”I’d appreciate if you kept your paws off from my wife.”
Thank God. Logan’s here. Usually he just have to walk to me and the crowd is parting, but this fucker is either stupid or from another town, and doesn’t seem to know when would be a good time to retreat. Before Logan gets that cigar lit. Before he has the time to put away his lighter and move that cigar from his hand to the corner of his mouth.
“Your wife? This little slut’s your wife?”
“Yeah. That little slut’s my wife. And I lop off your hands if you don’t let go of her right now.”
Oh. This isn’t good. Not that I would mind if Logan chopped this arrogant bastard to shreds right now and here, but we’re supposed to lay low. No need to advertise our genes to rednecks surrounding us.
“I’m willing to forget this and let you walk out on your own if you let go of her now.”
Please. Take the hint, asshole, and leave while you still can. We can’t afford to loose our jobs. Not now. We’re saving for a bigger apartment with a better view…
“No.”
“No?”
And there goes the eyebrow. And not in a good way.
“Jack?”
“Yeah?”
“Hand me your knife.”
“Wha…”
“The one in your left boot. Give it to me…”
No. Nonono… Logan’s smiling. He’s practically purring, waiting for Jack to fish out the knife he’s carrying. And the grade A idiot who grabbed me hasn’t still let me go. I don’t want to use my skin to drop him. I haven’t used my skin to anybody except Logan in nearly hundred years; I have no idea what would happen if I tried to drain somebody else.
“Hands off, or hands off, bub.”
That’s not a knife. That’s a freaking machete! How the hell Jack was able to walk with that stuffed in to his boot?
“Uh, Logan…”
“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll make sure that you don’t get any splatters on that shirt.”
Was that a wink? I think it was. And I can feel the hand that’s clutching my wrist tremble a little.
“Last warning. I’m giving you one more chance, because it’s a bitch to wash off the blood from silk. I bought that blouse for her for our anniversary last week.”
“Fuck you! You can’t do a shit! You can’t…”
“I can’t?”
Again that eyebrow. This fucker doesn’t know with whom he’s messing with, that’s for sure. Crowd gathered around us knows. They’re fallen eerily silent, waiting for the strike. Logan doesn’t disappoint them. He twirls the machete in his hand once, almost playfully before he slices off one finger that’s circling my wrist. Pinkie. It falls to the floor with a small plop.
“You alright?”
“Yeah… I think so…”
“Hey, Greg! Bring her something to drink!”
It never fails. Regulars already know to keep their hands to themselves, but every now and then a passer-by wanders in. Usually I manage to avoid those, leave them to other waitresses, but tonight I didn’t have that luxury. Slow and quiet night, so I was the only one working on the floor. I knew he would be trouble when I first set my eyes on him. Big, stubborn truck driver, Looking for somebody to keep him warm over the night. Thank God he left as soon as he found his pinkie from the sawdust.
“My shift ends in an hour. Think you can keep it up until then?”
“But… I have four more hours before…”
“Bullshit. You’re in no condition to work. You’re coming with me. I clear it up with Greg.”
“Okay… Logan?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you.”
“Love you, too, kid.”
Rest of the night I spend glued to Logan’s side. He was right. I’m trembling all over. He keeps rubbing my arms and just holding me against his chest, surveying the crowd from the corner of his eye. It was a quiet night, but after that small display people are restless.
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