Episode 43: Fiery Face-Off
Everyone at the table, including Victoria, gazed at Sugar in utter shock, except her ex-husband, whose expression remained blank. Then, suddenly, he broke out into an amused laugh, prompting the other men to join in hesitantly.
“Now, Sugar, you can’t hog all the credit.” He rose from his seat, towering over her. She flinched slightly as he reached out, pressing his hand against her forehead. “Are you okay? You look unwell, and you feel very, very warm. Hm, let’s go back to your office so you can sit down and rest. Tory, get a glass of water for Mrs. Wallace.”
He gently placed a hand on her arm, then squeezed, tight and unforgiving, like old times.
For a moment, she felt like she was still his wife.
Her heartbeat spiked as she realized what would happen next.
She glanced around the dining area, catching staff and customers’ creeping stares. She needed to leave before this spiraled further out of control. Not wanting to make a bigger scene, she let him lead her away from prying eyes.
He steered her toward her office to keep up appearances, but his grip only tightened. In the private hallway leading from the kitchen to her office, she struggled to fight his grip but like always, Lance Wallace was stronger.
“You think that stunt you pulled back there was cute?” he hissed.
A voice stopped them both.
“I thought it was.”
They both turned, watching as Miles sauntered toward them.
Lance’s brow furrowed. “And who the hell are you?”
“A very good friend,” Miles replied smoothly.
“That’s not a name.” Lance narrowed his eyes.
“You should’ve been more specific with your question,” Miles countered, smirking. “Now, you can let go of her. I don’t think she needs your ‘assistance’ any longer.”
Lance’s grip only tightened. Sugar stood frozen, trapped inside her own body, her own head. The past clawed at her like war flashbacks, pulling her into memories she had spent years trying to bury.
Miles took another step forward, tilting his head. “You hard-headed? ‘Cause I’d be happy to knock you against that wall to get some sense into you. Let her go.”
Lance cocked his head in return, studying Miles like he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Then, suddenly, something clicked within him, and the realization washed over his face.
He released Sugar’s arm, aiming an accusatory finger at Miles. “You’re the motherfucker who hung up on me twice on Sugar’s birthday.”
“And you’re the pathetic asshole who called his ex-wife twice on her birthday,” Miles countered coolly, unfazed.
Lance’s anger flared. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I’m the man who’s fuckin’ your ex-wife,” Miles said boldly.
Lance’s head jerked back, his mouth agape, eyes blinking wildly.
“If you got a problem with that,” Miles continued on, “then go phone a friend who actually gives a fuck, ‘cause you ain’t gonna find one here.”
Lance quickly recovered, stepping in close. “And you’re about to call 911 if you don’t stay the fuck out of our business.”
Miles smirked, their faces dangerously close. “Please, please, please make my fuckin’ day. Show me what you got, and I’d be fuckin’ thrilled to do the same.”
Sugar gulped hard. She needed to stop this before Miles made good on his threat. She knew he could make Lance swallow blood and teeth with little effort. And the last thing she needed was her ex-husband being carted out of her restaurant by paramedics on a gurney, bloodied and bruised.
Rubbing the sore spot on her arm where he had grabbed her, she said as calmly as possible, “Alright, this conversation needs to end right n—”
“Shut your damn mou—”
Miles grabbed Lance by the throat and slammed him into the wall.
Sugar gasped, her eyes flying wide as she jumped back, a hand flying to her mouth.
Lance gagged on his words. “Get… your… hands… off… me… you… piece of… shit!”
His hands clawed at Miles’s wrist, but Miles only tightened his grip.
“Don’t you ever talk to her like that again,” Miles growled. “In fact, don’t talk to her ever again. Don’t bring your pathetic ass around her again. If you see her on the street, cross to the other sidewalk. She wants you gone. Ain’t that right, Sugar?”
She hadn’t even registered the question, too lost in the reality unfolding before her.
Miles Thibodeau was defending her honor.
Her breath hitched. “What?”
“Do you want him gone?”
Sugar looked between him and her ex-husband, then whispered, “Yes.”
The word tasted good. A three-letter shot of adrenaline. A boost of confidence and courage.
“Good.” Miles smiled at her proudly. “Now, c’mere, honey.”
Hesitantly, she walked over.
“Slap the fuck outta him,” he ordered.
“What?” Sugar and Lance said in unison, staring at him like he had lost his mind.
“I said slap the fuck outta him,” Miles repeated. “Consider it a goin’-away gift from you to him. This is your only chance to show him how much you’ve changed, Sugar. To show him how selfish you are now.”
Uncertainty flickered across her face.
“I promise he ain’t gonna bite, ‘cause he knows I’ll knock his fuckin’ teeth down his throat if he tries anything stupid,” Miles assured with a grin, finally releasing Lance’s throat.
Lance gasped for air, rubbing at the darkening bruise that stained his neck.
Sugar stared at her ex-husband, years of buried rage clawing its way to the surface. Everything she had given him, everything he had stolen. How he had belittled her, broken her, made her feel like nothing.
Things she hadn’t even told her father or brothers, because if they knew the truth about what Lance had done to her behind closed doors, they’d all be in prison right now for murder.
“Shug, come on,” Lance rasped. “This asshole is bad news and crazy as hell. I know we’ve had our differences, but—”
His head snapped to the side as she slapped him with everything she had. The sharp crack of skin against skin echoed through the hallway. Before he could react, she backhanded him, forcing his head in the opposite direction.
Victoria had just turned the corner with the glass of water Lance had requested. Her wide eyes flicked from Sugar to Lance, then back again. She backed away slowly before spinning on her heel and disappearing the way she came.
Sugar kneed him in the balls.
Lance toppled over, groaning, his hands clutching himself as he curled on the floor.
“You want to invest in something worth your time, Lance?” Sugar sneered. “Invest in your own life and stop trying to sashay your ass into mine.”
She crossed her arms. “I’m giving you three minutes to get off my damn floor and the hell out of my restaurant. Do you understand me?”
She kicked him in the stomach when he didn’t answer right away.
“Do you understand me?”
“Yes,” he wheezed, voice strained. “Yes, dammit, yes!”
“And don’t forget to tip your waitress,” she said before stepping over his pathetic excuse of a body and sauntering toward the restaurant kitchen.
In her wake, she heard Miles chuckle deeply before saying to Lance, “I guess you aren’t that hard-headed after all.”
