Right Here With You

dropping a tray containing three tall glasses in front of me. I slide off the b

on the stage playing some drums and electric guitars is fueling the storm raging on in my head. I am so u

ing me waste my afternoon. No, I shouldn't be upset at Nate – I should be upset at Camryn for switching shifts wi

who sat beside us and had him explain a ton of things he claimed he didn't understand. An hour after, he got up and asked to walk me back to my apar

ually did when I first resumed here. There are three guys on the table all right. Cautiously, I make

e music and gives me a sweet smile. I wonder if

uy seated beside him who rolls his eyes and gets his wallet out of his pocket. I'm guessing he's the money bag among the trio. The third guy who ha

out to me, drawing my attent

a ten-dollar tip. I look up at him and smile expressing my gratitude non-verbally and I realize he's been starin

inishes making another round of drinks tha

t to lift the tray when he grabs

straight ahead and I follow the direction of his eyes and sure enough, at table number six, is a large, b

a show," I tease. Alex chuckl

in here. Unless one of them is new. I've n

k of the people who come h

f you pay me, I'd be willi

in Australia," I immediately say, shaking my head and jutting out my lips. He breaks

s quickly as he can. From the snippets of the conversation, it seems the seated man owes the other guy, who is a st

nto the inner chambers of the bar. Most of the customers here have diverted their attention to the quarrelso

and look back at table six. The man who was seated is standing now and being held by a couple of oth

everyone else, the chaos escalates. Alex returns fr

d shaking with fear. I've been working at Falcon for close to a y

minute or two. I don't trust what's gonna happen next. Run outs

d is replaced by fear the moment I hear a gunshot in the air. Reflexively, I crouch to the ground and start sc

lumped over on the table, eyes open, tongue hanging out and blood dripping fr

uddenly I feel someone's hands on my hair pulling me back. I don't want to turn back and

ards the door. I let out a soul-piercing yelp as the pain surges through my body and curl up into a fetal position instinctively so

ft me. I open my eyes in fear and see Moneybag's face right next to mine. He looks at me like he's contemplating w

ith me on his back, Moneybag pushes through the crowd and the next time I open my eyes, we're outside. There'

da Civic car. For a moment, I wonder if I'm being kidnappe

only human alive to run a podcast. I nod in response and in a jiffy, he's off again.

wound in his body," Moneybag's friend is saying. H

e suddenly asks and starts lookin

with you. But I

'm sure. He got out of the joint before y

o go check

e. I can see him cover his face with his palm. He's obviously tired. Seems like his friend is more than just a frien

s when the door to the driver's

finitely gay. I look down at my thigh. My denim is torn where I was stepped on a

like to go home." He looks at me quizzical

ing your fri

s my cue to put on mine and I call out my address to him. I expect him to complain that it's a long way

y fast that I'm not surprised when we get there in thirty minutes as opposed to the hour I spend whenever I take the bus. He

so your bruise doesn't leave a

drives away. I had expected him to ask my name or something. Well, I don't even know his so we're even. And besides, he's

that I had left my purse at the bar and in it was my key to the apartment. My roommate, Sand

d to the back where her room is and try to peer in through the window. Her light's off bu

someone – she or her guest – turns on one of her bedside la

und in shock at what I've just seen. I know who's i