Page 139 of Oblivion

“Everything okay?”

“No. We’re halfway back to the hotel, and Dante’s… He’s…”

I trailed off and held out the phone, giving Jackson all he needed to know from Dante’s cursing and the sound of splintering wood as the letterbox met its demise.

“Where are you?” he urged.

“Uh, I don’t know. On one of the streets that lead to the hotel. Oh, fuck.”

My heart plummeted when the front door of the house opened and a burly bald man stepped onto the porch.

“Hey, what thefuckare you doing!”

“Shit, Jackson, I think there’s going to be a fight.”

Curses came through the phone and rapid footsteps. Jackson was on the run.

“Ask the resident what street you’re on.”

I gulped as the guy rushed down the steps with Dante locked in his murderous sights.

“Hey, what street are we on? I’ve got someone coming to take him home,” I shouted.

Bald guy ignored me and shoved Dante. Dante caught his stumble, then growled as he retaliated.

“Fuck, Jackson, neither of them are listening to me,” I cried over the shouting.

The front door opened again, and a woman stepped out. “I’ve called the police.”

“Please, what street are we on?” I begged.

“Morgan Road.”

“Morgan Road,” I echoed to Jackson.

His breath came loud and steady through the phone. “I can hear yelling, so I must be heading the right direction.”

“Oh, my God, hurry!”

Punches started to be thrown. When the guy tackled Dante to the lawn, the brawl became a jumble of arms, legs, headbutts, knees, blood, and cussing.

I approached the woman who stood with her hand pressed over her mouth.

“Please make him stop. Dante’s just been to his best friend’s funeral.”

Her eyes widened. “He knew Forrest?”

I nodded and rushed closer. “He was on his team.”

“Fuck!” she hissed. “Alex! Alex,stop!Lord almighty.”

She pushed past and rushed over to where her husband and Dante were beating the shit out of each other.

Residents from the surrounding houses began to appear, drawn out by the disturbance. Much to my relief, Jackson sprinted from the shadows and headed straight for the brawl. With the help of three other neighbors, they separated Dante and Alex and restrained them on either side of the front path.

My heart pounded so hard I thought I would be sick. I wasn’t good with blood, and Dante had it streaming from his nose and eyebrow. The other guy was spitting red onto the lawn, while still yelling abuse at Dante.

Needing to justify Dante’s volatile actions, I approached the bald guy with apologies flowing from my mouth. At the mention of Forrest, his expression softened, then hardened again.

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