by Hank Edwards
“Fight! Fight!” one of them chanted as they hauled Norbert to his feet.
Most festival-goers scattered, but others closed in, forming a circle around those involved. Primal excitement ran through the crowd, and cell phones went up to record the action while no one bothered to intervene. The tall man in the yellow shirt was still there, watching with anticipation like everyone else. Jazz could practically taste the bloodlust in the air. A woman standing near them said to her male companion, “I’m going to get so many likes on Instagram with this video.”
Jazz and Michael pushed their way to the front of the onlookers. Ally stood on one side of the circle, glaring at Norbert as the drunk frat boys shoved him back toward her.
“Fight, fight!” two of the frat boys resumed chanting.
“You get him, girl!” a familiar voice shouted.
A few feet away from Jazz and Michael stood Christy James, the woman who ran the marina in town bearing her name and who Michael had dated in high school and taken to prom. Michael had told Jazz all about Christy, how they’d lost their virginity to each other, and how Michael had foolishly shared secrets with her that she’d gleefully spread around town after he told her he was gay. The most damning secret had been that when he was twelve, he’d peeked at a naked woman in the preparation room just to see what all the fuss was about boobs. Jazz had thought it was an innocent and rather funny epiphany along Michael’s journey to discovering his sexuality, and the sweet way his father had handled it warmed Jazz’s heart and he’d wished he’d had a chance to meet the man who made his boyfriend the wonderful man he was.
But the man-hating Christy had layered on lots of embellishments to Michael’s innocent story, which landed her big butt smack onto Jazz’s nemesis list. He had declared very firmly, “There will be no redemption for Christy after spreading rumors to besmirch my man’s character,” and promptly made Michael swoon.
“Figures she’d cheer to see a woman kick a man’s ass,” Jazz muttered. He really didn’t like Christy. Not one little bit.
Dismissing bitter ol’ Christy, Jazz returned his attention to the scene unfolding before them.
Norbert jerked free of the frat boys, his face bright red and a smear of dirt across his forehead. “Unhand me!”
They laughed and shoved him toward Ally, and Norbert flailed his arms to keep from face-planting.
When Christy laughed meanly, a strong and surprising burst of compassion rattled through Jazz. Horrible as Norbert was, and as much as he really deserved a beatdown, Jazz hated to see anyone suffer this kind of public humiliation. It also awakened memories of the times he’d been bullied in school, events he’d tried hard to bury in the past.
He sensed the same internal conflict going on in Michael, who stood stiff and tall beside him, hands tightened into fists at his sides. If Jazz was considering stepping forward to get between Norbert and his aggressor, Ally’s next words rooted him in place.
“I know you murdered Bill,” she said, rage glittering in her eyes and fists clenched.
“Ally, don’t.”
The soft words, layered with pain, came from Sonya. Jazz thought she looked weak and defeated, too grieved to calm her bandmate.
“You know it was him,” Ally said without taking her gaze from Norbert. “You said so yourself. Bill was with him last night. You know he did it!”
“What?” Norbert spat, eyes wide. “Bill’s dead? How?”
Jazz didn’t think the shock on Norbert’s pinched face was fake. So Denton had been with Norbert last night? What for? An argument over the band again? A booty call? Had Norbert tried to reignite an old flame, only to be rebuffed, and decided to lash out in a most deadly manner? Musgrave would find that very interesting, to say the least.
And, most likely, pretty gross. Jazz would have to agree.
“This won’t fix anything,” Sonya said, resting a hand on Ally’s arm but not pulling her away. “Let the police handle it.”
“Dammit,” said the Instagram-hopeful girl, her cell phone trained on the action. “I thought they were going to fight.”
“Let’s go, Deirdre,” the girl’s friend said. “I don’t want to see this.”
“I need something big on my feed,” Deirdre said, waving her friend off. “Let’s wait a bit longer.”
“You never know what’ll happen in a group,” Christy muttered, and then she spotted Michael and Jazz. She wore her graying brown hair long and parted down the middle, a style that did nothing for her round face, which was currently scrunched up in some semblance of a polite smile. “Hello, Michael.” She gave Jazz a head to toe. “Michael’s friend.”
