I glanced around. The remaining guests were clustered in little groups, whispering to each other with sidelong glances, trying not to be too obvious. I sat down at a nearby picnic table, braced my hands on my knees, and watched blood drip from my nose and splatter onto the grass between my feet. I closed my eyes and felt dizzy.
'Come on, Steve.' Marty slipped his hand under my arm. 'Let's go into the lounge. Okay, buddy?'
I yanked my arm free. 'I can stand up, dammit,'
It wasn't until I was on my feet that I noticed Rachel. She was hovering behind Marty with her arms wrapped around herself, looking like she didn't know what to do.
She walked over to me. 'Are you all right?'
I nodded.
It took forever for my nose to stop bleeding. We had gone into the lounge, which thankfully was deserted. Once I'd successfully squelched the flow, I tossed the wad of paper towels in the trash and took off my jacket. Shards of brown glass cascaded to the ground.
Marty reached down and picked up a fragment. 'What the hell?'
'It's from the beer bottle.' I ran my fingers through my hair and rubbed the back of my neck. 'My hair's wet, too.'
'What beer bottle?'
I grabbed hold of my shirt collar and peeled the wet fabric off my back. I smelled like a brewery, but at least the glass hadn't worked its way into my shirt. 'The bottle Harrison's driver had.'
'What are you talking about?'
'That's what he had in his hand when you yelled at him.'
'It didn't look like a beer bottle.'
'Guess not. Not after he'd tried to smash my head in with it, it didn't. He missed and broke it on the side of the barn. Then, I suppose he figured he might as well redecorate my face while he was at it.'
'Son of a bitch. If I'd known, I'd've laid into him, too.' Marty walked across the room and dropped the piece of glass into the trash. He opened the freezer door. 'Son of a bitch,' he said again, more to himself than anyone else.
I sat down and wondered how many other people had only seen the tail end of the fight and thought I had gone stark-raving mad. Marty returned and unceremoniously plopped some ice, wrapped in a towel, on my face.
'Thanks.' I held the bundle on the bridge of my nose and tilted my head so I could look at him. 'And, Marty… I owe you an apology.'
'Damn right you do,' he said. 'Pull that shit again, and I'll.. I'll have your job.'
I grinned at him. 'I thought you didn't want my job?'
'Oh, yeah. I forgot.' He crossed his arms over his chest. 'So, what started the whole fucking thing?' When I finished telling him, he chuckled. 'Shit, Steve, you should of given him a medal for bothering Mr. Hotshot Sanders. That asshole sure could use some puttin' in his place.'
I glanced at Rachel.
Marty continued. 'Come to think of it, I saw them talkin' earlier, thicker 'n flies on shit, and Sanders didn't look too happy then, either.'
'Well, it makes sense they'd know each other. Sanders used to board at Harrison's farm.' I readjusted the ice. 'Wonder what's up.'
'Who the hell cares?'
I scrunched down into the cushions and concentrated on balancing the ice while keeping the pressure as light as possible. Several minutes later, Marty was still pacing around the room. Angie was sprawled on the adjacent sofa and looked bored, and Rachel was watching me with a worried expression on her pretty face.
I tried a smile. 'Well,' I said, 'so much for an uneventful party.'
Rachel shifted on the cushions. 'I thought he was going to kill you.'
'No. He wasn't that stupid,' I said, convincing myself as much as her. 'Anyway… everything worked out okay.'
She frowned. 'Your perception of okay's kind of skewed.'
'Yeah.' Marty plopped down next to Angie. 'Just wait 'til Monday morning.'
'Monday morning?' Rachel looked from Marty to me.
'Yeah,' Marty said. 'When Mrs. Hill finds out about our wild man here.'
I listened to the grin in his voice. 'What was I supposed to do?' I said. 'Just stand there and let him cut me?'
'No, Steve. But you didn't have to pound him into the ground, either. Not that I blame you. Hell, I might of killed the bastard.'
I slid my spine deeper into the sofa and rested my head on the cushions.
Marty said, 'Is the ice making any difference?'
'Yeah. Now, not only does my nose hurt, it's cold.'
He snorted.
After a minute or two, I shifted the ice pack. Marty had his arm draped across Angie's shoulders. Their heads were turned toward each other, their voices indistinct murmurs. Rachel's arms were stiff at her sides, and her shoulders looked tense. I took the ice off my face, sat up straighter, and put my hand on hers.
'I'm sorry,' I said.
'For what?'
'Sorry that this whole stupid thing happened.' I squeezed her hand.
'Well, we're outta here.' Marty levered himself off the sofa. 'You gonna be all right, Steve?'
'Yep.'
'Good. See you Monday, if you still got a job.'
I groaned. 'And, Marty… thanks.'
He slid his arm around Angie's waist and grinned wickedly. 'We'll discuss my fee later.'
I watched them head toward the door and decided he looked fit enough to drive. The evening's events had no doubt gone a long way toward sobering him up. 'Hey… drive carefully,' I yelled over my shoulder.
'Yes, Mom,' he said with mock disgust.
After the door had swung shut, I thanked Rachel.
'For what?'
I shrugged. 'For being here.'
'You're welcome. It's been… different.'
She was sitting close. The place was deserted, and given any other circumstance, it would have been perfect.
'Are you really going to get in trouble?'
'I hope not.'
'Can I get you something?' She rose to her feet and scanned the lounge. 'Don't they have a first aid kit around here? Some aspirin would help.'
I started to get up.
Rachel put her hands on my shoulders. 'Stay put. I'll get it.'
She looked so serious, it was all I could do not to grab hold of her and pull her into my lap. I smiled at her instead and sank back into the cushions. 'In the office. On the table along the back wall.'
While she went on her search, I closed my eyes and tried to ignore the throbbing in my head. Listening to her rummage around in the office, I thought about the following morning, when I was expected to come in early and clean up after the party. I didn't feel like it, and I doubted six hours were going to change my outlook any. I checked my watch. Eleven-forty-five. Make that five hours. When I opened my eyes, Rachel was standing in front of me with three Tylenol caplets in one hand, a Coke in the other, and a worried expression on her pretty face. A grin from me was met with a frown, and I found I was liking her more and more.
'Three?' I said.
