CHAPTER TWELVE | OLIVIA
“Ok, I think the coast is clear,” Gia reported. She was standing on her tip toes and craning her neck to catch a glimpse of the crowded bar over my shoulder. After conducting a thorough scan of the room, she rolled back onto the heels of her ballet pink Tieks and gave me an affirmative nod. “Yep, no sign of Scott Fuller anywhere! You can relax!”
Easier said than done, I thought darkly.
The hair on the back of my neck hadn’t stopped prickling since I had stepped foot in Rusty’s Tavern and, even though Gia and I had yet to spot Scott Fuller, I still felt an acute sense of dread that he would swoop out in front of me at any given second, just like a masked murderer in a cheesy horror movie.
When Gia Rogers had invited me to tag along with the rest of the Hartford Fire Department for their weekly Friday night tradition of grabbing after-work drinks at Rusty’s Tavern, I had known that it was a bad idea right off the bat.
The day had already been a rollercoaster of emotions. With the emergency poolside tracheotomy, I felt like my emotional fuel tank was running on fumes.
I would have much rather spent my Friday night curled up in bed with a cold beer, a good book, and a pint of Ben & Jerry’s… but Gia wasn’t taking ‘no’ for an answer, and I didn’t have any fight left in me.
That’s how I ended up here, at Rusty’s Tavern.
The bar had already been pretty crowded when Gia and I strolled in, but we were able to stake our claim on an abandoned high-top table that had been pushed against one of the brick walls. There weren’t any chairs, but the table at least gave us something to lean on as we shared a pitcher of cheap draft beer that Gia had ordered from the bar.
The beer had helped to loosen up some of the tension that was knotted between my shoulder blades and in the pit of my stomach, but I still couldn’t relax completely; not when Scott Fuller could be lurking just a few paces away.
Gia had humored me at first, but after she had caught me glancing over my shoulder for the dozenth time, I knew that she was getting bored of playing Where’s Waldo: ‘Creepy Coworker’ Edition.
“Look, I know Scott’s an asshole,” she sighed heavily. “But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. The guy is harmless. He’s just… awkward and a little bit clueless when it comes to interacting with women.”
I knew that Gia was just trying to make me feel better, but my mouth still filled with a bad taste. I couldn’t help but think of the last time I had listened to someone make those same excuses for a coworker’s inappropriate behavior.
That time, things had ended up being far from ‘harmless’…
“I bet Scott won’t even come out tonight,” Gia continued, picking up the beer pitcher and refilling her plastic cup. Then she stretched the pitcher across the high-top and tilted it towards me, so that a stream of amber-colored liquid poured into my own plastic cup.
“He’s probably sulking at home as we speak, nursing that bruised little ego of his,” she wiggled her eyebrows deviously. “You know it took quite the beating today.”
“It was a rescue,” I said firmly. “It wasn’t about ego, it was about saving a life. If we had done things Scott’s way, that boy could have died.”
“You don’t think Scott knows that? That’s probably why he was so pissed off in the first place!” Gia snorted. “He obviously has a crush on you, and he probably thought that today was his big chance to impress you and score some brownie points. But instead of being the hero, he ended up looking like a loser.”
Maybe Gia was right about Scott. Maybe he really was just an awkward, clueless asshole, and maybe I was just being paranoid. But after what had happened back home in Rhode Island, I had learned the hard way that you should never underestimate an angry man with a bruised ego…
I took a sip of beer and let my eyes wander towards the opposite side of the bar, where a karaoke stage was set up. Some guy had just stumbled off of the stage after performing a very drunken rendition of Mambo No. 5, and a woman stepped up and took his place behind the microphone stand.
The karaoke monitor at the foot of the stage lit up as the next song hummed through the speakers; a Carrie Underwood ballad about cheating husbands and black Cadillacs.
“I love this song!” Gia gushed. She stepped around the table, swaying her hips slowly to the beat. “Come on, let’s dance!”
Before I could even open my mouth to protest, I was suddenly struck by a paralyzing tremor of shock as a hand gripped firmly onto my ass from behind.
The shock rattled instantly through my body, rendering me stiff and frozen in place as my brain lagged to process what was happening.
Somebody is grabbing my ass!
I jerked my body around and found myself staring face to face with my worst fucking nightmare. Scott Fuller. His eyes were dark and glassy and he was wearing a smug grin on his filthy face.
I wanted to be furious, but my mouth was dry and empty.
He lurched towards me and I stumbled away, backing straight up against the brick wall. Before I could dart to the side to get away, his arm shot up and he pinned his palm against the wall over my shoulder, trapping me beneath him.
The crowded bar around us disappeared. In that split second, it was just the two of us.
His body was inches from mine, and I could smell the stench of booze on his breath. He was drunk, and his anger was rolling off his skin in waves of heat.
I felt completely paralyzed and powerless. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move…
Then, from out of nowhere, I heard a gruff voice growl:
“GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER!”
My eyes flicked up in shock and I saw a familiar face emerge from the blackness that surrounded me.
Duke!
In the same instant, I saw Duke’s hands grip onto Scott’s shoulders and jerk him away from me then fling him aside like a rag doll.
Scott fell backwards and caught himself on the high-top, causing the table to crash to the floor. The pitcher of beer followed, spilling out a fountain of golden beer that puddled on the tile floor. Scott swerved away from the table, then he spun around to face Duke.
“Mind your own fucking business, man!”
“How about you mind your own business and learn how to keep your hands to yourself?” Duke countered.
“I’ll show you how I keep my hands to myself,” Scott muttered drunkenly, sounding almost incoherent. Then he twisted his arm back and swung his fist forward. I heard a horrible, fleshy cracking sound as his knuckles connected with Duke’s face.
DUKE!
For a split second, the entire bar was perfectly silent and still as Duke slowly raised his hand towards his face and felt where Scott had punched him. When he lowered his hand and saw the fresh blood that stained his fingertips, his face knotted with anger.
Without hesitation he balled his hand into a fist and took a swing, striking Scott square between the eyes before he even knew what was coming for him.
Scott’s body crumpled to the floor, and then the scene dissolved into a state of total chaos as a team of burly bouncers swarmed in to break up the fight. One of them wrangled Duke by the shoulders and dragged him away towards the front of the bar.
They’re throwing him out!
His eyes flicked up and caught mine, and then he disappeared into the chaos.
I tried to follow him. I ignored the sound of Gia calling after me, and I fought my way through the crowd as bodies pushed and shoved into me from all directions…
But by the time I pushed through the front doors and stumbled out into the night, it was too late.
The last trace of Duke Williams was a pair of bright red taillights fading in the distance as a car drove away…