and they were spaced out further apart in this neighborhood as it was. My wannabe White Knight saw it, too but his only reaction came in the tiniest of smiles under that horrible shaggy beard.
A figure stepped out of the shadows of the broken streetlight. Male, dark skinned or wearing gloves. A hoodie covered his head and kept me from seeing his face. Another man joined him, then a third. They waited just in the light. My steps slowed, matched by my current companion’s.
“Like I was saying,” he whispered, “you’re not from around here. You don’t know the places it is best to avoid… like this one, for instance.”
“You couldn’t have mentioned that before?” I hissed.
We stopped moving. Nobody appeared behind us, but if it came to running, my too-tall heels would become a hindrance, no matter how much they helped me tower over Sal. My would-be white knight stood between me and the three men down the sidewalk. Seemed he wanted a chance to remove the qualifier.
“The lass and I aren’t looking for any trouble,” he called out to the three men, “but I know my maths. Three on one? That’s not good odds for you boys.”
“Three on two,” I corrected and stepped to the side of the wannabe knight before muttering “macho asshole.”
His head swung to face me. Scrunched eyebrows gave way to a smirk and nod. I bit back a nasty response, something along the lines of not wanting his approval. It would have been a lie, not that it mattered. That he didn’t try to keep me out of the confrontation we found ourselves in earned the man a point or two… not enough to counter the lost points thanks to his beard and the white knighting.
“How about two on five?” asked one of the men in front of us.
I couldn’t place his accent. It sounded similar to most of the people I’d heard talk here in Glasgow, but maybe mixed with another. It wasn’t like I was a linguist, and now wasn’t the time to analyze such trivial questions. Two more figures stepped out of the shadows. My partner, at least temporarily, should have counted as two, maybe even three of the men we faced off against. He had the size advantage and I’d already seen what he could do back at the pub.
As much as I’d have liked to say I could hold my own, I didn’t have any fighting experience, just a self-defense class or two. Five of them against the two of us? The odds were not in our favor but from what I could see, the odds of our escape weren’t that much better.
“I can’t run in these heels,” I admitted.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got this handled.” The White Knight cracked his knuckles and stepped in front of me. He stared at the leader. When he continued, his voice echoed on the row of houses lining the street. “Numbers aren’t everything, but you might have us beat. I can promise you something though.”
He continued down the sidewalk, ambling as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He pointed to each of the men in front of him. Despite myself, his little performance already had me seeing him in a more favorable light.
“Before I go down, one of you will lose an eye.” He pointed to the leader and tilted his head. “It’s probably going to be the first one of you to take a swing at me. So, who’s it going to be? Which one of you cunts wants to look like a pirate?”
Another point for my would-be savior. He’d taken that right out of my playbook: keep your enemies guessing. He held his hands out, an invitation to rumble. The men down the street whispered to each other but I heard only hisses from this distance.
“Nobody wants to man up? Not even your fearless leader?” he continued when none of them stepped forward to face him. “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, eh? When your leader ain’t willing to put in the work, why’s he the leader then?”
“You talk too much!” yelled the lead thug.
He stomped forward, waving his men to stay back when they moved to follow. The question of his accent answered itself before he even reached the White Knight. He wore a big bushy beard and had skin the color of rich honey. Definitely south Asian, maybe Indian?
Whoever he was, he rushed forward, one arm reared and ready to strike. The White Knight leaned his head back. The fist flew through the air he’d occupied. The attacker swung with his left hand but it was battered away. The Knight lashed out with a fist. A meaty thwack sounded and the lead thug stumbled back, hand slapped over his eye.
“The hell, mate? You really hit me!” he whined.
