Birthright

She clearly doesn’t know him or at least doesn’t know him well. They exchange some words. He makes a casual wave in her direction, and her expression darkens. She speaks again, and he rounds on her, one hand balled into a fist.

Is he fucking threatening her?

I stand immediately, but Antony and Jude are closer. Jude says something first, but I only catch the tail end of his sentence.

“…time for you to go.”

“I didn’t fucking do anything!” the man yells and points to Antony. “That asshole is the one who should go.”

“I tried to apologize to you, dude,” Antony replies.

“Fuck you!”

“I think I’ll just leave,” the woman says as she starts trying to pay Jude for her drinks.

The idea upsets me instantly. This asshole has been, well, an asshole, and she’s the one who feels like she has to leave. I don’t like it at all. I shove the girls away and head over to the bar.

She starts to get up from her seat, but I place a hand on her shoulder.

“Hang for a minute, please,” I say calmly but loud enough to be heard over the music. “I hate to see your evening ruined based on his behavior. I also don’t want you to walk out of here by yourself with him still around.”

She looks up at me, a strange look in her eyes, but lowers herself back onto the stool. I nod at Antony, and he grabs the man’s arm, wrenching him off of the barstool. Threes appears out of nowhere, places his hand on the guy’s shoulder, and squeezes hard enough for the jerk’s knees to buckle.

“You’re gone, dude.” Antony hauls him toward the exit with Threes following behind, his hand still locked on the man’s shoulder.

I turn back to the poor woman who has had to endure all this crap and immediately start to wonder why I didn’t interrupt the date earlier. She’s absolutely gorgeous with bright green eyes lined with just the right amount of makeup to enhance but not look like a painted whore. A smattering of freckles dance across her cheeks, and it makes me think of old pictures of my mother.

Reminds me of mom. How cliché is that?

“I’m sorry,” I say to the woman. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she says. “It’s all good.”

“It’s not.” I shake my head. “I can’t stand that kind of behavior. I’m hoping yo

u don’t know the man well.”

“We just met,” she says, and my suspicions are confirmed.

“Internet date?”

“Yeah.” She laughs hollowly. “How did you know?”

“A hunch. Do you mind if I sit?” I indicate the now empty barstool next to her.

“I guess not.” She looks toward the exit. Jude and Antony are already walking back, the woman’s date discharged. “I think I’ll have to consider this yet another bad choice on my part.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I say as I sit. “I’m not sure why anyone tries those apps, really.”

“Lack of other options,” she says.

“There have to be a few options out there that aren’t douchebags.”

She laughs and then quickly covers her mouth.

“Sorry for the language.”

“You don’t have to apologize,” she says. “He was acting like a douchebag the moment we got here. I should have trusted my instincts and left sooner.”