Page 24 of Maverick
“If I ever see you handle a woman like that again, I’ll be sending you home in a wooden box, and don’t think I won’t. As it is, you’re done. I’m going to speak to the commission.”
“No,” I say. “I don’t want to be the cause of–”
“He fucking caused it,” Maverick says. “He did. He can’t just grab you; he can’t treat you that way. He can’t treat anyone that way. And the fact that he thinks he can is why he’s gone.”
My heart is pounding hard, and I can’t believe that just happened. Maverick was forced to defend my honor because I created this situation where all these men think that I am an easy lay because I bet myself in a poker game, and had sex with no one.
I grab hold of Maverick’s shirt, and I drag him through the crowded bar, outside into the parking lot. I know that we’ve made a scene, a big scene, and I don’t really care. Everybody already thinks that we…
“I didn’t need you to do that,” I say as soon as we are outside.
“I don’t care. I needed to do it.”
“It was a public place, he wasn’t going to do anything.”
“Why are you defending him?”
“Because… Because it’s you and me and all of this that is creating the dynamic.”
“No. It’s men being fucking douchebags that’s creating the dynamic.”
I don’t know why I’m angry at him. I can’t explain it. I should be angry at Sean. I am angry at Sean. It’s not that I’m not. It’s just that I feel like all this attention has been brought on me bythis, and he’s part of the problem. Even though I’m the one who created the situation. I know that I am.
I also know that no matter what I did, even if I really did have sex with Maverick, there’s no excuse for what just happened. But I still feel so outside this community, and for one second I felt like I was part of it, now I’m going to be responsible for – no. I know that I’m not responsible. But I’m just upset. I just feel upset. And maybe it’s because Maverick is there, looking gorgeous, and I can’t have him, and won’t have him. I shouldn’t have him. But he’s acting like a protective older brother, not like a guy who thinks I’m pretty. But I already know that, because he chose to sleep rather than have sex with me.
“Come on. I’ll drive you back.”
“No. I don’t need you to drive me back.”
“I’m not leaving you by yourself. Not while any of that is going on.”
“I think you’re paranoid.”
“Yeah. I’m paranoid. You know why? Because the world is terrible. Because things happen to people, Stella, bad things. Maybe that would’ve been fine, and he would’ve left you alone if you had been insistent enough. Maybe he wouldn’t have followed you back to your trailer. Maybe he wouldn’t have forced himself on you, but I don’t know that I trust that for sure. And I’m never going to be the guy who stands there and watches shit like that happen. Okay?”
I’m starting to have more of a clear head, and I’m starting to be able to recognize that what he did was the right thing. That it was a good thing. I’m starting to be able to take this wild, reckless feeling inside of me and channel it to the appropriate target. The one who we left bleeding inside the bar. But it was the whole adrenaline rush of the moment and being shocked that he came to my rescue.
Or maybe just my discomfort with everything.
“You don’t have to be responsible for me.”
“Sure,” he says. He jerks his head in the direction of his truck. “Let’s go.”
I follow him, even if angrily.
“A lot of people are going to think you just punched him because you were jealous.”
“Great. I don’t care. There will be no doubt when I report him and get his ass suspended.”
“Yeah. I guess not.”
“You don’t have to play along with somebody’s bad behavior to be liked.”
“I know that.”
“Except you don’t.”
“No. I do, now that I’m thinking critically. I just wasn’t for a second.”
