On The Rocks

And just like that, I go still. Brody’s words hit me hard, and there’s no fucking way I’ll ever put my brother in danger like that. Besides, I can get Henry Coursier on his own some other time and kick his ass.

“Okay,” I say. “I’m done—now get off.”

Brody stands up hesitantly and offers me a hand. When I reach out to take it, I see my hand is pouring blood from a gash on the side of my palm, presumably made by a rock.

When I stand, I wince and look down at my legs. There’s a hole in one knee, and I can feel there’s a cut in there somewhere too.

Looking down at Henry, I say, “Get the fuck off my property and don’t ever come back around. I catch you alone at any time in the future, you best be sure I’m going to finish what I started.”

“Fuck you, Markham,” he says as his buddies help him up from the ground.

I don’t even respond but reach into my pocket and pull my Jeep keys out.

“Where are you going?” Brody asks.

“To go see Gabby,” I tell him, sick to my stomach that I need to tell her exactly what happened. This shit will be out over the gossip waves in about five more seconds, and she needs to hear it from me. I need to be there when she finds out about this… because it is not going to go over well.

“At least go home and get cleaned up first,” Brody says. “You look like a nightmare.”

I don’t respond but throw myself into my Jeep, peeling out of the parking lot before Coursier and his crew even make it to their cars. But Brody’s right… I need to get cleaned up first before I go see Gabby.





Gabby opens her door, smiling at me brilliantly. I soak it in, knowing that look is not going to be around much longer.

“What are you doing here?” she asks brightly. “Not that I’m complaining.”

I step inside but before I can say anything, she sees the bandage on my palm. Taking my hand gently, her fingers trace the outside edge. “Oh my God. What happened to you?”

“Got in a bit of a fight,” I tell her quietly. “Got a minute to talk?”

“Sure,” she says with worry as she leads me over to the couch. She sits down, patting the seat beside her, and turning to face me after I plop down.

I don’t know any other way to say this other than to just say it. “You’re not going to get the Coursier project.”

Gabby blinks hard, and her mouth draws down. “Oh.”

She’s silent for a moment, chewing on her bottom lip, and her gaze drops to her hands, which are clasped in her lap. My fingers itch to take her in my arms, and I will, but I need to get the rest of it out first.

“He’s not giving you the bid because you’re a woman. No other reason than pure bigotry.”

I watch her carefully as what I say sinks in. She stares at her hands, her thumbs twirling around each other, and I’m poised to grab onto her if she breaks down.

Instead, she looks up at me, her eyes sorrowful. “Is that how you hurt your hand?”

“Yes,” I tell her. “His jaw hurts more, I can guarantee you.”

“You hit him because he’s not giving me the job?” she asks in wonder, along with a little bit of censorship. I start to relax, because Gabby seems to be taking this better than I expected.

“No, I hit him because he’s a pig, and he was talking about your tits and ass to his friends.”

“Oh,” she says again, and her gaze drops once more to her hands. I’m prepared… at the first sign of a teardrop, or a tremble of a lip, I’m lunging for her.

Her mouth opens slightly, and she… snickers?

Loudly.

Then she snorts with laughter and claps her hand over her mouth as her eyes raise up to meet mine, crinkled in amusement. Then she lets loose, falling back against the armrest of the couch, laughing hysterically and clutching her stomach with her hands.

My jaw hangs open, and I think to myself, That’s it. Gabby’s gone off the deep end. Time to pull out the straightjacket.

She sits up after a few more chortles, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, which are now indeed wet with tears… from fucking laughter.