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I need to just excuse myself to the ladies’ room and sneak out.
Plenty of times I’ve been in uncomfortable situations with people I didn’t care for. A few of Aunt Ginny’s friends were gossipy and annoying, but I still had to be there, playing the attentive host when they gathered to drink tea and play bridge. She taught me from an early age that it was better to smile and nod politely than to create conflict that wasn’t needed.
I turn around slightly, looking out over the club. The dance floor is nearly full now, and all the couches are occupied. One semi-circular couch is set up near the middle of the crowd on an elevated platform. A dark-haired, square-jawed man sits there with two women and a bottle of expensive bourbon. Clearly, he’s a VIP of some sort.
“Are you safe?” Aaron abruptly asks as he turns to me, the tip of the beer bottle barely moving from his lips.
“Am I what?”
“Safe.”
“Um…” I narrow my eyes, not really sure what he’s asking. “Can I get some context?”
“Are. You. Safe.” He says the words slowly as if that makes any difference.
“I still need some context.”
“I want to know if you’re safe.” He continues to look at me, apparently refusing to qualify the question.
I wonder if he’s been reading some kind of self-help book on how to get to know people, and he’s just repeating random questions.
“Without context, the question is meaningless,” I reply. This is starting to piss me off. “I always wear my seatbelt. I’d also like to try skydiving sometime. You’ll have to clarify the question for me to give you a valid answer.”
He shakes his head, clearly unsatisfied with my answer. He yells at the bartender to bring him another beer as I look around for a sign pointing out the restrooms. Of course, if I sneak out, I’m leaving him responsible for my drink. If I ask for a check, he’ll figure out I’m leaving even in his current state, and that would hurt his feelings. Maybe he’s had a rough day, and I’m just being too hard on him.
“You never know what someone else is going through,” Aunt Ginny would tell me. “Sometimes people are unfriendly because they’ve been treated poorly, and you should be the person who always treats everyone with kindness and understanding.”
I take a deep breath and order another drink. If I’m not stepping out, I should at least enjoy myself. Maybe I’ll get enough alcohol in me to join the dancing college students. Hopefully, Aaron has too much beer in him to join me.
What if he wants to dance?
I’m not sure I can handle that. The very thought makes my stomach churn. As Aaron grabs yet another bottle of beer, I wonder why I don’t just leave. I already know the answer—I don’t want to hurt this guy’s feelings by walking out on him after an hour. I also rather like the club. The music is fun, and the bartender is efficient even if overworked.
A tall, muscular man walks up to the bar, squeezing between Aaron and the woman on the other side of him. He yells at the bartender, but the bartender waves him off. Apparently, he doesn’t have enough patience to wait, and he leans over to grab a bottle of vodka from behind the counter.
“Hey!” The bartender moves up and reaches for the bottle.
For a brief moment, Aaron actually releases his bottle of beer and sits it down on the counter. He turns to me and leans forward a bit more.
“You’re fucking hot, you know that? Are you a cherry, Cherry? I’d like to taste that cherry.”
My mouth drops open, and I lean away from him. Before I can answer, the tall, muscled man next to him pulls the vodka away from the bartender, and in the process, knocks his elbow into Aaron’s bottle. It tips over, and beer spills across the bar and onto Aaron’s lap.
“Motherfucker!” Aaron jumps up, fists clenched.
He’s a good six inches shorter than the blond guy and probably fifty pounds lighter. I have no idea what the hell he’s thinking, but everything happens so fast, I can barely react. All I do is sit there in shock.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, asshole!” Aaron yells.
“Oh, wow, dude!” the tall man says. “I’m really sorry. Let me get you a new one.”
“Fuck you!” Aaron turns on him, eyes blazing. “What about my fucking jeans?”
A few of the patrons sitting at the bar jump up and move out of the way. Others gather in small clumps, staring pointedly, but no one moves to intervene. I sit frozen in my seat, having no idea what to do. I get that Aaron’s a bit upset, but his reaction to the obvious accident is insane. Aaron stands on his toes, still glaring, as the tall man’s expression makes a slow but definitive change from friendly to absolutely menacing.
“Listen, dude,” he says. “It was an accident, and I’ve apologized. If you don’t get your shit together, you won’t be walking out of this club. You get me?”
Aaron quickly glances in my direction, and his eyes narrow even further. Without a word, he rounds on the tall man and pulls back his fist. He lets it fly with great force, and his fist glances off the tall man’s chin.
