She’d captured his eye. To his amazement shock turned quickly to ache, somewhere on the borders of his brain and his heart. Usually the ache centered in his groin. Long legged, body tuned to near gorgeous among a bevy of body tuned gorgeous girls. “Patty this.”---”Patty that.” cut through the cacophony heavily freighted in humid air. Her girlfriends attentive to the boys-boys on the edge of manhood. Right on that scalding edge. She caught him tracking her ... it had started.

He looked away to the sharp blue sky above the motel pool.

“Damn, did she catch me?”

He peeked.

“Shit, she caught me.”

He scanned again, first dropping his $500 sunglasses over his closely cropped dark brown hair and into exact position.

“Is she frowning at me? Yes, I believe she is.” He answered his own silent query.

Jack’s fleeting confidence deflating at an alarming pace.

“Get cocky, or, get gone.” He silently implored himself.

He’d no sooner decided to (get cocky) when she lifted from the pool lounger and began to approach him.

“It is you she’s approaching, isn’t it?”

Mistake number two came at once. He turned and quickly confirmed there was no one she was approaching behind him.

“Ah, shit!”

“Don’t stare at me, Jack. What’s wrong with you?”

The din of the impromptu party eased a measure. Notice was taken. Heads began to adjust.

“How does she know your name? I have no idea.” Again to himself he countered himself.

He could tell at once she was tight, though not drunk.

“Why couldn’t this be easy? It never is easy.” To-him-self.

He’d had one drink in the motel lounge before the bar keep clued him to the goings on outside on the deck.

“A lot of fresh ones out there, pal.”

Jack turned and immediately found her, drained his glass, paid, tipped and went on out.

“Good luck, pal.”

That hard “pal” caused some concern, but, it fell away as he pushed open the door and the oppressive humidity of Florida slammed him, you guessed it-hard.

“What?”

She was talking to him, but, all he could make sense of was her tone, an accusatory rasp was plain.

“Mr. Hot Stuff, huh?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I beg your pardon?” Jack silently admonished himself.

“What!? You heard me. Nobody invited you out here.”

He wanted to ask her about her familiarity with his Christian name, but, did not.

“Patty.” Some girl from the gallery section with a beseeching tone. Patty never heard her.

She was absolutely stunning in a white and black bikini. Not a mark, not a stain, not one imperfection to the white, nor the black. Jack’s jaw slacked open.

“You’d be cute if you weren’t so damn short.” She stopped six feet from him.

‘Fuckin’ bitch.’ To-him-self.

“You fucking bitch.” To her.

“What did you call me, shorty?”

“You heard me,,,,,, Patty.”

Patty quickly closed the distance to arm’s length then hissed:

“I believe I’m taller than you, stubby.”

“Jack, your temper has no bounds, sweetheart.” His mother had told him that once, she’d told him, their only child that a 100 times.

“Your mother is right, Jack.” His father agreeing with her across the dinner table as he concentrated on his plate of food.

“Why do I come to dinner with these people?” Silently to himself.

“Yes, mom.” As tersely as he dared and past that caution sign.

“You’re welcome. More meatloaf, Jackie? Made it special for you, darling.”

It wasn’t true, Patty wasn’t taller, it was close, yes, but, a lie and he bit back, hard:

“Maybe, but, you got no ass cept your mouth, Patty.”

It wasn’t nearly true, but, he’d hesitated nary a beat before delivering that sledge-hammer of a lie.

He heard the oh’s and ah’s cascade up from the now near silent gallery. Some stirring as well.

He’d hurt her and he regretted it almost at once. Almost.

She backed away from him as the hurt settled on in.

He waved with the flat of his left hand fingers.

“Buh, bye,,, Patty.”

It happened so fast he still couldn’t account for it in the aftermath. Patty advanced quickly, tossed her full drink into his face. The melting ice shards caused Jack’s hackles to flare. Patty immediately started to back away from him and in a faster gait. He tried to stop himself, but, didn’t come close. He fumbled a bit with his feet at arrival, but, got them straightened out in fast order and proceeded to sweep her legs out from under her. The difference between perhaps an inch, not more than two was the difference between jail and love.

-Patty never lost consciousness. You need to know this.

-The back of Patty’s head never hit the hard metal foot tube of the lounger by an inch, no more. You need to know this.

-The back of Patty’s head did bounce off the pool deck. You need to know this.

-The back of Patty’s head bounced such because the deck was rubberized. You need to know this.

-Jack was a black belt in karate. You need to know this.

-There were no acts of retribution against Jack. You need to know this.

-Miami-Dade Police were not summoned. You need to know this.

-Miami-Dade Paramedics were summoned. You need to know this.

-Patty, Patricia Stafford, 21 years of age was transported to Rampart Hospital for observation at the insistence of the aforementioned Miami-Dade Paramedics. You need to know this.

“You’re sure you don’t want the police called, Ms. Stafford?”

“No! Please don’t call them. It’s not right ... it’s not necessary. I don’t even need to go to the hospital. I’m fine.”

“It’s our call, Ms. Stafford.”

“Fine. Then take me.”

“Yes, Miss.”

“Judy, call my mom, please. Tell her I’ll be at Rampart and not to worry, I’m fine. You understand?”

“Sure, Pats, no problem. I won’t alarm her. No drama, promise. And I’ll be right behind you.”

“Thanks.” She looked around for him, but, there was no sign. The gurney was raised, like on TV and she was wheeled out.

As soon as he’d been able to assure his immediate safety by instituting defensive, instead of offensive self defense tactics Jack assessed the situation.

She was talking, thank Christ. He’d backed off enough to get his bearings and an arc of safety.

“You stupid ass, you. I know, I know.” Jack cursed himself, aloud.

“Should we call the police?” Jack heard that once, then again and again.

“No!” That voice. That raspy voice cut through the throng of people and noise.

“No! Nobody call the police. I don’t want that. Leave him alone, please. It’s not his faul ... just don’t call the police, that’s all.”

“Go, dude, go now.” Some skinny guy twelve feet away. A pause, then:

“She’ll be okay. I’m in Med School. She hasn’t been concussed.”

He alerted himself: “Go, Jack, go now.”

He backed away, never turning his face from the throng gathered around the girl.

Jack started it up and pulled out. The car’s air conditioning immediately freezing the sheen of sweat that had formed on him. He was drenched. A shiver ran through his core. He tasted the bile in his throat. He heard it before it flashed by. Metro-Dade Paramedics, siren blaring, lights all the fuck haywire.

“Christ. Stop the car. Stop the Goddamn car!” He pulled it over and into a vacant lot.

“Just sit here and fucking wait. If the cops come you have to go back and face this. And I mean it, Jack. I know, I know.”