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“Move,” Diego growls.
“You need to calm down,” Kyle says.
During their exchange, I squirm out of Kyle’s hold and peer over at the scene behind me. All I see are people dancing and enjoying themselves. In the midst of it all, there is one particularly close couple. I follow where Diego’s still staring and see he’s focused on that couple.
A man and a woman. I recognize the guy as one of the artists whose work was featured by a gallery earlier today. A tall, lanky, bald, Black man with a woman who appears to be Latina. He whispers in her ear, making her giggle and lean into him. A beat later, the pair are kissing.
“The fuck is he doing?” Diego grits out. Less than a second later, he breaks away from Kyle’s hold on him and storms over to the guy.
“Oh shit.” I gasp and cover my mouth when Diego hauls off and punches the guy in his face.
The artist collapses to the sand like a house of cards that’s had one of its foundations pulled from underneath it.
“Goddammit,” Kyle grumbles. He starts toward his cousin.
Before I know what’s happening, I get pulled in the same direction. Kyle has taken hold of one of my wrists and drags me to where Diego continues to make a scene.
“What are you doing?” the woman with the tall, Black guy squeals as she leans over him. “Are you okay?”
“Fuck him,” Diego barks. “Get the fuck up.” With his fists balled at his sides, everyone knows what Diego’s intent is once this guy rises to his feet again. If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll keep his ass on the ground.
“Somebody call the police,” the woman shrieks.
“Yeah, that’s not happening,” Kyle says, sounding almost bored despite the rage emanating from his cousin. “Are you going to hit him again?” Kyle asks.
My eyes bulge.
“He has a fucking fiancée,” Diego rages. “Get up.”
“What?” the man on the ground asks.
He sits up, but he’s smart because he doesn't try to stand despite the semi-circle that’s formed around us. He likely realizes that he’s outmatched, and I doubt even the onlookers could stop Diego from charging him again. I peek over at Kyle, who’s watching the scene play out.
Kyle’s not about to intervene on the artist’s behalf.
“The fuck are you doing kissing another woman when you’re engaged?” Kyle’s cousin yells.
“You’re engaged?” the woman by the artist’s side questions, looking surprised.
“What?” He shakes his head. “No, no.”
“Liar!”
“Honestly.” He holds his hands out in front of him. “She didn’t tell you?”
“The hell are you talking about?” Diego wonders, his eyes still blazing with anger.
“We broke up … Actually, she dumped me. I-I’m single,” he declares, looking at the woman beside him.
She sighs in relief, but Diego is another story.
“You’re fucking cheating on her and lying about it to my damn face.” He pulls the artist to his feet by the collar of his shirt.
“No. No … seriously,” he pleads. “Monique dumped me. She said she’s moving back to Williamsport. I-I thought she would’ve told you by now. It’s been like two months.”
“Diego, calm down. I think he’s telling the truth,” Kyle says, finally trying to reason with his cousin. He places a hand on Diego’s shoulder, pushing him away from the guy.
“Honestly, I’m surprised she hasn’t told you,” the artist says. “But she did say you hadn’t been taking her calls. You should talk to her.”
