Page 7 of Protecting Christina

Will

The dim lighting in the lower-level bar hid the bruise on the side of Tina’s face well. But I still knew it was there. I saw the yellow and blue marks when she walked past me toward the well-lit kitchen.

I sat at the end of the bar while she waited on tables and tried to ignore me.

Her piece-of-shit boyfriend was on the other side of the bar, nursing his fourth beer and arguing with a stranger about the Yankees.

“What happened?” I asked her when she returned with my whiskey.

“Nothing,” she said and dropped the glass in front of me. Liquid sloshed from her shaky hand and onto the polished wood.

“Shit,” she whispered and grabbed the towel in the pocket of her apron to clean it up.

I leaned in close to her ear. “Did he do this to you?”

“No.”

She was lying.

I could tell by the way she avoided my eyes and the tightness around her mouth. I’d never caught her boyfriend mistreating her, but there was an awful feeling in my gut I couldn’t ignore.

I’d been coming to the bar at least twice a week for months now. At first for my own pleasure, but after I spotted bruises on the waitress’s body, I started coming for her.

I’d been trying to get her to open up to me for weeks, but she didn’t budge.

Before she left, I slipped a card into her apron pocket. “Put that in your work locker,” I said. “If you ever need to get away, you can call me or call that number. Someone will get you.”

She frowned. “I don’t need any help.” Then, she grabbed the card, slammed it next to my drink on the bar, and walked away.

I sighed and dropped my head into my hands.

Damn it. It was too soon.

I stared at the amber liquid in the glass in front of me and beat myself up for not being more patient with her. I took the glass and threw it back, swallowing the burn as it seeped down my chest.

It was nearly two o’clock in the morning, the bar would be closing soon. I watched the boyfriend closely as he sucked back another beer.

I watched the highlights of the baseball game on the television while I waited.

Finally, the lights came on and everyone was told it was closing time. Some people groaned, but mostly everyone picked up their belongings and walked toward the front door. Her boyfriend struggled to get up. He tipped over a chair as he attempted to raise himself.

“Tina, get your boyfriend’s drunk ass out of here,” said the owner.

“Yes, Sonny.”

Tina rushed over to the drunk and tried to put his arm around her shoulder. It kept falling off.

I walked over. “Here, let me help you.”

“I don’t need—”

I ignored her obvious attempt to get rid of me and yanked her boyfriend up by his waist. “Pull your car around to the front and I’ll drop him into the back seat.”

She hesitated for a second, then nodded and left.

Alone with the piece-of-shit, I was tempted to threaten him. But I knew whatever I said now, he wouldn’t remember it the next day. Yet, I couldn’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth.

“Listen up, asshole.” I jostled him until he half stood with his arm around my shoulder. “You’re going to sleep this off and not argue or fight with your girlfriend tonight. You got that?”

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