Deep (Stage Dive, #4)(47)

“What?” Mal scowled.

“This is getting sorted out,” announced Jimmy. “Now. Time to kiss and make up, you two idiots.”

“Fuck off, Jimbo.”

Ben let go of my hand, taking a step forward. “They’re right. What’s it going to take?”

With the air of one greatly wounded, Mal turned to Anne. She too nodded, giving him a small smile.

“What I did was wrong. I gave you my word and I should have kept it.” Hands to his sides, Ben faced Mal. “We’ve been friends since we were kids. Never should’ve given you reason to doubt me. I’m sorry.”

“And you got her pregnant,” bit out Mal.

“Yeah. But I’m not saying sorry for that. Never giving my kid cause to think they’re not wanted.”

Mal’s eyes narrowed as he appraised Ben anew.

“This ain’t good for Liz,” Ben said, “getting caught in the shit between us. She doesn’t need the stress.” With a deep breath, Ben held his chin high. “What’s it going to take?”

“Three,” said Mal.

“Not the face.” David moved in closer to the pair. “Agreed?”

“Gotta keep him pretty for the pictures,” said Jimmy.

“Fine.” Mal flexed his wrists, curling his right hand into a fist. “Don’t want to damage these precious hands anyway.”

“Wait!” I rushed forward, comprehension finally dawning. “You are not talking about hitting him. Over my dead body.”

The other women looked resigned, concerned, combinations of both. None of them would interfere, however. It was there in their eyes. Fuck them.

Ben turned, grabbing hold of my arm and setting me back a pace. “Stay over there. Just in case.”

“Ben. No.”

“We need it done with.”

“You are not letting him hit you.”

“Liz—”

“I’m serious!”

“Sweetheart, it’s okay,” he said, eyes gentle but face set. “Calm down. We’ve been friends a long time. You got to let us work this one out our own way.”

Like hell. “Anne, help me!”

My sister just grimaced. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe we need to stay out of it.”

“If this was Mal, would you stay out of it?” The thought of Ben getting hurt, of Mal doing the hurting, and me being the cause … I basically wanted to vomit. “Mal, you lay one finger on him and I swear I am never talking to you again.”

The idiot just rolled his eyes. “Please. I saw the sappy-ass way you just looked at him. He’ll talk you ’round.”

Then, before Ben was ready for it, Mal smashed his fist into the man’s stomach. The breath whooshed out of Ben audibly and I winced. He bent forward, instinctively protecting himself. Without pause, Mal delivered the second blow, a sharp jab to Ben’s side. Ben grunted, rearing back, and Mal slammed him once more in the belly. My own belly contracted in empathy. He’d done it, Mal had really done it.

The silence that followed was stunning. Ben’s harsh breathing filled the room as Mal held his hand out for shaking. It was over.

I’d seen a couple of fights in my life. One particularly nasty one in a backstreet during my wild period. Then of course there was the night my pregnancy had been announced. At least the scent of blood didn’t feature this time. Violence never fixed anything. Mal not waiting until Ben was ready, hitting him before he’d had a chance to brace for the blow, hurting the man I cared (too much) about.… Emotion tangled me up, turning me inside out. I didn’t know whether to burst into tears or to start beating on things myself.

Stupid hormones. Stupider boys.

“All good?” asked Mal.

“Yeah. Nice one with that opening hit.” Ben slowly straightened, pain flashing across his face. Then he shook his bandmate’s hand. The guys slapped each other’s backs and the women wore relieved smiles. These people were f*cking insane.

“Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee.” With his fists held high, Mal jumped around. “Lizzy, babe, c’mon. It’s manly man’s business. You wouldn’t understand, kid. You just gotta go with it.”

“You…” I searched my mind but there wasn’t a word harsh enough, an insult vile enough. Violence it was. I’d wipe that smile off his face. Top lip raised in a snarl, I stalked toward him, my bitch-slapping hand at the ready.

Unfortunately, Ben was at the ready too.

“No you don’t.” He swung me up into his arms, cradling me against him. “It’s over.”

“Put me down.”

“Time for breakfast, remember? Let’s go.”

I swore up a storm, the whole no foul language thing long forgotten. What can I say? It was a heated moment.

“Whoa,” said Mal, eyes wide with surprise. “She’s a fierce critter.”

On the other side of the room, Ev opened the door and we made straight for it. Involuntarily on my part. “No. Ben—”

“What did you want in your omelet?”

“Put me down.”

“And how about some juice? You want juice too?”

“Do not patronize me. I am not a child.”

“Believe me, sweetheart, I know. Despite the tantrum you’re throwing right now.”