over at the other end of the bar.”
He was only too glad to comply. She glanced over to the fight. Dowser’s shirt was in shreds and he was balled up trying to protect his body from their kicks. Could anyone survive that? So she put the stock to her shoulder and shrieked, “Enough!” at the top of her lungs. For emphasis, she jerked the loader back. The evil snick got their attention, if the shriek didn’t. Everybody knew that sound. They stopped kicking Dowser and looked around. The other patrons hit the deck, some crawling behind the pool table.
“The little preppie girl got herself a gun, boys.” Danny gave a bloodied grin.
They didn’t think she knew how to use it, or maybe that she didn’t dare. Surprise, surprise, boys. Her father had insisted on target practice this last year for the older kids and practice with a shotgun for Tammy and Kee, since it didn’t require much aim. Drew was a crack shot, but she’d also trained with the girls as a gesture of solidarity. She raised the shotgun and pulled one trigger. The light over the pool table exploded.
“Fuck, bitch! Be careful with that thing.”
“I was careful,” Drew said. She realized her cheek was swelling. Her words came out through a jaw that wasn’t moving much. “The next shot will carefully blow a hole in one of you. Don’t particularly care which one.”
The other two had raised their hands and now Danny joined them. “No hard feelings.”
“Right.” Now what? She really didn’t want the police involved. She’d never get home on time. Somebody would claim assault with a deadly weapon and she’d need a lawyer, and … well, not happening. And she couldn’t leave a guy who had tried to come to her rescue to the tender mercies of her attackers. “So, you two get Mr. Dowser out to my car.” She made a little motion with the gun barrel toward the door. “You, Baldy, trail them out.”
The black guy and the guy with a lot of piercings heaved Dowser up, none too gently. Danny leaned down as he passed the knife on the floor “Uh-uh, buddy. Keep your hands where I can see them.” That felt like TV talk. Who would have guessed it could come from sophisticated Drew Tremaine? Must be the shotgun.
The bar was now empty except for the bartender and Mr. Tattoo, still out cold on the floor. The place was a wreck, tables overturned, chairs in pieces, shattered glass and spilt beer everywhere. As they filed out with Dowser’s arms over their shoulders, Drew flipped up the bar where it hinged, her shotgun barrel steady. “Thanks a lot,” she sneered to the bartender. “I’d say drinks are on you.” She backed over to where she could pick up her purse.
“I’d say, don’t come back here, bitch.”
“No worries,” she muttered under her breath. If they actually got out of here, she was never coming anywhere near this place again. She stalked after the men who were dragging Dowser toward her car. He was a really big guy. They were staggering under his weight.
“Load him in the back seat,” she called, keeping her shotgun pointed at Danny’s knees.
He jerked open the door to the back seat, and the other two shoved Dowser half in. Dowser crawled weakly across the seat. They pushed his legs in and slammed the door. Danny started to grin as he realized they were now between her and her car.
“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” Drew muttered. “Like you’re gonna take on a shotgun. Get over across the street. All of you,” she added as they hesitated.
Grimacing, they shuffled to the other side. The black guy was rubbing his jaw. The guy with piercings was going to have some beautiful facial bruises very shortly to go with his split lip. They all glared at her as she fumbled for her keys. She opened the driver’s door without taking her eyes or the gun off them. She slid in and propped the shotgun barrel on the base of the open window as she pulled the door shut. Then she shifted the shotgun so her left thumb was on the triggers and
He was only too glad to comply. She glanced over to the fight. Dowser’s shirt was in shreds and he was balled up trying to protect his body from their kicks. Could anyone survive that? So she put the stock to her shoulder and shrieked, “Enough!” at the top of her lungs. For emphasis, she jerked the loader back. The evil snick got their attention, if the shriek didn’t. Everybody knew that sound. They stopped kicking Dowser and looked around. The other patrons hit the deck, some crawling behind the pool table.
“The little preppie girl got herself a gun, boys.” Danny gave a bloodied grin.
They didn’t think she knew how to use it, or maybe that she didn’t dare. Surprise, surprise, boys. Her father had insisted on target practice this last year for the older kids and practice with a shotgun for Tammy and Kee, since it didn’t require much aim. Drew was a crack shot, but she’d also trained with the girls as a gesture of solidarity. She raised the shotgun and pulled one trigger. The light over the pool table exploded.
“Fuck, bitch! Be careful with that thing.”
“I was careful,” Drew said. She realized her cheek was swelling. Her words came out through a jaw that wasn’t moving much. “The next shot will carefully blow a hole in one of you. Don’t particularly care which one.”
The other two had raised their hands and now Danny joined them. “No hard feelings.”
“Right.” Now what? She really didn’t want the police involved. She’d never get home on time. Somebody would claim assault with a deadly weapon and she’d need a lawyer, and … well, not happening. And she couldn’t leave a guy who had tried to come to her rescue to the tender mercies of her attackers. “So, you two get Mr. Dowser out to my car.” She made a little motion with the gun barrel toward the door. “You, Baldy, trail them out.”
The black guy and the guy with a lot of piercings heaved Dowser up, none too gently. Danny leaned down as he passed the knife on the floor “Uh-uh, buddy. Keep your hands where I can see them.” That felt like TV talk. Who would have guessed it could come from sophisticated Drew Tremaine? Must be the shotgun.
The bar was now empty except for the bartender and Mr. Tattoo, still out cold on the floor. The place was a wreck, tables overturned, chairs in pieces, shattered glass and spilt beer everywhere. As they filed out with Dowser’s arms over their shoulders, Drew flipped up the bar where it hinged, her shotgun barrel steady. “Thanks a lot,” she sneered to the bartender. “I’d say drinks are on you.” She backed over to where she could pick up her purse.
“I’d say, don’t come back here, bitch.”
“No worries,” she muttered under her breath. If they actually got out of here, she was never coming anywhere near this place again. She stalked after the men who were dragging Dowser toward her car. He was a really big guy. They were staggering under his weight.
“Load him in the back seat,” she called, keeping her shotgun pointed at Danny’s knees.
He jerked open the door to the back seat, and the other two shoved Dowser half in. Dowser crawled weakly across the seat. They pushed his legs in and slammed the door. Danny started to grin as he realized they were now between her and her car.
“Yeah, yeah, tough guy,” Drew muttered. “Like you’re gonna take on a shotgun. Get over across the street. All of you,” she added as they hesitated.
Grimacing, they shuffled to the other side. The black guy was rubbing his jaw. The guy with piercings was going to have some beautiful facial bruises very shortly to go with his split lip. They all glared at her as she fumbled for her keys. She opened the driver’s door without taking her eyes or the gun off them. She slid in and propped the shotgun barrel on the base of the open window as she pulled the door shut. Then she shifted the shotgun so her left thumb was on the triggers and
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