My Peace (Beautifully Broken 5)

“You summa bitch,” Gabe mutters as I knock another into the back pocket. I laugh.

“You should know by now never to challenge me, dude.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. I shit bigger than you.”

“Charming.”

I’m thinking of something else to say when a disturbance catches my eye.

In the back, next to the bathroom hallway, a man and a woman argue. It’s heated and they are both pissed. She waves her arms in the air, and he grabs her wrist.

I pause. Gabe pauses.

The guy gets into her face, and then shoves her against the wall.

Gabe and I move at the same time, dropping our sticks on the pool table.

Striding across the room, we are step-in-step with each other. Gabe deftly grabs the guy from behind and hauls him away from the girl.

I step in his face.

“Pick on someone your own size,” I tell him firmly.

He scowls, and he’s got a scar on earlobe. “This isn’t your business.” He wrenches away from Gabe. “Get off me.”

He backs up a step, but Gabe is a solid wall and catches him. He struggles, and his girlfriend pleads with him.

“Seth, just stop. Let’s go.”

I glance at her. “I wouldn’t suggest going anywhere with him.”

But she glares at me, and grabs his arm.

“You should mind your own business.”

They stalk away, and Seth sends me a death stare over his shoulder as they go.

“That’s fucked up, dude,” Gabe says as we watch them walk out the door.

“You can’t save some people,” I agree. “She’ll have to decide when she’s ready to stop being abused.”

Gabe shakes his head, and we finish our game. When I knock the eight-ball into the back pocket at the end, he rolls his eyes, and holds out a twenty.

“I always pay up.”

I grin and snatch it up. “And you owe this round.”

“Rub it in,” he mutters as he heads to the bar. He comes back a few minutes later with our last shots.

“This makes ten,” he announces. “We’re going to feel this tomorrow.”

We slam the shots, thunking our glasses on the table at the same time.

I squint my eyes as I swallow, then shake my head, like I’m shaking the bad taste away.

“Damn,” I mutter. “This is gonna leave a mark.”

My head feels thick and heavy, and I remember why I laid off drinking. I don’t much like the numbing effect. Not anymore.