Beautiful Disaster 01 (49 page)

I was in prime position to see Brady tower over Travis, twitching impatiently for the bullhorn to sound. As usual, Travis had a slight grin on his face, unaffected by the madness around him. When Adam began the fight, Travis intentionally let Brady get in the first punch. I was surprised when his face jerked hard to the side with the blow. Brady
had
been training.

Travis smiled, his teeth a bright red, and then he focused matching every punch Brady dealt.

“Why is he letting him hit him so much?” I asked Shepley.

“I don’t think he’s letting him, anymore,” Shepley said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, Abby. He’s getting ready to take it up a notch.

After ten minutes Brady was winded, but he was still landing solid blows into Travis’ sides and jaw. Travis caught Brady’s shoe when he tried to kick him, and held his leg high with one hand, punching him in the nose with incredible force and then lifting Brady’s leg higher, causing him to lose his balance. The crowd exploded when Brady fell, but he wasn’t on the floor long. He stood, but with the addition of two lines of dark red streaming from his nose. In the next moment, he landed two more punches to Travis’ face. Blood rose from a cut on Travis’ eyebrow and dripped down his cheek.

I closed my eyes and turned away hoping Travis would end the fight soon. The small shift of my body caught me in the current of onlookers, and before I could right myself, I was several feet from a preoccupied Shepley. I fought against the crowd futility, until I could feel the back wall behind me.

The nearest door was on the other side of the room, an equal distance to the door we’d come in. My back slammed against the concrete wall, knocking the wind out of me.

“Shep!” I yelled, waving my hand above me to get his attention. The fight was at its peak. No one could hear me.

A man lost his footing and used my shirt to right himself, spilling his beer down my front. I was soaked from neck to waist, reeking with the bitter stench of cheap beer. The man still had my shirt bunched in his fist as he tried to pull himself from the floor, and I ripped his fingers open two at time until he released me. He didn’t look twice at me, pushing his way forward through the crowd.

“Hey! I know you!” A man yelled into my ear.

I leaned away, recognizing him right away. It was Ethan, the man Travis threatened at the bar—the man that had somehow escaped sexual assault charges.

“Yeah,” I said, looking for a hole in the crowd as I straightened my shirt.

“That’s a nice bracelet,” he said, running his hand down my arm and grabbing my wrist.

“Hey,” I warned, pulling my hand away.

He rubbed my arm, swaying and grinning. “We were rudely interrupted last time I tried to talk to you.”

I stood on my tip toes, seeing Travis land two blows into Brady’s face, and scanning the crowd between each one. He was looking for me instead of focusing on the fight. I had to get back to my spot before he was too distracted.

I had barely made headway into the crowd when Ethan’s fingers dug into the back of my jeans. My back slammed into the wall once more.

“I wasn’t finished talking to you,” Ethan said, scanning my wet shirt with lewd intent.

I pulled his hand from the back of my jeans, digging in my nails. “Let go!” I yelled when he resisted.

He laughed, and I scanned the crowd for a familiar face when he pulled me against him. “I don’t wanna let go.”

I tried to push Ethan away, but his arms were heavy and his grip tight. In a panic, I couldn’t distinguish State students from Easterners. No one seemed to notice my scuffle with Ethan, and it was so loud, no one could hear me protest, either. He leaned in, reaching his hand around to my backside and squeezing.

“I always thought you’d be a nice piece of ass,” he said, breathing stale beer in my face.

“Get OFF!” I screamed, pushing him.

I looked for Shepley, and saw that Travis had finally picked me out of the crowd. He instantly pushed against the packed bodies surrounding him.

“Travis!” I screamed, but it was muffled against the cheering. I pushed Ethan with one hand and reached for Travis with the other.

Travis made little progress before being shoved back into the Circle. Brady took advantage of Travis’ distraction and rammed an elbow in the side of his head.

The crowd quieted down a bit when Travis punched someone in the crowd, trying once again to get to me.

“Get the fuck off her!” Travis yelled.

In a line between where I stood and Travis’ desperate attempt to reach me, heads turned in my direction. Ethan was oblivious, trying to keep me still long enough to kiss me. He ran his nose across my cheek bone and then down my neck.

“You smell really good,” he slurred.

I pushed his face away, but he grabbed my wrist, unfazed.

Wide-eyed, I searched for Travis again. He desperately pointed me out to Shepley. “Get her! Shep! Get Abby!” he said, still trying to push through the crowd. Brady pulled him back into the circle and punched him again.

“You’re fucking hot, you know that?” Ethan said.

I closed my eyes when I felt his mouth on my neck. Anger welled up within me and I pushed him again. “I said get OFF!” I yelled, ramming my knee into his groin.

He doubled over, one hand automatically flying to the source of the pain, the other still gripping my shirt, refusing to let go.

“You bitch!” he cried.

In the next moment, I was free. Shepley’s eyes were wild, staring into Ethan’s as he gripped him by the collar of his shirt. He held Ethan against the wall while he nailed him with his fist repeatedly in the face, stopping only when the blood poured from Ethan’s mouth and nose.

