Page 12 of Ends of Being

Antoinette comes back from the restroom, sits down, and picks up her drink. She takes a couple of big swallows, and jackoff smirks at her slyly. My blood boils, and I don’t even look up as Dee places my drink on the table.

He is a dead man.

They sit at the table for a few more minutes, and I can see her loosening up with every minute that passes. Finally, he leans closer to her, and she nods in agreement at whatever he says to her. He drops some bills on the table, then gets up, holding his hand out to her and helping her up, smiling down at her as he leads her away from the table and toward the back exit.

I stand up, walking down the same hallway, just far enough away not to draw attention to myself. I want to confront him away from witnesses, but I also don’t want him to get so far out in front of me that I lose them.

I peek around the corner just in time to watch him lead her out the back door. I wait for a few beats and then I follow, stepping out into the darkness.

Antoinette is looking at me incredulously, her brows furrowed, eyes squinting as she processes what I’ve just told her. She gives me a suspicious look as she asks, “And that’s it?”

I nod. “Yes, that’s it. The douchebag attempted to roofie you, and I stepped in before he could do anything to you physically. I got your address off your license and deposited you there, safe and sound.”

“And what happened to jackoff?”

“I knocked him around a bit and left him in the alley,” I respond. “No idea what happened to him from there, but I would imagine getting caught attempting to drug you and then getting his face rearranged may be a big reason why he ghosted you.”

She snorts, rolling her eyes at me as she replies, “Yeah, I’m sure that must have been a real downer for him.”

She looks sad, almost crestfallen, and she sighs. I don’t like her feeling bad about anything, never mind her feeling bad about what some piece of horseshit did to her.

I reach out, resting my hand on her arm as I say, “Hey, that douchebag attempting to take advantage of you was not your fault. You didn’t do anything to deserve it or ask for it. He was an asshole—a dirty, rotten, no-good shitbag who deserves to rot in hell for what he tried to do to you.”

She glances at my hand on her arm before raising her eyes to mine. She nods. “Yes, I know, but knowing doesn’t make it feel any better. And I really feel you should have told me. What if he hadn’t ghosted me? What if he tried to go out with me again? I would’ve figured my spotty memory of our date was me overindulging and figured he was worth another shot.”

“I would not have allowed that to happen.”

She scoffs, “You couldn’t have prevented it. You only ran into me by chance that one time, and the odds of you being able to intervene a second time are basically slim to none.”

I mean, she isn’t wrong, knowing as little as she does. But I was there, and I remember the entire story, so I know for a fact there isn’t even a remote chance the jackoff will ever be calling her again.

But I can’t really explain all of that to her.

I sigh, “You’re right, and I’m sorry.”

She frowns at me, her eyes narrowing as she snorts, “Seriously. You’re sorry?”

Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes, my hands coming up to flail around in defeat. “Yes, Antoinette. I’m sorry. Now get out of my car and get your ass into your building, so I can go home.”

She squints at me some more, and I feel like she is staring right into my soul, siphoning out all of my secrets to use against me in whatever way she can. Finally, she nods, “Okay, Clark. Whatever you say.”

Normally, I would get out and escort her to her door but not tonight. Tonight, I watch her gather her things and unbuckle her seatbelt, her hand reaching for the door handle before I lean across the middle console and say quietly, “But don’t forget, Antoinette, we haven’t finished our earlier business.”

Her eyes widen as she pauses her movements, asking, “Business? What the fuck are you talking about?”

I smile at her wickedly, all teeth and glinting eyes, my hand shooting out, delving into her hair at the base of her scalp. I tighten my hold until the tension allows me to yank her head closer to me, and I lean further into her, my breath painting her neck as I whisper, “You’ll see, baby girl.”

She shivers, and I release her, chuckling darkly at the heat in her gaze. She doesn’t say anything, though; she just exits my car and walks into her building without a backward glance.

That’s my good girl.

Chapter Six

Toni

Iwilladmit,it’sbeen a lot.

The last twenty-four hours, that is.

---