Page 9 of Undefeated

“If you don’t learn how to act, I’ll teach you. You ain’t gonna like it, though,” he took another drink of his beer.

I sliced my chicken and took another bite. Chicken and turkey seemed to keep me in good health, and I made it a point to find the best places to eat each. In the two weeks that I’d been in Austin, this restaurant had proven to have some of the best grilled chicken I had ever eaten. I had a sinking feeling, however, that I wouldn’t be allowed to return after tonight.

“I try and act the best I can. You’re never satisfied,” she responded from the other side of the table.

“Never satisfied? You dumb cunt. Never satisfied? I’m gonna slap some sense into you when we get home,” he said as he pushed his plate to the center of the table.

Well, that could be a figure of speech. Not one that I like. But this isn’t my business.

“Paul. Please. I’m sorry, don’t hit me again,” she whispered.

Well, fuck. It just became my business.

I stood up, popped my neck, and pulled out my wallet. I removed a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the table. It was the least I could do for the ten dollar piece of chicken. This could get ugly quick. I didn’t want to take advantage of the waitress.

Forgive me Lord for what I am about to do.

I walked across the floor to the table where the couple was sitting. I wiped my hands on my jeans and cracked my knuckles.

“Paul, I really need to talk to you,” I said softly.

“How the fuck you know my name?” he asked as he looked up from his beer.

“You don’t remember me?” I asked.

He squinted his eyes and shook his head, “Nope.”

“Well, we need to talk,” I said quietly, “Let’s take a quick walk, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Paul, what’s this about,” she asked.

“Shut up, bitch. I have no idea who this weirdo is,” he responded as he looked across the table at her.

I really hoped this could have gone easier. Maybe I should have left a hundred bucks. Oh well.

I reached for his shoulder. As soon as my hand touched him, he came up with the beer bottle in his right hand. Cupped in his hand, he swung the bottle toward my face as he stood.

I blocked his swing with my left arm, and immediately punched him lightly with a right jab twice. As he stumbled, I hit him once in the stomach with a light left hook. As he began to cough and sputter, I took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table.

Coughing and trying to catch his breath, he placed his hands on his knees.

“He may or may not be back in a minute,” I said as I grabbed the man by his hair.

“Don’t ever let this man beat you again, ma’am,” I said to the woman as I began to pull him by his shirt and hair toward the door.

I figured I had ten minutes before the cops would show up. For me to make my point should take three.

As I drug him toward the door, he began to kick his feet and scream.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? You miserable son-of-a-bitch. Let me go,” he growled as I drug him beside the entrance.

Quickly, I reached for his back pocket, pulled out his wallet, and removed his driver’s license. I held it in front of his face and shoved his wallet in his shirt pocket.

“What the…” he started to speak.

“Shut up,” I said.

I stuck his driver’s license in my front pocket.