“Hey, Mr M!” Donny Pritchard says with a grin, and my stomach goes cold. “Remember me?”
I close my eyes, anger surging through me. “Donald,” I say flatly. “What are you doing here?”
Zack’s head lifts.
Donny grins. “After we met up in the pub,” he says loudly, attracting the attention of all the crowd, “I looked you up online. Great podcast, mate.” He runs his eyes over the table. “Pity Layla isn’t here, I really wanted to catch up with her.”
“You know them?” Someone shouts.
Donny turns and grins back at the crowd. “Aw, yeah. Mr M used to teach me in school. And me and Layla go waaay back,” he brags, his words heavy with innuendo.
Josh gives me a sharp look. The question in his eyes is clear. Is this the guy Layla was talking about?
I shake my head and reach for the bottle of water underneath my chair, trying to keep calm. “Sorry to disappoint you. No Layla today. Is that all you wanted, or did you have a question?”
“Oh, right, yeah, sure.” He chuckles. “Man, it’s weird asking this from a guy who used to teach me, like, Shakespeare and stuff.” He rubs the back of his neck. “So, basically, like, I’m seeing this chick. And for the past week, she won’t sleep with me. Every time I try, she says she’s got a headache, or whatever. And that’s not okay, right? Getting it on is, like, an important part of a relationship, you guys say that all the time.” He pauses, like he’s waiting for me to agree with him.
“Go on,” I say flatly.
“So I told her that if we’re gonna date, I expect her to actually, you know, sleep with me, and she got really pissed and said I was like, ‘coercing her’， or some shit. And I said, woah, that’s a really unfair accusation, and then she left all huffy. So, like, what do I do? I don’t think—”
“What was your name again?” Josh interrupts, his voice level.
“Josh,” I mutter. “Don’t.”
He glances across at me. “You’re not seriously telling me it’s not him.”
“I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.”
Donny looks confused, but then grins. “Donny Pritchard. Good to meetcha. Anyway, as I was saying—”
Before he can finish his sentence, there’s a loud squeak as Zack pushes back his chair and walks to the edge of the stage. I frown, but before I can say anything, he vaults off the stage into the audience, walks up to Donny, and punches him in the face.
SEVENTY
ZACK
I’m not even thinking as I smash my fist into that little prick’s smug jaw. My head is empty. I don’t know what the Hell made him think he could come here. What, he wanted another jab at Layla? He wanted to make her life even more miserable? I saw how shook up she was the last time she ran into him. For the first time since the wedding, I’m glad she’s not with us today.
Donny stumbles back, clutching at his face, his eyes wide. “Woah! What the Hell was that for, man?! You could’ve broken my nose!”
I grab him by the front of his shirt. “You think it’s funny, do you?” I spit. “Making up lies about sixteen-year-old girls? Ruining their lives because they refuse to sleep with you?”
“What are you talking about!?” He shouts.
“Why are you here?” I demand. “Why the Hell would you come here!?” When he doesn’t reply, I give him a rough shake.
“I heard you guys were performing,” he babbles. “I just wanted to see Layla, and—”
I grab his shoulders and shove him back. He falls onto the ground, crying out. There are gasps in the crowd around me, but I can barely hear them through the ringing in my ears. “Stay away from her.”
Firm hands wrap around my arms, pulling me back. “Sir,” a woman’s voice says in my ear. “Step back. You need to leave.” I don’t move. I can’t. “Sir—” she repeats.
Donny writhes dramatically on the ground. There’s blood on his face. “Security! Get him the Hell away from me!” He screeches. I can hear the crowd talking around me, their voices muffled by the ringing in my ears.
“Zack, leave him alone!”
“What’s happening?!”
“Oh my God, are you filming this?”
I shake off the security guards and turn on my heel, pushing through the crowd towards the fire exit. Dimly, I hear Josh call my name, his micced voice reverberating around the room. I ignore it.