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53
CIARAN
Before I even knew what had hit me, Matty shoved me backwards. I landed back on the couch with an unceremonious plop.
Matty vaulted over the coffee table, grabbed Drew by the shoulders, and together they toppled over the other couch.
They were a tangle of arms, fists, slaps, elbows, and limbs as they fell to the wood floor in a heavy thud.
A staccato chorus of “fuck-you” and “no-fuck-you” came out in growly grunts and half utterances between the two of them.
I scrambled to my feet and darted to the other side of the couch. All I could do was watch, which made me feel embarrassingly useless…like maybe I was the damsel in distress in this scenario.
Drew was taller and stronger, but those physical attributes could not equal the rage I’d witnessed in Matty’s eyes just before he lunged at the man.
As they rolled together on the floor, Matty landed on top of Drew, straddling his chest and pinning him down with his knees. Drew kicked and tried to buck Matty off him.
Fists were flying into flesh and bone as furniture skidded sideways. The empty wine bottle skittered to the floor, as did the three wine glasses, which shattered into a thousand pieces. The smell of expensive red wine filled the room, mixing with the pungent scent of two sweaty men fighting.
As much as I’d like to get in a solid punch to Drew’s face, I knew better than to intervene. These two had years of pent-up hatred and anger toward one another. I’d just get in the way.
“I’m going to kill you for stealing him from me,” I heard Drew say.
“Ciaran was never yours, asshole,” was Matty’s strained reply after Drew’s fist collided with his jaw. I saw a trickle of blood stain the side of his lip. “He can make his own choices without either of us interfering.”
“So you’re saying it’s you or me?” Drew sputtered. His nose was bloody, which he wiped away on the back of his hand. “Winner takes all? Either I maim you tonight or your friends at the embassy put a bullet between your eyes. Sounds like I win, no matter what.”
“I swear to God,” I started, “I am going to stab both of you with shards of broken glass.”
Both men laughed at that as their tackling positions shifted. Drew was now on top, a dark gleam in his eyes. Drew’s laugh was harsh while Matty’s bark of laughter was full of humor before he wriggled to knee Drew in the groin.
“Switching the statue was a dick move, Andy. I don’t care if you hate my guts, but your actions have an effect on Joan and Filipe.”
Drew doubled over and wheezed as he uttered a noise that was a cross between a groan and a chortle.
His voice was whisper-thin when he quipped, “Like I give a shit about your friends. It was easy to beat you at your own game, Matty.” He groaned again. “Reminded me of our dares back in the day. You were always such an easy mark.”
Matty cursed. “Stealing a neighbor’s watch isn’t the same thing as duping a foreign embassy. They have semi-automatic weapons, Andy.”
“Sucks to be you.”
Someone kicked the couch. The statue, which Drew had left there, rocked forward with enough momentum that it would take another kick or two for it to fall completely to the floor.
Wait! The statue was unattended. I couldn’t believe it took me that long to realize that fact.
At least I now had a purpose.
I avoided the broken glass as I hefted the statue in my arms. Jesus it was heavier than before. But then I remembered what I’d held before was a replica.
This statue was at least fifteen pounds heavier.
I walked well out of the way of the wrestling idiots and placed the statue in a corner near the front door. I didn’t think the second couch on the other side of the coffee table was a safe enough place, especially if they stood up and started fighting on that side of the room.
When I returned to the living room, they were standing upright, each punching then ducking, attempting to avoid the furniture. It was a messy, dirty fight. Matty’s jaw was red, his lip was split in the corner, and it looked as if he had a cut in his hairline. As they shuffled, their feet crunched over the broken glass, which made a jangle of crackling, snapping sounds.
“Fuck,” Drew screamed all of a sudden, like a murder victim. Instantly, he stopped what he was doing to look at his bare feet like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Sparkling shards of broken glass were embedded in the fleshy part of his feet.
