What Twisted Webs We Weave

Like A Sucker Punch

(Pete's POV)

Ryan still worked at that shitty radio station down town. Even when he wasn't on air. I was almost positive he didn't start recording until night fall. So that left plenty of time for me to walk in, kick his ass, make him apologize and then leave before he was set to air.

The man at the front desk looked surprised to see me. I recognized him from my visits here when Ryan and I were closer. He must have recognized me too because he didn't stop me to ask for my pass. He didn't even make me sign in. I nodded to him as the elevator doors closed between us. He waved back.

If I remembered correctly, Ryan worked on the third floor. I hope they hadn't switched his room. I would hate to lose my element of surprise by having to ask where he was downstairs. The man would know he wasn't expecting me then. And he would not only make me sign in, but also buzz Ryan to see if he wanted visitors.

Of course Ryan would say no. Because he knew I wasn't coming for a pleasant reason. He'd punched my boyfriend in the face for christ's sake! Every time I looked at Patrick I had to see the fucking bruise on lip. And every time I looked at that bruise I wanted to leave a similar one on Ryan.

The elevator stopped. The doors slid open and I stepped off. Heading in the direction of Ryan's daytime room. But before I made it there I spotted him. I'd been wrong about him only going on air at night. He was in the recording room. The large glass window and door of the room made it impossible not to see him.

He hadn't noticed me yet. Too into whatever stupid conversation him and the woman sitting across from him were having. She moved closer to her mic to say something suggestive. I could tell by the flushed look on Ryan's face. Ever the professional, he recovered from the shock of her words with a hard laugh. I didn't have to hear it through the sound proof glass to know what it sounded like. He wouldn't be smiling for much longer.

There was a flashing, silent red sign over the door that read On Air. And just in case somebody missed that, there was a printed note tapped to the door at eye level that read Do not disturb when light is on.

Well fuck that note. Fuck that sign. And fuck Ryan Ross.

I pushed against the door in vain. Half expecting it to be locked. Surprisingly it wasn't. It moved against my hand. I wasted no time in smacking it open. That's the sound that finally got his attention.

Him and the woman both looked over at me confused. Well, her more than him of course.

I rushed to the table. Ryan was taller than me so him sitting down gave me the advantage I needed. My fist circled around the collar of his shirt. My arm stretching upward when I yanked him from the seat. The woman stared in horror. Probably afraid that I was just some random lunatic and that she would be next. I could hear music playing faintly in the background. The station had clearly cut to some type of commercial break in the mist of the scene.

I was able to punch Ryan twice before being grabbed by two goon headed security guards. Ryan didn't attempt to retaliate my violence. He looked infuriatingly calm actually.

"It's okay." He attempted to straighten the wrinkles I'd just put in his shirt. "I know him. Let him go. It's fine."

"He punched you!" Pinhead security guard number one reminded him.

"I deserved it." There were those words again. "Let us talk." The one on my right left go of me immediately. The left hesitated until I snatched my arm away. "I'm so sorry about this, Mary." Ryan apologized to the woman. He looked at me again. A wary expression. "Follow me."