“If your new wife can dance like that sweet thing, you are the luckiest dude alive!” Dexter said, knocking Matt’s fist. “See you at Thursday’s luncheon, mon. And congratulations!”
Matt turned to face me, opened his mouth to speak. Then Koa draped a big arm around his neck, and said, “Okay, bro, now that we got you all hot and bothered, it’s time for the main event. We’re taking you to Scores!”
The remaining men around us hooted.
“The night is on me,” Koa vowed. “So hand your wallet over to Clare. I won’t take no for an answer”—he winked in my direction—“and neither will she.”
I stepped forward, palm up, hand extended.
“Koa, my brother, you’re the best,” Matt said, rubbing his bleary eyes. “But I’m not going to Scores with you.”
Koa looked stricken. “Dude! You can’t be serious.”
Matt shrugged apologetically. “With the wedding and my daughter coming in, I’ve got too much to do. I’ve been going since sunup. It’s time for me to call it a night.”
“No Scores?” Men groaned in disappointment.
“Just for me, guys,” Matt insisted. He smiled at Koa. “You all go. Have a blast.”
Koa considered Matt and nodded. “Okay, bro. It’s your party... but we’re gonna keep it going!” Grinning, he turned to face the others. “Dudes, it’s on! The girls are waiting!”
With more good-byes and congratulations, the men filed out. After everyone was gone, I sidled up to Matt.
“That’s a shocker.”
“What?”
“You—not going to a gentlemen’s club with your hammered brethren.”
Matt folded his arms. “You’ve got something to say about it?”
“I don’t believe it, that’s all.” I shook my head. “The eternal boy is all growed up.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Again with the ‘eternal boy.’ ”
“Would you rather I use the Latin?” I couldn’t help needling him—just a little. “Puer aeternus? A man stuck in the adolescent phase of his life.”
“I’d rather you get off my back. Believe me, on any other night, I would have gladly gone out with Koa and the guys, but...” He sighed, rubbed the back of his neck.
“But?”
“But the sight of that fake Breanne put the fear of bridezilla into me, okay?” He shook his head. “It simply occurred to me that one wild night isn’t worth the hell storm that could come down on my head. I’m looking forward to my wedding on Saturday, the Barcelona honeymoon. Why do I need trouble this week?”
“Sounds like a reasoned, mature decision.” I smiled then lightly elbowed his six-pack. “Not bad for a man who’s chugged as many beers as you have.”
Matt finally laughed. Then the pendulum clock on the wall began to bong the hour. “It’s eleven already. Let’s get out of here.”
The front barroom was much busier now and much louder. Tables and chairs were occupied by a mixed group of college kids and older drinkers. As we moved through, I tapped Matt’s shoulder.
“Give me a second, okay? I want to use the restroom.”
“Yeah, me, too. Chugging beer has its consequences. Meet you at the front door.”
I waked past the Dylan Thomas shrine again and into a small, adjoining back area that held an alcove to the ladies’ room. That’s where I spotted the attractive young dancer again. I froze when I realized what she’d attracted.
The obnoxious jerk in the black motorcycle jacket had left the crowded bar and slipped back here, trapping the dancer in an isolated corner. The girl was giving the punk a tense smile, shaking her head prettily, gesturing to her cell phone. He snatched it away from her. She reached for it, but he held it higher, stepped closer.
I hurried back to the bar, waited the few seconds for Matt to return. “I need your help.”
“What’s the matter?”
“A drunk gave me trouble earlier. He’s cornered the Breanne dancer by the ladies’ room. We should do something to—”
Matt was already moving. I followed in his muscular wake. The dancer was still standing there and still attempting to be polite to the harassing drunk.
“No. Thank you, kindly, mister. But I don’t want no drink ...”
The girl’s backwoods twang was at odds with her hyper-polished Breanne facade. And her little voice was as slight as her figure: down off the stout table, her performance bravado gone, she projected all the sturdiness of a porcelain ballerina.
“Aw, come on,” the guy replied with an oily smile. “You musss be thirsssy after all that sexy dancin’...”
“I told you, no thanks. Now, can I please have my phone back?”
“Not till you give me that private dance I asssked you for. Jusss turn around now, an’ you won’t get hurt. We’ll use the john—”
The scumbag reached out a grease-stained hand for a clumsy grope, but he never got it. Matt grabbed the guy’s arm, tightening his fingers around the man’s wrist.
“What the hell!”
“Didn’t you hear the lady?” Matt said, twisting the guy’s arm just enough to make his point. “She doesn’t want to drink with you, and she didn’t come here to dance for you.”
Without shifting his gaze from the jerk’s face, Matt pulled the phone out of his grip and handed it back to the dancer. The man stared blankly at Matt. I held my breath as the two remained locked together. When Matt finally released his grip, the other man stumbled back.
“Screw you,” he muttered, rubbing the arm Matt had twisted.
Like all bullies, this guy was obviously brilliant at pushing around a weaker opponent. A head-to-head challenge was another matter.
“The lady’s with us, okay?” Matt said. “And we’re leaving.”
“Lady?” The punk snorted. “She’s a ho, asshole!”
Matt stepped uncomfortably close again. “Unless you want to experience a world of hurt, I suggest you stay here, have another drink, and stay the hell away from this lady.”
Matt took the dancer’s arm, then mine, and guided us quickly through the exit. We didn’t slow down until we reached the next street corner.
“Lordy,” the dancer said, staring up at Matt with wide blue eyes. “Thanks for your help. I thought I could charm my way around that horndog, but he was a real A-hole, wasn’t he?”
“Don’t you have a driver?” Matt asked. “A guy to watch your back?”
She vigorously nodded. “Normally, I do. But he’s down with the flu.”
Hearing more of her accent, I placed it as possibly West Virginian—a twang I’d heard when I was raising Joy in New Jersey. A big, friendly family had moved onto our street from a small town outside of Wheeling.
“What about transportation?” I asked.
“The agency’s car service is supposed to send a limo over.” She held up her cell phone. “All I have to do is call for it. But I kept gettin’ their dang voice mail!” She sighed theatrically. “That happens sometimes. I guess there just aren’t enough cars in this big ol’ city. Anyway, I don’t have much cash on me. Not enough for a cab to Brooklyn. I guess I should just take the subway.”
“Are you kidding?” I said. “At this hour? With those expensive clothes and high heels? You may as well shout, ‘Mug me.’ ”
The girl scratched her head. “Think so?”
I exchanged glances with Matt. “Why don’t you walk with us,” I told her. “We’re headed back to our coffeehouse just down the street. You can straighten out your car service problems from there. At least you’ll be safe from half-drunk rapists.”
“That’s a fine idea,” she said. “And it’ll be my pleasure, too, with this hunky hero here watchin’ out for me!”