“Hey!” I yelled out, stalking towards him.
His head snapped up, hard eyes meeting mine. “Fuck off, cunt,” he snarled, his voice full of venom.
Yeah, like fucking hell, asshole.
I ignored his directive, and when I got to where he now stood staring at me, I punched him hard in the face. The element of surprise never did me wrong. He staggered back, holding his face, surprised as fuck.
“What the fuck, bitch?”
“That was for trying to steal.”
He advanced towards me, hatred blazing from his eyes. His intent was clear, and as his arm came up to punch me, I kicked my leg out so my foot connected with his balls. At the same time, I ducked to avoid his punch and spun out to the side, away from him. The agony my kick induced, coupled with the momentum he had going with his punch, caused him to fall forward. He landed on his hands and knees, at which point I kicked him hard in the gut.
“Fuck!” He collapsed into a ball, arms around his stomach, his breathing choppy.
“That was for calling me a cunt.”
I walked to the drunks and prodded one of them with my boot. His eye cracked open and he gave me a what-the-hell look.
“Get up,” I snapped. “This asshole just tried to steal from you. It’s time to go home.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the thief. Squatting, I said, “You think that hurt? If I see you here again, you’ll know what pain is. Your balls got off lightly this time.”
He grunted something unintelligible at me before attempting to stand.
I straightened and watched as he stood. My body tensed, waiting to see if he would try anything.
He glared at me. “Fucking bitch,” he grumbled, still clutching his stomach.
I raised my eyebrows. “Really, dude? You want to go there with me again?”
He muttered more shit I couldn’t understand before stumbling out of the alleyway. When he rounded the corner, and I could no longer see him, I allowed myself to relax.
Why did the world have to be full of scum like that?
I looked at the drunks. The one I’d woken up had passed out again. I gave him another prod. “Time to go home,” I ordered. Fat lot of good it did because he didn’t stir this time. Fuck it, his grave to dig, not mine to try and spare.
I headed back inside. I had better things to do than worry about people who didn’t worry about themselves.
***
I checked the time on my watch: eleven pm. The bar was busy for a Thursday night. Thank god, because our bills were coming out of our ass at the moment. It didn’t help that my business partner had disappeared two days ago. Also didn’t fucking help he’d been stealing from the business for god knows how long. It had taken great strength not to do serious damage to his body when I’d discovered that shit. One almighty screaming match later, and it looked like he’d skipped town. God knew how I’d pay the bills now.
“Boss!”
I spun around to find Jess staring expectantly at me. “What?” I asked as I wiped my hands on my jeans. The wetness of the alcohol came off but the stickiness remained. Didn’t bother me, though. I was used to working with sticky hands after nearly ten years of bar work.
She jerked her head in the direction of the jukebox in the corner. “Can you deal with that asshole?”
I narrowed my eyes on the guy she referred to. Seemed he had taken issue with the jukebox. When he kicked it, I turned back to Jess. “With pleasure,” I replied, already heading towards him.
“Got a problem with my jukebox, buddy?” I asked as I approached him. He had that stoned look to him. Probably was stoned. Fucking junkies frequented the bar, but, unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped: the bar was in The Valley and we bred them like mice here.
Glassy eyes focused on me. He scowled before answering. “It took my fucking money.”
“No need to kick it.”
“No need to give me shit,” he spat back.
“How about you leave before this gets out of hand?” Fuck, two assholes in the space of an hour. Shit luck tonight.
He moved towards me, his bulky frame hunching up in a threatening manner. “How about you give me my fucking money back?”
I assessed the situation. He looked to have some strength on him which could be a problem with my tiny frame. There were other ways around this, though. My plan came together in my mind, however, as I went to execute it, a voice questioned from behind, “What’s the problem, asshole?”
Turning my head, I found the guy I served scotch to most nights. He was one of the best-looking men I’d ever met. Also the guy I’d vote most likely to scare the fuck out of me in a dark alley. He’d been coming here for just over a year, yet we’d hardly ever spoken. He kept to himself, and it was clear to everyone he wanted to be left alone. Tonight, the scary vibes rolled off him.
“We’re all good, thanks,” I replied. I’d been handling my own shit for nine years now. I didn’t need his help.
The thud of his heavy boot as he stepped closer to me rang out a warning. Jerking his chin to the jukebox dude, he asked, “You about to leave?”
Pretty sure it wasn’t a question.
