But he isn’t two seconds.
He isn’t even two minutes.
I’m beginning to worry when I feel a hand on my shoulder, but as I turn, breathing a sigh of relief, I find it isn’t Bram. It’s Dean.
‘What’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?’ he asks, a drawl to his voice like he’s been drinking, though he doesn’t seem drunk. He doesn’t move his hand from where it’s settled, but he seems harmless enough. I scout the area out of habit, but it’s still teeming with people– busy enough that I don’t feel scared. And besides, Bram should be back any second.
‘Hi, Dean,’ I say, ignoring his question. ‘It’s good to see you. I hope you enjoyed the show.’
His smile in return has an edge to it which I can’t define, but I know I don’t like it. ‘It was quite something,’ he says, and he lets out a breath, his free hand going to smooth his dark hair. ‘The party’s still on at my bar– best one in town.’ He tilts his head towards me. ‘I’d love for you to join me.’
I keep the smile plastered on my face, my tone light. It’s almost automatic when I’m trying to turn men down, especially if they’re drunk. What I actually want to do is tell him to take his hands off me, but that won’t end well I’m sure. I’m half his size.
‘I’m actually waiting for someone,’ I say, which is also part of my script for these situations, but this time it happens to be true.
‘Bram?’ he asks, and I nod. With that his energy changes, and the curl of his smile into something darker sends a creep of ice down my spine.
‘You know,’ he says, lowering his voice as he leans in towards me. ‘If you were with me, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight for a second.’
The hand on my shoulder slides up to my neck, and that’s when I start to panic.
Over Dean’s shoulder I can see a small group of people nearby, who I recognise as being part of the cover band. As I make eye contact with one of them, a lanky young guy with dyed black hair, he raises one eyebrow like he’s asking if I need help.
Dean’s hand tightens on the back of my neck. ‘Let me show you what it’s like to be with a real man,’ he snarls, and that’s all the incentive I need to glance back at the youngsters before I say, loudly enough that I know they’ll hear, ‘Leave me alone.’
I see the man who was watching me say something to his bandmates, and the race of my pulse drops a notch as they start to head in our direction. But before they reach us, Dean is suddenly yanked away, with such force that I lose my balance and fall to the ground with a grunt.
The young guy with black hair helps me to my feet, and the group surrounds me, a woman about my age with black lipstick and concerned eyes pushing her way through the protective wall of skinny jeans and leather.
‘Are you ok?’ she asks, painted black eyebrows tugging together as she checks me over. ‘Did he hurt you?’
I shake my head no. ‘Just scared me a little.’
‘Dean Ratcliffe,’ one of the other men says, like it’s the answer to a question, and the whole group groans.
The young woman’s smile is sympathetic. ‘He’s a dick,’ she says, and then her heavily lined eyes follow the gaze of her friends. ‘Looks like he might get taught a lesson now though.’
When I look round, Bram has fistfuls of Dean’s jacket and is pinning him against the red brick wall of the building next door. There’s a small crowd of people who’ve circled them, watching as they spit insults at each other. A couple of people are filming them, a few more egging them on.
I hear one of the men in the group I’m with suck in a breath between his teeth. ‘He’d better be careful. Bram’ll redecorate his face again.’
My stomach tightens as I remember the scar on Dean’s face.Bram’s handiwork, he’d said, and I suddenly feel sick. I can’t let them hurt each other again. Not over me. Not to mention the amount of trouble Bram could get into if he gets arrested a second time.
I rush over to where the two of them are still swearing at each other, fighting my way through the assembled crowd as I call Bram’s name. He doesn’t hear me at first.
‘Just fucking hit me, you coward,’ Dean is saying, leering at Bram. ‘You know you want to.’
‘Yeah, I do want to,’ Bram growls in return, though he makes no move to hurt Dean. Just keeps him pinned against the wall by his jacket. ‘I want to throw you off the end of the pier.’
The mob around them cheers like we’re at high school and there’s a fight in the playground.
‘If you touch her,’ Bram snarls, ‘if youhurther, I swear to God…’ He doesn’t finish his sentence, but he doesn’t back down either, just keeps staring straight at Dean. Dean, I’ve noticed,is making no attempt to escape. He’s just eyeballing Bram, taunting him.
‘You’ll what?’ Dean spits out. ‘Killme?’
‘Bram!’ I yell, more forcefully this time, and both men turn to look at me with a start. Bram’s eyes are wild, his pupils blown so wide that they look entirely black, while Dean’s are totally calm and focused right on me. He knows exactly what he’s doing.
I reach my hand over Bram’s, still clenched around Dean’s lapels, and it slackens under my touch. ‘Leave it,’ I say, a strange confidence coming over me. ‘Let’s go.’