“You’re hot.”
He’s not one of the bikers, ironically. I would expect that type of brutish and crude introduction from a man covered in motorcycle grease and leather. This guy seems like a regular Bostonian, all the way down to the drunken entitlement.
“Thank you. I’m trying to leave.”
“No way,” he says. “I could finger you at the bar if you want.”
What the fuck?!Some men are out of their goddamn minds.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. What the fuck are you here for, huh? I promise it’ll be good.”
Is that what he really thinks my biggest concern is?
“No thank you. I’m going to check on my friend.”
“No way, sweetheart,” he says, putting his hand on my thigh. I freeze. I want to smack him in the face or punch him, but as soon as my hand moves, I consider the fact that this guy is twice my size and could easily throw me across the bar if he wanted.
“Stop touching me,” I say as loudly as I can with a heart racing in total panic.
“Or what?”
A voice standing behind the guy says loudly. “Get your fucking hands off her.”
My assailant turns around with his fists raised. My thighs melt into the seat as relief that he isn’t touching me anymore spreads through my body. I still need a way out.
“Or what?” My assailant says to the guy standing behind him, who I can finally see clearly now that my body isn’t frozen in place by a stranger’s firm palm.
“It’s too late,” the tall, blond biker says. “I already decided I want to beat the fuck out of you for fun.”
My throat clenches.He can’t be serious.The biker takes a bottle of whiskey off the bar and within seconds, he smashes it and wields the broken bottle neck like a weapon. A blonde woman leaning over the bar to nurse her white claw is the first to turn and see what just happened and to realize that it’s not just a drunken accident.
She screams.Loudly.The blond biker slashes the guy’s arms, sending blood spurting out of him. He didn’t cut with efficiency. He cut to make a point. To make the man bleed like a pig. It’s my turn to scream – when really, I know I should run. I just can’t. My body won’t move as I watch unbridled and demented rage surge through his body.
“It’s not your right to touch any woman you please.”
The guy who touched me tries to fight back, but I can tell he’s the type of entitled drunk guy who maybe expected a couple fists, but didn’t expect this to turn into an all out brawl. The biker grabs him by the collar and throws him against the bar hard, ditching the knife for his fists. All hell breaks loose.
My assailant didn’t show up at the bar alone. His friend picks the smallest biker of the group that he can find and throws a punch that only escalates the situation further. I have to find Rana before this gets even more out of hand. Zeb keeps throwing punches and now several men are engaged in a fight that looks like it’s only going to get worse. I step between a few tables, unable to find Rana in the crowd as most of the people at thebar try to escape before the cops get here – or something worse happens like gunshots break out.
The crowd is too crazy for me to find Rana. A tall woman’s elbow smacks me in the face and not only can I not find Rana, I’m not sure that she’s even still here. Hopefully the guy she was with didn’t abandon her in this crowd.
I’m at risk of getting trampled, so I push through as many people as I can to find the wall. I press my back against the wall and slink along it to one of the bar bathrooms, which is empty.Thank God.I lock the door as soon as I enter the bathroom, grateful that I found an empty one while the mess going on outside the door gets louder. I pull out my phone and see a text from Rana.
Rana: I’m outside. Where are you?
Me: Hiding in the bathroom.
Rana: Crap!!! Can you get out before the cops get there?
Me: I’ll be fine. Save yourself.
Rana: Are you kidding?! I should get back in there.
Me: NO!! It’s a zoo.
Rana: Shit!! Can you find a window to climb out?
