In the middle of this fracas was—Luca pulled up short—a tiny, dark-haired girl in ripped jeans and red Docs. Manny, his new favorite masseuse. She was wielding a broken beer bottle and seemed to be trying to defend a tallish, skinny guy wearing a ragged Flaming Lips t-shirt. That dude was bound up by a big guy behind, who had Flaming Lips caught in a decent half-nelson. The big guy was bleeding, a gash running across his face.
Possibly the result of an attack by a flying pixie with a broken bottle.
The brawl had quickly hit a standoff, before Hugh and Luca could even get there. Now Manny was brandishing the bottle in a wide arc, while everybody else watched her warily.
Bleeding guy flexed his arms, tightening his grip on Flaming Lips. “Drop the bottle, bitch, or I take his head off.”
“Manny, it’s okay,” Lips rasped. “Chill. Chill. You’re makin’ it worse.”
Luca saw something like confusion pass quickly over Manny’s face, and he took the opportunity he had. Too focused on her friend and the guys threatening them, she hadn’t seen him, so he maneuvered directly behind her, then moved rapidly to wrap his hand around her slender, bracelet-armored wrist. That hand held the bottle, and as soon as she reacted to his touch, he yanked it away and tossed it to Hugh, who caught it deftly by the neck.
She reacted strongly to his touch—screaming and fighting—until he yanked her back against him and held her in a bear hug. It was like holding a sack full of angry bobcats or something. Jesus.
“Easy, girl. Not gonna hurt you.” For his kind words, she kicked him in the shin with the heel of her clompy boot. Ow.
With her disarmed, the guy who had Flaming Lips, and his apparent buddies, started to get uppity, but Hugh went for them and backed them off, getting Lips free. Then Hugh grabbed Lips by the collar of his stretched-out t-shirt and waved the bat at the other guys.
“Out! Your tab’s on me tonight. Just get the fuck out.”
Bleeder crossed his arms. “She came at me! Look at my fucking face!”
“You seriously gonna stand there and bitch that that ninety-pound chick fucked you up unprovoked? You that kind of pussy? Go on, get yourself patched up and learn to be a gentleman.”
“I swear to God, I didn’t do shit—barely touched her!”
“Touched her enough—Get. OUT. Not asking again.”
They went, sending murderous looks toward the black-haired bobcat still struggling in Luca’s arms. Then Hugh dragged Lips toward the back, giving Luca a nod indicating he should follow. Luca picked up Manny and slung her little body over his shoulder, keeping tight hold of her surprisingly powerful legs and just trying to ignore the clawing and punching happening to his back. Oh, and biting, too. Awesome.
They got back to the storeroom, and Hugh stopped, pushing Lips out in front of them. Luca would have been happier to have moved on through to the alley. The girl in his arms would likely find lots of weapons among the cans and boxes and bottles back here.
As soon as Lips was loose he said, “You gotta put her down. You gotta get your hands off her, or she’s never gonna calm down.”
Against his better judgment, he set Manny’s feet on the ground and released her. And she shocked the fuck out of him by scurrying away to a far corner, behind a row of beer cases, and dropping to her knees, curling over onto herself like she was doing a hurricane drill at school.
Hugh muttered, “What the fuck?”
Lips ignored him and went to Manny. Luca watched as he squatted down in front of her, his arms folded between his chest and his legs.
“Manny. Take a breath. Come on. Look at me and breathe.” She shook her head, and Lips sighed. “Okay. I’m right here. You take a minute.”
Hugh crossed his arms over his chest, cradling the bat. “You wanna tell us what the fuck?”
Lips looked over his shoulder at them, then stood and came over, holding out his hand. Hugh scowled at it, but Luca shook. “I’m Dmitri. That’s my sister, Manny. That guy that had me, he got a little too friendly with her. She doesn’t do well with strangers touching her. Things got out of hand.”
Luca asked, “What did he do?”
“Grabbed her ass.”
Hugh scoffed. “He got slashed for that?”
“Like I said, she doesn’t do well with strangers touching her. She got drunk tonight—that’s my fault. She does worse, then.”
“Christ. Well, you two need to take off.”
“Yeah, okay.” He turned and looked at his sister, who was still doing the hurricane huddle, then turned back to the men. “Um. Is there, like, a cab in town?”