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“The better question is, why are you here?” Dallas fires back, moving into hisspace.
“Stop!” I hiss. “I have neighbors!” I gesture for Dallas to close the door behind him. I can’t lose my apartment because ofthis.
Brett points to my stomach again. “This is my baby, and I’ve come to take care of myfamily.”
Dallas looks straight at me. “What is he talkingabout?”
“How do you even know about the baby?” I finally askBrett.
“My father told me after your mom asked the church to pray for you. Your mom wouldn’t tell me where you were, so I took matters into my own hands. I figured you were still working for Stella, stalked her social media, and found you.” He shrugs like that’s not creepy at all and then throws his arm out toward a fuming Dallas. “You never answered my question. What are you doing here,bro?”
“Don’t fucking call me bro,” Dallassnarls.
He smirks. “Jesus, fuck, this is the dude you’re banging? This is the dude trying to take you and my baby away fromme?”
Dallas takes a step closer. “You better get the fuck out of here before I throw youout.”
“So, you were cheating on your dying wife with her? You guys have been fucking around this entire time.” He laughs. “This is fucking perfect. You’re not such a good man, are you? You walked around like you were this perfect husband who then left his job to take care of his dying wife, but you were cheating on her and fucking my girl.” He glares at me. “You’re nothing but a lyingcunt.”
I jump when Dallas punches Brett in the mouth. Brett pushes him back. Dallas wraps his hand around Brett’s neck and traps him against thewall.
“What the fuck, dude?” Brett struggles to breathe out, wiggling to get free. “I’m pressingcharges!”
“You’re not even supposed to be here!” I yell. “Call the cops, please. Let them take you back to where you belong—behindbars.”
We don’t have to call the cops because they knock on my door secondslater.
“Blue Beech Police Department!” oneyells.
Dallas moves his hand from Brett’s throat to open the door, and Brett dramatically collapses on the floor, holding his throat and fakechoking.
Two officers step in. A young guy and an oldergentleman.
“Hi, I’m Officer Barge,” the older mansays.
The younger cop tips his head forward. “Officer Layne.” He surveys the room. “We received a noise complaint about two men fighting.” His eyes cast a look straight to Dallas. “What’s going on,man?”
“He punched me!” Brett screams, stumbling to his feet and sticking out his chest. He’s a badass now that there’s protection. “I want him put injail.”
“I punched him,” Dallas says. “Because he was harassing her. She’s pregnant with my baby, and he was giving her trouble. He’s out on bail, and he shouldn’t even be out ofCalifornia.”
“That true?” Officer Bargeasks.
“No,” Brettlies.
Officer Layne holds out his hand. “Let me see someID.”
Brett flinches. “Are you going to ask him for ID? He’s the one who assaultedme!”
“Already know who Dallas is,” he answers and then tilts his head my way. “I know who she is. Now, how ’bout you let me get acquainted withyou?”
“I’ll tell you who I am. I’m the son of a mayor in a very affluent Californiatown.”
“Cool story, man,” Officer Layne replies. “But this ain’t California, hipster boy. I don’t care if your father is the president. Let me see some ID, or I’m going to have to bring you in for failure tocooperate.”
Brett pulls out his wallet and reluctantly hands his driver’s licenseover.
“I’ll go run this,” Officer Layne says while Officer Barge keeps his eyes narrowed onBrett.
