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Leonidas put up a hand without looking behind him. Be cool.
The blond guy stood but didn’t move from his spot… though he focused on the trucker like a Secret Service agent watching a jittery meth head at a presidential rally.
“I don’t want any trouble,” I said aloud. My voice was calm, though adrenaline was pumping through my veins.
“No trouble, miss,” the king said, though he didn’t take his eyes off the trucker. “But nobody disrespects a lady like that in my presence.”
Okay, I’m a modern woman, with modern sensibilities. I don’t think anybody’s ever called me a lady unless they were twelve years old or younger. And then it was, Hey lady, you dropped somethin’!
Half of me – the feminist half – was like, Don’t call me ‘lady,’ and I can take care of myself.
The other half was like, Swoon!
The king took no notice. He just stood there, expressionless, staring at the trucker. Without looking, he pulled a fat wad of bills wrapped in a rubber band out of his pocket, stripped off two twenties, and set them on the counter.
“There,” he said, cool as ice. “You’re all paid for. Time to move on.”
“Fuck you, jack,” the trucker spat. “I’ll leave when I wanna fuckin’ leave.”
“You’ll leave now,” the king said, and put one hand on the trucker’s arm.
That did it.
The trucker reared his arm back and swung –
The king sidestepped easily and punched the trucker right in his oversized gut.
Mr. Neanderthal doubled over. From the way his eyes bugged out, it seemed like his eggs over easy were about to come up.
But that wasn’t the end of it. Oh no.
The tattooed king grabbed the trucker by his greasy hair, spun him around, and SLAMMED his head down on the counter – once, twice, three times.
BAM, BAM, BAM!
Dude’s baseball cap came off in his plate of eggs.
The king grabbed the hat, wrenched the trucker around, and frog-marched him out of the diner’s front door. As a final send-off, Leonidas kicked the trucker right in the ass and sent him sprawling onto the asphalt parking lot. For good measure, he flicked the eggy baseball cap on top of the trucker’s body.
“Don’t come back,” the king ordered, then turned around and headed inside to raucous applause from everyone inside – except me and the blond Viking.
Leonidas nodded to the diners, accepting their show of approval but tacitly letting them know Show’s over. Everybody turned back to their bacon and eggs, their mood much improved.
He walked over to the counter, grabbed a couple of napkins out of the dispenser, and wiped his hands like he’d touched something distasteful. Which he had.
“Thank you,” I said coolly. “But I could have handled it.”
He looked up at me and grinned. The crinkle at the corner of his eyes – the slight smirk in his lips – the twinkle of those baby blues –
Damn if it didn’t make me weak-kneed.
“I’m sure you could have,” he said, not mocking me, just agreeing.
“You overpaid,” I said, sliding his two twenties towards him across the counter.
“Keep it,” he said, still smiling merrily, and turned to the door. By now the stone-faced blond guy had walked up.
“It’s too much,” I called after him.
