Don't Blink by James Patterson, Howard Roughan Page A

“You’re fired.” Fired? You’ve got to be kidding.
    “What are you doing? She was only trying to help me,” I said, dumbfounded. “I was a customer here, too. Actually, I am a customer. I was about to have a steak.”
    My new best friend, Jason, gave me a drop-dead stare. “Was I talking to you?”
    “You are now,” I said.
    He took two steps forward, getting right smack in my face. He was so close I could tell what flavor gum he was chewing. Wintergreen.
    “In that case,” he said, pushing the words through his clenched teeth, “I want you to listen to me real closely, okay? Get the fuck out of my restaurant . Don’t come back.”
    So much for the customer always being right … or even tolerated.
    “What are you going to do?” I asked. “Call the cops?”
    “I won’t if you won’t,” he fired back at me.
    I wasn’t exactly the technical adviser on the movie Fight Club , but I’d been in enough scuffles to more than catch his drift. This prick was challenging me.
    Keep your cool, Nick. Diplomacy first .
    “Listen, there’s no reason this thing needs to get out of hand,” I said.
    No sooner had I said it, though, than he suddenly grabbedthe lapels of my jacket, pushing me backwards. “I don’t think you heard me,” he said.
    Oh, I heard you all right …
    Screw diplomacy!
    I dug my heels hard into the floor and gave Jason the shove back he so richly deserved. Then he raised his fists. Suddenly, this might as well have been a Rangers hockey game down at Madison Square Garden.
    The gloves were coming off, whether I wanted this to happen or not.
    Smack!
    He threw a right-handed jab, tagging my cheek. It was a sucker punch, completely uncalled for. So I let fly with one of my own — only to catch nothing but air. Jason wasn’t big but he was quick. Too quick to go toe-to-toe.
    Time to improvise.
    “Nick, be careful,” Tiffany called from the sidelines. Well, that was my plan for sure.
    Dropping my head, I charged him straight on and wrapped my arms around his waist. We went hurtling into the dining room, his feet barely skimming the floor as I kept pushing and pushing him like a football tackling sled.
    Then, crash!
    Table for two, please!
    Make that two tables. We upended the first and kept right on going, landing squarely on the table behind it. Plates and silverware went flying above our heads as we hit the floor, barrel-rolling back and forth while trading punches.
    I gave a whole lot better than I got now, too. A good rightto Jason’s jaw. Another right on the cleft of his chin. “You asked for this,” I yelled in his face. “You wouldn’t let it go.”
    Hey, this was even better than a hockey fight. If we were on the ice, the refs would’ve broken it up by now.
    But no.
    Jason and I were just getting warmed up.

Chapter 38
    “BOY, YOU’RE HAVING some kind of week,” said Courtney, gently dabbing at the dried blood below my nose with a damp paper towel. “Keep this up and they’ll have to name an action figure after you.”
    We were sitting together on the couch in my office at CitiZen magazine. Me, the patient. Courtney, the concerned, and quite beautiful, nurse. With a surprisingly soft touch, too. And she was wearing Chanel.
    As it turned out, some referees did break up the fight. The sous-chef and a dishwasher heard all the commotion and came running out of the kitchen. Otherwise, I’m fairly sure I would’ve won big-time on points.
    That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!
    At least for the guys at Jimmy D’s Pub. Courtney was another deal. There was no way I’d jeopardize this sudden warm and affectionate outpouring of sympathy. I’m not that stupid. Besides, I’m in love with her. Deeply and hopelessly, I suppose.
    “I guess I’ve always been more of a lover than a fighter,” I said with an eye roll.
    “Oh, you poor thing,” she cooed, playing the same game on me. “Why would the manager pick a fight with you like that?”
    “I’m not sure yet,” I said.