shoulder. “Think it’s you, Jack. Must be love.”
Jackie pointed a finger at him. “Shut up, Gamble. I wasn’t talking to you.” Something in her tone made him wisely clam up. She continued before Pernetti could get his comeback out. “You think nobody heard you fucking Charlene in the storage room? I think the security guys passed the tape around, or maybe that was the one of her sucking you off in the delivery van down at the loading dock. You and the wife should get some popcorn and have a movie night, Pernetti.”
The laughter at the table had gone quiet with her diatribe. The venom in her voice told them she was far past the joking-around stage. Pernetti’s head had gone from pink to a rosy red.
“Okay, fuck you, Rutledge. You want to tell the whole bar?”
“Sure, P,” she said, turning to face the room. “That’s a fabulous idea. You can tell them about how much I drink, and I’ll tell them about how you’re a philandering office slut who will fuck anything—”
Pernetti’s hand whipped across the table, faster than she would have figured he could move his lumbering body, and shoved her back. “Watch it, Jack. I’m not going to put up with your bullshit.”
“Or what, P? You going to take it out on a woman?” Jackie laughed. She felt on a roll now, nice and pissed. Five years she had been putting up with this pig. She suspected he was one of those types who took everything home and dumped it on his wife. The fucker had pictures of his kids on his desk, but not the wife. She had heard him call her a bitch to the other guys. Yeah, Jackie thought. Bring it on, numbnut. “According to Charlene, you ain’t got enough dick to take it out on me anyway.”
Pernetti scrambled to his feet, his face a wonderful rose red. Jackie grinned at him and shifted her right foot back just a bit for balance. She knew his type. Set them off, and it was all blind, dumb rage. There were actually a few similarities between him and a stepfather who only crept out of the hole in her mind while she slept. Her thought trailed off at Pernetti’s retort.
He leaned over the table at her, hands slapping hard down on the surface, mouth twisting into a spiteful sneer. “What you need dick for, Jack? You got the dykey little witch to lick your boot heels for—”
Jackie’s hand flashed out and slapped Pernetti across the face. He didn’t deserve anything more than a good bitch slap. If he pressed it though, Jackie was prepared to bust his crooked, oft-busted nose. At that moment, however, the ring and buzz of her cell went off in her pocket. Pernetti appeared too flummoxed to respond, holding one hand to his face in disbelief.
“Nice one, Jack,” Gamble said, pushing away from the table. He was smart enough to see some shit was about to hit the fan. “Maybe we should just get everyone outside so we can cool our heads.”
Jackie gave him an icy look and pulled out her phone while Pernetti tried to scramble out from behind the table. Everyone else had wisely picked up their drink but Pernetti, who sent his spilling across the table when he hit it trying to move around to Jackie. She flipped open the phone, noticing Laurel’s number on the screen, and keyed the TALK button, all the while enjoying his clumsy attempt to get around to her. What was he going to do, throw a punch?
“Rutledge,” she said into the cell just as, to her surprise, Pernetti did indeed throw a punch. Jackie instinctively leaned back, bringing her hand across to block, and his fist connected rather solidly with her phone, snapping the lid off and sending it to the floor. “You stupid fucker!”
Jackie returned fire, her small hands flashing out with blinding speed, even if they did not pack much punch. Pernetti’s mouth erupted with blood, and he quickly lost his balance in the puddle of beer he found himself standing in. There was no time to celebrate the glorious image, as a long arm snaked out from Pernetti and he grabbed her shirt.
Jackie pointed a finger at him. “Shut up, Gamble. I wasn’t talking to you.” Something in her tone made him wisely clam up. She continued before Pernetti could get his comeback out. “You think nobody heard you fucking Charlene in the storage room? I think the security guys passed the tape around, or maybe that was the one of her sucking you off in the delivery van down at the loading dock. You and the wife should get some popcorn and have a movie night, Pernetti.”
The laughter at the table had gone quiet with her diatribe. The venom in her voice told them she was far past the joking-around stage. Pernetti’s head had gone from pink to a rosy red.
“Okay, fuck you, Rutledge. You want to tell the whole bar?”
“Sure, P,” she said, turning to face the room. “That’s a fabulous idea. You can tell them about how much I drink, and I’ll tell them about how you’re a philandering office slut who will fuck anything—”
Pernetti’s hand whipped across the table, faster than she would have figured he could move his lumbering body, and shoved her back. “Watch it, Jack. I’m not going to put up with your bullshit.”
“Or what, P? You going to take it out on a woman?” Jackie laughed. She felt on a roll now, nice and pissed. Five years she had been putting up with this pig. She suspected he was one of those types who took everything home and dumped it on his wife. The fucker had pictures of his kids on his desk, but not the wife. She had heard him call her a bitch to the other guys. Yeah, Jackie thought. Bring it on, numbnut. “According to Charlene, you ain’t got enough dick to take it out on me anyway.”
Pernetti scrambled to his feet, his face a wonderful rose red. Jackie grinned at him and shifted her right foot back just a bit for balance. She knew his type. Set them off, and it was all blind, dumb rage. There were actually a few similarities between him and a stepfather who only crept out of the hole in her mind while she slept. Her thought trailed off at Pernetti’s retort.
He leaned over the table at her, hands slapping hard down on the surface, mouth twisting into a spiteful sneer. “What you need dick for, Jack? You got the dykey little witch to lick your boot heels for—”
Jackie’s hand flashed out and slapped Pernetti across the face. He didn’t deserve anything more than a good bitch slap. If he pressed it though, Jackie was prepared to bust his crooked, oft-busted nose. At that moment, however, the ring and buzz of her cell went off in her pocket. Pernetti appeared too flummoxed to respond, holding one hand to his face in disbelief.
“Nice one, Jack,” Gamble said, pushing away from the table. He was smart enough to see some shit was about to hit the fan. “Maybe we should just get everyone outside so we can cool our heads.”
Jackie gave him an icy look and pulled out her phone while Pernetti tried to scramble out from behind the table. Everyone else had wisely picked up their drink but Pernetti, who sent his spilling across the table when he hit it trying to move around to Jackie. She flipped open the phone, noticing Laurel’s number on the screen, and keyed the TALK button, all the while enjoying his clumsy attempt to get around to her. What was he going to do, throw a punch?
“Rutledge,” she said into the cell just as, to her surprise, Pernetti did indeed throw a punch. Jackie instinctively leaned back, bringing her hand across to block, and his fist connected rather solidly with her phone, snapping the lid off and sending it to the floor. “You stupid fucker!”
Jackie returned fire, her small hands flashing out with blinding speed, even if they did not pack much punch. Pernetti’s mouth erupted with blood, and he quickly lost his balance in the puddle of beer he found himself standing in. There was no time to celebrate the glorious image, as a long arm snaked out from Pernetti and he grabbed her shirt.
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