Faint of Heart by Jeff Strand Read Free Book Online Page B

his punch would hurt less, but that wasn't really an issue, since to save Gary she'd gladly take a blow from George Foreman, with his fat-reducing grill, if he wanted. The question was, which of the two men was more likely to punch out a woman over a football argument?
    Probably the big guy.
    She felt almost disconnected from her body, but she forced herself to get up and sit down at his table. He looked a bit surprised, clearly unaccustomed to having women take any sort of interest in him.
    "Catch the game last night?" she asked.
    "Which game?"
    "Football."
    "Nah, I missed it. Who was playing?"
    "You tell me, you fat fuck." She stumbled over the words, but forced herself to retain eye contact.
    The man blinked. "What?"
    "I said, you tell me, you fat fuck. What's the matter? Scared to discuss football with a girl?"
    The man glanced over at the bartender for help. "I think you've got the wrong person."
    Rebecca's face was burning, and she knew it had to be bright red, not that anybody would be able to tell in the bar's poor lighting. "You're the only person I'm talking to," she said.
    The man pushed back his chair and stood up. "Sorry, I've gotta head off. Got stuff to do."
    Rebecca stood up as well, grabbing his arm. "We were in the middle of a conversation."
    "Lady, you're mentally ill." The man yanked his arm free, and gestured to the bartender. "Jesus, Frank, what kind of people do you let in this place?"
    Rebecca made a second grab for the man's arm, but missed. What should she do now? Give it up and harass the old guy? The bartender?
    The man started to walk around the table, but she moved to the right, blocking his path. "I'll bet you fifty bucks you can't beat me in a fight," she said.
    "Lady, go back to the asylum. You need medicine, and that, that shocker-thing they use on crazy people."
    "Ma'am, I'll have to ask you to leave," said the bartender. "Don't make me call the police."
    Rebecca clenched her fists and looked the bearded man in the eye. "A hundred bucks."
    "I'm not gonna fight you, lady!"
    "Chickenshit."
    "You're right. I'm chickenshit. So why don't you go someplace else, okay?"
    Obviously he wasn't going to take the first punch, not that she'd really expected him to. So she stepped forward and swung at his jaw. The man easily deflected her blow, slapping her fist away. She took another swing, and this time he caught her fist in his hand.
    "Frank, will you do something?" he demanded.
    Rebecca tried to tug her hand free, but the man wouldn't let go. With her free hand, Rebecca grabbed the man's wrist. Then she yanked his hand forward as hard as she could, smashing his fist into her cheek. There was an explosion of pain, and she let out a cry and fell to the ground.
    "I didn't hit her!" the bearded man insisted. "You all saw it! She pulled my hand into her face! I didn't do anything!"
    "Don't worry, we all saw it," said the bartender, hurrying out from behind the counter.
    Rebecca sat up, blinking back tears. She never imagined it would hurt so much, and she had done all the work. "I'm okay, I'm okay," she said. "I'm fine. I'm sorry."
    "What the hell is the matter with you, lady?" asked the bearded man.
    "Nothing, I'm just...I'm fine." She used a chair to brace herself and pulled herself to her feet. She rubbed the spot where she'd been hit. "I'm sorry."
    "Do you need us to call somebody?" the bartender asked.
    "No, no, I just need to go."
    "Do you want a bag of ice?"
    She nodded. The bartender went to retrieve it while the bearded man just stared at her.
    "I'm sorry," she said again.
    The bearded man didn't respond. He looked at his fist then sat back down at his table without a word.
    Though she couldn't be certain, she thought she saw the old guy hide a smile. Was he simply amused by the ridiculous situation, or did he know exactly what she was there to accomplish?

 
     
     
    CHAPTER NINE
     
     
    Rebecca walked out to her car, holding the bag of ice to her face. She couldn't imagine how bad it would hurt