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“No,” I said, simply, then tried to give my attention back to my mug.
“Yo, excuse me?” he asked, obviously not getting the picture since he stepped closer.
Rolling my head back in his direction again, I gave him another quick-once over.
In addition to the wack haircut, his clothes were ill-fitting too.
Ugh.
I let out a sigh, resigning myself to the fact that a one-word answer was clearly not enough.
“Stop. Talking. To me.”
I let my gaze linger on his, my face pulled into a drab expression long enough to make sure I’d communicated effectively this time. His brow knit together in a frown as my words connected –bingo.
I gave my attention back to the stage, focusing hard on the pretty singer and her pretty boyfriend on the keyboard.
Well… I tried.
Again.
It was hard to keep my focus there when some motherfucker had his hand in a vice grip around my forearm, yanking me up from the bench where I’d been seated and almost making me spill my mug.
It had been so long since I killed a man.
Damn.
I spent a split second erasing my mentaldays without incident board, and then I snatched my arm away from… whoever the hell this dude was, as I struggled to keep myself calm. My mentor would bereallydisappointed in me, if I handled this the way I wanted to.
So I was trying.
“Who the fuck you think you talking to, huh?” His breath was sour with one too many shots as he hissed in my face, obviously emboldened by the darkened room, and the crowd’s attention on the stage.
A smile played at my lips as I looked him right in the eyes, deciding right then that Icouldn’tlet this ride. “If you don’t walk away and leave me alone… a dead man.That’s who.”
“Ay, what’s going on over here?” a deeper, heavier voice broke in, and another man stepped between us, looking in my direction long enough for me to register the“security”label printed across the front of his tee shirt. “Are you fucking with her?” he asked the guy, then gave his attention back to me. “Did I see him put his hands on you?”
“Nothing I couldn’t have handled on my own,” I assured, looking around him to glare at ol’ boy, who was suddenly a lot less bold than he’d been with me.
“I wasn’t trying to cause any problems, this bitch just—”
“Bruh,” Mr. Security interrupted, snatching ol’ boy by the collar of his shirt. “You know damn well it don’t work like that in here. Let’s go,” he insisted, practically dragging the guy away.
It only took me a moment to realize that little exchange was garnering unwanted attention, so I wasted no time slipping away before somebody decided to pull out a camera phone.
Something I hadn’t even thought about when I was considering killing his ass.
Good thing I didn’t have to.
I was waffling on a decision to stay or go when the final notes of music rang out, closing the show. And then the lights were back up, illuminating the room full of strangers and reminding me of where I was.
This had been eventful enough.
It was time to go.
My tea was cold now, but it couldn’t hurt to see if I could take one back across the street with me.
“Another spiked chai. To go,” I told the barista after I’d patiently waited my turn, then took a seat at the steadily emptying bar until it was ready. Now that the music was done, I assumed they must be closing soon, based on the thinning crowd.
