Now I’m uncomfortable. All of a sudden the bar feels way smaller. People are too close.
“Whaddya say?” His words are slightly slurred. He leans in. “I never leave a woman unsatis—”
“Hey, buddy.”
Barry turns toward Miles’s voice.
“How about you apologize to the lady?”
Barry laughs in Miles’s face. “Why would I do that? I have a legitimate complaint.”
“Apologize or leave.”
Barry looks at his friends, the smile fading from his face. Without a word, he turns back and raises a fist, but Miles ducks out of the way. Barry stumbles forward but quickly rights himself andtakes another swing. Miles dodges it, but when it’s clear Barry isn’t going to stop, he hauls off and clocks him, full on his jaw. It sounds like a punch from an action movie—a cracking thud—and Barry spins around and lands chest first into the bar, spilling two drinks.
“You should watch what you say to my friend,” Miles says coolly, shaking out his fist.
Barry scrambles to his feet, now with a bloodied lip that’s already starting to swell. He takes a wild swing at Miles, who sidesteps it easily, puts his foot in front of Barry’s, and pushes him, tripping him to the ground where he lands face-first in a crumpled pile.
“Hey!” The female voice comes from across the room.
Miles lifts a hand. “Sorry, Gina!” He looks at Barry’s friends.
They look back, unsure what happens next.
Miles points to the floor. “Get him out of here.”
They scramble to pick Barry up. As they pull him toward the door, Barry starts shouting that he’s going to call his lawyer or the cops or someone to throw Miles in jail, all of these threats littered with expletives until, finally, they get him outside. And the door closes behind them.
As it does, the people in the bar cheer.
A couple of people pat Miles on the back as they pass by, calling him “Champ” and saying things like “That guy deserved it.”
Everyone slowly goes back to doing whatever they were doing, but my feet might as well be glued to the floor.
Miles looks at me, wild-eyed, still wired from what just happened.
I have no words. But then I look at his hand and blurt out, “Ice!” I grab him by his good arm and pull him over to the bar. “Can we get some ice in a bag?”
Gina, who has yet to return to the stage, looks at Miles, rolls her eyes, and points to a door behind the bar. “Go get some out of the cooler.”
I lead him through the door and into the kitchen, then point to a stool. “Sit.”
“You’re so bossy,” he says.
“Yes, I am. Especially when people do stupid things.” I walk around the kitchen, searching for any kind of plastic bag.
“Hey.”
I turn and find him holding a large, empty freezer bag. I walk over, grab it, and point at the stool again. This time, he sits.
I fill the bag with ice and walk back over to Miles, then carefully pick up his already swollen hand and gently set the ice on his bright red knuckles. “Why did you do that?”
He moves slightly, his body angled directly in front of me. “Was that one of your app dates?”
“Miles, it’s fine.” I go quiet. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s not fine.” He stands, eyes fixed on me.
