Locked Down with Mr. Right

“Not at all,” I said, trying to sound pleasant through my seething rage.

I could already tell he wasn’t good enough for her. I hadn’t known Addie long, but I was able to get a pretty good sense of people. She might have had some issues, lack of confidence primary among them, but he just oozed the essence of a raging asshole. I considered calling off the entire shoot and take the financial hit. Sadly, I was too late. They were already filming.

Hope for the best an prepare for the worst. This was the advice my realist grandfather one gave me. He had lived through two world wars, so I figured he might know a thing or two about a thing or two. As much as I hated to admit it, not simply because Addie was taking the brunt of it, the first date on the first season of Second Chance Bachelorette really was a prepare for the worst situation. I could only hope that show’s title would ring true.

The fisher was rude, which came as no surprise. The problem was the more he drank the ruder he got, running through the entire repertoire of English swear words, eventually turning to other languages of the world. He came out with things that would a Portuguese sailor blush.

I gave the signal to cut camera. Traditionally, this action was meant to be reserved for the director, but I reserved particular rights in emergency situations. Something I invoked with a single phase.

“Code black.”

My statement worked like an incantation, spurring all and sundry to start taking down any and all recording equipment.

“What’s happening?” Addie asked.

“Emergency stop,” I said, putting a protective hand on her shoulder.

“Wha’ da fuck ya talkin’ ‘bout?” the chiseller asked, his speech only vaguely resembling the English he was speaking.

“We’ve called you a cab,” I said firmly.

“I not goin’!”

The wine bottle exploded on the edge of the table, forever staining the lovely linen tablecloth. Red wine dripped from the remaining shards like blood from a jade-toothed maw.

“Shit!” Addie stated, her eyes like dessert plates.

“It’s okay,” I said stroking her back.

As Samantha shepherded Addie out of harm’s way, I started unbuttoning my jacket, making my way toward the bottle-wielding chiseller. I could see it coming from a mile away.

The swing was hard and wide. He reached back so far that his arm formed a right angle with his back. It missed by a lot, and the useless, make-shift weapon actually whistled as it hit absolutely nothing. I was a lot luckier, landing a clean, hard haymaker on the right side of his jaw. He just stood there for a moment as if trying to make up his mind before folding like a lawn chair.

“He signed a waiver, right?”

“Yep,” Samantha said, actually checking the records.

“Very good,” I said buttoning up my suit jacket.

I escorted Addie out to the car where Clementine was waiting, who ditched her cigarette as if I wouldn’t notice.

“Done already?”

“Sadly so. Drive fast, please,” I said. The beast was already coming around when we left. I didn’t want to risk him following us.

“The Sixty?” Clementine asked.

“Yes,” I said, holding Addie tight as she trembled.

I didn’t know if it was because she had never seen much violence or if she had seen too much and was having flashbacks. Either way, she was upset and there was no way I was leaving her in that state.

“Go get some food. I’ll call you when I need you,” I said, giving Clementine a fifty.

“Got it, boss.”

“Would you like a drink?” I asked, sitting Addie down on her bed at the Sixty.

“Very large whisky,” she said.

“Coming right up,” I said going to the mini bar that I already paid for.

Emptying two of the tiny bottles into a tumbler, I got myself a tonic with a twist of lemon. I took both glasses back to the bed.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the tumbler in a shaking hand.

It only took two sips. Two sips of whisky and Addie’s head was on my shoulder as she cried. Putting both glasses on the night table, I wrapped both arms around Addie, holding her tight.

“Am I really so disgusting?” she asked, clearly thinking the altercation was her fault when it wasn’t.

“Not at all. He is that stupid. We can only hope I knocked some sense into him.”

“That really was cool,” she said, starting to calm down.

“He had it coming.”

“Yeah, he did. What a prick.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“D-do you think you could stay with me?”

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it. That and a lot of things. Despite the less than ideal cause, holding her in my arms, particularly while sitting on a bed, was filling my head with all sorts of ideas.

Did I want to stay with her?

Yes.

Did I think I could stay with her?

Not really.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” I said, without actually saying no.