“Why don’t we sit?” Bradley suggests. “Rosaline! Can you bring out some starters for us?”
Rosaline? Do they have a maid?
Of course they do, I think as I take the seat across from Nicky. There’s a fierceness in her eyes that I don’t quite understand. It’s as if she’s watching my every reaction.
“So, Chase,” Bradley smiles as he plucks a cigar from his coat pocket and lights it. He rolls it around in his mouth like he’s sucking a dick. I try not to laugh. “Tell us, how is it working in a stuffy old garage all day? Must get tiring.”
“I like it,” I counter. I know what he’s up to; he’s trying to shame me for making an honest living for myself. I’m not buying into it. “I figure, a woman appreciates a man who’s good with his hands.”
“Mmmm,” Bradley nods. “They also appreciate a man who provides. No offense, but I can’t imagine it’s a good living in a small town like this? If you were working on Porsches and Ferraris in New York maybe…”
“I do all right for myself,” I tell him. “I don’t need a lot. A smooth-running engine, a cold beer and a good woman by my side.”
I look over at Nicky and make it obvious. Bradley may be an asshole, but he isn’t slow; he picks up on it and slides his hand under the table, clearly placing it on her thigh.
My thigh.
“Speaking of which, how is the Bentley—?” Ruth starts to say, but Bradley cuts her right off.
“A good woman, eh? Have you found yourself one yet?” he asks. “One who can put up with you smelling like grease and oil? I know Nicky can’t even stand me when I’m all sweaty after a game of tennis!”
I’m coming apart at the seams. I glance over at Nicky, but I can’t tell what’s going on in her mind. I want to wipe that smile off Bradley’s face, but I also don’t want to start a fight right here in the dining room – especially with her adopted mom sitting beside us. But when he makes an obvious show of squeezing her inner thigh, I just can’t help myself.
“I have found one, actually,” I tell him. “And she’s sitting right next to you.”
Bradley’s eyes narrow and I hear a sharp intake of breath from Ruth, but I keep my eyes on him. He thinks he’s better than me; he thinks I’m bullshitting. But I’ve got an ace up my sleeve.
“Sitting next to me,” he nods, puffing his cigar. “That’s a good one, Chase. You should give up being a mechanic and get into stand-up comedy. You’d make a killing in the city.”
I look at Nicky, waiting for her to interject, but she doesn’t say shit. I should have known better. This whole thing’s a setup. She’s flaunting her other life in my face, showing me what I could never have. She had her little fling with me, got what she wanted and denied me the rest. But it wasn’t enough, she had to humiliate me. But I’m not going to take it lying down.
“And you should do gay porn,” I counter. “The way you’re sucking that cigar – you’d be good at sucking other things.”
“You son of a bitch!” he roars. Bradley snaps, rises from his chair and swings. But I’m ready for him. I duck his wild hook and counter with a jab to the face. I could easily have hit him harder, probably broken his jaw, but there’s no need for that. He staggers back, toppling his chair, then leaps over the table at me.
“Stop it, you two!” Ruth shouts. “Stop it right now!”
My chair breaks beneath me as we hit the floor. Bradley’s clearly no fighter. I cover up, fending off his wild blows until I find an opening. My fist finds the bridge of his nose, snapping his head back and sending him to the floor. I grunt, get to my feet and look over at Nicky.
“Well, you got what you wanted, city girl,” I growl. “Enjoy your honeymoon.”
I head for the door, but a thought occurs to me and I turn back to Bradley, still lying on the floor, nursing his bloody nose.
“Oh, and Bradley,” I smile. “I left a little something for you on her inner thigh that you might be interested in. Check it out.”
9
Chase
“Shoulda known better,” I mumble as I watch the ice cubes slowly melt in my Jack and Coke. “Shoulda fuckin’ known better.”
“You know, talking to yourself is a bad sign. Do I need to bring you by the hospital?”
I look up at Lexy, the rocker-chick bartender at Chrissy’s, who’s giving me a look like she either feels bad for me or thinks I’m pathetic – maybe a mixture of both.
I’m a little tipsy and still wondering what the fuck just happened. Actually, I know what happened, Nicky totally ambushed me. She invited me to dinner just so she could flaunt her rich, city-girl life in my face. I bet she loved having two guys fight over her like that. I haven’t been in a fight over a girl since Tommy Clarence pushed Emma Carlsen on the playground in fourth grade.
“Do they have any treatments for a broken heart?” I ask with a smirk.