“Who’s that, baby?” I hear Mia in the background. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine. Travis pissed Viola off, and now he can’t find her,” he responds as if I can’t hear everything he’s saying.
“C’mon, man,” I groan. “Just call her for me, okay? I need to know she’s okay before I can pass out.”
“Fine, I’ll call her and let you know.”
“Thanks.”
I hang up and eagerly wait to hear back from him. By the time he messages me, I’ve already taken my slacks and shirt off, dreading having to put on the same attire again in the morning.
Drew: I called and texted her. No response.
Goddammit.
Travis: Where the hell could she be?!
Drew: Chill, man. She’s a big girl. She probably just went out with some girlfriends.
I roll my eyes. He and I both know that’s unlikely.
Travis: Or she’s getting groped by some douchebag.
I know it’s dramatic, but this isn’t like Viola at all. On a good day, her hair is pulled up in a messy bun, sporting her black-rimmed glasses and leggings with a book or two in her hand.
He replies moments later.
Drew: Nah, she probably carries pepper spray in her purse right next to her box of condoms.
I hate that he’s not taking this seriously. In high school, if any of his friends came near Viola, he’d—
Wait.
I stop and message him back right away.
Travis: Are you fucking with me? Do you know where she is and not telling me?
Drew: No. I don’t.
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not, so I don’t push it. I grab a pair of drawstring sweatpants and park my ass on the couch. Exhausted or not, I’m not going to sleep until I know she’s home safe.
After watching a couple of Seinfeld re-runs, I can’t keep my eyes open, but every time I close them, visions of Viola being groped by some sleazeball enter my mind. Just as another episode starts, I hear rattling at the door. I practically fly off the couch and rush to the door just as I see Viola stumbling in with a guy wrapped around her from behind. She’s giggling, and he has asshole written all over him.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I growl, my jaw tightening as I clench my fists.
“Travis?” She’s obviously been drinking. “Hey, it’s Travis!” She giggles.
“What the fuck are you doing? Who’s this tool?” I nod my head to the shrimp next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.
“His name is…” She stumbles again, laughing as I catch her. “Aaron!” She looks at him for approval, and he furrows his brows. “I mean…” She snaps her fingers. “Andrew!”
“That’s wonderful. Andrew needs to leave now.”
“Dude, I’m right fucking here.” He snaps his head, glaring at me. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re in my fucking house, man. I wouldn’t push it.”
“Travis, don’t be an ass.” She lightly smacks her hand against my chest. “We met at The Lounge. I didn’t want to drive myself home, and he offered.”
“How nice,” I deadpan, knowing exactly what he was offering. “Well, you’re home now. He can leave.”
“Shouldn’t you be in bed?” She scoffs, pushing through me and walking toward the living room. “Or rather, someone else’s bed.”
“Viola!” I shout, grabbing her attention back toward me. She trips over her own heels and catches herself on the wall before she falls. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? Or the thoughts that were running through my mind? You wouldn’t answer my calls or messages. I thought something happened to you.” The anger boiling under my skin terrifies me, but I don’t have enough strength to stop myself.
I feel a hand on my shoulder. “She was safe with me.” I hear his condescending tone behind me. He squeezes his fingers into my skin with a hard chuckle.
“Get your hand off me.” I jerk my shoulder, but he must be hard of hearing because he doesn’t move. All I see is red, and without thinking, I grab his wrist and face him, locking his arm behind his back as I cup his throat. “I fucking warned you.” I release him, and he falls to the ground. “Get out of my goddamn house!”
“Travis! Stop it!” Viola squeals, but it sounds distant, and I ignore it.
“Fuck you, asshole.” He stands up, adjusting his shirt. “She ain’t worth it.”
“Wrong answer.” Viola Fisher is worth every damn thing. My mind blacks out on me, and all I can do is react.
I lunge at him before I can think twice. My fists collide with his face, over and over, until he’s on the floor. He covers his face with both arms, but that doesn’t stop me. The anger is too much, and this guy deserves every ounce I’m serving him.
“She’s not a fucking piece of meat, you piece of shit!”
Viola locks her hands around my bicep and attempts to pull me back. I barely flinch, but it’s enough to break me out of my trance. I let my guard down, and the asshole releases one arm and throws a punch at me. I quickly dodge it, twisting my fingers around his arm and intercepting the blow. I feel him flailing under me as I try to cover another hit he’s aiming at me.
“Ah!” I hear Viola’s scream, paralleled with a hard smack against the wall.
I turn and see her against the bookcase, clutching her right shoulder as she leans her body forward.
“Viola,” I call out, jumping off Andrew and rushing to stand in front of her. “Are you okay? What hurts?” I kneel and look for any sign of blood.
“No, I’m not okay!” she yells. “While you two idiots were wrestling down there, you knocked me into the fucking bookcase.”
“Don’t blame me. Blame your psychotic boyfriend who tried to pummel my face in,” Andrew hisses.
“Trying would insinuate I didn’t succeed, and by the looks of your bloody nose, it appears I have.” I glare at him.
“Fuck off, jackass!” He wipes his face with the back of his hand and walks toward the front door.
“You motherfucker!” Viola screams as the front door slams shut, and then he’s gone.
I look back at Viola and see her rubbing the spot on her back. I feel terrible she got put into the middle of all this and ended up hurt.
Fuck, I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I haven’t lost control like that in years.
“Let me see.” I stand in front of her and grab one of her hands to spin her around, but she doesn’t budge. “Viola,” I say firmer. “I just want to look at it.” Finally, she cooperates, turning around so I can examine the injury.
I slide my hand down her spine and finger the bottom of her shirt. Slowly, I lift it and watch as her entire body shivers. “Lift your arm so I can pull the shirt up higher.”
She winces as she attempts to raise her arm. “It hurts like a bitch.”
I finally see the area where she hit on the corner of the bookcase. I slowly rub the pad of my thumb over it, feeling how soft and smooth her skin feels against mine. The area is red and a little puffy, but no cuts or bleeding. “Well, that’ll teach you to bring assholes like him back home.” It’s a snarky comment, I know, but we need to talk about the elephant in the room.