Page 28 of Pretend
“Hell yeah. I would never let a man walk in here with a mask; Creature is the only one who gets a pass. Because if anyone else walked in with one, they would go straight to jailimmediately. Hannibal and I go way back. We deployed to Africa once. Fucker saved my buddy’s life. I didn’t know who did it at first. All I know is the guy behind me, holding an RPG to him, got sniped. I found out later it was Creature.” Gabe raises his hand, turning them into fists, and they knuckle touch. “This was before he joined Grim’s team.”
Suddenly, glass shatters a few feet away from us and interrupts the trip down memory lane. It's loud but recognizable. It sounds like someone dropped their big glass pitcher of beer on the floor.
While I’m unphased, Daegan gets startled and stiffens. His eyes quickly search for the origin of the sound, like he's ready to fight someone. His hands clench, and his knee starts to bounce fast and hard.
He stares down the men that caused the ruckus. Customers on the other side of the bar are the culprits. They’re yelling at each over God knows what, poking and daring each other to make the first punch. Gabe shakes his head like he’s used to these things happening all the time. I assume he is, being the owner of El Devine. He throws a white towel over his shoulder and whistles to security, leaving Daegan and me alone to confront the drunken men.
I expect Daegan to continue to pry about Ravenmore, but he hasn't moved. I do a double take, watching him, concerned. His knee continues to shake, and he’s reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a bullet, spins it between his fingers, and hums a tune.
It's like I’m not even here anymore, and Daegan is somewhere else.
His eyebrows narrow inward, still watching, and another glass breaks, causing him to spin the bullet faster like he’s pissed off. His shoulders tense, and his skin begins to shine like he’s in a cold sweat.
I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I want to tap his shoulder, but someone beats me to it.
Kane pats his shoulder three times, and Daegan stops humming a tune and fidgeting. He pockets the bullet and lifts his face to Kane.
“Let's go burn one real quick.” He holds a pack of Marlboros in the air, shaking it.
Without another word, Daegan gets up from his chair and leaves with Kane. They go towards a patio outdoors where there’s tables and a smoking area.
I retreat to Winters only to find her gone, her seat empty with no Lopez in sight. I check my watch, and realize it’s nearing closing time. People are starting to leave for the night.
Deciding to venture deeper into the bar to look for my friend, I check my phone, sneaking it on my walk through the dancing crowd to the bar for any missed messages from Jack.
But nothing.
“I’m going to eat this ass one day.” A drunken, slurred raspy voice snarls into my ear.
Frankie's slap on my ass has me stumbling over my feet. A burning sensation floods my skin, the pain intruding every boundary I have, and I yelp once his fingers dig in more over my jeans, hard like he's trying to take my clothes off literally.
“Frankie! Stop!” I brush him off, push him away with my hands, and he takes one step back. As I walk away, he tries to get a hold of me again. Thankfully, my reflexes are fast, and he misses. He aimed for my hand like he wanted to pull me into his chest, but I snaked it away just in time. He stares at me with lustful, drunken, glossy brown eyes as I walk away.
“Leave me alone!”
He giggles, letting out a loud burp in between his humiliating laughs.
“We're just getting started, Alessia! Jack isn’t here.” He shouts over my shoulder as I pick up my pace and make my way towards the El Devine restrooms to let the tears fall.
No one has violated me like that before in public. Frankie pushed his limits tonight. His terrible flirtatious ways changing into physical assault have me fuming.
I want to tell Jack about Frankie. I want to call him and tell him his friend just groped me, but then I’m reminded that Jack probably won’t do anything to comfort me.
He’ll tell me it’s my fault that Frankie touched me this way.
Hoping he’ll prove me wrong, I send Jack a text.
Me: Frankie just groped my ass. I'm not okay. Will you come pick me up tonight?
I stare at my phone as I walk faster, and thankfully, Jack reads it. Typing bubbles reflect, and I'm anticipating him to say,
Of course, babe.
I’ll come to get you.
Punch him in his throat.
Anything.
