Graceless (Grace Notes #2)

“Oh fuck, it’s a football night.” They swallowed hard. Cassidy looked at them blankly.

“So? You hate football?”

“No, I hate footballers and people who love football,” they hedged. “This is not going to be my scene.”

The gender balance in the bar was badly skewed, mostly dudes. They were rowdy, shouting at the screens, the scent of beer strong in the air. A sense of anxiety crept up in Lane’s chest.

“Shall we get a drink?” Cassidy looked at them uncertainly.

“Uh yeah.” Lane moved them back towards the bar, not wanting to let Cassidy know how anxious they actually were. The line was long and they found their toe tapping impatiently, as they tried to figure out a good plan. Football night meant it didn’t matter where they went, the crowd would be more or less the same everywhere. Perhaps Lane was overreacting. They could stay under the radar surely and still show Cassidy a good time.

“What are you looking at?”

Lane flinched, which was already the wrong thing to do. The semi-circle of big guys next to them in the queue were already staring them down and now they sensed fear. Fucking great.

“Nothing, man,” they muttered. The closest guy leaned in.

“Man,” he said comically, his eyebrows raised to his friends, who tittered like buffoons. “Is that what you are?” He must have been in his forties, well over six feet tall, absurdly muscular arms in his shirt sleeves. His greasy dark hair was pulled back into a scraggly ponytail and his eyes were small and hard. Lane bit back about eight cutting quips and settled for averting their eyes, hoping he’d lose interest. “I’m talking to you, you little freak.” Nope, the voice was getting angrier. Lane was just about to drag Cassidy right the hell out of there when all of a sudden, her hand slid into theirs, entwining their fingers together.

“You gentleman aren’t planning on ruining my evening by hassling my boyfriend, are you?” She looked up at the closest meathead, her tone sweet as pie.

The guy looked incredulous.

“That’s not a boyfriend, honey,” he said. “That’s a-” He dropped a homophobic slur. Lane flinched again, but then out of nowhere, Cassidy was melding her body right into theirs, her fingers light on their chest as she smiled up at them with infatuated heat. Then she looked back at the looming harasser.

“Oh, believe me,” she said, her tone all sex and insinuation, “I can definitely tell you that’s not true.” She smiled confidently. Lane held their breath, but now the guy was transferring his unwanted attention onto Cassidy.

“I think you might need to get to know a real man, pretty girl.” He leered, taking another step closer, and his friends cheered. Lane’s spine went rigid, but Cassidy just cocked her head, considering.

“Don’t I know you?” she asked, searching his face. “I do! You’re a friend of my dad’s!” The guy blinked at her, standing still in his tracks. “Yes!” she continued as if delighted. “I’ve definitely seen you at one of his fights.”

“Fights?” the guy said warily.

“Yes,” Cassidy enthused. “My dad’s Jaxon “Dead-Eyes” Knight. You know him? He got disqualified recently for going a bit too hard on a guy when he was down, but he’ll be back in the ring soon. Oh look, there he is!” She waved excitedly toward the adjoining dining room. “You’ll have to come say hi,” she said to the guy, who was already backing towards his friends. “Come on babe, my dad’s waiting.” She pulled Lane along with her and they slipped past the protesting waitress and into the packed dining room.

“Holy shit,” Lane said, their chest still tight, heart hammering. “You think fast on your feet.”

“Necessary skill,” Cassidy said, her voice slightly high. “Uh oh, where to now?” The dining room was fully seated, and there was no exit to the street.

“Come on.” Lane grabbed her hand and pulled her right into the busy kitchen. Shouts followed, as the chef and kitchen hands whirled around them. Hand-in-hand they ran, bent over as if it would hide them, Cassidy squealing slightly in what sounded like glee as Lane tugged them out the chef’s entrance tumbling into the alleyway behind the bar. They kept running, in case some angry waiter thought they were skipping out on their bill, until one alley turned into another and finally they stopped, both breathing hard, leaning side by side against the brick wall.

“Oh my god,” Cassidy gasped, looking at them with wide eyes. “What a start!”

Lane looked back at her. She was so pretty, her eyes sparkling with mischief as if they’d just had a fun adventure instead of nearly getting the shit kicked out of them. Lane was supposed to be showing her around, being her safe guide and instead Cassidy was saving their ass.

“Can we rain check?” they said. “This is why I hate football nights.” Cassidy blinked, her smile fading, and Lane’s insides began to shrink. “I’m sorry,” they said. “I feel terrible that this is going to ruin your night out.”

Cassidy straightened her spine and turned her body toward Lane.

“It’s fine,” she said lightly. “In case you didn’t notice, it’s not a great night out tonight if you’re a girl either.”

Lane remembered the look in the big guy’s eyes as he ran his eyes over Cassidy’s body and they shuddered.

“I’ll message Burt,” they said, pulling out their phone. They sent a dropped pin and told him it was urgent, and then they waited.

“Does that kind of thing happen to you a lot?” Cassidy asked after a while. Lane stiffened.

“Nah. I mean sometimes.” They swallowed. “My whole life.”