The Monarch Read Online Free

lately, they’d be part of the Olympic relay team.
    There really was only one choice. Confrontation. And pedestrian though it was, his biggest concern was the milk he carried. He didn’t have any money to replace it if it ended up on the street in whatever was about to happen. He swayed over to the right of the sidewalk and swung the bag into the top of a hedge. When he was sure the cushy branches had caught and held the bag, he turned and walked back toward his stalkers.
    He caught them by such surprise they not only stopped but backed up several steps. One of them was small and overweight and looked like the biggest exercise he got was rolling over to fart at night. He was a pace behind his buddy, and Jonathan guessed their pecking order was evident in that stance. The other one would be a problem. He was huge. Six-­four, at least, Jonathan figured, having to look up to meet the guy’s gaze from his own height of six-­foot-­two. He was probably heavier than his buddy, but not in the same way. And he seemed to be pissed. On the plus side, it appeared that if Jonathan knocked him on his ass, his buddy wouldn’t be a problem.
    Jonathan caught himself. Maybe we don’t start this with assault . Who knew what they wanted.
    â€œCan I help you boys?” Jonathan asked, his voice neither threatening nor timid. Let them decide how this should go.
    The big one seemed to look to his friend for guidance before he answered, and in that moment, Jonathan realized he should have just kept walking. No matter what these guys said or thought when they started after him, they wouldn’t have done anything. Whatever happened now was Jonathan’s fault, and he knew it.
    â€œStay away from her, man,” the guy said.
    â€œHer? What are you . . . wait. You mean Trudy?” Jonathan was amazed, not at the connection but at the fact that these guys had apparently followed him and Trudy and he hadn’t even noticed. Am I that rusty?
    â€œDid you fuck her? Fuck her in my fucking car, you stupid fuck!” The guy’s cool lasted about ten seconds. He was almost crying. This was embarrassing.
    â€œLook . . .” Jonathan mentally scanned through the reams of things Trudy had said to him tonight and found her ex-­husband’s name. “Look, Steve. You’ve got the wrong idea. Man, have you got the wrong idea.”
    â€œJust . . . just leave her alone. Fucker.” This guy was a one-­note wonder. “She needs to work shit out and she can’t do that if you’re all smooth and shit in her fucking face.”
    â€œYeah!” the little butterball chimed in.
    â€œI’ll try and watch the, uh, smoothness,” Jonathan said. He sighed and returned to his milk, figuring turning his back on these guys was about as dangerous as taking a shower without a bathmat.
    Then pain suddenly sparked in the side of his head.
    â€œFucker!” Steve shouted as he and his rotund friend ran off, high-­fiving as they did.
    Jonathan took his hand away from his head and saw blood on his fingers. He looked down and saw the rock they’d pitched at him.
    â€œWhat are you? Ten!” Jonathan shouted after them, thinking about going after them for a second, but realizing that leaving Trudy to him was punishment enough.
    He grabbed the milk from its hedge resting place and heard a pop .
    â€œNo, no, no.” Lifting the bag up, he saw a thin stream of milk pour out the hole he’d just torn in it. “Damn it!”
    Jonathan ran, holding the milk out in front of him like a bomb, all the while milk streamed out of the container and all over him. By the time he made it to his kitchen and grabbed a container, he’d saved about a cup’s worth. He carefully put the cup in the fridge and went to get a bandage and some ibuprofen for the pounding lump on the side of his head.
    He cleaned up the wound but when he dug under the sink for the bandages all