I couldn’t tell what the fight was about, but I had better things to do. Before I got a chance to walk away, though, one of the brawlers, a guy in boat shoes, short cargo shorts, and a pink polo shirt, got pushed directly into this cute young chick. The girl went down, her long blonde hair everywhere, and the guy went back after the other dude without so much as a “sorry.”
That pissed me off. I wouldn’t normally get involved, but violence against women was always a problem. I walked over, reached down, and helped the girl climb to her feet. She looked up at me with these deep blue eyes, and it hit me square in the chest how fucking hot she was. Full lips that wouldn’t stop, a body she clearly worked on, and perfect blonde hair. I knew right away this wasn’t the kind of girl who went for a dude like me, but whatever. Her eyes ran down my arms, along my muscles, and lingered over my tattoos. I guessed she didn’t know what they meant since her expression didn’t change, which was good for her.
“Thanks,” she said quietly. I grunted in return.
“Stay clear of this,” I said.
“Who are you?”
I didn’t bother answering. I took her by the arm and led her a few feet away from the crowd, gave her a look, like, “stay here if you’re smart,” and then waded into the pile.
The ring was three people deep at that point, but they parted for me easily enough. More people were spilling into the street, and I knew I only had a few minutes before the cops got there. I had to make it quick.
The two brawlers were locked with each other, wrestling like morons. Pink polo was trying to spear button-down boy, but instead they were yelling and stumbling in circles like idiots. I pushed my way through the front of the crowd and entered the space.
I heard some people yell something at me, but I ignored them. Fuck those pussies, whoever they were. Everyone was too much of a coward to get involved. Plus, that guy deserved what was coming.
I walked up to the two of them, and shoved the pink polo guy down. He toppled over like a toy, and almost took button-down boy with him. I turned to button-down boy, and as he tried to give me a high five, thinking I’d come to help him, I dropped my hip and punched him in the jaw with a satisfying crack. He went down faster than I’ve ever seen. I guessed the boy had never taken a real punch before, but it was never too late to learn how. He was at least in his mid-twenties, and I’d been beaten more times than I could count by the time I was eighteen. And this pussy couldn’t even stay on his feet.
The crowd let out a gasp and went silent. I looked around, seething with rage, and their faces were scared and blank. Typical rich assholes, yuppies, and douchebag bros, the kind of people who mocked me when I was a kid and ignored me when I was grown. Fuck all of them.
Polo guy was climbing to his feet, and he looked confused. Before he had a chance to figure things out, I advanced on him. He had the brains to put his fists up, and even threw a weak right. I ducked it, stepped in, and jabbed him in the nose with my left, hard. He stumbled back a step and put his hands to his face, crying out. I followed with a leap in the air and dropped my fist onto his face. He went down, just like his buddy did.
Before anyone else decided to be a hero, I pushed back through the crowd and made my way down the street. I had to get away as fast as possible before the cops started looking for me. Plus, I was already late for the fight at Drake’s, which meant Michael was probably going to be pissed. I walked quickly, but I didn’t run. I had to keep cool or else give myself away. This wasn’t my first escape, though, and I knew a few shortcuts out of there. I kept walking, and didn’t look back.
I really hated fucking assholes that hit women.
Chapter One
I didn’t realize how chaotic real fights were.
It was a brisk summer night and I was half drunk. The girls I had gone out with were totally boring, and I felt homesick for New York, but there was no going back anymore. I took a drag of my bummed cigarette then dropped it on the sidewalk and stubbed it out. It was a gross habit, and I wasn’t really much of a smoker. On the weekends I indulged sometimes, and I was feeling particularly down that night. I tried not to think about what my breath smelled like.