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She’d landed herself in a scene straight out of a kung-fu movie.
Rick bounced on the balls of his feet then quickly air-punched through some kind of boxing combination. He had large hands and meaty fists. With each bounce, he inched closer to Holly until one fist whizzed by, way too close to her head. “Jesus, Rick. Watch where you’re swinging those things! You almost took me out.”
With a laugh, he continued to fight an invisible opponent with all the coordination of a jellyfish. After a few more punches, he lunged forward as he threw a jab with his left. His damn fist came within an inch of her nose. So close, Holly had to jerk back to avoid a bloody nose. “Rick, seriously!” she said, practically yelling this time. Something had to snap him out of his drunken biker hatred.
“I’d lay him out flat, Holly. Mark my word, that biker won’t stand a chance against me.”
“Rick!” she shouted. Another fist aiming for an invisible LJ came flying toward her face. Holly tried to dodge it, but Rick’s aim and depth perception had been shot to shit a few beers ago. His fist connected with the tender cheekbone just below her right eye with the force of a Mack truck.
“Oh, ow!” Holly cried as pain made her face feel like it had exploded into a thousand pieces.
“Fuck!” Rick said. He lurched toward her and Holly wasn’t able to stop him since she’d doubled over, cradling her throbbing face.
“Don’t touch me,” she screamed as he tried to lift her upper body. She wrenched away only to whack the back of her head against the wall. Fuck this night sucked a big one.
“I didn’t mean it,” Rick said, suddenly seeming almost sober. “Let me take a look.”
“No!” She scurried past him, tears streaming down the right side of her face. Shit, the entire thing felt like it was growing by the second. “Please just stay right there.” Sounded like she had a mouthful of cotton balls.
Finally, Rick respected her wishes and remained in his hallway, with his hands dangling at his sides and a stricken expression.
Holly tried to run, but each step jolted a shot of agony through her swollen cheek. Instead, she power-walked out the door, down the driveway, and to her car. She practically dove into the driver’s seat then closed the door. Now she had to make the thirty-minute trip back to her house with one eye near swollen shut.
Then she had to face LJ.
The thought of it had her opening her door and vomiting onto the asphalt. Or maybe that was the pain, so intense she could barely think. Somehow, she had to find a way to drive, because there was no way in hell, she planned to remain parked outside Rick’s house for more time than absolutely necessary
Holly closed her one functional eye and leaned back into her seat. After counting to twenty and breathing in and out as slow as possible, she reached up and unfolded the visor mirror.
“Oh shit,” she breathed. Gruesome was too kind a word to describe the morbid state of her face. The swelling was epic. Her right eye was already rimmed with a deep, dark purple circle and puffed up like a bubble gum bubble. Purple bruising also mottled her jaw. It looked like she’d taken a massive beating instead of just one hard punch.
Her face needed ice. Unfortunately, it had to wait until she made it home because stopping somewhere wasn’t an option. Not with that face. LJ would be occupied with poker for the next few hours. Maybe she could shoot him a text claiming a stomachache. If she made it to bed before he returned home, she had a chance of postponing his impending detonation until tomorrow.
Took three tries, but Holly managed to get the keys in the ignition. Two seconds after the engine turned over, her gas light lit like Rudolph’s nose.
“No,” she whined. “No, no, no, no, no. This cannot be happening.” Her little old Jetta had scary few miles between the empty light igniting and running out of gas. She’d never make it home without filling her tank.
Fighting tears, Holly navigated to the nearest gas station. Only one other car idled next to a pump, and she chose the farthest spot from them.
As she waited for the tank to fill, Holly kept her head down and hair curtaining her face. Wasn’t much, but hopefully, it’d be enough to keep any other patrons who came upon her from noticing her face.
When the pump clicked off, Holly straightened and removed it from her car. Just as she was returning the nozzle to the rack, a voice from her right said, “Holly? Is that you?”
Shit, shit, shit.
A voice she recognized. Her stomach bottomed out. Faced with no other choice, Holly turned toward the newcomer. Bob Tanner, her parents’ next-door neighbor stared at her, jaw hanging and eyes bugging.
