Page 42 of Wicked Tricks
“You know,” he started, taking a sip of his wine.
My eyes narrowed toward him, “it seems you already know everything. So, why don’t you just tell me what you mean?”
“I know about your foster parents, I’m just saying, it must’ve been a hard thing to go through. And I’m sorry you had to witness what you did.”
I sat back in my seat, crossing my arms, “you don’t know anything about me. So don’t sit there and act like you do because you read it in a report from one of your ‘employees’.” I used air quotations. By his employees, I meant the people who worked under him out of fear.
“Well why don’tyoutell me then?” he snapped back, “I’m just trying to get to know you.”
“No, it’s none of your business,” I said, storming from our booth to the bar, I needed something stronger than wine. He followed me, and I felt his presence behind me, knowing he was there.
“Look,” he said, reaching across the bar for my hand, then something caught his attention at the other side of the room.
“I’ll be back in a second.” He placed his hand on the small of my back as I sat on the bar stool - only for a moment, before he let it fall.
He walked away, looking back at me for a split second before he was intercepted by an older man, shaking his hand. They spoke for only a moment, before he was interrupted again.
“Mr. Popular,” I muttered to myself, before ordering a rum and coke.
How dare he try and bring up my past. Was he trying to find my weakness? Had I already let him in too much? Antoni excused himself swiftly from the group, and disappeared into a mysterious room to the back. The bartender placed a coaster in front of me before placing my drink down.
I thanked him, and chugged it down quickly- hoping to shake my nerves and find my inner bad bitch again before he returned.
I could do this, I chanted to myself.
I felt another warm hand on the small of my back, and I spun around to find a man who was not Antoni. I pushed his hand away, and leaned away from him in my seat.
“Excuse you,” I said.
He chuckled darkly, he was a giant, tall, with a broad chest. His grey polo shirt was stuffed into the waistband of his tan slacks. He was probably forty years old, at least. His blonde hair was darkening with grey at the roots.
“Haven’t seen you here before,” he said, taking a seat next to me without being invited.
“Funny that,” I mumbled into my drink, turning my whole body away from him. He leaned closer to me, he reeked of beer, and I rolled my eyes.
“You’re one of Lilith’s girls, I’ve seen you there,” he purred.
“Lucky you,” I countered.
“So, how about a freebie?” he leaned in close, bravely putting his hand on mine. I looked at it, and then to the small fork across the bar. I reached for it, wrapping my fingers around it and plunging the prongs into the back of his hand. He yelped, and there were surprised gasps, and the sudden stopping of the piano music forced the attention on us. I stood as he ripped the fork from his hand, and I twisted his arm backwards, forcing his torso against the bar.
In a second, I was surrounded, being pulled off the creep by a big dude. I thrashed against his hold, though he easily pinned my arms and held me still.
Antoni appeared, his eyes widening as he saw me thrashing in the guy’s arms.
“Let her go,” he ordered.
The man’s grip loosened on me, and I pounced as soon as I was free. I launched towards the creep, slapping him upside the head, but Antoni caught me by the waist and pulled me back.
“Rome,” he said, “stop.”
I gave up, smoothing my hair and taking a deep breath, looking down at my feet.
“Antoni, I’m so sorry,” the guy started, “if I had known -”
Antoni turned around, and with one swift motion, punched him square in the jaw. The guy went flying across the bar - this time nobody helped him.
Antoni adjusted his shirt, and nodded sympathetically to the bartender who was almost caught in the crossfire. The man moaned behind the bar, but he was ignored by his buddies. No one wanted to go against Antoni and help the guy. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and ran his free hand through his wild hair.
