36. The Throwdown
THIRTY-SIX
THE THROWDOWN
Trey
I loved waking up to Rylee’s warm body snuggled against mine. We did keep our extracurricular activities PG-13 mostly because we didn’t want Abby to get spooked from staying somewhere new and busting in on us in a compromising position. I want to wait a few more years before I start traumatizing the kids.
Earlier in the week, while at the mall to buy a couple of princess pillows and bedding for the spare room, I threw a quarter into the wishing well. I never expected her to say yes but maybe she’s slowly rounding the curve to take me up on my offer of her and Abby moving in. I’ve learned how hard and how often I can push Rylee’s buttons, but each time I ask a little more of her hesitancy chips away. Eventually, I know she’ll say yes.
I pull into a parking spot at her dimly lit apartment complex. After the baby shower, she kept everything at my house until I could bring things over that she could use right away when our acorn is born. A late meeting kept me from coming over until well after sunset.
I grab one bag from the back seat and slam the door shut. I’ll collect the rest after I get her key, then she won’t need to buzz me up. My eyes are fixated on the front door when a shadowy figure emerges unexpectedly from behind a parked truck mere feet away.
“This is your fault.” The tone is deep and menacing.
I freeze. The hackles rise on the back of my neck. “Excuse me?”
“This is all your fucking fault,” the voice seethes. He steps into a ray of light shining down from the streetlamp, revealing his face as he takes a step closer.
Jesus Christ. My shoulders drop with relief. “What are you doing here, Kyle?”
“I’m here to talk to you.” His voice is stern as he stumbles forward, nearly toppling over.
“Are you drunk?”
“It’s your fault my own daughter doesn’t want to spend time with me.” He jabs a finger at my chest.
“My fault?” I scoff and brush his hand away. “I think you got that backward. You did that one all on your own. If you didn’t bail on her every other weekend, maybe she’d be more excited to spend time with you.”
“And what the fuck do you know about raising kids? Oh, that’s right. You probably have a shit ton since you fuck anything that walks.” His body sways back and forth.
With one hard shove I could topple him over like a tower of building blocks, but the effort isn’t worth it. I’m sure he’ll fall over all on his own. “Go home Kyle.” I shoulder past him and continue toward the front door.
“Trey Wilson, the golden boy,” he slurs from behind me. “Gets everything he wants, including my whore of an ex-wife.”
At the mention of Rylee, I spin around.
“You think you’re some knight in fucking shining armor?” He shoves my shoulder and I stumble back a step. The stench of liquor seeping out of his pores. “You think you can replace me?” he sneers. “All you get are my sloppy seconds. That’s all that she’s good for.”
My fingers clench as I replay his words about Rylee in my head, but I need to be the bigger man. He’s not worth it. “Look, I’m not arguing with you. You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off before you do something stupid.” Once again, I turn around and continue toward the door.
“You better get to your dirty whore. I’m sure she’s waiting with her legs spread wide!”
I jolt to a stop and spin around. In two short strides I’m toe to toe with him. “Here’s your only warning. Keep her name, in fact, keep anything about her out of your mouth,” I seethe. “Got it?”
“Or what? She’ll send her bitch boy to come after me. Imagine that. She’s got you fucking pussy whipped. Not surprising, the whore that she is. She’ll spread her legs for anyone, including you. The guy who’s slept with half of Harbor Highlands. But how does it feel...” he leans closer, his rancid beer and whiskey breath burning my nostrils, “knowing I fucked her first.”
Red. All I see is red. Clearly, he’s here to push my buttons. Well, he just fucking pushed every single one. I reach out, my fingers grasping the collar of his shirt, and I tug him to me, my face inches from his. “I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully. Don’t you ever fucking talk about her like that again or my fist will be in your face so fucking hard they’ll have to surgically remove it. Understand?”
A sinister smirk creeps across his mouth. That look alone sends a rock crashing into the pit of my stomach. I have no idea who this guy is or what he’s capable of, and I’m not sticking around to find out. I shove him before turning around to walk away.
“Hey Trey. While you’re fucking the whore, just remember she was on my dick first.”
I spin around and instantly his fist comes in contact with my left cheek. I stumble back. The bag in my hand tumbles to the ground, all the contents spilling out. Another punch lands in my stomach with an oomph . As I lift my head, I’m greeted with a menacing sneer. I lower my shoulder and charge, crashing into his chest, knocking Kyle off balance. His back smacks into the metal dumpster, sending a booming clank echoing between the apartment buildings and cars. He groans and falls forward but quickly regains his posture. It gives me a few seconds to regain my balance.
“You son of a bitch!” He charges toward me, and I pull back. My right fist comes in contact with his jaw. Another howl of pain from him sails through the night air. As he stumbles backward, doubled over, I throw an uppercut into his stomach. Our grunts and groans echo between the cars. He stumbles back a few steps, giving me a moment to shake out my hand. I won’t lie, it’s been years since I’ve been in any sort of brawl.
“That’s your warning. Stay the fuck away from me.” He charges at me once again and I’m able to dodge his attack and spin around, my fingers gripping his throat, not tight enough to choke him, but enough to keep him still. “And you better believe I’m convincing Rylee to talk to a lawyer about this shit.” Sirens sound in the distance.
He squirms as he tries to break free from my hold. Suddenly, he stops and there’s a sinister glint in his eyes. His arm moves back and lunges forward. Something sharp pierces my side and I immediately release my grip. I touch my side. Something damp coats my fingers. Glancing up through my eyelashes, I find Kyle charging at me again. This time, a metal blade glints under the streetlamp. I dodge to the left, but he slices through the left sleeve of my jacket. In a swift motion, I spin around and launch myself at him with my shoulder, taking him by surprise. As his balance falters, we both collide and crash onto the hard, unforgiving blacktop. I pin his hand gripping the knife with my left hand as my other fist connects with this cheek. Adrenaline and rage race through my veins. I consider myself to be more of a lover than a fighter, but when you fuck with people I care about, you fuck with me, and you don’t fuck with me.
Red and blue lights flash off the walls of the building and cars. “Freeze! Put your hands up!”
I roll to the side, landing on the blacktop. I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth and wheeze from the pain. To my right, a white pacifier sits on the ground. The smell of exhaust and burnt rubber fill the parking lot as a truck peels out and onto the road.
I sit up and cringe. With both hands in the air, one cop rushes to my side and clasps a pair of handcuffs to my wrists behind my back. Once they’re secure, he helps me up to my feet. I spare a glance at Kyle and he’s doing the same but with a little more kicking and screaming. They throw him in the backseat while they place me on a curb several feet away. A few minutes later another squad car pulls in. Fuck. This wasn’t how the night was supposed to end.
After I was taken to the hospital to get checked out—just a superficial scratch on my arm but the wound on my side needed to be stitched up. Luckily, it wasn’t too deep and didn’t do any damage to any organs but will leave a scar once it heals. Then I got to spend time in a six by eight cement room at the county jail as they ask for my side of the story. The accommodations are shit. Zero stars. Do not recommend. Thankfully, the neighbor that called the cops was able to tell the police everything that happened, which also corroborates my story, so they let me go.
Since I don’t have a car, I dig my phone out of my pocket and stare at the now shattered screen and dial the only person I need right now.