WAY TO TREAT A LADY

Was busted up along the highway, I'm the saddest ridin' fool alive. Wond'ring if you're goin' in my way, Won't you give a poor boy a ride? Here she comes a ridin', Lord, She's flyin' high. But she was rollin' down, movin' too fast; Do you wanna, She was thinkin' can I last.

All Monty wanted was a quiet drink in a quiet bar. His girl was having heart trouble along with about twenty other boats, meaning he was stuck here for a week with an illegal cargo burning a hole in his hull and no way to shift it while he waited on a grease monkey. Sure, there were other mechanics in town but none of them knew shit from shingles, not everyone could be as lucky as Malcolm Reynolds after all. A good strong whiskey had seemed the way to get his mind off things. But now, as he sat among his fellow spacers in The Flying Dutchman, he wasn’t so sure.

For one thing the girl on stage, bill said her name was Lodi, kept playing sad songs and while Monty liked sad songs as much as the next guy, he wanted something a bit more upbeat in this sort of situation.

Second, he was sitting at a table in the usual shadowy back corner but here was this creepy kid at the bar, staring around the room like he had something to prove. More than once, his flinty gaze had rested on Monty. Now he’d gotten his share of double takes and stares in his time, on account of his size and big bushy beard making him a hard man to miss but this fellow was looking at him like he owed him something. That was, of course, always a possibility but Monty was sure that he’d never even so much as threatened the kid, so that just left the question of why.

The third and most important thing was that he had asked for an Old Stillskin Hundred Year on the rocks and here they’d given him some le se that couldn’t even be called moonshine. He was debating whether or not it would be worth the trouble of going up to the bar and demanding a new drink. He took another sip, thinking it would maybe grow on him. He grimaced as it went down. Nope. He slid out of his chair and headed up to the bar. He was pretty sure he was walking in straight lines and the place wasn’t exactly crowded being as it was the middle of the afternoon but he still somehow managed to trip over one of the two barmaids working the room.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” He said gruffly as he picked himself up off the floor. Miraculously, he had managed to save his drink from spilling all over the place.

“It’s no problem.” She said, adjusting her grip on serving tray and flashing him a shy grin that seemed out of place in a dive like this. She tilted her chin at the glass in his hand. “Something wrong with your drink?”

“Huh?” The girl was completely distracting, all pale skin and big blue eyes looking up at him from under devil red hair that shone in the low light. “Oh, s’not what I asked for.”

“I’m sorry.” She started to say but was interrupted by the sudden explosion of shouting on the other side of the room.

Apparently someone thought the creepy kid at the bar had been staring at him a bit too long and was taking exception to being treated like some freak show at the space bazaar. Before Monty could blink, a fight had broken out, spilling over into the rest of the bar patrons who were apparently spoiling for a good fight anyway. So much for his quiet drink, he thought as he stepped back to avoid a stray fist. He shoved the man back towards the rapidly spreading melee. The barmaid, unfortunately, was not so lucky. Another man tumbled into her side, causing her to drop her tray on his head with a crash. She scuttled backwards as Monty grabbed the man by the back of his shirt and tossed him back into the tangle of swinging limbs.

“You alright there darlin’?” he asked kindly. She nodded. “Let’s get you behind the bar and outta the way of these ruffians.”

He guided her towards the bar with a hand on her back but halfway there, he was stopped by a hand landing on his shoulder. A punch glanced off his jaw as he turned but there was little power behind it. The creepy kid who had been doing all the staring stood behind him.

“What you want?” Monty asked.

“That’s my girl you’ve got your hands on there.” The kid grabbed the barmaid’s arm in a grip that probably wouldn’t leave a bruise given the lack of force behind his punch.

“Where’d you think you’re goin’?” he asked her.

“That ain’t no way to treat a lady!” Monty protested. The barmaid seemed to be having trouble twisting out of the kid’s grasp.

“Mind your own business.” The kid seemed to be completely oblivious to the fact that Monty was more than twice his size.

“Hey now!” Monty exclaimed. “I was just escortin’ her outta the way.”

The kid growled and launched another punch in his direction but Monty saw it coming a mile away and stepped easily to the side. A quick blow to the back of the kid’s head put him out like a light. Turning back to the barmaid, he was greeted by another shy smile that seemed to shine with the light of all the stars in the ‘verse.

“What say we blow this joint?” he asked her, impulsively.

“My shift ends in fifteen minutes but I don’t think they’ll mind if I skip out early.” Her smile widened into a grin with a hint of the devious in it. “What’s your name, handsome?”

“Name’s Montgomery but my friends call me Monty. What’s yers?” he replied as he offered her his arm. She took his elbow, pressing up against him in a manner that was all sorts of distracting. Mayhap his day wouldn’t turn out too bad after all.

“I’m Bridgette.”

Translations: Le se - garbage