Wrong thing to say buddy.
I’m frozen in my seat, watching Lachlan closely, my breath in my throat. I can feel Thierry and John do the same thing. In fact, the whole bar seems to quiet, though it could just be my imagination. It’s as if everything stills, holding its breath.
Lachlan doesn’t turn around, just cocks his head as if finally listening. He has that mad dog stare going on, a volcano about to erupt. His shoulders and neck tense, like someone has wound him up as far as he will go and he’s about to spring.
“What?” Lachlan says, voice so stiff, so low, I can barely hear him.
“Are you fucking deaf?” the guy says, leaning closer so his face is practically shouting in Lachlan’s ear. “I said stay the fuck away from my girl, faggot.”
Lachlan swallows slowly. I watch his fists curl so tight his skin grows white. His eyes sharpen, pupils growing tiny, mean, hard as hell. I want nothing more than to grab him, lead him out of here. I should have done that a long time ago.
And the guy doesn’t back off. The guy might have muscles but he’s a fucking idiot. Instead he smiles at Lachlan, showing misshapen teeth. “You rugby players think you’re the cock of the walk, don’t you. Like your shit don’t stink. Like you can do anything you fucking want. Well you can’t. I know all about you, you pathetic little fuck. You want it all and you don’t deserve any of it, not like the rest of us.” He looks over Lachlan’s head at me and there’s so much disgust in his eyes it nearly makes me sick. “Why don’t you go take care of your chink girlfriend and leave mine alone.”
I feel like I’ve been slapped in the face. It takes me a moment to register that he just called me a fucking chink, one of the oldest, most-outdated racist terms in the book. I can’t even think, or breathe or react other than to stare dumbly at him, like I’m not even sure who I am for a moment. But holy hell does that make me feel like garbage.
Lachlan’s reaction, unlike mine though, is immediate.
Lachlan explodes up from the table and with a terrifying roar that silences the whole pub, he whirls around and punches the guy square in the face. It’s hard enough that blood flies out of his mouth, hard enough for the sound of bone crunching to settle somewhere inside me.
The man flies back but doesn’t fall. He grabs his face, still smiling somehow though I swear a tooth falls out of his mouth and in his eyes he’s taunting Lachlan.
There is no time for that. Lachlan storms toward him, fists out, shoulders raised, his eyes as crazed as I’ve ever seen them. He’s like a whole new person and if the guy had any brains at all he would get the fuck out of here because I don’t think Lachlan will be stopped.
And he doesn’t. The guy tries to put in a punch and it catches Lachlan in the jaw, but he didn’t even try to duck or move, he just takes the hit and keeps coming like nothing happened. And when he comes again, he’s coming with both fists and the guy goes flying back through chairs and onto someone’s table.
Lachlan pins him down and punches him in the nose.
The cheek.
The chin.
And again.
And again.
Over and over and over.
A wild, feral animal.
The same sound of smashed bone and spilled blood, like someone thudding two pieces of raw meat together, echoing through the pun.
This is a nightmare.
“Stop it, stop it!” the girl cries out, trying to pull Lachlan off.
It makes him pause enough to push her off with one arm and yell, “Shut the fuck up, you cunt!” Thierry and John take the opportunity to finally snap out of it, jump out of their chairs and run on over, trying to hold him back.
“Fuck off!” Lachlan yells, throwing another punch in. The guy is now on the table, groaning helplessly, barely moving. His face is just blood. Lachlan reaches for a bottle of beer, smashing it over the edge of the table and holding it up to the guy’s throat.
“You fucking apologize to her,” Lachlan seethes, his own face splattered with the guy’s blood.
But the guy can’t even talk. Finally John and Thierry work in unison and with one hard pull, they bring Lachlan back and to his feet.
Lachlan just stands there, staring at the guy while everyone in the pub is dead silent. Even the music turns off. The only sound is the spitting sound as the guy tries to move his broke, bloodied mouth, and Lachlan’s heavy, raspy breathing.
Suddenly Thierry is handing me my purse, whispering to me. “You both have to go now, right now.” He jerks his head subtly at the bartender who is making a phone call. “Police are being called, you have to get him out of here.”
I nod dumbly, the feeling slow to come back into my limbs.
I hate to admit it, but I’m scared when I reach out and grab Lachlan’s hand. It’s not that I think he’d hurt me but I’m not sure he even knows where he is or who I am at the moment.
He flinches at my touch but slowly turns his head to look at me. I pull my hand away, my fingers now red and sticky.
“We have to go,” I tell him, my voice squeaking. “Please?”
He stares at me for a moment until it’s like he actually recognizes me. Then he nods and turns, storming out of the bar, shoving chairs out of the way.
“I’ll take care of it all,” Thierry says to me, putting his hand on my back and pushing me. “Just get him home.”
I lick my lips and run after Lachlan, catching up to him on the street. He’s walking fast, so fast, and I have to stay at a jog.
“Lachlan, Lachlan, talk to me,” I plead.
He doesn’t say anything, just keeps walking. Finally I see a cab heading down our way and I flag it. As it slows, I quickly take out a cardigan from my purse and wipe away the blood from his face. If he looks too messed up, the cabbie might not take us.
He lets me do this, completely docile, though he’s not looking at me, he’s just staring off into space with disbelieving eyes. I know my cardigan is now covered in someone else’s blood but at least Lachlan looks human again. Back in the pub, he was anything but. I’d seen bar fights many times before, but never like that.
That was raw, that was feral. Absolutely dangerous.
The cab stops beside us and I open the door, pushing Lachlan in, relieved to see him not resisting. The driver glances at us in the rearview mirror but I play up the fact that I’m American and sober.
“Number 4, North East Circus Place,” I tell him promptly and after he stares at me and Lachlan he nods.
“Aye,” he says. “Rough night?”
“You could say that,” I say under my breath.
“Welcome to Scotland, lass,” he says with a tight smile and we take off down the road.
Lachlan slumps against my shoulder, all his weight on me, but still I put my arm around him, holding him close. I’m not sure if I’m trying to comfort him or comfort myself. We’re both in shock.
“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles against me, his tone high-pitched, nearly whimpering. “I’m so sorry, love.”
“Shhhh,” I tell him quietly, squeezing his shoulder. “It’s okay.”
He shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I’m never okay.” But he doesn’t say anything else after that.
When we get to his flat, I tip the cabbie with wads of American dollars I have in the bottom of my purse and help Lachlan out of the cab. He can stand, but just barely. I lead him to the door and fumble through his jean pockets for the key. Any other day at any other time, I would have made a joke about feeling him up but there is no joking tonight. I don’t see how we can joke about anything anytime soon.
I get the door open and him up the stairs. Once inside his flat, Lionel and Emily come to say hello, desperate for a walk. But once they see Lachlan they get a bit standoffish. It’s as if they’re unsure who this man is, if he’s really their master.
I take Lachlan straight to bed where he collapses on top of it. I roll him onto his side and then get Emily and Lionel on their leashes. Because it’s so late, I don’t bother with a muzzle for Lionel and do a quick pee trip around the park.
The dogs seem to loosen up with me but I know I’m tightly wound. I have no idea how I’ll sleep tonight at all. I want to talk to someone about this, but I’m afraid to. Lachlan is such a private, personal guy, it wouldn’t be fair to him to tell someone else what he’s been like, even if it was someone like Stephanie, who I tell a lot of things to, who wouldn’t judge me or him.