"Okay, party's over. Ty, you have no business talking smack about Shane. He just wanted to warn me, as a friend. I could have heard the same stuff from anybody."
"Yeah, it just happened to be the guy who’s probably wanted in your pants from the moment he met you.
I roll my eyes. “We met in third grade.”
Ty looks momentarily stumped, but Shane isn’t helping.
"Get the hell out of my room, Wilder."
"Not before you admit to Blaire you don't know shit about what I did or do, past or present."
Shane’s fists clench. "Get. The hell. Out. Of my room."
"Or...?" Ty taunts.
Shane zones in on Ty's face, his blue eyes narrowing. He is not a violent guy, never has been. But he also never takes shit from anyone. He usually walks away when things get messy, but it's hard to walk away when a guy like Ty is blocking your way.
They stare each other down. Then Shane throws a sudden punch straight at Ty's face. Blood drips from his nose.
Ty smiles grimly, turning to me and offering me a wink. "Just for the record, baby, your right hook is so much meaner."
Shane throws a few wild punches, which Ty dodges easily. Shane is obviously pissed off, and maybe a little drunk. I spot some empty beer bottles next to the TV.
I can't move. I can't speak. I can barely breath.
When Shane launches himself at Ty, I know that Ty can't let this go. His fight reflex is stronger than him. Ty strikes back hard. The nauseating sound of his fists connecting with Shane’s face and body jabs my ears.
“Stop it! Let go of him!” I sandwich myself between them, pushing Ty out of the room. “Get away from him.” My voice cracks.
For a moment there, it looks like Ty gets his shit together. He looks down at me, his eyes tired.
Shane takes the opportunity to jet out the door, but Ty thrusts me aside and launches at Shane again. Panic rushes through me as he chases Shane down the hotel corridor. I race to catch them. Ty grabs the back of Shane’s shirt and jerks him to a halt. I'm about to step between them and throw myself in the line of fire for Shane when I see Mom, Dad and Izzy spill from an elevator. A second later, Jesse and Dawson rush out of a second elevator. They're all sweaty and flushed, and other than Jesse, they all pant like they've just completed a triathlon. I suspect they’ve been running around hunting for me and Ty.
The men are tearing Ty apart from Shane before things get even messier for the XWL star. There are a lot of sins you can commit in Vegas, but sending a guy to the hospital is probably not one of them, especially if you're a professional athlete competing in a big televised fight. A quick look at Shane reveals a busted lip, bruised cheeks and what will soon be a black eye. I'm too pissed off to examine Ty's face. Whatever injury Shane's given him, he'll survive.
Ty points his finger at Shane. “He twisted things to turn her against me.”
Shane takes a seat on the floor and holds his head in his hands, trying to regulate his breathing. Ty is still blocked by Jesse and Dawson.
“Whatever he did,” Jesse says, “you have to drop it now, bro. Get your shit together. You’ve got a fight tomorrow night. You can’t afford to get arrested or hurt." He studies Ty’s bloody nose and his arm, which sports a long, ugly scratch. His lips curl in disbelief. “Jesus, the guy scratched you?”
“No, that was my girlfriend.”
"Does Shane need an ambulance?" someone interrupts. Maybe my mom. I'm not really present in this situation, everything feels like a bad dream, and like most dreams it's complete chaos. I wish someone would wake me up from this nightmare.
"I'm fine. No hospital," Shane says, but he groans into his hands.
Izzy hurries to his side. Her eyes are welling up, and she sits next to him, lifting his chin between her fingers. She examines the cuts and marks on his skin with furrowed brows, and my heart breaks in two to see just how much it kills her to see him hurt.
"You’ll be okay. You’re strong." Her voice is almost a whisper. "But we need some ice..."
"And a fucking whiskey to go with it," Shane snaps, and there are a few chuckles from my side of the family.
"Do I need to call my lawyer?" Dawson rubs Ty's back in circles, like a dad. “Will this douche press charges?” He is not even remotely annoyed with his fighter.
That confirms my worst fears about Ty. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Ty is what he is. A violent, volatile guy who'll do anything to get what he wants, even if other people get screwed in the process.
"I’m not pressing charges," Shane blurts from the floor. Izzy is now running her fingers through his tousled blond hair.