“I thought I smelled fish,” Jazz said, barely glancing at her.
“Excuse me?” Christy growled.
Facing her, Jazz gave her his best believable smile. “Don’t you own the marina? Such an accomplishment.” He considered telling her that 1994 called and wanted its fashion back, but he figured Michael would receive the brunt of any payback, and he didn’t want that.
“Oh,” Christy muttered, unsure if Jazz was mocking her or not. She adjusted her shirt, smoothing the front of the untucked flannel. “Thanks.”
The smile Jazz gave her felt like one of Michael’s best mortician smiles, and he turned away. God help that bitch if she started any more rumors about his man.
Jazz looked around for Deputy Tanner, but the mimbo was nowhere in sight.
Seriously, what was up with the law enforcement in this town?
He let out a heavy sigh and decided to take matters into his own hands and rescue Norbert before things got further out of hand. In an odd way, Jazz felt a weird and unsettling kind of responsibility for Norbert. Like someone’s wicked pet they’d set loose in the neighborhood when they moved away. Damn his sense of duty.
Jazz stepped forward—
But Ally moved fast. She turned and lashed out, her fist catching Norbert on the chin and sending him staggering back into the midst of the drunk frat boys. Once again, they cheered and chanted, “Fight! Fight!”
Jazz flinched, and Deirdre screamed, “Yes! Get him, girl! Beat his faggot ass!”
Christy seemed as excited as the rest of the crowd for a fight.
“What is the matter with people?” Michael muttered, peering around at the people raging like Romans at the Colosseum.
Kitty and her husband, Marty, pushed to the front of the onlookers directly across from them, joined moments later by Joel and Mona. Kitty and Marty held plastic cups of beer and both looked surprised.
Ally stomped after Norbert, fists up and jaw clenched.
“Ally, no!”
Sonya rushed in and tried to hold her back, but Ally shrugged the skinny woman off.
“Get up,” one of the frat boys demanded. The young man had perfect hair, attractive features, and designer clothes—but the sneer on his face was anything but handsome.
“Get him up, Brad!” one of his cronies cried, and the college group cheered. “Make him fight back!”
Laughing like a bully, Brad hauled Norbert to his feet. “You scared of a girl?”
Norbert pulled free and snapped, “More so than I am of you.”
“Big words for someone getting their ass kicked by a girl,” Brad said with a sneer.
Ally reached Norbert and grabbed the front of his shirt. She drew back a fist and hit him right in the nose. Jazz flinched, and the people around him cheered and pressed forward. Jazz shifted position in an effort to see better, and lost sight of Michael among the throng. When he searched for their friends, he discovered they had moved out of sight too.
Jazz was jostled by the strangers around him, making him feel alone and vulnerable, a feeling he didn’t like one damn bit. He turned back to Norbert in time to see two of Brad’s preppy friends pick Norbert up and hold him so Brad could look him in the eye.
“Scared of me yet?” Brad asked, then punched Norbert in the face, sending him back into Ally’s arms.
“Come on, Norbie,” Jazz whispered.
“Fight back, goddammit.”
But Norbert simply stood between Ally and the frat boys, possibly stunned by the direct hits to his face. Brad and his friends advanced on Norbert. This was just like fifth grade when Andy Fox and Jason Rawlings had ganged up on Jazz behind the school. The bloodthirsty jeers and taunts around him rang in his ears, the echo of long ago but never forgotten laughter making his stomach clench. His hands shook, and he realized he’d crushed the plastic wine cup in his hand.
This had to stop.
“We won’t mess him up too much,” Brad said, apparently to Ally. “We’ll leave some for you to finish.” He shoved Norbert, knocking the stunned man onto the grass.
“Enough!”
The word came up Jazz’s throat as a deep, shouted command. He hadn’t intended for it to carry so far, but it momentarily quieted the crowd and halted the frat boys in their tracks.
Everyone turned to look at Jazz, and he caught sight of Michael’s wide and shining eyes among the faces. The pride and adoration in Michael’s expression gave him the fortitude to step into the circle and say, “Everybody back off! Now!”
