Shannon Waverly - Three For The Road

Mary Elizabeth eyed him guardedly, trying to decide if his offer of help was sincere, wondering if she had perhaps misjudged him. “I...uh...it’s car trouble.” Finally, she found the card. “RV trouble, actually. Nothing mechanical. I just need a tow.”

He leaned his beefy shoulder against the wall, hemming her in. The odor of liquor and smoke, combined with too-sweet after-shave, nearly made her gag. “Well, how about that.” He chuckled. “You’re lookin’ at the answer to your prayers, darlin’. I just happen to have a tow rig on the back of my truck.”

She stood in horrified numbness as he lifted one hand and ran his moist fingertips down her cheek. “Excuse me,” she said, shaking him off and stepping aside. In the process, however, the AAA card slipped from her fingers and fluttered to the floor between them. Swallowing, she bent to retrieve it, but just as she was reaching, his big sneakered foot landed squarely on top.

Heart hammering, she looked up the towering length of him.

With a dry chuckle, he removed his foot, but not until he’d made it clear he was playing a game of cat and mouse, a game he obviously enjoyed and wasn’t about to give up.

She retrieved the card and glanced around the room. A few men were watching them, but they didn’t seem inclined to interfere. The rest were oblivious, playing pool or pinball or watching a baseball game on TV. Mary Elizabeth glanced toward the bar for help, but as luck would have it, the bartender was female.

“How about a drink?” her unwanted companion asked, wrapping his sausagelike fingers around her upper arm. “Let me buy you a drink, huh? I’m in the mood for another myself.”

“Thanks, but I’m not thirsty. All I want is to be left alone so I can call for a tow, then I’ll be on my way. So if you’ll excuse me...”

“Hell, we can have you towed in no time. I told you that already. Come on, relax.” He gave her arm a little shake. “Take a load off.”

Mary Elizabeth tried to stay calm, at least on the surface, but inside she was growing frantic. No way was she going to get in a truck with this gorilla and drive off down a dark, isolated road.

“Excuse me. I...I have to go to the ladies’ room.”

Her friend tilted his thick, squared-off head. “Whatsa matter? Am I bad company?”

She wanted to say yes but had been raised to be impeccably polite. “Excuse me.” Surprisingly, he let her go.

Once she was inside the tiny washroom, she knew why he’d been so agreeable. The window was five feet up the wall and so narrow she doubted even her leg would fit through. Mary Elizabeth sighed aloud and would’ve leaned her weary self against the stall except that it was probably crawling with germs that science hadn’t heard of yet.

What am I going to do? she implored her reflection as she patted a wet paper towel to her flushed cheeks. Inside her open purse, set on the rim of the sink, lay the plastic gun Mrs. Pidgin had given her. Mary Elizabeth smiled wanly. Perhaps she could fill the gun with water and squirt the brute to death.

Ah, well, Mrs. P.’s intentions had been good.

Her newfound friend was waiting outside the washroom door, patient as a puppy. “Missed you.” He grinned. “Hope you like rum and coke.” He held up a glass.

“No, thanks.” Trying to ignore him, she headed for the bar. Another female was sure to sympathize. “Excuse me,” she called, leaning over an unoccupied stool.

“Wait a sec,” the bartender, busy at the cash register, answered distractedly.

“You know,” came the high, now nightmarish voice close at Mary Elizabeth’s side, “if I didn’t have such a sweet, forgiving nature, I’d be mighty ticked off by now. Here I offer to give you a free tow, something worth fifty, sixty bucks...”

The bartender finally headed in Mary Elizabeth’s direction.

“Please, could you do me a favor?” Mary Elizabeth’s voice wobbled noticeably now, but at least she’d been able to fend off tears.

The young woman, who looked to be about her own age, glanced up from the tap where she was filling three glass mugs.

“Would you be so kind as to call Triple A for me? All I need is a tow. Here’s the number....”

The bartender’s left eyebrow arched. “And there’s a pay phone, right there.” She pointed with her chin.

“I know, but...” Mary Elizabeth rolled her eyes toward the man still crowding her, his breath on her neck.

The young woman huffed. “Sonny, leave ‘er alone, huh? You’re being a jerk.” Then she walked away, delivering the three beers to the far end of the bar. It was apparent she didn’t consider him a threat. Also apparent was the fact that she’d be of no help.

Mary Elizabeth slipped onto the stool, planted her elbows on the bar and dropped her head into her hands.

“So, what’s your name?” Her friend, who was evidently named Sonny, placed the rum and coke under her nose.

Too weary even to look up, she said, “Will you please leave me alone? It’s been a very long day.” Now tears did flood her vision. “Damn,” she spat, embarrassed by her weakness. On a spurt of anger she spun off the stool. This was a public place, and that, a public phone. No one had the right to stop her from going about her business.

“Hey, where you runnin’ off to now?” Sonny gripped her arm and gave it a yank. “Here I’m tryin’ to be nice... Whatsa matter? Don’t you like me?”

Something must’ve happened behind her because she noticed Sonny’s slitty eyes shift and refocus. Suddenly he went still, while a calm, deep voice with just a trace of a slow southern drawl said, “Why don’t you give it a rest?”

