Chapter 51

51. A Bar Fight.

Gerald stares at me from across the room as I sit on the pristine couch on top of a fluffy towel that had been spread on it so that I won’t accidentally stain it with blood.

That is still steadily dripping from the various cuts on my person.

Coraline sits next to me, dabbing a ball of cotton to the deepest ones on my face, specifically my forehead and cheeks. There is a small dustbin on the ground next to her, half filled with used, red-stained cotton. On her lap is a first aid kid, haphazardly put together by Gerald who’d run to the pharmacy nearest to the hotel after Coraline and I came crashing into his hotel room, her shocked and trying to support my weight while I tried to stay upright.

“What the hell happened?” Gerald questions, still panting a bit from his run to the pharmacy.

“A bar fight,” I answer with a wince, and Coraline tsks.

“Don’t move your head,” she advises, discarding the pink-stained cotton ball and taking another from the packet in her other hand, “I just got this one cut not to bleed. I still say we need to get to the hospital.”

“They’re just some cuts and bruises,” I assure her, “nothing fatal. It’ll heal soon, besides, this isn’t the first time I got roughed up.”

It had been far too long since the last time. I would need a couple of painkillers and some good antiseptics, along with plenty of time. But eventually, the bruises will fade off, and the cuts will scab. Thanks to my good immunity system, I healed fast. Soon, I will be good as new.

I meant the last phrase to soothe Coraline and Gerald’s worries, but if anything, it makes their respective scowls deeper.

“You didn’t answer my question right,” Gerald points out, looking impatient, “why were you two caught up in a bar fight?”

“It’s neither of our faults,” Coraline pauses her dabbing to give Gerald an imploring look. “We were just minding our own business, him talking with the bartenders and me dancing. There was a bunch of frat guys there, and one of them couldn’t clearly hold his alcohol in, so he was wasted. First, he tried to get. me to dance with him, and I humored him a bit because I didn’t realize he was a big douchebag. But then. he began to make advances on me, so I tried to leave the dancing area. And apparently, the idiot thought that meant I wanted to spend the night with his sorry ass.”

“A night?” Gerald questions and I can’t help but roll my eyes.

“He was angling for a good time,” I clarify, “as in a one-night stand.”

It’s by her tone alone that I realize how much pissed Coraline is at what went down in the bar. And honestly, her anger was warranted. She had only wanted to have a good night out after coming face-to- face with her abusive ex-boyfriend’s dad who she never met, and that man was something else.

Unsettling was an understatement when describing him. And she’d just gotten shot and recovered from it, which led to her feeling stressed and unsafe in her own home city. No one deserved to get groped and prepositioned by an asshole after that. I only wish I decked the fucker a bit more. Granted I put on a good fight if the cuts and bruises on my face are anything to go by, but it does not feel like enough of a punishment Yet I have to admit, a small part of me does feel a little guilty about the whole fighting part of the night. Maybe if I had kept my big mouth shut and let Coraline handle herself, things would’ve gone down differently. Coraline also grumbled about this half-

heartedly when she was hauling my ass off the barroom after the fight ended.

And boy did that fight end fast. I don’t even remember half of what happened.

Because that bastard had touched Coraline in a smarmy way, and I just...I lost it, I guess. All I remember seeing is red, red, and red.

And yet I wasn’t the one to even throw the first punch. That was on him. He was the one who apparently thought that I was going to steal his new ‘girlfriend’. I was honestly just going to ask Lemon’s or any other bartender’s help unless I couldn’t talk him out of letting Coraline go.

“So, then he grabbed my hand and started to get forceful, so Jace intervened,” she gives me a scathing look, “although I could’ve handled it by myself.”

“I know, I know,” I sign, and wince again as she restarts the dabbing, “I was worked up because of everything that happened, and when I saw him have the fucking nerve to get his mittens on you, I had to intervene. And I didn’t think the idiot would hit me for it. I just asked him to let you go!”

“Wait, so he hit you first?” Gerald questions, “you didn’t start the whole fight? Also, did you get all that damage from one man?”

“One very pissed-off man, yes. I’m not too proud of it. And yeah, I asked him to let her go, and he got pissed. And then I asked him to let her go, again, a little more forcefully,” I may have even growled again, which was yet another reaction I could not control. It was honest to God growl that reminded me of a dog. I did not realize that humans could make sounds like that. “So, he thought I was the threat, and decided to take me out.”

Gerald’s eyes narrow. “Something makes me think that you’re significantly simplifying what went down,”

he mutters.

“Not really. It all happened so fast.”

My butler/boss sighs, “Should’ve known something like this would happen. How much damage did you do, then?”

“Not much. We didn’t break any furniture or glassware or whatever. The fight took place on the floor for the most part.” Coraline starts to apply antiseptic to the wounds, and I bite my tongue through the sting. Then, she begins to apply Band-Aids.

“Lemon and his fellow bartenders didn’t let his friends intervene after Jace put the bastard down.” Coraline chirps, and Gerald’s eyes flash toward me, his surprise evident.

“Wait, you won the fight?”

I shoot him a petulant glance, my lips in a pout, “you don’t have to sound so surprised...”

“Last time you got in a fight, Jace, you ended up in the hospital,” Gerald points out, making me purse my lips. But there is a triumphant and almost smug expression on his face. “Seems like the boxing classes are paying off.”

I shrug. I did use all the techniques I have been taught to win the fight. Had I not been working on my upper body strength; I do not think I could’ve lasted against that frat boy. Drunk or not, he was twice my size.

“They sure are,” Coraline replies, and dare I say that even she sounds proud, “anyways, the bartenders broke up the fight, and Lemon helped us get out in the middle of the commotion before we could get ourselves into more trouble.”

“Lemon?”

“A bartender who apparently has a long story behind his name.” Coraline provides an explanation. Gerald stares at us for a long moment and then sighs as if he’s carrying the weight of the world.

“Well, at least the two of you didn’t get yourselves into too much trouble. I honestly thought I was going to have to get the cops involved again.”

“I have to say.” Coraline’s smile is a tad bit top hysterical, “it’s refreshing to be involved in something that doesn’t have half the city’s police and some gun-wielding criminals involved.”

“Your humor is becoming more morbid by the day,” I observe with amusement as she finishes the last of the Band-Aids.

“Hey, I’m allowed to be morbid about it. I survived a shooting.”

As she gets up with her supplies, a knock sounds on the door, making us all freeze.

“Who might that be?” I wonder as the silence carries on. The knock sounds again.

“Give us a moment!” Gerald calls out and moves to the door. For a split second, I wonder if it’s the cops, but then the door swings open.