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Worse still, the cashier actually picks up the man’s beer as if he’s going to let the prick get away with it.
Faye turns, finally seeing me.
I reach over and brush the hair from her face, then softly kiss her on the forehead as I walk past and right up to the counter. I don’t think about the fact that we’re in public, just that I want to comfort her and take away some of her frustration.
The cashier is a short older man with a combover haircut and thick glasses. He stares at me as I approach.
“I believe my girlfriend was first in line,” I tell the cashier.
“Uh…,” he nods. “Yeah, she was.”
“Strange then,” I say, feeling the other man stare at me, trying to figure out if he wants to start something.
It’s like I can sense how badly he wants to make this physical, how badly he wants to bully me.
But he knows he can’t.
He knows it would be a fair fight.
And men who behave like this can’t stand that.
“Why are you scanning this bastard’s stuff instead?”
“Careful,” the man rumbles.
I turn slowly to him, staring him straight in the eye, something he’s definitely not used to. He flinches a little under my gaze like he doesn’t know how to respond.
“What happens if I’m not careful?” I ask him calmly.
He looks like he’s in his mid-twenties, a big man who hasn’t learned humility yet. He’s got a mess of curly sandy hair and his eyes, when I really stare at him, look so arrogant I want to swing on him.
“If I wasn’t here,” I go on when he continues with his wannabe tough guy scaring, “you would’ve pushed in front of my woman without a second thought. I guess that’s how you treat everybody in your life. Big, strong, brave bastard, got everybody scared of you, haven’t you?”
I step forward, watching as he tries to make himself do something.
We’re far past the point where he’d normally get violent – I can tell how badly he wants to – but he’s scared he’ll lose. A bully will never get into a fight they think they might not win.
“What happens now?” I snarl. “I’m not scared of you. You don’t disrespect my woman. I can tell just by looking at you that you’ve never been put in your place.”
I step forward again.
He moves back, disturbing some candy, and knocking chocolate bars to the floor.
He flinches and bites down.
“I didn’t do nothing,” he says quietly.
“You pushed in,” Faye says, walking up next to me. “And when I asked you not to, you call me a….”
The man’s gaze flits to me quickly. “You don’t have to get into that.”
My fists clench. My blood turns cold.
I’ve never felt intent like this, bone-deep certainty that I’d tear this man to pieces to stop him from mistreating my woman.
I’d tear the world to pieces if that’s what it took.
“What did you say?” I snap.
