Wild Bastard

1

Matt

"What the hell is this?" I nod toward the guys sitting in our usual spots.

Alex, my redheaded friend, shoots me a disgruntled look.
"It's Tom Davis and his crew. They've been hanging out here for a month now."

"And? What's stopping you from moving them?"

"I've tried, Matt. We told him these are our seats. He doesn't care."

A motorcycle roars to life nearby, and the speakers blare at full volume, blasting my eardrums with rock music.

I light a cigarette and stretch my neck, loosening up my muscles. So much has changed in the six months I've been gone. Everyone seems way too relaxed. But that's fine. It won't take much to set things straight again.

I take a few steps forward and approach the idiots lounging in the best seats on the benches—the ones with a perfect view of the track. Our seats.

I whistle sharply to get their attention.

The most aggressive one lazily turns his head toward me.

"What do you want?"

I grin and step right in front of him.

"Get up and move."

He laughs in my face, a grating, mocking sound.

"Seriously? I'm sitting here with my friends."

"Six months ago, I was sitting here."

Now it's my turn to laugh—loud and drawn-out, just to see the smirk fade from his face.

"Yeah, well, that was six months ago. Back off."

"Back off?"

I take the cigarette from my mouth and, with a sharp hiss, extinguish it right on his exposed hand, the one draped over the back of the bench.

He jerks his hand back with a grunt of pain, and before he can react, I grab the back of his head and smash my knee into his face.

For a second, he just stands there, dazed, his brain trying to catch up with what just happened. Then, moaning, he clutches his nose, blood already pouring down his chin.

His buddies jump up from the benches.

I duck, hearing the whistle of a fist slicing through the air just above my head, and land a solid punch to the chubby guy's liver. He wheezes and folds in half. To my right, I catch a glimpse of Alex throwing punches, taking down two more. Finally waking up, huh?

I smirk and kneel in front of the bastard whose nose is definitely broken now. Blood drips onto his yellow T-shirt, staining it in a way that actually improves his look.

Much better.

"Back off" I echo his own words back at him.

Then I grab him by the scruff of his neck and shove him down the stairs.

Rolling into my seat, I throw my feet up on the bench in front of me.

Home sweet home. Turns out I missed this.

Alex flops down next to me, lighting a cigarette and mirroring my posture.

"Sooo... You couldn't handle them without me?" I chuckle, eyes on the track.

Juli falls into the seat to my right—the only reason I even remember her name is her size-four tits. Had a great night with her yesterday. Still acclimating after my return, so good sex and good company help. Not that I didn't fuck abroad, but I missed my girls here.