Walking Disaster

Shepley and I played pool while the girls looked on. We were winning again, after having already pocketed $360 from the last two games.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Finch approach America and Abby. They giggled for a while, and then Finch pulled them onto the dance floor. Abby’s beauty stood out, even amid the bare skin, glitter, and glaring cle**age of the naughty Snow Whites and sleazy referees around her.

Before the song was over, America and Abby left Finch on the dance floor and headed toward the bar. I stretched up onto my toes to find the tops of their heads in the sea of people.

“You’re up,” Shepley said.

“The girls are gone.”

“They probably went to pick up drinks. Get to stickin’, lover boy.”

With hesitation, I bent down, focused on the ball, but then missed.

“Travis! That was an easy shot! You’re killin’ me!” Shepley complained.

I still couldn’t see the girls. Knowing about the two sexual assault incidents the year before, it made me nervous to let Abby and America walk around alone. Drugging an unsuspecting girl’s drink was not unheard of, even in our small college town.

I set my pool stick on the table and made my way across the wooden dance floor.

Shepley’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Where are you going?”

“To find the girls. You remember what happened last year to that Heather chick.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

When I finally found Abby and America, I saw two guys buying them drinks. Both short, one was thicker around the middle, with a week’s worth of scruff on his sweaty face. Jealousy should have been the last thing I would feel when looking at him, but the fact that he was clearly hitting on my girlfriend made this less about his looks and more about my ego—even if he didn’t know she was with me, he should have assumed by looking at her that she wouldn’t be alone. My jealousy mixed with annoyance. I’d told Abby a dozen times not to do something so potentially dangerous as accept a drink from a stranger; anger quickly took over.

The one guy yelling to Abby over the music leaned in. “You wanna dance?”

Abby shook her head. “No, thanks. I’m here with my—”

“Boyfriend,” I said, cutting her off. I glared down at the men. It was almost laughable trying to intimidate two men wearing togas, but I still unleashed my full-on I Will Kill You expression. I nodded across the room. “Run along, now.”

The men cowered, and then looked to America and Abby before retreating behind the curtain of the crowd.

Shepley kissed America. “I can’t take you anywhere!” She giggled, and Abby smiled at me.

I was too angry to smile back.

“What?” she asked, taken aback.

“Why did you let him buy your drink?”

America let go of Shepley. “We didn’t, Travis. I told them not to.”

I took the bottle from Abby’s hand. “Then what’s this?”

“Are you serious?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m f**king serious,” I said, tossing the beer in the trash can by the bar. “I’ve told you a hundred times . . . you can’t take drinks from random guys. What if he put something in it?”

America held up her glass. “The drinks were never out of our sight, Trav. You’re overreacting.”

“I’m not talking to you,” I said, glaring at Abby.

Her eyes flashed, mirroring my anger. “Don’t talk to her like that.”

“Travis,” Shepley warned, “let it go.”

“I don’t like you letting other guys buy you drinks,” I said.

Abby raised an eyebrow. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”

“Would it bother you to walk up to the bar and see me sharing a drink with some chick?”

“Okay. You’re oblivious to all women, now. I get it. I should be making the same effort.”

“It would be nice,” I said, my teeth clenched.

“You’re going to have to tone down the jealous-boyfriend thing, Travis. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I walk up here, and some guy is buying you a drink!”

“Don’t yell at her!” America said.

Shepley put his hand on Travis’s shoulder. “We’ve all had a lot to drink. Let’s just get out of here.”

Abby’s anger turned up a notch. “I have to tell Finch we’re leaving,” she grumbled, shouldering past me to the dance floor.

I took her by the wrist. “I’ll go with you.”

She twisted from my grip. “I am fully capable of walking a few feet by myself, Travis. What is wrong with you?”

Abby pushed her way out to Finch, who was flinging his arms around and jumping around in the middle of the wooden floor. Sweat was pouring down his forehead and from his temples. At first he smiled, but when she yelled her goodbyes, he rolled his eyes.

Abby had mouthed my name. She had blamed it on me, which only made me more mad. Of course I would get angry if she did something that could get her hurt. She didn’t seem to mind so much when I was bashing Chris Jenks’s head in, but when I got pissed about her taking drinks from strangers, she had the audacity to get mad.

Just as my anger boiled to rage, some ass**le in a pirate costume grabbed Abby and pressed himself against her. The room blurred, and before I knew it, my fist was in his face. The pirate fell to the floor, but when Abby went with him, I snapped back to reality.

Her palms flat on the dance floor, she looked stunned. I was frozen in shock, watching her, in slow motion, turn her hand over to see that it was covered in bright red blood gushing from the pirate’s nose.

I scrambled to pick her up. “Oh shit! Are you all right, Pidge?”

When Abby got to her feet, she yanked her arm from my grip. “Are you insane?”

America grabbed Abby’s wrist and pulled her through the crowd, only letting go when we were outside. I had to walk double-time to keep up.

In the parking lot, Shepley unlocked the Charger and Abby slid into her seat.

I tried pleading with her. She was beyond pissed. “I’m sorry, Pigeon, I didn’t know he had a hold of you.”

“Your fist was two inches from my face!” she said, catching the oil-stained towel Shepley had thrown at her. She wiped the blood from her hand, wringing the cloth around each finger, clearly revolted.

I winced. “I wouldn’t have swung if I thought I could have hit you. You know that right?”

“Shut up, Travis. Just shut up,” she said, staring at the back of Shepley’s head.

“Pidge . . .”

Shepley hit his steering wheel with the heel of his hand. “Shut up, Travis! You said you’re sorry, now shut the f**k up!”

I couldn’t say anything back. Shepley was right: I had FUBARed the entire night, and suddenly Abby kicking me to the curb became a frightening possibility.

When we reached the apartment, America kissed her boyfriend good night. “I’ll see you tomorrow, baby.”

Shepley nodded in resignation and kissed her. “Love you.”

I knew they were leaving because of me. Otherwise, the girls would be staying the night at the apartment like they did every weekend.

Abby walked past me to America’s Honda without saying a word.

I jogged to her side, trying an awkward smile in an attempt to defuse the situation. “C’mon. Don’t leave mad.”

“Oh, I’m not leaving mad. I’m furious.”