The Hard Bounce - страница 31

Was that a Freudian or a drunken slip? Either way: Advantage, me.

“Nothing yet,” I lied. No need yet to panic anybody about Snake. Besides, none of this conversation should have been public.

Kelly slurped down to the bottom of her glass. The girl behind the bar heard the telltale sound of an empty glass and looked, but she didn’t come over. She was smart enough to know Kelly was done. I was about done with the evening myself, and I’d just arrived.

“You need a cab?” I offered.

“For what?” she asked. She stared into the empty glass.

“To go home. You’ve had enough.”

“You know? Nobody’s ever said that to me before. You always hear people say that to drunk people in the movies.”

“Do you want me to call you a car or what?”

“I’m not ready to go.”

“I think you are, so come on. I’ll-”

“Call me a cab, you said it twice already. Yadda, yadda, yadda.” She opened and closed her hand in my face with each “yadda.”

Audrey howled like it was the best joke she’d heard all day. “This one’s a pistol, Willie.”

I felt my ears go red again. “Yeah. She’s something.” A pain in my ass.

Kelly leaned in and whispered into my crimson ear, “See? I can be bad, too.”

That was it. I grabbed her roughly by the upper arm and pulled her toward the back. “Hey!” she protested.

“Willie, she was just playing with you,” Audrey yelled. I ignored her. I pulled Kelly into the hallway leading to the back.

Some guy was standing by the metal door yelling into his cell phone. He yelped when I shoved him through the door into the parking lot, then slammed the door behind him. I wheeled on Kelly. Through clenched teeth, I said, “Please. Do me a favor. Take your judgments, roll them up, and jam them up your skirt.”

Shock and adrenaline sobered her up enough to process that I was truly pissed. “What? I-”

“Bad? You’re being bad? What the fuck is that? You see the people out there? They’re not bad. They’re just different from you, and a lot of them are friends of mine. That doesn’t make them bad people. But I’ll tell you what. They’re not a bunch of snobs like you and your fucking yacht-club scene.”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Shut up. I’m talking now. You think that if you come in here, lose a couple buttons on your starched shirt, belittle me where I work, and get drunk that you belong here? Well, you don’t, sweetheart. So go back to whatever frat-boy-fuck-bar you picked up your last corporate lawyer boyfriend in.” I started to storm off.

“What about you?” she yelled at my back.

“What?”

“What about you? Do you know me at all? No! You don’t know me at all, but you call me a snob. I’ve never been in a yacht, much less a yacht club, in my life. I work hard to get what little I have, and you’ve judged me worse than I’ve ever judged you. I have never dated a lawyer, and I still came here despite you being nothing but an intimidating jerk to me.”

“I-I have not been intimidating to you.” I realized I didn’t have much of a defense, considering I’d just physically dragged her away from the bar.

“Yes, you have.” She wiggled her finger in my face. “Your whole personality is wrapped around your ability to intimidate people. Well, tough guy, I’m not letting you intimidate me any more.” She whacked me in the chest to drive her point home.

Shit. Suddenly, I was on the defense. Again. “I wasn’t trying to… Besides, who’s hitting who?”

Good one, Boo. I call violence on you!

“Whatsa matter? Am I hurting you?” She whacked me again. “You don’t have to try to intimidate people. It’s who you are. Damn it, you might even be a little attractive if you could just drop the thug act for a couple minutes.”

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. “Look, Kelly-”

She cut off yet another apology by vomiting spectacularly all over my pant leg.

Then… a long moment of horror and silence.

“Oh… my… oh…” she said softly. Then she burped.

I stared numbly at the frothy pink mess all over the front of my pants.

Her barely focused eyes filled with embarrassment. “I-am-so-sorry.”

“You ready to leave now?”

I needed to change my pants in the office for the second time in a week, but I’d forgotten to bring a fresh pair in after the garbage incident. My choices boiled down to dried-up Dumpster juice or fresh puke. I decided to go with the vomit. At least I could wipe most of it off with paper towels. I called a car service to pick up Kelly.