Mary Elizabeth turned in surprise. A tall, dark-haired man was lounging back in his bar stool, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. He seemed relaxed, but looking at him, she got a sense of tightly coiled alertness.

For the first time since she’d wandered in here, she drew a clear and easy breath. She wasn’t sure why; he certainly didn’t look like anybody a woman ought to be breathing easily over.

Sonny released her arm and stepped aside. His eyes narrowed even further. “What did you say?”

“Leave her alone. Let her make her call.” The stranger calmly took a sip of his beer and continued to watch the game.

Sonny shifted his considerable weight, one foot to the other. “And who’s gonna make me?”

Slowly, the man at the bar set down his mug and carefully got to his feet.

Mary Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was over six feet tall and powerfully built. Tough as the road he’d traveled in on, too, she’d bet. He had wind-tossed black hair, steely blue eyes, weathered skin and a jaw that was unrelenting. Dust burnished his black boots, and the edges of his pale denim jacket were frayed. Beneath the jacket, tucked into low-slung, well-worn jeans, he wore a plain black T-shirt.

But the thing about this man that mesmerized her so wasn’t his clothing or eyes or build. She didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t physical...although his physical aspect was certainly impressive, too.

Mary Elizabeth bit her lower lip while her eyes traveled over him, up, down, up and down again. In all her life she’d never met anyone quite like him. He was like a new, unexplored land, and though her stomach jumped with something akin to fright when she gazed at him, she didn’t want to miss a single mile.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said with easy composure, raising his hands like a gunslinger showing he was unarmed.

Sonny snickered.

“But if you start it, I’ll guarantee I won’t run away.”

“Oh, yeah?” Sonny replied with all the cleverness of a block of cement.

Mary Elizabeth’s skin crawled with deepening dread. She’d never witnessed a fight before, but this situation seemed to have all the signs of one brewing.

“Go make your phone call, miss.”

With a start, she realized the tall stranger was talking to her. The bright animal darkness of his eyes made her breath catch. She nodded.

But Sonny responded, “I already told her that isn’t necessary.”

The blue-eyed man impaled Sonny with an immobilizing stare. Then, still holding him in his sights, he took Mary Elizabeth by the arm. “Come on.”

Relief flooded her as he began to escort her to the phone.

No sooner had he turned his back, however, than Sonny gave him a hard shove, sending him stumbling forward.

With a plummeting heart, Mary Elizabeth realized that the fight had not been averted, but rather it had just begun.

The stranger who’d come to her aid rebounded quickly and shoved Sonny in return. “Back off,” he warned, blue eyes blazing.

“Go to hell,” Sonny replied.

And then fists did fly. Mary Elizabeth let out a faint “Yi,” the only sound she was capable of, as the two men crashed into bar stools and people retreated.

“I don’t believe this!” she whispered, retreating with them.

A table went over, glasses sliding and smashing to the floor. The room resounded with the smack of fists, with grunts and fabric ripping, and like in a movie, it was all set to music—”Welcome to Earth, Third Rock from the Sun”—thumping from the jukebox.

At least they seemed evenly matched, Mary Elizabeth thought, watching them go at it—though she did sense a quickness in the taller man that Sonny lacked.

What Sonny had was a mean streak. She watched in horrified silence as he grabbed a beer bottle off the bar, smashed it against the brass rail and lunged at her tall dark stranger.

“Get out of here,” he called to her just before the jagged bottle came down on the side of his forehead. Immediately blood beaded along the gash.

Rather than rattle him, the cut seemed to deepen his anger and resolve. He picked up a chair and slammed it against Sonny’s arm, dislodging the broken bottle from his grip. Then he pushed Sonny against the bar where he kept him pinned until Sonny looked ready to give up.

Mary Elizabeth had no idea where the third guy came from, but suddenly there he was, gripping the dark stranger’s shoulder, swinging him around and landing a blow to his midsection that made her nauseated.

Logic told her she should use the diversion to slip away. Nobody was interested in her anymore. Yet she couldn’t leave. It was clear that the man who’d come to her aid was as much a stranger in this bar as she was, while Sonny was a local, and if she abandoned him, he’d probably get pulverized by Sonny’s friends.

She shouldn’t care, she told herself. She didn’t know this man, she’d never see him again, and if he was in a bar like this he was probably accustomed to fighting, anyway. Besides, she had a responsibility to the tiny life inside her. That especially had her concerned.

But if she slunk away now, what sort of person would that make her? How would she ever face herself in a mirror?

Without another second’s thought, she dug into her purse for the plastic gun. Tossing her bag onto a nearby table, she gripped the gun in two hands and flexed her knees. “All right, everybody freeze!” she called out.

Nobody heard. The debacle continued.

“Hey!” she hollered, affronted. This time a few onlookers turned. She heard someone say, “She’s got a gun,” and was pleased that the person sounded at least somewhat alarmed.

Within seconds the word passed. Attention turned on her like a tide. Those nearby backed away. A few people slipped out the door.

“Stop fighting,” she shouted. “Stop!” To her utter amazement, they did. The three men turned and looked at her, then each of them swore, different epithets, but all at the same time.