“Did you just do that?” I seethed.
“Oh come on, angel. It was only a slap on the ass, nothing more,” he chuckled. At that moment, I felt the room shift as I was pulled back. Daimon flew over me, grabbed at the man’s collar, and punched him hard on the face.
“Daimon!” I cried out in surprise. I dropped my empty tray and went to pull him off, but Darren held onto me.
“Don’t worry, Pete’s coming,” Darren reassured me. Pete and two of his new guys arrived and pulled Daimon away from the slaphappy bastard. “Don’t worry, sir, we’ll take good care of them,” Pete said to Daimon. The two guys ushered the gang outside while Pete dragged the unconscious slaphappy bastard away.
“Are you okay?” Darren asked as he looked me over.
“Yeah, I'm fine. I wasn’t expecting my ass to get slapped, that’s for sure.” I half-laughed, adrenaline still pumping inside me.
I looked over to Daimon. He stood far away from me as he looked me over, his white shirt slightly askew while his jeans had some blood on them. I moved away from Darren and walked over to Daimon.
“What were you thinking?” I asked surprised at my feelings of concern and worry that had taken over. He moved in closer to close the gap between us.
“I was thinking someone was touching what was mine and I didn’t like it,” he gritted out.
“Daimon…” I said, but he stopped me.
“I told you I didn’t want you working here anymore. I don’t like the idea of men looking at you the way they do,” he hissed.
“Daimon, you’re bleeding,” I said as I took his hand, but he yanked it away from me and left. He walked back to the bar and ordered another drink.
“Addie, whatever you two got going on, a part of me is happy, the other is afraid. I haven’t seen Daimon act like this since high school,” Darren said cautiously.
“He was an asshole in high school. All he ever did was bully me to no end,” I said, trying not to sound as bitter as I felt.
“Addie…” he waved his hand and exhaled. “Forget it.”
I walked over to the bar where Daimon sat and took his hand without him noticing I was there. He flinched as I touched him.
“Relax, Daimon. I want to see if your hand is okay.” I looked at his hand, turning it and examining what he had done to himself.
Talk about flying off the handle. Then again, appearances mattered to Daimon and no one ever mishandled what he thought was his, which meant me in high school, or me tonight in this bar. To him I was his personal toy, his entertainment, which meant no one was to touch me. I resented him and his attention. I hated him then, but now my hate moved down a notch and I only disliked him…sometimes. He watched me as I cleaned off the blood, which had dried up with a clean, moist bar towel.
“What are you doing?” he whispered low, his rough voice making my heart skip.
“My job,” I said without thinking.
“You always do your job well. Don’t you, Addie?” he said spitefully. I stopped what I was doing and looked at him. His eyes were ice cold, his face hard as he scowled.
“Why? Why do you hate me so much? I don’t get it?” I asked under my breath afraid others would hear us. “In high school you treated me like shit. Now you come back into my life and corner me into this ridiculous situation. Sometimes I think you’ve changed, but then you turn back to being the Daimon I knew in high school. Why? What could I have ever possibly done to you?” I asked defeated and tired of his shit, but all Daimon did was glare at me. “Fine, Daimon, reduce everything I do to the least common denominator. I'm all about money then. If that’s how you see me then that’s who I am.” I threw the towel on the bar and left.
“It doesn’t look like you two are doing too well,” Elissa admitted. She took me to French Roast on 11th street close to the West Village. When the waiter finally came with our order, Elissa nearly grabbed the plate out of the waiter’s hand; she was hungry for her Croque Monsieur. She licked her lips and rubbed her hands together as she stared at it.
“It’s just a rough patch,” I said quietly as I picked at my croquettes the waiter had placed in front of me. I was happily thinking about when this farce with Daimon would end.
“It might be a rough patch, and he is an asshole, but at least you both have the sizzle,” she said, cutting into her sandwich.
“The sizzle?” I wondered.
“Yeah! The sizzle. It’s pretty awesome to watch you two go at each other,” she laughed. She put a fork full of food in her mouth and moaned at the flavors. “So good,” she muttered as she chewed. “So tell me about Frank,” she said, looking over at me.