Falling Under
Page 64
Carmella tried to steer them around a knot of men who were three drinks past acceptably drunk and nearing belligerent. She knew all she had to do was call out and no one would fuck with them because the three men they came in with were big enough to scare anyone. But the men made her nervous.
“Carmella? I thought that was you.”
Carmella recognized his voice and she spun on her heel, finger already pointed. “You! You broke into my house.”
“Oh shit,” PJ whispered.
Clifton—of course he’d been standing with those losers—came out of the shadows with some kind of easygoing smile but it was fake as hell.
“I didn’t. I just borrowed.”
“Borrowed?” She looked around at the beers on the table he was standing at. “You stole my shit so you could buy beer? Fuck you, Clifton.”
“Wow,” PJ said in an undertone. “Go, Carm.”
“What? You want me to pay you back now? All you had to do was ask. But you called the cops on me like a snitch.”
Carmella was tipsy, but really mad. To see him there with several hundred dollars’ worth of booze on that table and he stole fifty-six dollars from her?
Suddenly she wanted to pop him one right in the nose. But since he was bigger and surrounded by greasy-looking guys who looked like they all drove windowless white vans, she figured her best bet was to call the cops instead.
“Come on,” she said to PJ and they started to walk away.
“I said I just borrowed it.” Clifton moved to grab her arm to stop her, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blue, which was PJ being picked up and moved behind Asa, who stood next to Duke, who put himself in front of Carmella. Mick kept an eye on the other guys.
Duke moved lighting quick and suddenly Clifton was on the ground, his wrist bent back. He looked over his shoulder to Carmella. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Carmella shook her head. “He barely touched my arm.”
“Do you know this piece of shit?”
“That’s my ex-wife the cop caller!” Clifton screeched from his place on the floor.
“This is Clifton?” Duke asked. He must have bent Clifton’s wrist back even harder because the whimpering cut off with a gasp.
Carmella nodded. “I was young!”
Duke grinned at her a moment and then got serious again.
“Tell him to let me go. You guys, get him off me,” Clifton whined to his buddies, a few of whom seemed to take this request under advisement.
“Take it outside!” the bartender yelled out.
“Got it.” Duke let Clifton’s wrist go and then yanked him to his feet. “There’s a parking lot half a block up. Plenty of room for us to have a go.”
Asa tipped his chin at one of the guys Clifton was with.
“We could just call the police. They’d come get him.” It wasn’t that Carmella cared if Clifton got punched in the face. In fact, it might be cathartic to see. But she didn’t want Duke in trouble. Or Mick or Asa, who weren’t even involved really.
“He won’t even spend the night in jail unless he’s got warrants. Which he might.” Duke looked Clifton over.
“You gonna cry to the police or are you going to let me kick your ass?” Clifton taunted.
Two of the four guys ran through the side door and away and Carmella looked over to PJ, who rolled her eyes.
“You think that’ll manipulate me, little man?” Duke asked.
“Out!” the bartender repeated.
PJ took Carmella’s arm and they backed up. Mick held an elbow out for each one of them. “Ladies, shall we get some fresh air away from the fray?”
“I didn’t want to make a scene in there, but shouldn’t we be telling Duke this isn’t worth it? If the cops are called and he’s brawling, won’t he get busted too?” Carmella asked quietly.
Mick just kissed her cheek. “Telling Bradshaw not to throw a punch when he’s got that look on his face? Good luck with that, red.”
Duke and Asa came out next, followed by Clifton, one of his dumbass friends, and the bartender, who called out, “See you later, Asa. You guys have five before I call the cops,” as he went back into the bar.
Clifton’s friend was talking to him, egging him on, and Asa rolled his head on his neck. PJ sighed and murmured, “So hot.”
Once they were on the sidewalk near the action but out of direct harm, Mick spoke again. “Look, darlin’, eighty percent of the time Duke is the most chill motherfucker who walks this earth. But you put him in or on a machine? Put him in a ring or a fight? Well, he lives hard and full-out in that next fifteen percent.”
“And that last five percent?” Carmella asked him.
“When you push him too far. When you threaten something or someone he is bound to protect? He is a motherfucker you don’t want coming at you. Because all that mellow surfer right on stuff is gone.”
Shouldn’t she be outraged he was going to fistfight her ex? Who, granted, said and did some stupid shit, but he wasn’t worth Duke getting arrested over.
“She didn’t even have anything worth stealing! Not even her crazy mom’s pills I could sell.” Clifton took a wad of money from his pocket and threw it.
It hit Duke in the face.
