The Boys Who Loved Me - Krista Wolf Page 0,79

man,” one of my Vikings said, scowling. “That’s not cool.”

My three blond Vikings had been my best customers all day. They were smiling, handsome, and complementary. It also didn’t hurt that their costumes showed off their incredibly toned arms and shoulders. And in the case of one of them, some magnificent abs too.

I set the beers down in front of them, receiving a round of return smiles. The other three steins I set in front of their rivals — three men dressed up like pirates that happened to be across from them. The six of them had been arguing back and forth about football, all night.

“What’s not cool?” one of the pirates asked.

“Uhh… you calling her a beer wench?”

“But she is a beer wench.”

“OR,” one of the Vikings pointed out, “and get this — maybe she actually has a name.”

He pointed to my nameplate, and the pirate with the blacked out teeth leaned forward to squint at it. While he was there he took a good long look at some other stuff, too.

“Candy?”

All three pirates laughed. The laughter was exactly as you’d expect from pirates.

“Candy’s not a name, bro,” he sneered. Looking me up and down, he added a yellow-toothed grin. “It’s something you eat.”

“Some people sure,” I replied glibly, tossing a sly smile at my Viking hero. “But you? Maybe not so much.”

An “Ooohh!” went up from the whole lot of them; all except the one with the blacked-out teeth. Rather than roll with the insult, his face contorted in anger.

“Looks like someone might’ve had a little too much candy,” the pirate snarled, poking me in the rump with a grubby finger.

I twisted away, doing my best to bite my tongue. But before I could say anything, one of the Vikings was already going back at him.

“And it looks like your face caught fire and someone tried to put it out with a hammer.”

The pirate was on his feet instantly. So was my Viking hero — the one with the real life beard.

“Look, he’s not even worth it,” I said, trying to intervene. In doing so I laid one hand on a very hard, very amazing chest. “Let him be. Karma always comes back around.”

“Karma takes too long,” my Viking hero spat. “I’d rather beat the shit out of him right now.”

The other four men stood up, three on each side of the table. They did it so quickly the bench skidded out from under them.

“Don’t even give him the satisfaction,” I said, while glancing nervously around for a bouncer.

“Well I was going to give him a nasty look,” the second Viking with braids smiled. “But he already has one.”

The pirate cocked his head incredulously as he turned to face his new antagonist. The braided Viking however, merely sipped his beer.

“Look at him, he’s lost in thought.” The blond man laughed, foam still clinging to his lip. “Seems to be unfamiliar territory.”

I cringed as the pirates’ hands balled into fists. All of them.

“Tell your friend to insult me one more time,” the man with the blacked-out teeth grunted low. “Just one more.”

“I’m not insulting you,” the Viking shot back glibly. “I’m describing you.”

Oh shit…

They were on each other quickly, arms raised, hands screwing into each other’s costumed shirts as they grabbed each other from across the table. No one had thrown a punch yet, though. Peace hung precariously for a second or two, like the calm before the storm.

“Fine,” the Viking with the foam lip eventually sighed, “Allow me to apologize. After all, two wrongs don’t make a right.”

The pirate holding his shirt slowly relaxed his grip. But only a tiny, almost imperceptible notch.

“Take your parents for example…”

Two

SOREN

I was hit before I even saw the punch coming, and that was mostly my fault. Part of the blame went to Lucas and his never-ending stream of insults, but in retrospect I’d known for the last hour or so that the evening could end up like this.

CRACK!

You never forget the sound of your own teeth clacking together. It wasn’t the first time for me, and it probably wouldn’t be the last — especially as I was still active in the local MMA circuit. But I’d missed my window to go big, and I probably wasn’t good enough anyway. The reality was bitter at first, but stark honesty helps in that business. Especially when you want to keep your real teeth.

“Tristan, DUCK!”

Lucas’s cry came just in time as the pirate who’d scrambled over the table tried laying him out with a haymaker