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“You could say that.”
Cash chuckled. “He’s being way too modest. Dyl was practically a freaking prodigy. The second coming of Conor McGregor. Except, you know, with manners and without the inflated ego.”
I was fascinated. Dylan didn’t exactly strike me as the type of person who’d be interested in such things, but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense.
Why else would Cash and Red trust him to help run their training sessions? He knew what he was talking about, giving pointers and suggestions with the confidence and command that only came from experience.
“The second coming of Conor McGregor?” came a man’s gruff voice. The stranger was seated at the next table over, slurring his words and leaning in his chair haphazardly. It looked like he’d had one too many beers with his dinner. He turned his nose up at Dylan, sneering. “This shrimp? Ha!”
Dylan didn’t bother reacting, too secure to let the drunk asshole’s comments get the better of him. I, on the other hand, was offended on his behalf. A shrimp? Dylan may not have been a professional fighter like Cash or Red, but he was still tall andbuilt. I was fairly certain he could break the guy with his unwarranted comments in half if he felt so inclined.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to eavesdrop on other people’s conversations?” I asked. “Kindly mind your own business.”
“What’s your problem? Can’t take a joke?”
“A joke? I don’t hear anybody laughing.”
“Whatever, bitch.”
“Easy,” Red piped up. A warning.
I could tell just by looking at the glossy nature of the man’s eyes that he didn’t have his wits about him. Or any good sense. If anything, Red’s attempted interference only spurred him on.
“Ooh, we’ve got ourselves a tough guy, do we?”
Dylan shifted in his seat. “This is a family restaurant. If you want to get shitfaced, haul your ass over to the Old Anvil Bar. You’ll be much more welcome there.”
The guy stood up from his seat, much to the horror of his two companions sitting with him.
“Phil, for Christ’s sake,” the woman sitting across from him hissed. “I’m so sorry. He’s not usually like this.”
“Don’t apologize to them, Martha. They’re the ones being assholes.”
“Oh my God,Dad,” the younger lady at the table grumbled. “Stop it!”
The drunk pointed a finger at me, practically sticking his hand in my face. “You owe me an apology, you stuck up bitch.”
Cash rose abruptly. “Get your finger out of her face.Now.”
“Or what? Tough guy wanna fight me?”
“Phil, sit down this instant.”
“Dad, come on. Can’t we just have one good night?”
I swatted his hand away. “You’re embarrassing yourself, Phil. Just sit down and enjoy your dinner with your family.”
“Don’t tell me what to fucking do!”
He stumbled forward like he was going to put his hands on me.
Cash moved with the speed of lightning to shove the guy out of the way.
Red and Dylan both pulled me toward them to keep me out of arm’s reach.
The man tripped backwards, his arms flailing, accidentally catching the edge of the passing waiter’s drink tray.Water and beer spilled everywhere, glass shattering on the restaurant floor. The majority of the drinks soaked straight through my shirt, the sudden cold knocking the air from my lungs.
“Oh!” I gasped, shivering.
