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“What’s up, man?” I ask, figuring we’re probably about to get mugged.
Maggie gasps behind me when she notices him walking toward us.
“I know who you are,” he says in a low growl, stopping just a couple feet away.
“Oh yeah? Well, I don’t know you,” I reply.
He lets out an evil sounding snicker, coming a little closer into the light. It’s then that I place his face. This is the guy who holds the signs out front protesting and probably the same guy who painted the hell out of my car.
I hold up my hands in surrender, even though I’m not too worried. He’s harmless. Much older than me, he’s probably in his late fifties, withered away and scrawny in oversized clothes and a worn pair of shoes. Just a misguided asshole who’s spent too long in his own ways that he won’t see anything outside of the tiny box he lives in.
Still, the sooner I get Maggie in her car and safe from this confrontation, the better. We’re already too far across the lot to try and make it back to the club now anyway.
“Listen, we don’t want any trouble. We’re just heading home,” I say. Then he steps in front of me, blocking my path.
“Let’s go back inside,” she mumbles quietly, pulling me by the arm.
“Mr. Grant, right?” the man says, and my brow furrows. Something about bringing my last name into it makes my spine straighten. “I know what you two were doing in there. In that house of sin. You make me sick,” he snarls with a face full of hatred. “I raised my kids in this town, and now I have grandkids and I won’t stand by while heathens like you tarnish our home with your filth.”
“Beau, come on,” Maggie says with a shake in her voice, pulling me away, but my feet are glued in place.
I know she’s afraid I’ll fight with him, but that’s not what I want at all. I just want him to understand. I want him to stop giving so much hate to my family, when this place offers anything but.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I argue, placing a hand out toward the man, hoping he’ll realize I mean him no harm. “I know you think it’s sinful and bad, but the people in that building are happy and safe and free. No one is threatening your family, just because of one private club.”
“The perverts will come far and wide, and soon, this city will be overrun by pedophiles and deviants…all because ofyourfather.”
When he mentions my dad, the blood drains from my face. “Leave my dad out of this. He’s a good man.”
“A good man? He’s a sinner, worse than the rest of them. He’s the one responsible for this abomination, and I want him to know what it’s like.” He’s wearing a hate-filled sneer that chills me to the bone as he inches closer with one hand held behind his back. This manhatesme, and he doesn’t even know me.
“Beau,now,” Maggie says in a fierce command, and instinct is telling me to listen to her, but I’m not all that great at making good decisions. In my defense, I don’t want to hurt this guy. Even after he’s threatened my family, my girlfriend, her business, and me. The problem is that I see a man who looks a little too familiar, like Sophie’s boyfriend at the ice cream shop. I see a piece of myself.
And maybe I should have listened to Maggie’s commands. Instead, I feel the need to reach this stranger, almost like penance for my sins. Be the bigger man and all that.
“I promise it’s not as bad as you think,” I say as I step toward him with both hands raised in front of my chest.
“I want Emerson Grant to know what it’s like when someone else puts his kids in danger.”
He takes a threatening step toward me, just as I mutter in confusion, “Huh?”
The man pounces on me in a quick violent motion. I hear Maggie scream before I feel any pain or register that blood is dripping over my eyes. My hand feels heavy as I reach it up toward my head, where a sharp pain is starting to throb. Then, the sky starts to tumble with the ground before I land on the pavement. Another pain strikes my shoulder and then my stomach.
I’m lying there, defenseless and confused, as Maggie screams and the pain continues. The problem is that I figured this guy was harmless. I figured if he wanted a fight, I could take him. I thought I was tough. I thought I was invincible.
But just before it all goes black, I spot the crowbar in his hands.
Rule #35: Don’t back down from a fight.
Maggie
My hands are still covered in blood as I sit on the cement curb behind the club, watching the blue and red lights of the ambulance as they speed away, headed toward the hospital. Beside me, Hank rubs my back with his jacket draped over my shoulders, trying to keep me warm—as if my shivering is because I’m cold.
No. I’m shivering because my body is in shock. Because I’m replaying the last horrifying fifteen minutes of watching that monster bash the man I love over the head before running away like a coward. Then holding Beau in my arms as I screamed for help, too shaken to call 9-1-1 myself.
They dragged me away from him, threw him on the stretcher and took off before I could do anything. It all happened so fast.
“Someone’s called the owner already,” Hank says while he rubs my back.
