Revenge

The bar-stool is half an inch too high, balancing myself precariously my fingers search blindly through my clutch for what my ex-pastor referred to as my "tar deathsticks." The idea of my pastor seeing me here lifts the corners of my scarlet lips a little, the Eternal Struggle for my Soul is lost amid men with dirty beards and my too-tight faded jeans.
Across the bar, a man with dirty blond hair consults with his friend dressed in a tar splattered orange jumpsuit.  They send surreptitious glances my way; I begin a mental countdown.  Five...he snuffs his half-smoked cigarette out, four...he picks through his wallet for a crumpled bill, three...he downs the rest of his beer, two...he slides off the stool. 
One.
"Hey there, buy you a drink?"  Wait, count to ten Mississippis, then glance slowly up through smoky eyes.
"I'm good, thanks."
"Well shoot, what's a guy gotta do around here to show a lady a good time?"  Forcing a laugh I slide off the stool, knowing full well that when I do I'll be standing an inch too close and be forced to tilt my head back to look into his eyes. Cue the smolder.
"What's a girl gotta do to enjoy a beer in peace."  I've got him, his look of longing betrays him and all the swagger in the world won't save him now.  He moves a hair's breath closer and I let my chest heave a little, knowing that it won't escape his notice.
"Well I know a place with plenty of beer and no strange men to bother you."
"Oh?"  My fingers are closing around my clutch before the words are out of his mouth.
"Come back to my place."

The kitchen is shabby, filled with cheap plastic plates staked neatly in cupboards with no doors.  He sets a beer in front of me and swings the door closed with his hip, I survey my surroundings as I bring the bottle to my lips.
"You been in town long?"  He is eying me; hasn't taken his eyes off me since we walked through the front door.
"No, not really.  Just passing through."  He smiles, nods in what he must think is a comforting manner.
"Girls like you should watch yourself down at Jimmy's, it's a rough crowd."
"Girls like me?"  He is around the counter now, hands reaching to caress my body.
"Pretty little things with no one to watch out for them."  I step back, gripping my clutch in one hand and my beer in the other.
"I can watch out for myself."
He lunges, and pins me against the counter, Struggling my beer crashes to the floor and explodes in a rage of foam and green glass.
"Oh, come on don't fight it, you want this.  You can't walk into a bar dressed like that and not want this-"  His fingers scrabble at my chest, my hair- I lean back and dig my nails in.  I don't see his left arm until it's too late and my face is screaming in pain.
"ENOUGH."  I'm angry now- in three seconds the gun is out of my clutch and with a quiet pop the struggle is over. 

Red mixes with my beer's foam, through his back pocket I can see the led of a cell phone screen light up.
Buzz, buzz, buzz- the phone shows a picture of him and a beautiful brunette standing on a sandy beach embracing.
Buzz, buzz, buzz- I flip it open.

"Hi, it's me.  I'm sorry to tell you that you're right, he did take me home.  He won't be laying a hand on you again."

Snapping the phone shut, I am careful to tread on him on my way out the door.