Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 22697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22697 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
hoping that my now sobbing words would have an impact.
He dropped the other guy and turned to look at me, concern slowly
replacing the rage that was in his eyes just a moment ago.
“I am going to sue you, motherfucker. I am going to take everything you
own and leave you homeless,” the pig bellowed.
My knight didn’t even blink at the coward. He just saw me on the
ground, huddled and shaking. He walked over to me slowly, hands out,
gesturing that he didn’t mean me any harm. I looked up at him, and he bent
down slowly so he could look me directly in the eyes.
“That whore is the reason you will lose everything. I'll make sure of it,”
the pig shouted as he clutched his stomach and scooted away like a coward. My knight’s face contorted, making him look like a monster under the
streetlight. I should have been scared with the anger that radiated in his
eyes, but I felt a sense of calm take over me. I couldn’t explain it, but this
man wasn’t like my dad. He wasn’t like the pigs who came into the bar
every night.
My knight walked over to the pig, bent down, and spit on his face. “You don’t scare me. You are nothing more than a piece of shit coward.
You aren’t a man. You’re a fucking animal pretending to be one. Get the
fuck out of here before I actually kill you,” he shouted and then walked
away as if the man limping away was nothing but garbage.
He then turned to look at me, his eyes shrouded with concern. I
recognized that look well. It was the look of strangers as they passed my
mother in the street and got a glimpse of her battered face. The look of
sympathy and pity. Well, I didn’t want pity. I was nothing like my mother. I
was strong. I fought.
“You okay?” he asked as he offered me his hand. He was trying to help
me up, but I didn’t want his help.
“I’m fine,” I said as I got myself up, ignoring his hand. No one in life
had ever helped me before without wanting anything. This man may have made me not fear him like I did most, but he was also a man, and they
usually had ulterior motives.
“Are you some kind of pervert or something?” The words got blurted
out before I could even hold them back.
He cocked his head to the side and smiled. I couldn’t help but think that
his smile was beautiful. It lit up his whole face and made it softer, kinder. “No. I just was worried. Guys like Josh are bullies. I knew he would
need to unleash his shame for his lack of manhood somewhere. I just sat in
my car to make sure the fucker couldn’t get away with anything. I’m glad I
stayed.”
I started walking to my car. He followed, and I let him. I didn’t want to
admit it, but the whole situation had startled me, and at least I knew this guy
wasn’t going to hit me or rape me.
“This is a lot of work for a phone number,” I joked. I always made jokes
when I was nervous. When I was a teenager, the therapist told me it was a
coping mechanism. She said I did it when I needed to fill uncomfortable
silences, which I guess made sense, because the silence in those few steps
to my car was unbearable to me. I felt like I owed him something, because
the truth was, if he wasn’t here, if he hadn’t shown up, that fucker may have
done God knows what to me.
“You going to give it to me?” he laughed.
“I knew it. You all want something,” I whispered, the scared little girl
coming through to protect me.
Never get too close; never get too comfortable. My mother’s came
crashing into my mind.
“Honest.” He put both his hands up, palms up. “I just have issues with
aggressive, entitled men. Don’t judge us all for the actions of some. I am
really a good guy,” he stated as he opened my car door for me. “I am not giving you my number. If you really want to get to know me,
I work at Miller’s Coffee Tuesdays and Thursdays. My shift ends at 8.
Swing by, and I will buy you a coffee as a thank-you.” I got into the car, and
he lingered by the door.
“It’s a date.” He smiled that lopsided grin at me again.
“No, it’s a thank-you,” I whispered, shutting the door so quickly that he
had to jump out of the way.
C H A P T E R T H R E E
Arkin
The thundering boom of the pile driver slowed and then came to a halt, and then the operator’s voice crackled over the radio. “Beers tonight after work. Whaddya say, boss?”
I chanced a glance at my watch. My eyes had been on the time all day, and now that it was approaching seven, I had to get home and cleaned up as quickly as possible.