“Look at these two fags.” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice. “Out here on a little date. Can’t even eat dinner in peace anymore.”
Elliot’s face goes tight. He straightens in his chair.
“Hey,” I say, easy, turning slightly toward the other table. “We’re just having dinner. No trouble here.”
The big one smiles like I’ve handed him something. “Oh, it’s indeed a date? That’s sweet. What, you two gonna toast to it next?”
His friend laughs. “Bet they’re splitting the dessert too. Real men don’t do that shit.”
I keep my hands relaxed on the table. “Real men don’t need to announce it at someone else’s table,” I say. “But sure.”
That gets a reaction. The big one shifts forward. “You got a mouth on you.”
“I do,” I say. “And I’m using it to tell you we’re not interested. So leave it there.”
For a second, I think it might actually work. The men turn back to their drinks, still muttering, but easing off. Elliot stays rigid beside me, turning fully in his chair.
“No, actually,” he says, voice sharp. “I want to hear what he means by that. What exactly is your problem with us?”
My stomach drops. “Elliot.”
He doesn’t stop. “Because if you have something to say, say it properly. Don’t mutter it at our table like a coward.”
The big one’s smile goes flat. “There it is. I like ‘em feisty.”
Another one stands.
“Okay,” I say, getting up, keeping my voice level, putting myself between Elliot and the four men. “We’re all going to take a breath. Nobody needs to do anything right now.”
The big one looks at me. “You brought this here.”
“We sat down for dinner,” I say. My voice stays low. “That’s all we did.”
“You people always got something to prove.”
There it is, that lazy, contemptuous line, reducing everything they don’t want to understand into something small and easy to dismiss. My feet stay planted, but my hands won’t settle, itching for something to hit.
I’ve heard it everywhere. In the ED, in waiting rooms, in corridors where people think they can get away with it. I’ve never let it slide, not even back when I thought I was straight and it had nothing to do with me.
“You know what,” I tell him. “You’re right. I do.”
I take one measured step forward.
“We get to be here, same as you. Who I take to dinner is nobody’s business but mine. You don’t get to sit there and make us into a problem you didn’t ask for, because we’re not a problem. You want to throw words at us, fine, but they don’t land the way you think they do. This stops here.”
I hold his gaze. “So we can do this the easy way, where you sit back down and we all finish our meals. Or we can do it the other way. Your call.”
The silence stretches tight between us. He then steps in close enough that I can smell the sour beer on his breath. The other three move with him, crowding. Two of them taller than me. I guess this was never going to end any other way.
I hear Elliot’s chair push back behind me. Hear him stand. For a second I think he’s going to say or do something, and maybe the other three think so too because one of them turns toward him with smug looks, waiting.
Elliot holds their gaze for a beat, then drops back into his chair. The one who’d been watching him laughs and turns away, satisfied.
“Guess it’s just you,” says the big one in front of me.
His hand closes around the front of my shirt and yanks hard. Fabric twists tight across my chest, cutting into the back of my neck. I’ve got one second. My hands come up quick, weight shifting back onto my heels as I start calculating the grip, the angle, how quickly I can twist free and drive my knee up.
Then something moves in my peripheral vision, fast. Faster than a man that size should be able to move.
