him because, should he find out I’ve lied, then he has the potential to have a reason to have to engage in conversation with me again. And more than him knowing my real name, that’s one thing I don’t want. For some reason I haven’t had the same fearful reaction to Grady.
“Holl—,” I start to say when heavy footfalls distract me. From behind the men, a hulking form appears. It’s Grady. His wavy hair is slicked back, held in place by a pair of sunglasses. His heavy leather vest rests on his wide shoulders, covering an aged and faded black tee shirt. His strong jaw is covered with a few days’ worth of facial hair, and he has a smile on his face. Every encounter I’ve had with him tells me that his smiles are rare.
Just before he runs into the man in front of him, he comes to a halt. His smile widens, and he lifts his hands up and shoves the dark-haired man in front of him. I take a step back, but it’s not far enough. The man slams into me. He steadies himself by grabbing me by my hips. I should be afraid, but I’m flustered by Grady’s presence and not thinking clearly. Grady's broad smile becomes salacious as his eyes fix on mine. He licks his lips and winks. Feeling uncomfortable with the dark-haired man’s touch, I swat him away, and when that doesn’t work, I swat harder. He doesn’t even react.
Grady moves around us and walks over to the bar, hitches a thumb at me, and asks Mr. Personality, “What’s with the pussy?”
I blanch at the term. My mouth forms a hard line, and I narrow my eyes. From behind the bar, Mr. Personality pours both himself and Grady a glass of clear liquor. He mumbles something I can’t hear, to which Grady nods his head. They each toss back their glasses and set them on the bar. The dark-haired man has yet to let me go, and the proximity to him feels like an invasion.
“My name is Holly, now let me go,” I say. From the corner of my eye, Grady moves back toward us and sidles up to the dark-haired man.
“Let her go, Fish,” Grady says to the man. I don’t know what kind of nickname Fish is, but it doesn’t sound all that scary. Still, I don’t think I want to know how he got it. “She might report you.”
“I’m just playing around,” Fish says as his grip tightens on my hips. He pulls me forward, and I fight him off by placing my hands over his and pulling. His eyes narrow, and a snarl forms on his face. His name may sound silly, but the look on his face is anything but. “Holly knows that. Don’t you, Holly ?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” I say and clear my throat. My voice shakes, and my words trail off at the end. His palms grow balmy to the touch, so I lift my hands from his and fold my arms over my chest.
“Fish, now,” Grady snaps. His voice brokers no argument from Fish, who removes his hands, steps back, and raises them in the air. He licks his lips and whistles. “If anybody is going to piss off the pussy, it’s me.”
“Dick,” I mutter as my eyes slice toward him. Fish raises his eyebrows and whistles, giving Grady a proud smirk.
“Get out of here,” Grady snaps without giving me another look. He moves beside me, reaches out, and taps Fish on the shoulder, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward Mr. Personality, who has yet to move from behind the bar.
Outside, a car horn beeps in short, perky sounds. The men around me tense, and their eyes fall on the front windows. I doubt they can see anything through the dirty gray windows that are half-covered by signs advertising the popular brands served here. The horn continues to blare, but this time in long notes that make me consider covering my ears. I take a half step toward the front door to escape, the only action I can think of that seems sane, but Grady raises a hand in front of me and shakes his head. His eyes never leave the front windows.
It all happens so fast that I can barely keep up. The men around me pull out black guns from their vests as a hail of bullets flies in
“Holl—,” I start to say when heavy footfalls distract me. From behind the men, a hulking form appears. It’s Grady. His wavy hair is slicked back, held in place by a pair of sunglasses. His heavy leather vest rests on his wide shoulders, covering an aged and faded black tee shirt. His strong jaw is covered with a few days’ worth of facial hair, and he has a smile on his face. Every encounter I’ve had with him tells me that his smiles are rare.
Just before he runs into the man in front of him, he comes to a halt. His smile widens, and he lifts his hands up and shoves the dark-haired man in front of him. I take a step back, but it’s not far enough. The man slams into me. He steadies himself by grabbing me by my hips. I should be afraid, but I’m flustered by Grady’s presence and not thinking clearly. Grady's broad smile becomes salacious as his eyes fix on mine. He licks his lips and winks. Feeling uncomfortable with the dark-haired man’s touch, I swat him away, and when that doesn’t work, I swat harder. He doesn’t even react.
Grady moves around us and walks over to the bar, hitches a thumb at me, and asks Mr. Personality, “What’s with the pussy?”
I blanch at the term. My mouth forms a hard line, and I narrow my eyes. From behind the bar, Mr. Personality pours both himself and Grady a glass of clear liquor. He mumbles something I can’t hear, to which Grady nods his head. They each toss back their glasses and set them on the bar. The dark-haired man has yet to let me go, and the proximity to him feels like an invasion.
“My name is Holly, now let me go,” I say. From the corner of my eye, Grady moves back toward us and sidles up to the dark-haired man.
“Let her go, Fish,” Grady says to the man. I don’t know what kind of nickname Fish is, but it doesn’t sound all that scary. Still, I don’t think I want to know how he got it. “She might report you.”
“I’m just playing around,” Fish says as his grip tightens on my hips. He pulls me forward, and I fight him off by placing my hands over his and pulling. His eyes narrow, and a snarl forms on his face. His name may sound silly, but the look on his face is anything but. “Holly knows that. Don’t you, Holly ?”
“Yeah, sure. Whatever,” I say and clear my throat. My voice shakes, and my words trail off at the end. His palms grow balmy to the touch, so I lift my hands from his and fold my arms over my chest.
“Fish, now,” Grady snaps. His voice brokers no argument from Fish, who removes his hands, steps back, and raises them in the air. He licks his lips and whistles. “If anybody is going to piss off the pussy, it’s me.”
“Dick,” I mutter as my eyes slice toward him. Fish raises his eyebrows and whistles, giving Grady a proud smirk.
“Get out of here,” Grady snaps without giving me another look. He moves beside me, reaches out, and taps Fish on the shoulder, then jerks his thumb over his shoulder toward Mr. Personality, who has yet to move from behind the bar.
Outside, a car horn beeps in short, perky sounds. The men around me tense, and their eyes fall on the front windows. I doubt they can see anything through the dirty gray windows that are half-covered by signs advertising the popular brands served here. The horn continues to blare, but this time in long notes that make me consider covering my ears. I take a half step toward the front door to escape, the only action I can think of that seems sane, but Grady raises a hand in front of me and shakes his head. His eyes never leave the front windows.
It all happens so fast that I can barely keep up. The men around me pull out black guns from their vests as a hail of bullets flies in
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