Welcome to the Spot Writers. The prompt for this month is “new years”
Today’s contribution comes from RC Bonitz, author of A BLANKET FOR HER HEART.
Something New This Way Came
Every breath produced a puff of frost before her as she shuffled through the crowd. Fingers and toes tingled already, that’s what she got for choosing fashion over comfort. New Year’s Eve in Times Square, she’d never done it before. So far it was a dud, despite the crowd, she was alone. Her holidays had been like that the last seven years, ever since her mother died. And this year she faced the big four-oh, a milestone she didn’t relish.
She sighed. Her family gone, every guy she’d ever met a Needy Ned, the coming year did not look any better. Well, she might be alone in this great crowd but damn it, she was going to have fun. Even if she had to get drunk all by herself.
Suddenly, there was an arm around her waist and she was practically dragged off her feet. Not to mention the rancid smell of alcohol breath in her face.
“Hey babe, how’s about a kiss?”
The guy was crushing her against his body and she had to throw her head back to get a good look at him. Bloated purple nose, a sure sign of an alcoholic, short gray crew cut, who knew how old he was, a leering grin, he thought he was so smart.
“Let go of me. What do you think you’re doing?”
“Aw c’mon. Just one teensy-weensy little kiss.”
She shoved against him but he was too strong. “Go away. Let go.”
“Hey, it’s New Year’s, time for fun.”
She freed her hand and slapped him in the face.
He snorted. “You’re a tiger. Way to go.”
“If you don’t let me go I’ll scream.” She glanced around. People stood there watching, standing back, some looking concerned, nobody helping. She was alone even in this. She caught the eye if a strapping young man. He turned away… Her heart sank. Maybe if she begged? But she shouldn’t have to; anyone could see she needed help.
Then she saw him, a figure in the crowd, coming toward her. A guy about her age, a grim look on his face. He shoved himself between the last of the bystanders and was there beside the bum.
“Let her go.”
The bum stared at him and laughed. “Go find your own kisses. She’s mine.”
“Let her go. I won’t say it again.”
“Buzz off, big shot.”
The newcomer said not a word. His fist connected with the drunk’s jaw and the man staggered back, still trying to hang on to her. Her new friend caught her, and set her on her feet.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “I am now, thank you.”
He stuck out his right hand. “Jason Trilby, at your service.”
“I’m Mary Anne Westcot.”
“Would you like some company for the evening?”
The Spot Writers- our members.
Catherine A. MacKenzie