Tossing his empty cup so his hands were free, Jazz placed himself between Norbert and the obnoxious frat boys, chin up and gaze defiant as he stared them down. His stomach was knotted with nerves, but knowing Michael was close by helped.
“This isn’t your fight,” Jazz said. “Back off.”
“Who are you, his boyfriend?” one of the guys said with a sneer.
Some people in the crowd laughed, and Jazz distinctly heard the word fags muttered by someone—possibly Christy. Jazz tamped down his rage and let out a derisive snort. “He should be so lucky.”
Brad was fueled by the crowd’s support. “Get out of my way, fag. This isn’t your fight either.”
Oh, hell no. I’m not that scared little kid anymore. Jazz clenched his fists.
Brad lurched toward him, but Jazz was ready for the drunken swing. He dodged the blow and landed a solid jab to Brad’s face. The crowd gasped when the guy tripped backward and landed on his ass.
Jazz took up a defensive stance, fists up and knees bent. Bring it, motherfucker.
Brad cupped his face. “That was my nose, asshole!”
“Let’s teach this faggot not to mess with Sigma Chis!”
Three of the frat boys advanced, big fists raised, and Brad pushed to his feet, growling.
Michael rushed forward and stood at Jazz’s side. Jazz turned to him, grinning and wild-eyed. “Hiya, sweetie. Do I know how to show you a good time or what?”
A high-pitched scream of rage rent the air, drawing everyone up short. Ally had escaped Sonya’s grip and crashed past them, knocking both Jazz and Michael back as she lunged for Norbert on the ground.
“You’re dead!” Ally jumped onto Norbert, who was still sprawled on the grass. She straddled him and punched him repeatedly in the face and body. He shielded his face with his arms, and she just whaled on those.
“Get off me, you crazy bitch!” Norbert screamed.
Jazz moved quick, grabbing the girl by the waist and yanking her off, her legs and arms still flailing.
“Get off me! Lemme at him!”
The frat boys laughed uproariously at the whole thing.
Jazz somewhat forcefully shoved the girl at Sonya. “Get ahold of her!”
Sonya had Ally in a death grip, and Ally’s screams turned into quiet sobs as the weight of her grief finally hit her. Her rage gave way to exhausted defeat. “He killed him…. I know it…. If he’d been in jail where he belongs, Bill would still be alive….”
“I’m not finished with you, fag,” a voice snapped.
Dammit, I forgot that I broke Brad’s nose.
CHAPTER TEN
“CALL HIM that one more time,” Misty growled, coming up to stand beside Michael and Jazz. The menace in her usually sweet and open expression shocked the hell out of Michael.
“We don’t tolerate that talk in this town,” a familiar voice said, and Steve stepped forward. He gave Michael a curt nod. “Need a hand, Captain?”
Then to Michael’s utter shock, several more people stepped forward: Kitty, Marty, other Lacetown residents he recognized by face only. Grandpa and Mona came forward as well, though Michael had no idea what they intended to do.
It was Mayor Johnson who stepped out of the crowd and spoke next. Trish pointed at the frat boys. “You need to get the hell out of my town.”
Brad wiped the blood from his nose with the back of his hand. “Do you have any idea who my father is?”
“Another asshole like you?” Jazz threw out.
“I’ll—”
But Trish was having none of it. “I don’t care if your father is the king of England. You don’t act like this in our town. You go and call an Uber that your daddy will pay for, and get the hell out of Lacetown, or I’m calling the sheriff to haul the lot of you to jail!”
Gobsmacked, that’s what Michael was. All these people had jumped to their aid?
“He’s already on his way,” Tanner announced, stepping forward. He spoke with authority, his uniform giving the trust-fund brats pause.
“Dude, let’s get out of here,” one of them muttered, grabbing Brad by the arm.
Brad was all but pulled away by his fraternity brothers. “You’ll hear from my father about this!”
“With relish,” Trish snapped as they all slunk into the night.
“I had to break up three other fights trying to get here. Now what the devil is going on?” Tanner assessed the situation, looking between the sobbing Ally and Norbert, bloodied and dirty on the ground. He pointed at Norbert. “We’ve been looking all over for you. The sheriff needs to talk to you.”
