Blame It On The Pain Episode 8
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🧏 Blame It On The Pain Episode EIGHT:
After a shower and a brisk visit with one of the m ob doc's, it's declared that, although extremely swollen, there's no permanent damage to my eye.
All the fi ghts scheduled for the night are now over, so I grab my bag and head out into the cool late September night air.
As soon as I step out…I'm immediately struck by a tiny fist to the face.
What the h'll?
“Thanks a lot, dk,” a woman's voice yells.
I look down and can hardly believe my eyes. It's the same blonde from earlier. Except this time, she looks beyond pissed.
Not something I was expecting.
I pull my bag up higher over my shoulder and stare at her. “You know, usually, damsel's in distress say ‘thank you' after being saved.”
She lifts her chin. “Fk you,” she spews. “I really needed this job and now I'm fired.” She jabs a finger into my chest. “All because of you. Didn't anyone ever teach you how to mind your own business? I was fine in there.”
I shake my head and begin walking. “You weren't fine. You were being a$saulted.” I stop walking and look at her. “What the h'll is wrong with you?”
She tightens her leather jacket around her and crosses her arms over her chest. “I just told you. I got fired and I really needed that job.”
I shrug. “Trust me, you're better off. This is no place for a girl like you.”
“You don't even know me,” she whispers.
Well, she has me there.
I reach into my pocket and pull out a wad of cash. She begins to protest, but I give her no choice. “Here. Sorry for the inconvenience I caused you. Obviously, you really need the money or you wouldn't have pun¢hed me in the face over it. Word to the wise…not all men would react the same way I would to being pun¢hed, so be careful out there.”
I continue walking, even though I can hear her footsteps following behind me. “Thanks, but I can't accept this. I like to earn my money.”
She tries handing it back to me, but I decline. “Look, Luke owed you money for the night anyway. Consider this your payment from the club.”
She begins walking beside me. “How's your eye?”
“Fine. No permanent damage.” I cross the street with her still in toe beside me. “Do you live around here or something?” I ask.
She looks at me curiously and I see the corner of her lips twitch. “Well, unlike you. Yes, I'm a New Yorker.”
“What gave it away?”
She smiles and I see the hint of a dimple on the left side of her cheek peek out. “I don't know, but that's a wicked cool accent you got there, Boston.”
I can't help but smile myself. She's good, I'll give her that much. “So, damsel, what's your name?”
She shoots me an icy cold stare. “I'm not a damsel. And I'll tell you, if you promise to never call me that again.”
“Deal, but that deals only in effect until the next time I see you.” I give her a wink. “Then all bet's are off,” I tease.
I give her a smirk. “So does that mean you're planning on seeing me again in the future?”
She shakes her head as we cross another street and walk down another block. “No offense, Jackson. But you're not really my type.”
Not gonna lie, that stung a little. Then, I think about the reality of the situation and know she's right. I already know that this girl deserves a lot better than someone like me. Not to mention the fact that dating isn't exactly my thing. “Yeah, you're probably right. Take care,” I say before I begin walking ahead of her.
“Jackson,” she calls out and I can't help but turn around. “Thank you,” she says before she opens a car door.
I nod my head, but can't help but wonder. “You drive?”
“Yeah, I live on Long Island. Nassau County to be exact,” she says.
“I thought you said before that you were a real New Yorker?”
She snorts and her eyes shoot daggers at me. She lets out a slew of cur$es finally ending with, “I am a New Yorker, you Boston prlck.”
Then she slams her car door and g.uns the engine.
That's when I notice it. It's a few years old…but she's definitely driving a BMW.
She's obviously not that hard up for money after all. And I just gave her everything in my wallet.
Sht, I guess it's true what they say. There really is a su¢ker born every minute.
TO BE CONTINUED