Tom grabbed a bottle of vodka in his hands and brought it up from out of the bar. I reacted, reaching forward for it but he snatched it away, shoving me back with one hand. He poured the drink in his empty glass and slammed it back.
“Hey, you f**k!” I yelled, forgetting any pretenses. “That’s stealing!”
He wiped his disgusting mouth and reached into his pocket. He took out a wad of twenties and threw them over the bar and onto the ground.
“It’s not stealing, I’m just helping myself because the service here sucks!” he yelled back, pouring himself another glass.
“I’m reporting you!” I said, finally snatching the vodka away from him.
“Oh yeah, good luck with that,” he said, laughing. “No one’s going to back you up.” His friends started laughing with him, slapping him on the back like he’d just said the most clever thing in the world.
Tom slammed the vodka, then slid it down the counter, away from me. “Thanks for the drink, sugar tits.”
Oh, I was mad. I was so mad. And what made it worse was that Tom was still standing there across from me, watching me with morbid lust, like I was his next meal.
“Excuse me,” I heard a familiar voice say. A voice that made my insides fizz like happy champagne, bursting away the anger. Maybe the wrong voice to make me feel that way, but there was no denying it.
That someone tapped on Tom’s shoulder and the giant slowly turned around. There was Javier, just behind him. Compared to the frat boys, Javier wasn’t very tall, maybe 5’10” while the rest of them were over six feet. They looked like ogres, blundering beasts, while he remained cool and collected, lithe like a lizard. He shot me a quick look with those sharp eyes of his and gave me a barely perceptible nod, before fastening his gaze on Tom.
“Excuse yourself,” Tom said to him, obviously immune to his golden eyes. What Javier was doing here, I had no idea. The last thing I wanted was for him—for my mark above all things—to catch me doing my legitimate job, fumbling fruitlessly, and looking like I’d been covered in smoke and booze all evening. But that didn’t matter because here he was, and the look he was giving Tom, the look the dumb idiot wasn’t picking up on, was one of the deadliest things I’d ever seen.
Javier smiled politely, no teeth, and gently pressed his palms together. “There seemed to be a bit of a problem over here.”
Tom snorted. “There’ll be a problem if you don’t get out of my face.”
Javier’s smile tightened. I watched him, utterly fascinated.
“I’m afraid I can’t get out of your face. I’m drawn to f**king ass**les like yourself like moths to a flame.”
My eyes widened. One of Tom’s friends let out a low whistle, as if this was a regular occurrence, their nightly entertainment.
“You’re nothing but a piece of shit immigrant,” Tom said, his veins pulsing on his reddened forehead. “Now f**k off.”
I expected Javier to explode at that ethnic slur, but he did nothing. It was like he didn’t even hear it.
He spoke, calmly and smoothly. “I just wanted you to know that I’m here to back this woman up since you seemed so adamant that it couldn’t be done. I’d happily help her get you banned from this place. Didn’t your mother ever teach you some manners? Or was she too busy screwing your dog?”
“Fuck you,” Tom said, shoving Javier backward. Javier barely moved, just dusted off the front of his white shirt like he had dandruff.
“This is an expensive shirt,” Javier said with one eyebrow raised.
“You’ll be glad I’m not curb-stomping your face,” Tom said, taking a step closer, spittle flying out of his mouth while he talked. Julie was now at my side, eyeing the fight that was about to break out. I wanted her to get Steve, to put a stop to this before it got started, but part of me wanted to see what this man was capable of. I wanted to know exactly who I was dealing with.
Javier lowered his chin, staring up at him venomously. He watched Tom for a few moments, long enough for the tension to become palpable, a living, seeking thing that coated us all.
“What the f**k you staring at?” Tom cried out, his fist now raised. But it was shaking and so was his voice. He didn’t know what to make of Javier, and now, in his drunken stupor, he was finally scared.
Javier kept on staring, giving his lips a lick before shooting a glance in my direction. “You need to apologize to this woman. For calling her a very misogynistic name. And then for taking the bottle of vodka from behind the counter and helping yourself. After she cut you off.” He raised his voice over the last phrase enough that Julie heard it. I could feel her eyes on me, but I couldn’t tear mine away from him.
Tom looked completely dumbfounded.
Javier smiled quickly. “What, you don’t know what misogynistic means? It means I’m about to break your nose.”
At that threat, Tom lunged forward with his fists primed, ready to clock Javier in the head. I gasped out loud like some damsel in distress but my worry was unwarranted.
Javier moved like a cat. One minute I was sure he was a goner, the next, he was springing upward with his palm open. It connected with Tom’s nose, shattering the cartilage with one quick and nasty hit. Blood and pain exploded everywhere, everywhere except Javier’s pristine shirt.
Tom cried out, clutching his face in agony, doubled over like a dying grizzly. Javier got down in his face. “That doesn’t sound like an apology to me,” he teased.
He looked up at Tom’s friends, who were standing around with their mouths open.
“Perhaps one of you can make him apologize. Are all of you misogynistic dogs as well? Huh?” He cracked his knuckles.
They exchanged a nervous glance with each other, no one wanting to be on the receiving end of Javier’s palm. In the back of the room I could see Steve approaching, shoving people out of the way. In the last few seconds, quite the crowd had gathered.
“What’s going on here?” Steve bellowed over the noise.
Javier ignored him, still focused on the frat boys. “Well. Do you all want to be banned from here or what?”
Finally one of the guys kicked Tom lightly in the side and hissed, “Tom, come on bro, just apologize.”
Tom made a moaning sound and slowly got to his feet. His hands still covered his face, the collar of his shirt stained with blood. I spied one of his eyes under his fingers, watering like hell, and it looked right at me.