“Why? I’m innocent in all this!” Norbert spit blood and gestured up at Ally. “That creature assaulted me. I want to press charges.” His arm did a wild arc, pointing at everyone still gathered. “On all of you! You’re accessories to an assault!”
Jazz let out an exasperated sigh and held his hand out to Norbert. “Give it a rest, Norbie. Here, lemme help you up, get some ice—”
“I don’t want your help!” he shrieked.
Everyone flinched at that.
Norbert spat blood again, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared evilly up at Jazz and Michael, hatred seething from his every pore. Amazingly he had the strength, if not the grace, to stagger to his feet.
“You keep away from me, Jasper! And you too!” He shot an evil look at Michael, then let out a nasty chuckle, his yellowed teeth red with blood. “Tell me, Jasper. Does your new paramour pretend he’s embalming you when he comes? Does he ask you to hold really, really still?”
Fire heated Michael’s face and shock rendered him immobile. Blood pounded in his ears, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the crowd’s gasps and snickers. Michael recognized Christy’s laugh all too easily. He could feel the weight of her smug gaze upon him, Norbert’s words new fodder for her gossip.
Deirdre, still recording everything, let out a quiet “Oh snap!”
“You fucker!”
Jazz’s growl made Michael jump. Norbert’s eyes went huge as if he realized he’d gone too far when Jazz lunged for him.
Though Jazz was shorter, Norbert let out a cry when Jazz seized him by the lapels of his long duster coat and gave him a rough shake. “Say something like that again, and I will fucking kill you! What Russell did to Dylan will pale in comparison to the shit I’ll do to your skinny carcass.”
Michael gasped right along with everyone else, only not from shock, but red hot lust.
“Y-you all heard t-that… right?” Norbert stuttered, eyes wide in panic as he scrambled to escape Jazz’s grip. “He threatened t-to k-kill m-me!”
“Everybody calm down,” Tanner said, but no one was listening to him.
Jazz shook Norbert again and got inches from his face. “Not a threat, fucker. A promise. Say one wrong word about Michael, or just look at him funny, and I will fucking empty my
.45 in your stupid fucking face!”
“What in the name of everything hot and holy is going on here?”
Musgrave parted the crowd and stepped into the middle of it all. The frat boys were long gone, but a crowd still lingered, all of them seeming excited about the way the events were unfolding. Two deputies trailed after Musgrave, the twins Greg and Grace Tompkins, both managing to look simultaneously alert and nervous.
“Break it up!” Musgrave shouted. Michael could see the surprise on his face. “Dilworth? What the hell?”
Jazz shoved Norbert away from him and turned, not looking as apologetic as he should. He flashed a grin that had a tinge of the maniacal to it. “Just trying to keep the peace, Sheriff,” Jazz said, and blew a strand of hair out of his face.
“By getting into a fight?” Musgrave said. “Threatening people?”
“He didn’t start it.”
Kitty stepped out of the crowd. Musgrave gave her a dubious look, until her husband, Marty, appeared behind her, holding what Michael assumed were his own and his wife’s beers.
“You too?” Musgrave shook his head in disappointment at his brother.
“We haven’t even finished our first beers,” Marty said, sounding a bit defensive. He was as big as his brother, with that same high and tight curly blond hair, but leaner through the chest and far less surly.
“Those men were shooting off homophobic slurs,” Misty announced, glaring up at Musgrave.
The sheriff jerked his head back and stared down at Misty as if startled. “You have pink in your hair.”
“And the fiery passion to defend my friends to match it,” Misty threw back, flipping her red-and-pink curls over her shoulder. “We were all bystanders when those two started fighting.” She pointed at Ally and Norbert, then toward the street where the frat boys had disappeared. “You need to go after those homophobes who ran off.”
Michael swore Musgrave let out a gasp as a flash of lust crossed his eyes. But it switched so quickly back to a glower, maybe he had imagined it.
“Tanner, round up the POIs we’ve been looking for,” Musgrave growled.
“Convenient they all came to the festival, isn’t it?” Tanner said with a smile, walking toward Norbert.