Donnie

“Excuse me?” My uninvited savior asked, befuddled by my outburst. He was tall, lean and had a face which looked a little bruised. He had bags beneath his brown eyes, his nose had a bump which showed it had been broken before, and his lower lip was swollen, but these did not make him ugly, in fact, I thought he looked ruggedly handsome. His black hair was cropped so close to his skull.
Something about him seemed rough, unrefined and a little animalistic. It sent shivers down my spine.
“You heard me!” I internally scolded myself for getting entranced by his interesting features, “I did not ask for your help! What is your problem?”
His eyes narrowed with displeasure and his lips became a thin line. His jaw bulged and I could see he was mad, “I'm sorry, did I see wrong? From where I was, it looked like that man was forcing himself on you.”
Yes, the foolish lug had pawed me. I involuntarily shuddered as I remembered his beefy paws on my body, and how close I'd been to his face.
My savior noticed my shudder and came closer, “Is everything alright?”
He reached out to touch me and I saw his hands. They were well-muscled and his knuckles were bruised in various spots. Again, one of the marks of a professional fighter.
I shifted away from his hand, and a hurt look entered his eyes. Guilt and shame filled me, but before I could apologize, he retracted his hand and his face lost all expression.
“No, everything isn't alright, thanks to you. You should've minded your business!” I raged, remembering what his interference had cost me.
My savior huffed and shook his head, “What exactly did I cost you? The chance to be sexually assaulted?”
“If you must know, I had a bet and you made me lose.” I answered, now more genuinely annoyed at his sarcastic quip.
“What bet is this?” He cocked an eyebrow at me.
I had bet one of my friends, Lisa, that I'd be able to rack up more than a thousand bucks in tips while dancing without getting off the table for a break.
I reached for the tip plate where patrons were encouraged to drop some money for the dancers, and to my utter disappointment, I only saw a crumpled two hundred dollar bill.
I smoothened the bill as best as I could and waved it in his face, “You see? I only got a lousy two hundred dollars because you scared away my fans!”
My savior had the effrontery to roll his eyes at me, “You could always dance again.”
Like it was so easy. He didn't understand that he'd blown my chances of winning my bet with Lisa, and I wasn't about to tell him because it was none of his business, and I thought I'd sound foolish to him. Not that I cared.
“Forget it!” I shouted at him over the loud music, “I guess you feel good knocking down a drunk man. I wager it's because you find it difficult to win when you fight in a ring.”
His eyes widened with surprise and I mentally cheered myself. I'd been right on the nose with my guess about his line of profession.
“I see,” Was all he said when he recovered from his shock, “I'm sorry I saved you from that man. But know this, I'll never help you again, even if you beg me to.”
I laughed maliciously. He obviously had no idea the type of men I had to protect me. If he did, he'd tuck his little fighter tail and run.
I seriously doubt that, a voice in me said. I didn't care for that voice or its words, so I ignored it.
“I'll never ask for your help because I'll never see you again,” I retorted in my haughtiest voice, “I don't think we run in the same circles.”
Unexpectedly, his lips kicked up in a half-smile and he gave me the once-over, “Says the girl who dances in a seedy bar.”
The nerve on the man! How dare he try to demean me that way? Did he think I was some ordinary woman he could talk down on? He probably had a white knight syndrome and didn't take it lightly when people did not appreciate his antics.
Before I could think of a befitting reply, his long legs took him away from me in powerful strides.
“Hey! I'm not done yet!” I yelled like a petulant child, and was about to follow him to wherever he was going, when an arm clamped around me. I wheeled around to see Lisa, my friend.
She was black, tall and slim with long braids.
“Girl,” She asked, “Where do you think you're going?”
“You didn't see what happened?” I let Lisa herd me to a table. Together, we sat.
“Nope,” Lisa shook her head, her earrings dangling, “All I can see is that you're off the table. How much did you make?”
I reluctantly brought out the two hundred dollar bill and put it on the table.
Lisa looked at the bill and burst into hearty laughter, loud enough to drown out the music.
“Damn!” When Lisa was finished, she had tears in her eyes, “That's even less than what I made.”
Lisa had made four hundred and twenty-two dollars. More than half of what I'd made. And to think I had bragged that I would top her.
Damn you, Mr Fighter! Damn you a thousand times! I thought angrily.
“So what happened?” Lisa queried.
I told her everything that happened, and when I was done, my anger had escalated to new levels.
“Aww!” Lisa exclaimed cutely, “He saved you.”
“No, he made me lose a bet!” I banged my fist on the table.
“You and your redhead anger,” Lisa laughed, “Girl, look past our silly bet. The drunk fool could have roughed you up.”
Lisa probably had a point, but I wasn't going to admit it. Instead, I changed the subject, “Lisa, where did you disappear to?”
Lisa's eyes twinkled as she regaled me of how she'd had a hot make out session in the restroom with some hot man she'd met while dancing.
“I can't believe you left me to go kiss some stranger.” I accused Lisa in a light-hearted manner.
Lisa put her hands together, “I'm sorry I did, Donnie, but if you'd seen him, you would have given me your blessings.”
“No way,” I laughed as Lisa began to describe the man she'd kissed. I was about to ask her where he was when my phone buzzed with a text message.
It was from my father. Immediately, I tuned out Lisa. My father never texted or called me. He preferred FaceTime, so he could see my expressions and know when I was lying.
I swiped my phone screen and cursed out loud when I read the message. My palms got sweaty, and I scrambled up from my chair.
“Donnie, what's up?” Lisa asked, worried.
“I gotta go.”
“Why? It's only a quarter past midnight.” Lisa informed me.
I showed her the message which read:

Hello, my dearest Donatella. I am at your place, and you don't seem to be anywhere in sight. I'm waiting for you.

“Oh shit!” Lisa exclaimed, “You're royally screwed!”