Silver James

Guess what?!? I managed to snag an honorable mention in last week’s #ThursdayThreads. Too bad they weren’t 250 words that applied to anything I’m like…you know…actually working on. Still, this character–whoever she is–will stick around and show up again in the future. I’m not sure who, but she’s destined for one of the Nightriders. And no, it isn’t the Russian, though I admit the thought of him hooking up with…Nope. Shhh. That’s a spoiler. Anyway, the scene is pretty self-explanatory and it has been expanded from it’s original 250 words. For anyone who wants to play along, the prompt was: **”You can’t go outside until you have finished.”**
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She walked into a wall of sound and stopped dead. Her first instinct was to turn around and run. What craziness had possessed her to accept this invitation? A rowdy group came in and pushed her off to one side. The noise washed over her, a cacophony of rock-and-roll and raised voices underscored with the clack of wooden balls. She almost smiled at the realization that the sound of the very intense pool game could be heard above all the rest. Curious, she moved a little closer as the clack stopped.

One man, fingers wrapped around the cue stick, its base firmly planted on the floor. He needed a haircut and a few days’ worth of stubble darkened the lower half of his face. The other man stalked around the table vainly searching for a shot. Both men wore leather vests covered in patches and she was reminded that Shooters was a biker bar.

Her friends were supposed to be somewhere in this crowd. She turned away from the game after one last appreciative look and searched for the girls. She located them at the end of the long bar and began a journey of bumper cars to get through them, dodging through the packed throng. She’d made it about halfway when two women planted themselves in her path.

“Take it back, you bitch!”

“The hell I will.”

Curses and insults continued and she was elbowed back as sides formed a cluster around the verbal combatants. Then the bystanders began slinging words. Pushing and shoving ensued. A table laden with food and pitchers of beer crashed to the floor. A huge bowl of salsa splashed down the front of her dress, followed by a mug of beer to her face.

“That’s it,” she growled, elbowing her way into the middle of the melee. In a voice that would make her drill sergeant dad proud, she proclaimed, “I’ve had it.” She placed her hand, palm down, just below her nose. “All the way up to here.”

A hush enveloped the room. Even the music cut off. All eyes shifted to her. She didn’t care. She didn’t know these people, would likely never see them again—especially if she had anything to say about it, and definitely had no fucks to give.

“You’re done here.”

“You can’t stop us,” argued one.

The second echoed, “You can’t!

“Go outside until you have finished.” Hands on hips, she stared them both down. “Scat. Go on with you. Out!” She flapped her hands like she was shooing chickens. They stood unmoving, dumbfounded.

“Is she serious right now?” The whispered question from a woman on the periphery carried plainly in the silence.

“Who is she?” another asked. “I mean, does she know who she’s messing with?”

She had no clue who the women were and didn’t care. Both were wearing leather vests similar to the pool players so she grabbed them by the scruffs and marched them toward the nearest exit, which was the front door. The crowd parted, hooting and laughing as the women struggled and cussed. She stopped and jerked them up on their toes by her grip on the vest. “What are you, five year olds?”

Moving on without giving them a chance to reply, she pushed them through the double doors and dropped them in the parking lot. Turning on her heel, she reentered the bar, to loud applause. She managed to stop the grin threatening her no-nonsense demeanor. Sometimes it paid to be a kindergarten teacher.
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Anyway, those are my words for today. Writers, feel free to jam on the theme. Readers, when was the last time you broke up a fight and how did you do it? 😉