Then I heard it.
From the cluster of men near the firepit, Douglas Tucker’s voice rose as clear as a slap.
“I’m going for a piss. Then I’m tracking down the baby sister. I’ll let you know if the collars match the cuffs.”
Amid laughter from the group, one of his colleagues, in his forties and with his shirt open to reveal a blotchy chest with untrimmed hair, wrinkled his forehead.
“Her collars? What are you talking about? She’s practically fuckin’ naked.”
Another rolled his eyes. “It means he’s taking a trip downtown, you idiot. Checking if the hair down there matches her dye job.”
Tucker chuckled affably then tapped his nose. “Natural blondes are dumb as fuck and easy to lay. Bottle blondes are high-maintenance gold diggers. Learn from your elders.”
The younger colleague nodded eagerly, taking in the information. “We like the dumb ones, right?”
“Exactly. Come watch, if you like. I’ll show you how to make them do what you want, even if the bitch is skittish. Then you can show me what you learned and have the second go.”
Every muscle in my body tightened. Time slowed.
How dare they? How could they talk about another person like that? If Jessie had heard…
A few feet away but hidden from their sight line by another group, Jessie stood rigid, her tray gripped in both hands. Her mouth opened then shut again.
My heart sank. She was a teenager. Old grey-moustache Douglas Tucker had to be sixty if he was a day. And he’d just threatened to assault her while his buddy watched.
The group standing between her and Tucker parted, leaving Jessie in the spotlight.
Tucker turned, spotting her. His disgusting gaze slid down her body, and the old goat licked his lips.
I didn’t think. My feet moved of their own volition. It was the hurt in Jessie’s eyes that spurred me on. Her learning moment that men judged women on how fuckable they were before any other thought crossed their asshole brains.
An ice bucket chilled champagne on the outside bar. Gold, beaded with condensation, and more importantly, full.
I picked it up, stowing the bottle on the bar top.
Stalling on his way to Jessie, Tucker grinned at my approach. “Ah, now there’s a nice pair of tits. You’re a little old for my tastes, but?—”
I launched the bucket.
Ice and icy water crashed into his chest and face in a glorious, glacial cascade. He gasped and staggered backwards, his friends scrambling from the table. Then Tucker slipped clean off the decking and hit the grass.
Silence followed, the music ceasing with a record scratch by the half-naked DJ. A single glass shattered somewhere in the garden. Genie stood stock-still, eyes wide, her red-lipped mouth dropped open.
But it was Jessie I watched. More importantly, her quiet flight across the garden, my actions releasing her from her shock.
Tucker sputtered, soaked from collar to crotch. “What the hell? You crazy bitch!”
My heart beat so hard, but I held his gaze. “Big talk, shrimp dick.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Unfortunately, yes. If you’ve forgotten in your senility, we have name tags.”
Gasps chased a few shocked laughs. One of the girls covered her face with her tray to hide a smile. Tucker spluttered outrage.
I couldn’t stop. “You’re a little old for a lesson, but someone needed to teach you to respect women. Even if we’re the entertainment, we deserve to be treated as humans.”
Tucker climbed to his feet and stepped up to me, fists bunched at his sides. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you’ll never work another party in this city.”
