“Next round’s on us,” Enrique yelled, and he stood so that he could sort of tipsily shimmy in place. There was laughter from around the tables. At some point, a few more Grizzlies had shown up, so we were nearly a full-fledged party all on our own. “Let’s do boilermakers. Shots in the glass!”
There were laughs and boos, but no one stopped him as he sashayed his way to the bar and drew Daryl closer with a crook of a finger. He rested his elbows on the bar and popped his round ass out in such a way that the Viking decided to split his looks between Enrique’s ass and his beer.
Harley leaned against me and lowered his head until he was scowling directly into my eyes. “I cannot drink whiskey in awful beer. I barely enjoy actual beer, let alone an abomination like that.” I glanced at his glass, and he was still only a quarter of the way through his first drink.
“It’s fun,” I shot back.
“It’s disgusting,” Harley said, quite clearly, so that heads turned our way.
MacBain leaned forward and caught Harley’s eye. “Don’t be a fuckin’ pussy. Oh, wait.” He laughed much harder than was necessary, and while I loved a good pun, and assumed that Enrique had been telling stories on the way here, I was starting to get pissed off at this asshole.
Harley flushed, and Enrique must have heard MacBain’s bellowed remarks all the way from over at the bar because he came back and stage-whispered at him to behave.
“Relax. We’re just having fun,” MacBain said, then added, “so shut that pretty fucking mouth.” He tapped Enrique’s lips with his fingers. Enrique’s face flared red, and I knew that look. He was two steps from chewing MacBain out.
“Let’s go, Harley,” I said, standing. I couldn’t stay here anymore. I suspected the drunker MacBain got, the more of an asshole he’d become, and I was already feeling like doing something I shouldn’t. Harley joined me and I took his hand.
MacBain’s eyes bulged a little. “We’re ordering drinks. You’re not leaving because of one joke?”
Letting go of Harley, I took a couple of steps until I was right next to MacBain, and got in his face, feeling that piece of me that demanded to be in control charge to the surface. I wasn’t the team coach right now, I was Harley’s fucking Dom, because he was uncomfortable beyond the point where I thought he should tolerate it, and I wasn’t about to let this shit stand from some jackass who happened to be fucking my ex this week.
“You should know better than to do what you just did. Say what you did. There are strangers here.” I jerked my thumb toward the Grizzlies. “And, bucko, you should never use someone’s kinks to humiliate them. What the fuck kind of a Dom are you? Twisting something they love like that is completely fucked.”
MacBain got to his feet, but I didn’t back off, and we ended up bumping chests. Silence settled around us, except for “Running with the Devil” thumping from the jukebox as an undercurrent to the tension.
“I didn’t realize we were having a who’s-the-better-Dom competition.” He reached over and grabbed Enrique’s wrist, yanking him around until he was at his side.
“That’s not what’s happening. I’m telling you that you were rude to Harley. I don’t like the way you’re handling Enrique, either, but that’s because he’s my friend. And I think you’re kind of a jerkwad in general,” I added as an afterthought, though maybe I should have kept that one to myself.
“It’s fine,” Enrique and Harley said at nearly the same time, so that I felt like I was hearing an echo, and that just pissed me off more.
“It’s not fucking fine.”
Evan and the two Grizzlies at the table near us stood, and Evan sort of raised his hands and patted the air in front of him. “Cool out, guys. We all know that Enrique and Harley are both pretty.”
That got him some tense chuckles from everyone else, but a vein stood out on MacBain’s forehead. He lunged forward and shoved me. The smug bastard stood there looking pleased, probably thought I would just eat it from him since he looked like he crunched a side of steroids with breakfast, and I couldn’t talk myself out of pushing him right back. He hit the chair behind him and nearly toppled over, and his hand on the table to catch himself wobbled all the drinks along the tables that were pushed together.
Evan must have run because he seemed to materialize out of thin air as he inserted himself neatly between us in next to no time at all, a wall of muscle I couldn’t see around too well without getting right up against his back and going on tiptoe. I pointed over his shoulder at Enrique.
“If you don’t feel safe with this chump, stop seeing him.”
MacBain lunged, but Evan had his arms out, and apparently he didn’t feel confident in his chances of bull-rushing an ex-cop. “You son of a fuck.” He tried to swat at me over Evan’s shoulder, but it seemed Evan had had enough because he herded MacBain away from me.
Harley stood off to my side with his eyes wide and nostrils flared while he waited, stock-still, for me to make some sort of decision. I snagged his hand from his side, and he moved with me, matching my pace the second I started toward the exit.
There was clattering behind us and yelling from our table, but I didn’t stop to see what was happening. When we cleared the bar door, Harley slid close to me and clung to my side. I soaked in the comfort of his warm body and knowing he was okay. We were nearly to my car when a hard hand on my shoulder spun me around. I swept Harley behind me and stood again, nose to nose, with MacBain.
“Enrique’s off your shitty fucking team. He’ll play with the Surfballers from now on.” Spit sprayed my face and I took a second to wipe it off, which had MacBain growling.
Pure fury pelted through my gut in a wave of cold heat. “No. He can resign if he wants by talking to me, but you don’t make those decisions for him.”
“Oh, really? You don’t know our arrangement, asshole. Yes, I do. I make all of his choices.”
Evan, along with one of the Grizzlies, grabbed MacBain from behind, and they dragged him a few steps away from me. Enrique stood with his hands on the sides of his face, like he was trying to shield himself from view, and met my gaze. He mouthed “sorry” at me, but it was clear he was humiliated.
MacBain swore and wrestled himself free to stalk toward his car. Enrique chased after him, gravel scattering from under his feet.
Nicky came to a stop beside me, shaking his head and still sipping his beer.
