Glamorous - John Fetto

Everyone thought she was beautiful, not just Hawley. Guys would steal looks at her when they went out to eat. You’d see their hungry, side long look with mouths stuffed with food. And when that pissed off Hawley, when his fist started to tighten around his fork and he thought of pushing it through the fat fucks face, then Johanna would do something cut, she’d laugh, a light, musical laugh, like a kid. Only she wasn’t a kid. She was smart, smarter than Hawley and he had no idea what why she was interested in him. And she didn’t deserve having two fat men look at her like she was some whore.

“What’s wrong?” She was looking at the hand holding the fork. He let go and tried to set the fork by his plate but it was bent.

“I need a new fork.” He got up before she could ask him how it happened. He walked back right towards the men who were gawking. They got quiet. He talked to the waitress and she handed two more complete setups, a metal fork, knife and spoon wrapped in a cloth napkin. He stuffed one his back pocket and then slipped out the knife into one hand and the fork in another and walked back to the man. Johanna’s back was still to him, but she snuck one quick back and went back to her food. When he got next to the two, he leaned down and set his forearm on one man’s shoulder so close to his neck that the knife under the napkin in his hand held the sharp end was up against his throat. He jerked, but Hawley held him down, feeling what he was doing with his body while he watched the man on the other side of the table turn white with fear.

“Don’t move. You’ll only hurt yourself.” He was leaning down close, whispering in his ear like a a best friend. The man stopped moving.

“She’s pretty isn’t she?” said Hawley. “Glamorous, just like a movie star. I’ll bet that’s why you were staring, because you thought she was a movie star. That’s it, isn’t it?”

The man nodded his head. Hawley’s grip loosened, and he stood up. The man wouldn’t look at him, but he was listening. Johanna looked back, confused about what’s going on. Hawley smiled and patted the man on the back.

By the time Hawley got back to his seat, the men were paying the waitress and rushing out the back.

“What was that about?”

“Some guys,” he said. “They thought you were some actress.”

“What did you tell them.”

“I said you weren’t giving any autographs today.”

She laughed then. That pretty little laugh, like small bells making sounds as light as soap bubbles.