He moves around us, casually, which blocks our exit from the barstools. “Don’t break my heart. You girls can’t leave when the night’s still young.” He rests his hand on his chest. “I’m Joe, and I’ve got a thousand dollars’ worth of chips in my pocket. I could use the help of two beautiful women like you at the craps table. For luck.”
Becky and I give each other a look, and I let out a breath of frustration. The night had been going so well. We’d been having such a good time.
“We’re not here to gamble,” Becky tells him.
“You don’t have to gamble,” he replies. “All you need to do is stand there and look pretty. Maybe blow on my dice.” He wipes under his bulbous, oily nose and leers at Becky, which disgusts me. I glance uneasily around the bar. It’s quite empty for a Saturday night.
“My boyfriend’s on his way to get us,” she says. “He’ll be here any minute.”
Joe grins and chuckles. “Yeah, sure. Any minute now.” He waves his arm toward the casino. “Come on, ladies. One game. My friends are down there. We’ll buy you drinks all night long. Everything on us. It’ll be fun.”
He puts his hand on my hip again, but this time I slap it away. “Do youmind?”
His bushy eyebrows lift, and when he talks, his breath stinks of onions and beer. “Don’t be rude, sweetheart.”
Honestly, I could barf. “I’m not your sweetheart.”
While I wait for his stupid retort, something behind me distracts him. I glance over my shoulder, and there’s a guy standing with his elbows on the bar, one foot planted on the brass rail. He’s tall and younger than Joe, about my age. Broad shouldered. Has all his hair. He seems to be waiting to order a drink.
“How’s it going?” he asks in a friendly tone as he turns toward us.
“All right,” Joe replies uncertainly, which tells me that they’ve not met before. “What’s it to you?”
The guy behind me shrugs. “I don’t know. I was sitting over there watching the situation, and it seemed like you were being a bit pushy after the ladies said they were heading out.”
Joe glares at him and rolls his thick neck. “Pushy.”
“Yeah, just a bit.” The guy seems totally relaxed and unthreatened. He speaks offhandedly. “I think these ladies just want to go home.”
All my instincts are telling me to back away from this situation, but I can’t move because the guy who has come to our rescue is standing directly behind me and I’m in the middle of this.
Suddenly the bartender, who looks more like an Olympic weight lifter, joins the conversation. He braces both fists on the bar.
“Everything all right over here?” His blue-eyed gaze swings from Joe to the guy behind me.
Joe downs the last of his beer. He sets the empty mug on the bar and wipes his thick hand across his mouth. “Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you later.”
He turns and stalks off. We all stand in silence, watching him go.
The guy behind me speaks to the bartender. “Thanks, Kev.”
The bartender fills a mug of beer and slides it forward. “This one’s on me.”
Becky and I watch their exchange with interest.
“No, I still owe you from last night.”
“You can fill up my gas tank—how about that?”
“You two know each other?” Becky asks.
I can’t help but ask a follow-up question. “Or do you come here every night to defend unsuspecting women from annoying predators?”
The guy who came to our rescue takes a swig of beer. “Kevin and I used to be roommates. And sorry about that asshat. What was his name? Joe? He looked like a Joe. Nothing against Joes in general, but ...” He sips his beer again and shakes his head. “I need to stop talking.”
Maybe the martinis haven’t completely worn off, because Becky starts laughing and can’t seem to stop.
“You don’t need to apologize for him,” I say. “You’re not responsible for who he is.”