His head snapped up, hard eyes meeting mine. “Fuck off, cunt,” he snarled, his voice full of venom.
Yeah, like fucking hell, asshole.
I ignored his directive, and when I got to where he now stood staring at me, I punched him hard in the face. The element of surprise never did me wrong. He staggered back, holding his face, surprised as fuck.
“What the fuck, bitch?”
“That was for trying to steal.”
He advanced towards me, hatred blazing from his eyes. His intent was clear, and as his arm came up to punch me, I kicked my leg out so my foot connected with his balls. At the same time, I ducked to avoid his punch and spun out to the side, away from him. The agony my kick induced, coupled with the momentum he had going with his punch, caused him to fall forward. He landed on his hands and knees, at which point I kicked him hard in the gut.
“Fuck!” He collapsed into a ball, arms around his stomach, his breathing choppy.
“That was for calling me a cunt.”
I walked to the drunks and prodded one of them with my boot. His eye cracked open and he gave me a what-the-hell look.
“Get up,” I snapped. “This asshole just tried to steal from you. It’s time to go home.”
Without waiting for a response, I turned back to the thief. Squatting, I said, “You think that hurt? If I see you here again, you’ll know what pain is. Your balls got off lightly this time.”
He grunted something unintelligible at me before attempting to stand.
I straightened and watched as he stood. My body tensed, waiting to see if he would try anything.
He glared at me. “Fucking bitch,” he grumbled, still clutching his stomach.
I raised my eyebrows. “Really, dude? You want to go there with me again?”
He muttered more shit I couldn’t understand before stumbling out of the alleyway. When he rounded the corner, and I could no longer see him, I allowed myself to relax.
Why did the world have to be full of scum like that?
I looked at the drunks. The one I’d woken up had passed out again. I gave him another prod. “Time to go home,” I ordered. Fat lot of good it did because he didn’t stir this time. Fuck it, his grave to dig, not mine to try and spare.
I headed back inside. I had better things to do than worry about people who didn’t worry about themselves.
***
I checked the time on my watch: eleven pm. The bar was busy for a Thursday night. Thank god, because our bills were coming out of our ass at the moment. It didn’t help that my business partner had disappeared two days ago. Also didn’t fucking help he’d been stealing from the business for god knows how long. It had taken great strength not to do serious damage to his body when I’d discovered that shit. One almighty screaming match later, and it looked like he’d skipped town. God knew how I’d pay the bills now.
“Boss!”
I spun around to find Jess staring expectantly at me. “What?” I asked as I wiped my hands on my jeans. The wetness of the alcohol came off but the stickiness remained. Didn’t bother me, though. I was used to working with sticky hands after nearly ten years of bar work.
She jerked her head in the direction of the jukebox in the corner. “Can you deal with that asshole?”
I narrowed my eyes on the guy she referred to. Seemed he had taken issue with the jukebox. When he kicked it, I turned back to Jess. “With pleasure,” I replied, already heading towards him.
“Got a problem with my jukebox, buddy?” I asked as I approached him. He had that stoned look to him. Probably was stoned. Fucking junkies frequented the bar, but, unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped: the bar was in The Valley and we bred them like mice here.
Glassy eyes focused on me. He scowled before answering. “It took my fucking money.”
“No need to kick it.”
“No need to give me shit,” he spat back.
“How about you leave before this gets out of hand?” Fuck, two assholes in the space of an hour. Shit luck tonight.
He moved towards me, his bulky frame hunching up in a threatening manner. “How about you give me my fucking money back?”
I assessed the situation. He looked to have some strength on him which could be a problem with my tiny frame. There were other ways around this, though. My plan came together in my mind, however, as I went to execute it, a voice questioned from behind, “What’s the problem, asshole?”
Turning my head, I found the guy I served scotch to most nights. He was one of the best-looking men I’d ever met. Also the guy I’d vote most likely to scare the fuck out of me in a dark alley. He’d been coming here for just over a year, yet we’d hardly ever spoken. He kept to himself, and it was clear to everyone he wanted to be left alone. Tonight, the scary vibes rolled off him.
“We’re all good, thanks,” I replied. I’d been handling my own shit for nine years now. I didn’t need his help.
The thud of his heavy boot as he stepped closer to me rang out a warning. Jerking his chin to the jukebox dude, he asked, “You about to leave?”
Pretty sure it wasn’t a question.
