Gobsmacked! – Chapter 2
Annabelle still couldn't believe she had let Declan talk her into this little misadventure. And Declan knew why she had put him off for so long. When it came to men. . .Annabelle's track record was abysmal! Her last serious relationship had ended several years ago. . .and had ended very badly. Archie, the man with whom she had been involved, had been very, very angry when Annabelle broke off the relationship. There was a physical confrontation, and it ended with Annabelle being hospitalized. It left Annabelle with scars, both physical and emotional. After that, she had really withdrawn from everything and everybody. It took a long time, and a lot of work with Dani, her friend/psychiatrist, to get back out in the world again and get back to a relatively normal life. And she STILL suffered from panic attacks!
Annabelle stopped to chat with a few people on her way to the bar, all the while, scanning the crowd for Boris. But he was nowhere to be found.
When she got to the bar, she ordered an Amaretto on the rocks. She was waiting for her drink, when suddenly, someone bumped into her from behind. She turned; there was a man she didn't recognize, pushing her up against the bar. He put an arm on either side of her, trapping her. "Excuse me!" She waited for him to move. . .but he didn't. "Excuse me!" She put her hands up, to try and push him out of the way, but he just grabbed them, holding her in place.
No No No No No! Please, God. . .not now! Not tonight! She could feel herself starting to shake. . .and she was desperately trying to catch her breath. Damn these panic attacks. Damn Archie. Damn Damn DAMN!
"So. . .Sweet Thing. . .how about you and me have a drink?"
Breathe, Annabelle. . .BREATHE! "Thank you, but no. I'm meeting someone. I really need to go!" She tried again to push past him.
And that quickly, he turned from flirty to mean. "You mean you're hooking up with that old guy? You rich bitches are all the same. What does he have that I don't have?"
Finally, her anger flashed through her panic. "You mean, besides good looks, class, personality. . .and a few billion dollars? Now. . .let me go!"
The bartender was walking over with Annabelle's drink. When he realized what was going on, he yelled. "Dude! Let her go!"
The bartender distracted him just long enough for Annabelle to pull loose and push past him. But he was determined to have the last word. "Slut!"
Annabelle stopped and turned back toward the bar. "Your mother must be so proud!" Then she made a beeline for the door.