For You(3)
Author: Mimi Strong

I looked around for Bruce, but he was deep in conversation with some regulars at the bar.

The two rednecks had become a group of five at the pool table, all chanting, “Aubrey, Aubrey!”

Lana told them my name? I sincerely wished I’d made up a fake name for working at the bar. It felt so invasive to have people I didn’t know using my name, acting like I was their friend.

One of the guys put a pile of rumpled bills on the edge of the table. A hundred dollars.

The skinny guy handed me a pool cue and taunted me with his hateful glare. “Sink that shot and you get that money,” he said.

“What if I don’t make the shot?”

“If you lose, you have to give me a big smile.”

“Fine.”

I approached the pool table. Everyone got quiet, all eyes on me.

I leaned down and looked at the balls. The orange ball was in the easiest position, so I leaned forward and rested the cue on my knuckles.

“Not that one,” the guy said, angling to get behind me as his friends all leered, practically slobbering at the prospect of me leaning over the pool table. “The green. Corner pocket.”

“Fine.”

“Get ready to smile.”

I tried to focus on the shot, to block out the noise of the bar, but that only made me more aware of my heart pounding and my hands sweating. I wiped my palms on my black skirt and leaned forward again.

Everything felt wrong. My arms felt wrong, and my legs were shaking. When was the last time I’d eaten? Was this the kind of shot that seems easy, but the white ball just follows the other down the pocket?

I was so focused on the shot, I didn’t notice the guy moving up on me until it was too late, and he had his body behind me and his hands on my ass.

I grabbed one of the pool balls and wheeled around, ready to hit him with it.

The dirtbag was down on the floor, and a tattooed arm flashed before me as Sawyer pulled away from the man. One punch, and the guy was already down, holding his hands up and apologizing. Sawyer looked furious, but in control.

Holy shit, that happened fast.

Lana was there, breathless and patting my hand.

“Honey, you all right? I just saw it happening from over there and we came right over. They were getting a little handsy, but that was out of line.” Her eyes were wide and sympathetic.

Sawyer and the guy’s friend were already hauling the man up and out by his armpits. I wanted to kick him, but stayed back with Lana.

“I think my shift is over,” I said.

“Get on home, then! I’ll see to your section’s tabs. It’s the least I can do for sending you over here like this.”

People were staring, and someone was pointing a cell phone our way, taking a photo or video. Or maybe just checking their email. I couldn’t tell, but I felt suspicious.

My head was buzzing from the adrenaline. I darted behind the bar to grab my purse, and ran out the back door, on the opposite side of the building as the entrance. Walking wasn’t fast enough. Hearing nothing but the sound of my feet on the pavement and my own breathing was all I needed to clear my head.

How could I have been so stupid? Bruce had mentioned that he needed to get a mirror put up in that corner of the bar. I should have known those guys were trouble, but I’d lost my senses for what… a hundred dollars. Or the promise of it. And what if he’d tried to do more than grab my ass? I didn’t want to think about it.

Someone was running after me, calling my name.

I thought maybe it was Bruce, but it was Sawyer, gaining on me.

Chapter Two

“Oh, just leave me alone!” I yelled back at Sawyer. “I’m fine.”

“Let me walk you home!”

I stopped and wheeled around, ready to lay into him. It was all his fault. He’d gotten those guys riled up in the first place with his little talk.

As he got closer, I saw he had blood on his knuckles.

The world started to get blacker than it already was, the starry sky pulling itself into one small speck of light. My knees buckled.

I dropped to the grass, and he sat right next to me.

“I shouldn’t have hit that guy,” he said.

“I’m glad you did.”

“My heart’s pounding.”

I breathed deeply and felt my own heart, slowing down now.

We were sitting on grass next to a sidewalk, at the mid-point between two streetlights.

He was looking so concerned and enjoying his opportunity to be Mr. Tough Guy Hero.

“Thanks for everything, really.” I got to my feet. “I just want to go home.”

“Fine. I’ll walk you.” He shook his hand and rubbed his knuckles on his T-shirt, leaving a smear of blood on the dark brown shirt. His knuckles didn’t look cut, so it must have been the other guy’s blood.

I got walking, and Sawyer skipped to catch up.

“I don’t feel like talking,” I said.

He didn’t respond to that, just walked silently alongside me.

After a few minutes, I decided I didn’t mind his presence. When he wasn’t talking, I could pretend he was a pit bull. My own personal bodyguard.

The air outside was warmer than I expected, given it was still spring. I imagined talking to Sawyer, telling him I’d lived in the country most of my life. I tried to find us places to live that were near parks and lots of trees, but a starry night sky like the one above us made me miss the country so bad. The sound of frogs around a pond was so much better than cars whizzing by on a main road.

I stumbled over some gravel, and Sawyer looked like he was about to sweep me up in his arms. Please. Yes, I was a little shaken, but I wasn’t going to shatter to pieces over one stupid thing like that. Bad things happen, and you move on. You do what you need to do to protect yourself, and you keep on living your life.

He looked down at me, concern still on his face.

A boy scraped by on his skateboard. Dogs barked. We walked past a run-down house with people spilling out the front door, smoking weed and talking loud over the music. Some of the guys called after us, telling us to come join the party, but I didn’t even look back. Sawyer gave them a friendly wave and we kept walking.

Before I crossed into Canada and moved here to Surrey, I used to hang out with some pretty wild girls I met at my last job. They would have marched right into that party and demanded drinks and smokes, no problem. They would have laughed and sat on the counter in the kitchen and flirted with all the guys.

Thinking about them made me crave a cigarette for the first time in months. Everybody at that fast food restaurant smoked, it seemed, and if you wanted to actually get breaks during a shift, you had to take up the habit. At first I only smoked that bargain brand, OP—Other People’s. Charlotte would find me in the kitchen, scrubbing down the fryer and say, “Hey, Aubrey. Want some OP?”