One Day Fiance

“Maybe that’s what wrong with you?” Derrick suggests. “I could show you what you need—a real man to take control.”

He moves to touch my hair, and I flinch back. But before I’m even halfway back, Connor’s moved fast as a blink, grabbing the big guy and spinning him to slam him against the brick wall of the restaurant. Derrick’s own size and weight work against him, making the impact hard and sharp.

“Do. Not. Touch. Her.” Connor snarls. Around us, the rest of the restaurant staff freeze, shocked that the expected ass kicking they were looking forward to isn’t going the way they planned.

“Whoa, whoa, dude. Chill,” one of the white-aproned guys says, but he makes no move to step in to stop Connor.

Derrick’s grin is gone, his easy comfort replaced with anger and fear in equal measure. Trying to bluster, he ‘bro-laughs’. “I didn’t mean nothing by it. She’s the one that got all up in my face like a crazy bitch.”

“I’ll show you a crazy bitch,” I threaten, pushing my way into the small space between the two men, my fist cocked back. In the tussle, Connor has to readjust and pushes me back with a hand on my forehead while keeping Derrick pinned with his forearm at his throat.

“Let me, Pops. For once in your damn life, stand there and be quiet.”

I growl, hating that phrase more than anything. I’ve been told to shut up so many times in my life that I finally quit trying. I keep to myself because I never tell myself to quit talking. I think I’m a good conversationalist.

“You can bitch me out for that later. Promise. But for the sake of your laptop . . .”

His eyes implore me to play this smart. Smarter than I have been. He’s actually on my team, playing a game where I don’t even know the damn rules. Not that I like it.

“Fine,” I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. But I’m still glaring, one eye on Derrick and one eye on Connor, but not in a cross-eyed way. Just in a focused ‘did you know lionesses eat their young and I’m a mother fucking lioness’ kind of way.

“My bad,” Derrick says, sounding cocky again. “Looks like you do have her under control.”

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you?” Connor grits out. “Where’s the laptop?”

“Gave it to my girl.”

“Address?” Connor demands.

“No way,” Derrick argues, shaking his head. “You’re fucking crazy.”

Connor’s forearm presses in harder. I can see the tension in his shoulders through the muscles in his back. Derrick’s face starts to turn a light shade of purple as Connor’s forearm begins cutting off his air.

“You don’t seem to understand the shit you’ve stepped in,” Connor says in an almost eerily calm voice. “First, I need that laptop back. Now. And I don’t care what I have to do to get it. Second, you stole it from a kid you do not want to fuck with.”

“Manny?” Derrick says, a laugh trying to bubble up past the pressure on his neck. “The dishwasher?”

The other two guys who’ve been watching the show chuckle along too. They’re willing to laugh at Manuel but not step in to defend Derrick. At least someone around here is smart enough to not fuck with Connor.

“Manuel,” Connor corrects. “He’s not someone you fuck with. Ever again. Or I’ll seem like the fucking Easter Bunny, a sweet surprise, compared to who comes to see you next time. Understood?”

“Whatever you say, man.” Derrick doesn’t seem convinced.

“The laptop.” The reminder is cold and calm. From my experience watching people, I think Connor is nearing the end of his rope. He’s someone who, the more you push him, the quieter he gets until he explodes like an atom bomb on your ass. “Where’s your girl?”

“I pawned it,” Derrick answers.

Connor’s lip lifts in a sneer. “You just said you gave it to your girl. Liar. I hate fucking liars.”

Finally, Derrick looks like he gets it, and real fear trickles into his face. “I ain’t lying.”

“Either you lied then or you’re lying now. Either way, you’re a liar.” Connor lets that sink in. “I hear you’re a cook too.” The subject change seems random until Connor stares Derrick down. “You know what cooks need more than anything?”

Derrick’s eyes widen. “No, man! N—”

Derrick’s words turn into a scream of pain as Connor grabs Derrick’s left index finger with his free hand, twisting hard and fast and breaking it.

The other two guys hiss sharply.

Holy shitballs! Connor did that like it was nothing, without a blink!

Staring wide-eyed at his oddly bent finger, Derrick bawls out, “Pawned it, man! Down on the corner.” He starts sobbing, his bravado lost and the bully fully put in his place. “I fucking swear!”

One of the other guys interjects, corroborating Derrick’s story. Well, the second one. “It’s true. He went down on his break. Came back with a few Benjamins.”