But when I crane my neck up, I see B.E.B. shaking his head. “Home? No. I told you already: You’re not going home just yet. In fact… you’re coming with me.”
“Excuse me? I’m not going anywhere with—”
Completely ignoring my request, he grabs my hand and starts pulling me toward the back of the bar. His grip isn’t painful, but it’s absolute. I try to yank free and get precisely nowhere.
“Hey! Hey, stop. I said no. What part of that is unclear to you?”
He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t even slow down.
“I swear to God, if you don’t let go of me right now, I will scream so loud that—”
And then I’m upside down.
A blur of motion, and then gravity does a flippity-doo-da. It’s almost funny how fast it happens, how quickly and abruptly I go from on my feet like usual, to thrown across B.E.B.’s broa
