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“Sit down!” Esther snaps again, and Danny drops to his chair with eyes like saucers and his mouth slightly agape. I’d laugh if I knew he wouldn’t shoot me. I peek at Goldie and Ringo. Both of them look red in the face from holding their breath and their amusement in check.
“Right.” Esther plants her hands on her hips, meaning business. “Let us get this out in the open, shall we?”
“No,” Danny grunts.
“Please, no,” Brad says quietly.
“Shut the fuck up, Brad,” Esther, Otto, and Danny all yell in unison, and he retreats quickly, covering his face with his hands. He should watch, because The Brit is about to be put in his place, and it’s going to be entertaining.
“I’m seeing someone,” she declares.
I smile, brushing the side of my index finger across my mouth to try and hide it.
“No, you’re not,” Danny grates.
“Yes, she is.” Otto pipes up. “Me.”As if he needed to say it. Goldie is now sucking her cheeks in, Ringo looks more worried than amused at this point, and Brad is shaking his head in his darkness.
“I beg to differ.”
“Come on, Danny,” I say gently.
He points at me. “Shut the fuck up.”
I’m letting that slide, but only because he’s emotional.
“No, Mum. No. You’re better than-than-than”—his pointed finger turns to Otto—“that.”
I’ve known Otto for many years. He has the patience of a saint. It’s about to snap and I’d rather not be here for it.What the fuck, Danny?Back the fuck down. “Are you saying you’re a better man than I am, Black?” Otto rumbles, his chest seeming to expand, his breathing deepening.
“I’m saying nothing about me.”
“Boys!” Esther cries.
“You’re saying you deserve Rose?” Otto muses menacingly. “But I don’t deserve a woman like your mother?”
Jesus, if Danny’s nostrils flare anymore, Otto’s fists will disappear up them when he punches him. I glance at my oldest friend, silently urging him to look at me so I can will him to take a few deep, calming breaths and not do anything stupid. It’s the whole fucking point Esther is here, to try and appeal to Danny’s reasonable side, since no one else can. And she’s one of the only people in this world who Black wouldn’t hurt.Fucking hell.But Otto doesn’t look at me, his bearded, pierced face becoming more menacing by the second.
“Well?” he prompts.
“Leave my wife out of it.” Danny stands again, and I reluctantly accept that shit is about to go down, and no one can stop it, not even Danny’s mother. I doubt Rose could either, if she was here. It’s just a matter of who launches first.
“Is it safe to come out yet?” Brad asks, peeking out from under his arm, just as Danny flies across his desk and takes Otto off his feet.
“That’s a no, then.” Brad retreats back into his darkness, and Goldie gets up, looking at me, palms up, asking what the fuck we should do. Honestly, I don’t know.
“Leave them,” Ringo says, holding an arm out in front of Goldie, as if holding her back. I take his stance. I’m not getting in between them either.
“Oh God,” Esther says, as Otto rolls them, getting the upper hand, straddling Danny. He launches a fist right into his face, and everyone winces at the sound. Blood sprays, Esther puts her face in her hands, and Danny roars, flying up, blood spread over every inch of his scarred face. He looks like a fucking psycho. An absolute, raving, psycho, his teeth bared, his cold eyes wild. Otto’s got a few years on Danny, he’s sturdier, heavier, but I’m worried for him.
I step back when they come toward me, Danny throwing Otto on the desk and returning the favor, making a mess of his nose too. More blood. And Otto, the crazy fuck, laughs dementedly. It’s the worst thing he could do. And all of a sudden, both men are a blur of swinging fists, deafening bellows and downright craziness.
Punch after punch, kick after kick, yell after yell, they go at each other like rabid cavemen, smacking into walls, knocking the glasses over on the drinks cabinet, knocking fucking pictures off walls. This has been brewing for weeks. The small altercation in St. Lucia and at the boatyard didn’t cut the mustard. They need to get this out of their systems. Again.
We all move out of their way, me pulling Esther from the path of their wild, flying limbs more than once, but there is nothing I can do for Brad, who’s a sitting duck on the couch, hiding from the ugly.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Danny yells.
“Fucking try it,” Otto roars. “You fucking brat.”
