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I can’t help it.
My own hand reaches out, grabbing his and twisting, so it’s behind his back. My body moves quick, pinning him to the wall where minutes before, he had Lola locked in.
Doesn’t feel so good, does it now?
“You even think about putting your hands on her again, we’re going to have problems.” He tries to push back, to remove himself, possibly fight back, but it’s clear that he’s not used to being in this position. He’s not used to being the smaller man, in stature or socially. “I do not see you here. I do not see you at this bakery. I do not see you on the boardwalk. You come near Lola again, I’ll come find you. You might have friends in high places, but I won’t need friends. I will find you, and I will make you fucking pay. You leave Lola alone.” I push harder on his wrist, digging it into his back until a soft sigh of pain comes from his lips. “Tell me you understand.”
Silence.
I press harder, pulling the arm up his back at an awkward angle, his face pressing into the pink wall of Lola’s bakery. She makes a distressed noise from behind me but stays put.
For once in her life, the woman is doing what she should be.
Thank you, God.
“Do you understand?” I ask again, pressing harder and knowing that much more will lead to more than an ache in the morning.
Not that I give a shit.
“I understand,” he grumbles out, the words muffled with strain.
I don’t let go, holding on to the position for a few moments still before letting go and pushing him toward the door.
“Not worth my fucking time, Lola,” he says, grabbing something from the ground that fell earlier before I can get a glimpse of it.
“Then shouldn’t be a problem then, should it?” I say, moving to completely shield Lola with my body. We move as one, following Johnny’s progress to the front door of the bakery.
But a man like that, he can’t leave without getting the last word.
“You better figure out a way to settle this, you fucking cunt,” he says, spitting at my shoes. His next words come quieter, directed to the shaking woman behind me as he tucks a white envelope into a jacket pocket. “If not, I’ll be taking a lot more than a kiss,” he says, and then he’s gone.
I watch as he walks out the door, pushing it so it slams behind him and the glass rattles, my eyes following as he turns left down the boardwalk. I wonder if he’s walking to his car to head back up toward Newark or if he’s going to another business on the boardwalk, another business owner who made the wrong choice in their pursuit of the American dream.
Once he’s out of sight, I walk to the front and flip the deadbolt, noticing it doesn’t stick before I shake my head. “Fuckin’ Brad,” I mumble under my breath, grabbing a nearby chair and notching it under the handle. It will have to do for now. Then I turn back to Lola.
She’s in the same place, back to the wall, staring off at the front door as if I’m not even standing a few feet away from her.
That’s not what worries me, though.
This woman might drive me insane, but she’s confident. Sure of herself. There’s never been a moment when she goes toe-to-toe with me where she’s backed down, questioned things.
But right now? Panic runs through me as I look at her.
She’s shaking.
From head to toe, she’s shaking.
“Come here, Lola,” I say, opening my arms as I stand in front of her.
In any other situation, any other woman, I’d pull her into my arms. I’d force her, drag her to me, shield her from the world.
But with Lola, I just don’t fuckingknow.
Something tells me I need her to come to me. To make that choice, take that step on her own.
I don’t think she heard me, though, her eye still on that door, somewhere else.
“Lola, come here,” I say once more, my voice firmer, louder. Finally, her head turns to me. She heard me now, but this is almost worse. Now that she’s facing me, I can see her eyes. They are glazed, fear and adrenaline needing an outlet. My decision is made. “Now,” I say, my voice demanding.
