“No. He’s gonna get what’s coming to him.”
That’s the only warning I get before Pete’s pushing his way through the crowd and in my face. I don’t flinch, and Pete sneers. I can’t see Brad, but I can feel him, ready to jump in. And instead of it being irritating that he thinks I can’t handle this, it’s reassuring.
Pete grabs my shoulders. I try to push him off, but he’s stronger than I expect. Everyone’s watching. I focus on Pete.
“Let’s talk about this,” I say, but a punch to the stomach doubles me over in pain. I feel like I’m going to throw up. And that’s the part that bothers me the most.
12
BRAD
Saturday, February 7th
When Pete shows up drunk,I know it’s going to be bad. He hates Charlie. I try to take care of it. I know that’s the last thing Charlie wants, but why not avoid trouble if we can?
Turns out, my instincts about Pete were right, but Charlie handles it, firing him on the spot.
It’s not until after Charlie’s speech telling us to go home that I realize it isn’t over. Pete barrels through the crowd and gets in Charlie’s face.
Every nerve in my body screams at me to take this man down. Save Charlie. Holding back takes every ounce of willpower I have. Charlie’s got this.
Until his hands are on Charlie. Fuck this. Fear and anger fuel me as I push through the other volunteers. Charlie gasps, and my head jerks up to see him doubled over. I take off, not caring who I knock down. I have to get to Charlie. Fury races through me, and I can barely see straight.
Charlie gasps for breath, and Pete laughs. “What now, bitch?”
I finally break free, determined to tear this asshole limb from limb, but I stop in my tracks.
Charlie rushes the guy and knocks him to the ground. Pete gets a few hits in, but Charlie doesn’t let go. Should we step in? Do something? I catch Gary’s eye, but he just shrugs.
And then it happens. Charlie grabs Pete’s leg and knocks him to the ground. Before Pete can react, Charlie wraps his arm around Pete’s neck, grabs his right elbow, and twists, pinning him to the floor.
“Holy shit,” Gary mutters. “Did he pin him with a Cross Face Cradle?”
I grin. “He did.”
Charlie’s breathing hard. He looks up and blows his hair out of his face. “Can I get some help here?”
Gary and I rush forward and grab Pete so Charlie can stand. Sirens get louder, and I realize someone called the police.
After the police arrest Pete and stick him in the back of the patrol car, they take statements. Gary gives them a list of volunteers working today.
The EMTs arrive, and Charlie groans. “I’m fine.” But he lets them assess him. They recommend that Charlie go to the ER for X-rays. “I’m fine,” Charlie says again.
I don’t leave Charlie’s side. Gary doesn’t remark on it. Whether he thinks I’m sticking around because I’m a friend of the family or he suspects something, I don’t know. Or care.
The place clears out until we’re the only ones left, except for Gary, and he’s on the phone.
“I’m going to take you to the hospital, Charlie.”
He shakes his head, but he can’t hide the pain in his eyes. “I’m fine. Just sore.”
“Still, I’d feel better if?—”
“Chas?” Gary stops in front of Charlie and holds out his phone. “Raja.”
Before Charlie can take the phone, their voice comes from the speaker. “Go to the hospital, Chas. It’s not a request.”
We’re stuckin the hospital for hours while they assess Charlie and run tests. He grumbles the entire time.
