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She let him lead her to the dance floor, arriving just in time for a slow song. He wrapped one arm loosely around her waist and held the other hand up. The man was a good dancer but Chaos was in no condition to follow so he took it easy on her, moving them in a box step around the dance floor. “I haven’t been out in a long time. It was nice of you to invite me.”
    “Why don’t you go out?”
    “You know why. Bad things always happen when I mingle too much with normal life.” She hadn’t meant to share that but the beer had loosened her tongue. He tried to spin her and she stepped on his foot. “I’m sorry. I’m not very graceful.”
    “Dancing in work boots is tough,” he laughed. “Bad luck is just in your imagination. You make your own luck, mija.”
    “I wish that were true. Bad luck is my middle name, Paolo.”
    Paolo laughed. “Annie Bad Luck Carlene Emmons? That has a nice ring to it. Why don’t you go by your real name?”
    “Annie? No one has ever called me that.”
    “Why not?”
    Because she’d always caused it. From the moment of her birth mayhem and tragedy followed her like flies followed garbage. “Just a trouble-causing toddler who had a dad who thought he was funny. The name stuck.”
    “Your daddy gave you the nickname?”
    “Yep.”  Chaos didn’t want to continue the conversation. She didn’t want to think about her name, her childhood, or the past. Her dad had died a few years ago and she missed him terribly. He’d been the only one she loved that hadn’t died because of her. Her mom had died due to complications in childbirth. It’d been just the two of them until a few years ago. Now she was alone. “I think I’ll head back to the table.” She started to let go of Paolo’s hand and found herself face to face with Jones.
    “Perfect timing, boss,” he bellowed. Apparently, he was the type to get loud when he’d had too much to drink.
    Connie slipped into her husband’s arms and Jones pulled Chaos to him. He smelled like cologne, the same cologne Bill had worn. Chaos panicked. Bile rose into her throat. She choked it back and tried to remain calm. She didn’t want to dance anymore. “No thanks,” she said, pulling away. His hand was rough on hers. He towered over her. The room started to spin. She could feel Dead Bill’s breath on her face.
    “Oh, come on,” Jones said. Wrapping an arm around her he started moving her around the dance floor. “Just one dance.”
    She jerked her hand from his grasp and shoved him away with her uninjured arm.
    “Hey! I’m just trying to have a good time here. I’m trying to be nice.”
    I tried to be nice. That’s what Bill had said before he attacked her. Not again, she thought. Chaos swung and nailed Jones in the nose. Blood spurted. An image of Bill clutching his throat and spraying blood assaulted her. “Get away, get away from me,” she yelled. Hands grabbed her shoulders. She fought to get away.
    “Chaos, honey. Chaos.”
    Paolo was in her face. She blinked. It’s not Bill. His hands braced on her shoulders, he pulled her into him. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Jones is drunk. He just wanted to dance.”
    “I’m sorry, boss. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m sorry.”
    Jones was in her face. Dripping blood and holding his nose, he was apologizing to her. Chaos shook her head. She should have known better. She didn’t get to live a normal life. When she was around, people got hurt. “I need to get out of here.”
    “I’ll drive you home.”
    “No, Paolo. You stay with your wife. I’ll be fine. I promise I’ll be fine. You’ve done enough. You’ve done more than enough.” Chaos was fighting back tears. She felt humiliated, frustrated and downright horrified that she’d hit Jones. She’d deserve it if he sued her. “Damn.” She turned her attention to Connie who stood next to Paolo. Chaos had expected judgment, recrimination. Connie looked concerned and sympathetic. Double damn. “Lo siento, Connie.