Everything went very quiet until Mick spoke. “Well. Now this is going to happen for real. You two stay back here. I’m going to make sure everything goes by the rules.”
“Carmella? I thought that was you.”
Carmella recognized his voice and she spun on her heel, finger already pointed. “You! You broke into my house.”
“Oh shit,” PJ whispered.
Clifton—of course he’d been standing with those losers—came out of the shadows with some kind of easygoing smile but it was fake as hell.
“I didn’t. I just borrowed.”
“Borrowed?” She looked around at the beers on the table he was standing at. “You stole my shit so you could buy beer? Fuck you, Clifton.”
“Wow,” PJ said in an undertone. “Go, Carm.”
“What? You want me to pay you back now? All you had to do was ask. But you called the cops on me like a snitch.”
Carmella was tipsy, but really mad. To see him there with several hundred dollars’ worth of booze on that table and he stole fifty-six dollars from her?
Suddenly she wanted to pop him one right in the nose. But since he was bigger and surrounded by greasy-looking guys who looked like they all drove windowless white vans, she figured her best bet was to call the cops instead.
“Come on,” she said to PJ and they started to walk away.
“I said I just borrowed it.” Clifton moved to grab her arm to stop her, and from the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blue, which was PJ being picked up and moved behind Asa, who stood next to Duke, who put himself in front of Carmella. Mick kept an eye on the other guys.
Duke moved lighting quick and suddenly Clifton was on the ground, his wrist bent back. He looked over his shoulder to Carmella. “Are you all right? Did he hurt you?”
Carmella shook her head. “He barely touched my arm.”
“Do you know this piece of shit?”
“That’s my ex-wife the cop caller!” Clifton screeched from his place on the floor.
“This is Clifton?” Duke asked. He must have bent Clifton’s wrist back even harder because the whimpering cut off with a gasp.
Carmella nodded. “I was young!”
Duke grinned at her a moment and then got serious again.
“Tell him to let me go. You guys, get him off me,” Clifton whined to his buddies, a few of whom seemed to take this request under advisement.
“Take it outside!” the bartender yelled out.
“Got it.” Duke let Clifton’s wrist go and then yanked him to his feet. “There’s a parking lot half a block up. Plenty of room for us to have a go.”
Asa tipped his chin at one of the guys Clifton was with.
“We could just call the police. They’d come get him.” It wasn’t that Carmella cared if Clifton got punched in the face. In fact, it might be cathartic to see. But she didn’t want Duke in trouble. Or Mick or Asa, who weren’t even involved really.
“He won’t even spend the night in jail unless he’s got warrants. Which he might.” Duke looked Clifton over.
“You gonna cry to the police or are you going to let me kick your ass?” Clifton taunted.
Two of the four guys ran through the side door and away and Carmella looked over to PJ, who rolled her eyes.
“You think that’ll manipulate me, little man?” Duke asked.
“Out!” the bartender repeated.
PJ took Carmella’s arm and they backed up. Mick held an elbow out for each one of them. “Ladies, shall we get some fresh air away from the fray?”
“I didn’t want to make a scene in there, but shouldn’t we be telling Duke this isn’t worth it? If the cops are called and he’s brawling, won’t he get busted too?” Carmella asked quietly.
Mick just kissed her cheek. “Telling Bradshaw not to throw a punch when he’s got that look on his face? Good luck with that, red.”
Duke and Asa came out next, followed by Clifton, one of his dumbass friends, and the bartender, who called out, “See you later, Asa. You guys have five before I call the cops,” as he went back into the bar.
Clifton’s friend was talking to him, egging him on, and Asa rolled his head on his neck. PJ sighed and murmured, “So hot.”
Once they were on the sidewalk near the action but out of direct harm, Mick spoke again. “Look, darlin’, eighty percent of the time Duke is the most chill motherfucker who walks this earth. But you put him in or on a machine? Put him in a ring or a fight? Well, he lives hard and full-out in that next fifteen percent.”
“And that last five percent?” Carmella asked him.
“When you push him too far. When you threaten something or someone he is bound to protect? He is a motherfucker you don’t want coming at you. Because all that mellow surfer right on stuff is gone.”
Shouldn’t she be outraged he was going to fistfight her ex? Who, granted, said and did some stupid shit, but he wasn’t worth Duke getting arrested over.
“She didn’t even have anything worth stealing! Not even her crazy mom’s pills I could sell.” Clifton took a wad of money from his pocket and threw it.
It hit Duke in the face.
Everything went very quiet until Mick spoke. “Well. Now this is going to happen for real. You two stay back here. I’m going to make sure everything goes by the rules.”
