Chapter Eight
Ria watched Cam as he wordlessly ordered more beer for them with just a few hand signals. As the bartender got their second round of drinks ready behind the bar, Ria gazed around the unique space, taking everything in. She wanted to live in this moment and remember every single detail for when she had to return home. The most awesome thing in the world was Cam bringing her here to this biker bar with pool tables.
She was playing pool! On Earth! In a biker bar! She wanted to do a dance, but kept herself under control as best as she could. Her eyes widened and the urge to sing struck her when she noticed a jukebox across the room.
Cam followed her gaze and laughed when he saw the machine. “I suppose you want to make a selection.”
“Isodo.” She bounced on her toes, trying to subdue her urge to jump up and down for joy like an overexcited child.
“Do you know what song you want to play?”
“Not until I get over there and see the choices.”
He fished in his front jeans pocket for some change and handed her some metal coins. “Here are some quarters. Have fun.”
She took the money and forced her legs to walk sedately across the room and not skip and dance like she was in a movie musical. She mentally added “movie night” to her list. Perhaps she’d also add “skipping and dancing” to her list and immediately check them off. Her Almanac of All Things Earthling had been the best purchase she’d ever made.
Once in front of the jukebox, she noted that each song selection was twenty-five cents or three choices for fifty cents. That second option was such a bargain, she couldn’t resist.
She selectedOur Lips Are Sealedby the Go-Go’s,One Way or Anotherby Blondie and something calledLovin’, Touchin’, Squeezin’by Journey. She’s never heard of the song, but chose it because it listed three actions she wanted to do to Cam with every breath she took. Love. Touch. Squeeze. Kiss. Snuggle. Marry.Stop it. Be cool.
Ria headed back to their pool table, navigating her way through the randomly placed tables and chairs. She was two tables away from her goal when she moved past a man sitting alone, chair balanced on the back two legs. She only noticed him when he reached out and grabbed her wrist. She spun on him as the opening line of her first selection thumped through the speakers. The front legs of his chair slammed to the floor.
“Hey, beautiful. Do we know each other? You look kinda familiar to me,” he said, tightening his grasp on her wrist. “Why don’t you sit with me for a spell so we can get acquainted again? I’ll even buy you a drink.”
“No, thank you. I already have a date and a drink.” She tried to pull her wrist from his grasp, but he held fast.
She tugged away again, harder, but he didn’t let go. “Come on, now. You can sit here with me for a minute. Your date won’t mind.”
She jerked away, but failed to gain her release. Her wrist was starting to hurt. “Let go of me or else—”
“Or else what?” He gripped her tighter.
She paused for a beat, but finished her thought. “Or else my date will beat the snot out of you and I’ll cheer him on when he wipes the floor with your limp body.”
“That’s not very nice,” he said with a sneer. She smelled his noxious booze breath and yanked her hand again. He wouldn’t let go. A ripple of fear coursed down her spine when she couldn’t get free.
“Grabbing my wrist and refusing to let go is not very nice, either.”
“Well, I call that dogged determination.” He grinned as if it was perfectly normal behavior to grab a girl and refuse to let go. His level of drunkenness must be greater than she thought.
She turned, launching away from him in hopes her wrist would come along with her, just in time to bounce her upper torso off Cam’s chest. His arms encircled her body and her panic bled away like water through a sieve. She hadn’t even heard him come over.
“Let go of her,” he said in a cold, authoritative voice.
“Or else what?” The guy had a death grip on her wrist. He stood up, wobbled a bit, but kept hold of her.
“Or else I’ll kick your sorry drunken butt into the next county and—”
A voice from behind them cut off Cam’s looming threat. “Randy, let her go or I’m calling the sheriff.” The bartender carried their second round of beers on a small tray as he voiced his warning.
Randy released her on the first syllable of his name. “Go ahead, call the sheriff. I didn’t do nuthin’ to her,” he said, leaning back in his chair to balance on the rear two legs again. Ria rubbed her wrist and contemplated pushing the front edge of his unbalanced chair sharply with her toe. Would he get up and fight?
Watching a bar brawl wasn’t on her bucket list, but she could add it. She was mad enough to take him down in a fistfight all by herself.
“You grabbed my wrist and wouldn’t let go. You call that nothing?” Ria asked, incredulous.
