“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Russell,” she seethed.
Claire tried to bitch over the crowds of clapping, but her crap fell on deaf ears.
“Russell! Donotignore me!” she barked.
A group of people cleared the way for Ryan to walk to my side while Claire continued to make noise. Her motions grew erratic, as I knew they would. She’d take a step and then stop, flustered and tossed up her arms. And as Ryan neared her, I held my breath for Claire to react as I had expected. When Ryan was next to her, she was unable to control her anger, just as I had expected. She reached for Ryan’s sleeve and by the time I got to them and some member intervened with her attack, she had pounded her fist into Ryan’s bicep three times.
I pulled Ryan out of her reach as others pulled her away. Security had been called and she would be handled accordingly. I knew the owner had zero tolerance for that kind of behavior and he would see to it that charges would be pressed.
“Are you okay, my boy?” I asked as I raised Ryan’s sleeve to assess any damage.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said and looked at his exposed bare bicep.
His arm was red where Claire’s fist had connected with him and there were a few scratches from fingernails. Of course, we were surrounded by friends who firmly believed in safety first, and Daniel brought over a first aid kit and swabbed Ryan’s arm with an alcohol wipe.
After everything had settled down and the police came, Ryan looked at me and asked if I wanted to go play.
“Honestly, Ryan, I would just like to take you home.”
“Sounds good to me,” he replied.
I couldn’t help but smile as we got to the parking lot. I thought about all of the times in the past when Ryan and I have left the club and I had hoped he’d let me take him home with me. Now, I knew it would always happen.
