Chris
Finding the strength to love.
Day One - A Damsel in Distress
Chris sat in a corner booth of the bar by herself and took a slug of her beer. It was Friday evening and she was tired, both mentally and physically. Today had been a tough and long day.
Like most of the others in the bar, Chris worked construction on the new tower block that was going up a couple streets over and whilst her shift was due to have ended three hours earlier, when it came to pouring concrete, the shift didn't actually end until the pour was finished. A breakdown of the concrete pump had delayed the work for over four hours, and whilst they had made up some time, it was still 8:00pm before they could actually knock off for the day.
Normally at the end of the shift, Chris would head straight back to the apartment she rented, but with the way the day had gone, she just needed to unwind a little first. So she had joined the rest in the bar, just for a quick beer, or maybe two.
She ran her hand through her close-cropped hair, sighing at how tired she felt, and took another sip. The cropped hair wasn't a fashion statement, rather it was simply an acknowledgement that no hairstyle survived for very long beneath a construction hard-hat, especially in this heat. Besides, she had never seen the point of long hair, it was just a pain to manage.
Slowly scanning the bar, Chris reflected that it had definitely known better days. There was paint peeling in places and everything just looked a little bit grubby. However, the place was currently buzzing with people and energy and no one else seemed to mind the dΓ©cor as long as the beer kept flowing. She guessed it must have been a real lifeline to the owners when the bar had become the unofficial hangout for the various crews working on the tower.
Even though the place was packed, Chris had still been able to find a booth where she could sit by herself. She preferred to be left alone and had been working with most of the guys long enough that they had finally gotten the message. It wasn't that she didn't get on with the other guys, she got on just fine with most of them, tolerated the majority of the rest and only had a problem with a couple of them. It was just that she preferred her own company.
She was just deciding if she wanted a second beer when she heard a woman cry out in surprise and indignation.
Glancing up she saw a familiar scene over by the bar, as a group of guys were causing trouble for a woman who had the misfortune to catch their attention. Typically, the guys were acting as though it was just a bit of harmless fun, but the woman had just realized there was a nasty undercurrent to their "fun".
Looking closer she recognized the ringleader, Frank Barr, the asshole-in-chief himself. She had a few run-ins with Frank in the past. He was the sort that always took things too far, and when somebody ended up hurt, which they nearly always did, he would act all innocent, "it had only been a bit of fun". She tended to keep her distance from him and in turn he normally had enough sense to keep away from her. Frank liked his victims to not be able to fight back and preferably when he had other people to back him up.
Chris glanced at the woman, she looked completely out of place in the bar. Amongst all the burly men in their dirty and ripped work clothes, her slenderness, clad in designer jeans and pristinely clean t-shirt looked completely out of place. It was like finding a rare and vibrant orchid amongst the weeds and brambles of a refuse tip.
If the woman had any sense, she would get out of here as fast as she could thought Chris as she went back to contemplating whether she needed another beer or not. A couple minutes later she was brought out of her pondering once again when there was another cry from the direction of the bar. This time there was a definite note of unease in the voice.
Frank and his cronies had surrounded the woman and one even had a grip on her arm. Things were about to get ugly fast.
For the briefest of moments Chris wondered if she could ignore what was about to happen but then felt disgusted at herself when she noticed that everyone else seemed to be asking themselves the same question. In a close community like this, it didn't pay to make enemies. Unfortunately, Chris had always had trouble learning that particular lesson and also had a deep-seated loathing for bullies.
Giving a large sigh, Chris set her nearly empty beer bottle down and began to make her way towards the trouble.
As she got closer, she began to pay more attention to the woman. Despite now looking scared, she was still undeniably attractive. Very slim, but good curves where it mattered and long blonde hair that fell most of the way down her back. No wonder she had attracted Frank's attention.
Striding up to stand between Frank and the woman, Chris demanded angrily, "What the fuck are you doing messing with my girl!"
She turned briefly to glare at the guy that was holding the woman's arm and saw that he had the good sense to let her go. Rounding again on Frank, "Well?"
"She's with you?!" Franks happy nastiness had instantly flashed to anger at being challenged in front of his hangers-on.
"Of course she is with me. You don't suppose She's here for a limp dick loser like you, do you?"
"Fuck you dyke!!" shouted Frank taking a step towards her, anger blazing in his eyes.
"Not even in my worst nightmare bitch" she shot back, "So, why don't you go fuck off and circle-jerk with your bum-boys somewhere else"
She could hear quiet laughter from some of the guys around them and judging by the way his face had gone bright purple, Frank could hear the laughter as well.
Chris stood her ground as Frank took another step towards her.
"Bitch!" he always had been an eloquent bastard.
Just as Frank was about to let loose with another insightful remark, a hand dropped on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.
Frank spun to confront whoever had the nerve to lay hands on him but then stopped when he saw that the hand belonged to Sam Storrer.
Sam was a true giant of a man. From a distance he might look like a normal man, albeit a bit bulky, but it was only when you were up close to him that you realized that he was every inch of the 6' 8" his work file claimed he was.
"Leave it Frank. Chris is good people" Sam's voice was deep and carried weight, even when he spoke softly, which he nearly always did.
Frank looked at Sam then glanced at Chris, fury clear on his face. She could see that he was conflicted, but not even he was fool enough to mess with Big Sam, however he couldn't be seen to back down in front of the others.
Although in the end he didn't really have a choice.