Shepley pulled me to the stairs, shoving anyone who stood in his path. He helped me through an open window, and then down a fire escape, catching me when I leaped the few feet to the ground.

“You okay, Abby? Did he hurt you?” Shepley asked.

One sleeve of my white sweater was hanging by threads, otherwise I had escaped unscathed. I shook my head, still stunned.

Shepley gently took my cheeks in his hands, looking into my eyes. “Abby, answer me. Are you all right?”

I nodded. As the adrenaline absorbed into my blood stream, the tears began to flow. “I’m okay.”

He hugged me, pressing his cheek against my forehead, and then stiffened. “Over here, Trav!”

Travis ran at us full speed, slowing only when had me in his arms. He was covered in blood, his eye dripping and his mouth spattered with red.

“Jesus Christ…is she hurt?” he asked.

Shepley’s hand was still on my back. “She said she’s okay.”

Travis held me at arm’s length by my shoulders and frowned. “Are you hurt, Pidge?”

Just as I shook my head, I saw the first of the mob from the basement trickling down from the fire escape. Travis kept me tight in his arms, silently scanning the faces. A short, squat man hopped down from the ladder and froze when he noticed us standing on the sidewalk.

“You,” Travis snarled.

He let me go, running across the grass, tackling the man to the ground.

I looked to Shepley, confused and horrified.

“That’s the guy that kept shoving Travis back in the circle,” Shepley said.

A small crowd gathered around them as they scuffled on the ground. Travis pounded his fist into the man’s face over and over. Shepley pulled me into his chest, still panting. The man stopped fighting back, and Travis left him on the ground in a bloody heap. Those gathered around him fanned out, giving Travis a wide birth, seeing the rage in his eyes.

“Travis!” Shepley yelled, pointing to the other side of the building.

Ethan hobbled in the shadows, using the brick wall of Hellerton to hold himself up. When he heard Shepley yell for Travis, he turned just in time to see his assailant charge. Ethan limped across the lawn, throwing down the beer bottle in his hands and moving as fast as his legs could carry him to the street. Just as he reached his car, Travis grabbed him and slammed him against it.

Ethan pleaded with Travis, even as Travis gripped his shirt and rammed his head into the car door. The begging was cut off with the loud thud of his skull against the windshield, and then Travis pulled him to the front of the car and shattered the headlight with Ethan’s face. Travis launched him onto the hood, pressing his face into the metal while shouting obscenities.

“Shit,” Shepley said. I turned to see Hellerton glow blue and red from the lights of a quickly approaching police cruiser. Droves of people jumped from the landing, forming a human waterfall down the fire escape, and a flurry of running students burst into every direction.

“Travis!” I screamed.

Travis left Ethan’s limp body on the hood of the car to sprint towards us. Shepley pulled me to the parking lot, ripping open his door. I jumped into the back seat, anxiously waiting for them both to get in. Cars were flying from their spots and out of the drive way, screeching to a halt when a second police car blocked the drive.

Travis and Shepley jumped into their seats, and Shepley cursed when he saw the trapped cars backing from the only exit. He slammed the car into drive, and the Charger bounced as it jumped the curb. He spun out over the grass, and we flew between two buildings, bouncing again when he hit the road behind the school.

The tires squealed and the engine snarled when Shepley slammed his foot on the accelerator. I slid across the seat into the wall of the cab when we took a turn, bumping my already sore elbow. The street lights were streaks across the window as we raced to the apartment, but it seemed like an hour had passed by the time we pulled into the parking lot.

Shepley threw the Charger into park and turned off the ignition. The boys opened their doors in silence, and Travis reached into the back seat, lifting me into his arms.

“What
happened
? Holy shit, Trav, what happened to your
face
?” America said, running down the stairs.

“I’ll tell you inside,” Shepley said, guiding her to the door.

Travis carried me up the stairs, through the living and down the hall without a word, setting me on his bed. Toto pawed at my legs, jumping onto the bed to lick my face.

“Not now, buddy,” Travis said in a hushed voice, taking the puppy to the hall and shutting the door.

He kneeled in front of me, touching the frayed edges of my sleeve. His eye was in the beginning stages of a bruise, red and swollen. The angry skin above it was cut and wet with blood. His lips were smeared with scarlet, and the hide was ripped away from some of his knuckles. His once white t-shirt was now soiled with a combination of blood, grass and dirt.

I touched his eye and he winced, pulling away from my hand. “I’m so sorry, Pigeon. I tried to get to you. I tried….” He cleared his throat of the anger and worry that choked him. “I couldn’t get to you.”

“Will you ask America to take me back to Morgan?” I said.

“You can’t go back there tonight. The place is crawling with cops. Just stay here. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

I sucked in a faltering breath, trying to ward off any more tears. He felt bad enough.

Travis stood up and opened the door.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’ve gotta get a shower. I’ll be right back.”

America shoved past him, sitting beside me on the bed, pulling me into her chest. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there!” she cried.

“I’m fine,” I said, wiping my tear stained face.

Shepley knocked on the door as he entered, bringing me a short glass half-full of whiskey.

“Here,” he said, handing it to America. She cupped my hands around it and nudged me.