Page 33 of You Can't Fight Lightning
Roxy put her arms out and grabbed his head, pulling it close to her.
Was she going to kiss him? I nearly stopped in my tracks.
When his head was right next to hers, Roxy screamed in his ear, a loud, ear-splitting scream.
The man yelped, and let go of her, his hands on his head, moaning, stumbling back, bent over. “What the hell? You bitch!”
“You asshole!” Roxy screamed, kicking her leg up high and catching him in the stomach with the toe of her cowboy boot. “You complete asshole!”
“Stop it! I’m sorry! Stop it, you crazy bitch!” The man fell to the ground, trying to curl in a ball.
“Hey, can I help?” I came up behind Roxy, not wanting to get kicked in the heat of her anger.
She whirled around, anger flowing from her. “You can call the cops.”
“Of course.” I pulled out my cell phone and dialed 911.
Ten minutes later, the police arrived, and the man, named Donald Anderson, was arrested.
He screamed that Roxy and I were out to get him, which allowed Roxy to tell the police why Donald had accosted her in the parking lot in the first place.
They took him away with the lights flashing.
“You all right, honey?” An older woman put her arm around Roxy, coming out from the small crowd that had gathered. “And thank you, Mr. Big Guy.” She gave me an appreciative look.
“I happened to be here.” I left it at that. No need to explain.
“I’m so glad. We’ll go to court with you, Roxy, when it’s time.” The woman leaned in and kissed Roxy’s cheek. “You want a ride home?”
“I’m good.” Roxy’s voice was shaky. “I can make it home.”
“I’ll make sure she gets home.” I took one step closer. “She’ll be good.”
“Thank you.” The woman looked at me with a suggestive expression. “Night, sweetie.” She kissed Roxy again.
“I’m all right.” Roxy’s words sounded automatic.
“You might be experiencing shock. Let me follow you home. I won’t come in. I’ll just make sure you get home.”
Indecision warred in her eyes, in her expression. It was all over her.
Please, please. Let her let me in, just a little.
“Okay. Thank you.” She looked up.
It could actually be a little shock rather than a big one, but still. She might not be safe to ride her bike.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?”
“No. I want to get myself home.” Her tone brooked no argument.
“I’ll follow you. Then I’ll leave.”
She nodded, not speaking.
I went back to my Fat Boy, waiting for her.
She took a little time, and just as I was about to go over to her, her bike started with a rumble and she made a circle in the parking lot, heading for the exit.
