“It’s not a big city here, mister,”the dispatcher tells me with an attitude that may as well translate to ‘you’re a piece of bear shit.’ Let me tell you, I tried ordering Uber or Lyft or anything online, but there were no cars available. None. It didn’t even show one. So, I had to ask the bartender for a local taxi service, and here I am, speaking to a local taxi over the phone, and the lady sure is not happy to talk to me. That rarely happens, and I feel bummed. Charm gets me everywhere, but it’s wasted on her.
“Okay,” I sigh, thinking we should have squeezed into the car with Alex and Justin. “How long is the wait?”
“Two hours.”Even more attitude.
“Okay. Thanks.”
And then she hangs up without even seeing if I want to wait two hours. Yeah, small-town hospitality is charming.
I go back to the bar and find Kenneth trying to prove something to the bearded dude who brought three equally bearded friends. I mentally roll my eyes at this primitive flock culture and walk to them.
“Hey.” I place a calming hand on Kenneth’s shoulder. “Everything’s okay?” I’ll never turn down a fight, but Benson is a sheriff known by a lot of people—I don’t know how it will look for him, so I try to avoid figuring it out on my watch.
“Yeah.” He looks at me, swaying a little on his feet. “What’s up?”
“There are no taxis available. Do you have anything like that in Little Hope you can call?” I ask him quietly, ensuring his new friends don’t hear me through the bar noise.
“Yeah,” he slurs and pulls his phone out of his pants. He shoots someone a message and chuckles when he gets ananswer, putting the phone back in his pocket. “Taxi will be here in about ten minutes.”
“Okay.”
“So, this is yourgirlfriend? I see he’s wearing eyeliner.” The bearded dude cackles and turns to his friend to wait for their reaction to his joke. “Is he gay?”
I roll my eyes because it’s so ‘hilarious’ I just can’t take it—a fucking homophobe with a groundbreaking sense of humor.
“He is not.” Kenneth puffs his chest. “But even if he was, what the fuck is wrong with that?”
The bearded guy stops laughing and steps closer to Kenneth. “We don’t need faggots in this bar.”
“Oh really?” he says as he inches closer to the dude without actually touching him—smart move, man.“How about stupid ass punks like yourself and your friends?”
If I got a cent for each time I was called gay, I could build a fucking house by now. Everyone thinks I wear eyeliner—I don’t. My eyes have naturally thick lashes, and it looks like I might have eyeliner on. But even if I did wear eyeliner, what the fuck would be wrong with that? The coolest dudes who can rock like no one’s business have always worn eyeliner.
Wear whatever you want. But these guys either think differently or are just looking for a fight, because the one I assume is the leader pushes Kenneth’s chest. Benson’s gaze drops to where the man’s hands are before slowly returning to his face. A maniacal smile spreads across his lips, and I see a kindred soul. He was waiting for the guy to make the first move.
He pushes the dude in his chest and tilts his head, inviting him to make another move. The dude’s nose flares, and he charges at Ken. Three of his friends follow his lead.
I catch the first one with a fist to his solar plexus, and he doubles over, attempting to catch his breath. The second one swings at me at the same time, and I duck down, avoiding hisfist to my temple. Instead, I introduce my fist to the painful spot under the ribs on his side, and he doubles over too. Yeah, graceful they are not.
The third guy tries to attack Kenneth, and I want to go and stop him because the sheriff is undeniably more intoxicated than I am, but even in his drunk state, he makes me proud by grabbing the man’s hand and bending it behind his back. He presses him into the bar as the first bearded guy rises from the floor—I missed how he ended up there—and swings at Kenneth.
And the scariest moment of my life happens. It takes two seconds, but to me, it feels like it lasts for hours.
A little figure with flaming hair jumps out of nowhere and starts hitting the bearded guy with her purse.
“Get off my brother!”
The man turns around and blindly swings at her. I make a jump to stop his hand, but before I reach them, his hand connects with her shoulder.
“Oh shit!” he yells as she stumbles back.
I don’t breathe.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
She gets herself together. Her face is a mask of anger, and before she attacks him again, I lose my shit.
