“I don’t think you understand, homo. I wasn’t asking. I’m telling you to get the fuck out. We don’t want your kind in here.”
“What kind is that? The minding-our-own-business kind?” I asked.
He bent down close to treat me to a nose full of his onion breath. “You’re about to get your sorry ass kicked.”
“This tough-guy bullshit doesn’t work on me. Back off now and I won’t have to embarrass you.”
“You? Embarrass me? That stupid-looking suit you’re wearing is already embarrassment enough. Did your boyfriend make it for you? Did you suck his dick to say thank you?”
The scene played out in my head, me grabbing him by the hair and smashing his face into the table. Could an EMT tell the difference between dried ketchup and dried blood?
Guess we were about to find out.
“I can’t exactly get out of the booth with you standing there, can I?” I’d been so focused on him that I hadn’t paid attention to his friends. Friends who stood behind him.
He took one step back, keeping his fists clenched and ready at his side. Eyes burning with the need to prove he wasn’t all talk.
Great. I wouldn’t get out of here without physical contact.
As soon as I stood, he punched me in the mouth.
And it was on.
His second punch grazed the side of my head and I was able to grab hold of his wrist. I brought it down hard, spun and turned his arm into a chicken wing, tucking it tightly against his back and using it to propel him forward, smashing his face into the table.
He howled.
His friends ran.
“Not so easy to spew hatred when your mouth is full of blood, is it?”
He whimpered, “Let me go.”
“Nah. I’m happy to hold you until the cops show up.”
“No! Don’t call the cops!”
I looked at Ash. He nodded and pointed at the waitress.
“You took the first swing. Got a restaurant full of witnesses to attest to that fact. You were verbally abusive before that.”
He thrashed hard and I dug my elbow into the side of his head to keep him still.
The manager shooed other patrons away.
Ash hadn’t moved from his side of the booth. Cheeky bastard.
The cops arrived way sooner than I’d expected and took the guy off my hands.
I gave my statement, but the situation was pretty cut and dried. Bully loses and everybody wins.
“I oughta tell you, cuz, your lip is bleeding,” Ash said.
“Shit. Did I get any on my shirt?”
His gaze swept over my top half. “Not that I can see.”
“Good.” I’d just slipped my suit jacket on when the manager returned.
“I’m really sorry this happened. Your meal is comped.”
“Thank you.”
Ash held out my topcoat and shoved my arms in.
The manager cleared his throat. “Just so you know, we pride ourselves on diversity in our waitstaff and our customers. Please come back.”
“Just keep the bullying assholes out and we will.”
As soon as we were outside, Ash threw his arm over my shoulder. “We should do this at least once a week. That was fun.”
“Says the man not bleeding.”
“I would’ve jumped in if you needed it.”
“I know.” I touched my hand to my mouth. I’d definitely be sporting a fat lip tomorrow.
When we reached the parking lot, he stepped back. “All the punching and bleeding and name-calling aside, I’m glad we met up tonight.”
“Me too.” I held my arms open. “We cleared the air. Now we hug it out.”
He laughed and he returned my hug in that manly backslapping way of his.
“Drive safe. See you at the office.”
Sixteen
GABI
Skating with former NHL players was massively good for my hockey ego.
Even before we’d cemented the nitty gritty of the game plan for tonight, I’d had three of my new teammates tell me they’d watched me compete in the Olympics. And Rexall, the oldest man in the group, a player I’d grown up watching who was now a private skills coach, gave me props for sticking to my principles and walking away from my assistant coaching position at UND.
Then there was Matt “MM” McCoy, the hot, single goalie from Winnipeg who flirted with me incessantly.
That was good for my female ego too.
Rexall would serve as our coach. As team captain, Jax worked us hard. Since he and I were both centers, we wouldn’t be on the ice at the same time during the game, but during practice, line one—his line—played against line two—my line—and we raced up and down the ice.