"Ethan, I'm sorry about—that—yesterday. I'm willing to negotiate all of this if you'll just come back inside and talk with me. Just two guys talki...g," he said. My look must have been answer enough for him. "Okay," he said, "if that's the way it is." I drove out and away. I wondered what he'd meant by the term 'negotiate'; I guessed I'd never really know.I spent the rest of the day setting up a new bank account, cancelling credit cards, and doing all of the other usual self-defense stuff. I was at the end of the bar in a kinda darkened spot, my back was to it, the bar, elbows pushed back half supporting me while I watched them. She finally spotted me. She smiled weakly in my direction, busted, but she kept on dancing with him. Oh, him? He's Alan Whitley: a trucker and womanizer. Oh, and didn't I mention? Professional asshole! I flipped her the bird, took a final sip of my beer and started to leave. She made to come to me, but he held her, and she didn't fight him. I left. It. More

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