Page 19

‘You better shut up and stay out of it,’ he warns Eddy.

‘Or what?’ he replies.

For a second, nobody moves. Then Ron grabs a fistful of fries from the bag and throws them in Eddy’s face. He barely moves as they hit him before all falling to the floor. I’m sure he’s been hit with much worse, much harder.

The entire restaurant is silent now.

‘Why don’t you shut the fuck up, mind your own business and eat those?’ Ron snaps. ‘See if you can put on any more weight, be any slower next week.’

Eddy doesn’t react, and you can tell that it’s pushing Ron’s buttons, so he reaches for another fistful of fries.

‘Ron, stop it,’ I say, stepping forward.

I put my hand out to stop him, to grab his wrist, to give him a moment to think about what he’s doing because he isn’t mad at Eddy, he’s just mad he got caught.

He jerks his arm back hard.

‘Get off me,’ he says.

He doesn’t mean to hit me, or push me, but he moves with such a force that he causes me to lose my balance. I slip, probably on something greasy, or maybe he did just jolt me harder than I was expecting, and I go down, landing on the floor with a thud.

Then I hear a noise – smack – but this time it’s not me. I look up to see Ron holding his face in his hands, Eddy shaking off his fist before reaching down to lift me up.

Oh my God, he hit him. He actually hit him. Eddy hit Ron. To be fair, he was assaulting him first, and he did cause me to fall, whether he intended to hurt me or not.

‘Shit,’ Ron says, both hands over his nose. ‘My face. My fucking face. I’m filming VTs tomorrow.’

Yes, because that’s the thing to be the most concerned about.

He runs for the toilets.

Interestingly, a few people cheer, clearly glad to have seen Ron get a smack. I feel like I’m in a dream as Eddy carries me outside.

My whole body is shaking now that I’m out of the situation. I don’t know if it’s the adrenaline or what, but suddenly it’s hitting me. Oh, and the elbow I landed on hurts like a motherfucker.

‘Ouch,’ I say, extending it.

Eddy sits me down in the passenger seat of his car.

‘Let’s take a look,’ he says.

I roll up my sleeve, showing him my left elbow.

He winces, which makes me laugh, because he’s obviously a tough guy.

‘You have a small cut, and you’re going to have one hell of a bruise,’ he points out. ‘But it doesn’t appear to be broken.’

I bend it a few times, just to make sure I can. It hurts, but he’s right.

‘Thanks,’ I reply. ‘I think I’m more embarrassed than I am hurt.’

‘Can I give you a lift home?’ he asks.

Home – ha. Where is that now? Because I’m sure as shit not going back to Ron’s place.

‘Can you take me to the train station?’ I ask. ‘I left my bag on the train earlier. With my phone and my purse in it. They said it would be there waiting for me.’

‘Of course.’