Oh, my God.
I plastered myself to the wall, terrified that I’d be caught in the throes of a bar brawl just because I was trying to do my job.
3
SERGEI
That poor, terrified woman. Her long brown hair framed her face as she reared back against the wall as if she wanted to flatten herself and be far out of harm’s way.
It pissed me off that she was in the direct line of danger with those two idiots jumping over the bar and trying to mess with her. The second that man behind the bar yawned and retreated behind a door that was labeledOffice, they laughed and plotted to harass the bartender even more.
“What the fuck you say?” the bald one said with a swagger.
“She told you to stop,” I repeated, speaking for the short woman who seemed to have lost her voice again.
The scrawnier man smirked, reaching out to push me, but I was faster. I grabbed his wrist and yanked toward the side, twisting his arm and getting him to cry out loudly. “She told you to back off.”
“What the fuck?” Seeing how his friend was wincing and breathing hard as I held his arm at an unnatural angle, the otherman tried to pry my hand off. His yell did the trick, though. The other bartender, taller and more of a natural at handling the bar, rushed over.
“What the hell?” She swatted at the men, pushing and shooing them to move out from behind the bar. “Get out. Get outta here! You can’t be back here. Pete!” she hollered it in a feisty, firm litany, tossing in some Spanish profanity.
While the skittish woman remained flattened against the wall, her chest heaving quickly with shallow breaths, the beer-bellied boss and the sassy bartender evicted the men from trespassing behind the bar. I sat again, unable to tear my gaze off the curvy brunette. She glanced at me again and again in between checking on where those two men had gone and her boss who scolded her for slacking and letting this happen.
If they had any fucking security here, that wouldn’t have happened.
It wasn’t this shy woman’s fault as she tried to do the work of at least three bartenders for the amount of business they were facing. She had to be an amateur, but there was no excuse for expecting her to keep up even with her more experienced coworker.
My rash decision to set foot in this lousy bar hadn’t included staying for long. Now, though, I couldn’t pull myself from watching over this woman. This bartender, who resumed working and mouthing her orders as if she needed the mechanical repetition to keep it all straight and not forget anything. This sweet employee who tried to smile the best she could when the rare customer thanked her for their drinks.
What’s a little thing like you even doing here?
I sipped my first beer, keeping those two men who’d harassed her in my peripheral vision. They lurked off to the side, pissed. I didn’t need to look their way to know they were glaring at me.
Why are you working in a shitty, classless place like this?
Watching the bartender filled the void my idleness would’ve had me stuck in. I didn’t know a single thing about her, but merely witnessing her nervousness and scrappy determination not to quit had me curious. Convinced she had to be new to the job or one of those kinds of socially anxious introverts, I couldn’t look away.
She was fine now, with half of the bar leaving since the big game was over. Fewer orders accumulated for her. Not as many complaints reached her. There was no masking the nervousness in her eyes or the jerky stiffness of her movements, but she could at least exhale deeply as the bar emptied somewhat.
That was my cue to go, too. When the pair of morons left, talking shit about me as they sauntered to the exit, I gestured for the bartender.
She raised her brows with a silent question as she approached. “Another beer?” she guessed.
I shook my head and held up a bill between my fingers. “I’m done. A tip for you.”
She smiled shyly and pointed at a jar.
I set the hundred in the jar but pulled two more out of my wallet. “For you,” I clarified.
Without lingering to see her acknowledge my personal tip for her, I turned and quickly followed those two men outside. It turned out that they had the same idea. A reunion wasimminent. As soon as I turned the corner outside the Diamond Mirage, walking down another dark and narrow alley, they tried to jump on me.
“You think you can be some badass motherfucker and—” The man changed his taunt for gurgles as I spun around and caught him off guard. My fingers wrapped around his neck as I slammed him against the wall.
I just knew they wouldn’t have let it go. Embarrassed to be put in their places or simply mad that someone else had challenged them by standing up for that bartender, it was a given that they’d be the kind of dumbasses to “pay me back”.
Too bad for them, Iwasa badass motherfucker. Squeezing the man’s neck with efficiency and muscle memory of many other victims who preceded him, I held him up. His hair clung and stuck to the brick as I shoved him up the rough exterior surface of the brick wall. With his feet dangling, his legs uselessly kicking, and his hands prying at my fingers choking him, I stared into his eyes and relished the realization.
He was dead.
