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Evie’s sweet voice penetrates through the red mist rapidly descending over me. Keeping my eyes on the prick in front of me, I say, “If you’ve ruined my night, I’ll hunt you down and slice you to ribbons. And I promise, I’ll find the fucking lot of you.” Casting my eyes over every single one of them, I add, “Now, are we fighting, or can I get back to my evening?”
I learned from an early age that a simple stare can convey your intentions, and most of the time, like now, it’s all that’s needed.
One by one, the group steps back. One suggests they get out of here, which I’m not going to object to. Showing no fear, I turn my back to them and face the two dumbest prospects the club has ever had. I really don’t like these arseholes.
“What are you doing here?”
“Just thought we’d pop in for a beer, Psycho.”
“Well, fuck off. And if I see you drinking anywhere but at the club, I’ll rip your fucking heads off and send them to your mothers with your dicks shoved in your mouths.”
They quickly leave without a word.
Tossing my money onto the bar, I wave off the change and carry our drinks back to the table, already feeling that the night is ruined. If she was nervous before, it’s worse now, because she has her hand on her jacket, looking as if she’s ready to bolt.
“Who are you?” she asks as soon as I sit down.
“I’m Louis.”
“One of those men called you Psycho.”
I swig my beer, stalling for time, but I can’t stall forever. “Tonight, I’m Louis.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been Louis and not Psycho, but as I don’t want to scare her off, I’ll be Louis.
“So it’s some dual personality type of thing?”
“Something like that,” I mutter.
I swear to all that’s holy, I’m going to find those lads and follow through on my threat.
“Look, I’m not judging you. I don’t care who you are or what you do, but I can’t be involved in anything shady.”
“This is only a drink. I promise, there’s nothing shady going on.”
Ignoring her wine, she stands up, slips on her jacket, and grabs her handbag. “I think I should go.”
The amount of pain I’m going to put those prospects through when I next see them.
“Evie, wait up,” I call as she heads for the door.
She’s halfway across the carpark when I catch up to her and block her way.
“I don’t see what the problem is. I stopped a fight from happening.”
This is really confusing me. I could have—and would have—opened them all up, and if I’d done that, I could understand her need to run off, but not because I stopped a situation from kicking off.
“I asked who you are because you stopped a fight by not throwing a single punch, or even raising your voice. Typically, the only people who can do that have dangerous reputations.”
I don’t want to lie to the woman again, so all I say is, “Look, at least let me walk you home.” That way, I can think of how to get around this clusterfuck.
She doesn’t say a word on the walk back to her house, and I feel like I’m running out of time. I’m really trying not to push her, but that’s all I want to do. I want to hear her speak, watch her face as she does—I need it.
I walk her right to her door, and every second of it is torture. I opt for telling her the truth before she can unlock it and disappear inside.
“I don’t often… enjoy myself. But tonight, we were having a good time until shit kicked off. I know my sister has told you I belong to The Road Wreckers Motorcycle Club, and if that’s what concerns you, then you needn’t worry. You wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”
Fuck me, I hope it’s the reason, because it’s something I can easily rectify.
