FOR THE STORY

NINE: Chase

Chase:

Bryan has been blowing up my phone. He left three voicemails in the middle of the night. By the time I turned on my phone a few minutes ago and saw them, I was over trying to loop him in. It's his own fault if he's feeling worried and guilty now. He should be.

So I can't say I'm surprised when he basically breaks into my house and bursts into the master bedroom. I've just stood up from the bed and Savannah is laying prone with her shirt still half rolled up, exposing a line of bruised mottled skin. We're close together, and I'm half bent over her.

"What the hell is going on?" his angry voice booms. I survey the scene through his eyes. By all accounts, it looks as if I've kidnapped his girlfriend and am playing house with her. It's his own fault that I was forced to play babysitter, though. I swallow a surge of anger.

"Bryan, nice to see ya." I say, straightening up. Sarcasm bleeds though my statement. I'm really not. I school my features before I turn to face Bryan. Of course, Bryan knew that I was looking for him. But he must have been too busy to pull out his phone then. He couldn't be interrupted with whatever he'd gotten into with Tim and George. Again, I wonder if Savannah knows the truth of all his shenanigans.

"What the hell, Chase? I've been calling you for hours!" Bryan's voice is angry. Too angry. He sounds like he's still going from the night before. I look him over, taking in his appearance. Bryan is disheveled, eyes bloodshot, and he's wearing the same suit from last night.

"And I called you for hours prior to that," I say pointedly.

Bryan's immature and I've got nothing to apologize for. I stepped in when he hadn't.

"Why is Savannah here?"

"I told you on the voicemail. She was hurt. You weren't around. I stepped in. End of story." I force my voice to remain calm even though I feel nothing but.

"Yeah looks like you stepped in all right," says Bryan skeptically coming farther into the room.

"Hi," interjects Savannah from behind me. "I'm here too you know," she says, sounding annoyed. "Stop talking about me like I'm not."

"Savannah," says Bryan. I can tell he's trying to calm down his tone. "Why did you come here with Chase?" He looks around the room as if seeing it for the first time. "Whatever this place is."

Savannah struggles to a seated position. "Why did I come here with Chase? Why the hell did you leave when I was practically bleeding out on the floor and then go MIA until now?" Savannah sounds angry.

"I called him! And texted him. Plus, you said you were okay!"

Savannah crosses her arms over her chest and glares at Bryan.

"He did call earlier. At like 3 a.m.," I confess to Savannah. After I left messages. We had been sleeping, and truth be told, I hadn't been feeling too much like chatting with Bryan when I woke up and saw the missed calls and texts.

"Well. I'm here now. Let's go. I'll take you home." Bryan says briskly as if there is no further discussion needed.

"I'm not going with you," snaps Savannah. "I'll call a ride."

Bryan looks around the ornate master bedroom complete with a fire in the fireplace. "Whose house is this, Chase?"

"It was my parents' place," I say stiffly.

Bryan shakes his head like he doesn't want to get into it. "Well, you guys do look pretty cozy here," says Bryan snidely.

It was cozy until you got here. I crack my knuckles loudly trying to break his train of thought. Really, I just want him to get out of here.

Savannah is looking Bryan up and down critically. "Have you even been home yet?"

"Err, I crashed on the floor of Tim's hotel room." Bryan won't meet her gaze.

I look at Bryan a little closer. I bet whatever he was actually up to all night he doesn't want Savannah to know. But she's not stupid. I hope.

"Yeah. Whatever." Savannah sounds like she barely cares. She throws off her covers and stands up. I can tell it hurts, but she manages to stand up straight.

"Bryan, can I talk to you in the other room?" I try to keep my voice steady. The last thing I want to do is get into a big yelling match in my parent's old bedroom. That would just add more weirdness. I manage to get him into the kitchen. We stand by the counter, and I try to think about how to best explain how things went down.

"Uh, Bryan, last night was sort of weird," I begin.

Bryan crosses his arms defensively and glares at me. Like I'm the bad guy.

Suddenly, something snaps, and I realize I'm looking at this all wrong. I've been giving him the benefit of the doubt, but he's the problem, not me. I've literally done nothing but be a good Samaritan. So, I start again.

"Bryan, you're sloppy," I say sternly. "You need to get yourself in order. That was a jerk move leaving Savannah like that, but it's none of my business. My problem right now is your immaturity and our actual business—the club—and we need to talk about that situation. Go home and get yourself cleaned up. We'll chat soon."

Something boils over in his eyes.

"You're the one who's out here playing house with my girlfriend. You should be apologizing to me!" He gives me a little shove.

That's when things take a turn. I've tried to be patient, but sometimes you've just got to stand your ground. I grab his wrists and flip him around easily rendering him immobile and facing away from me.

Bryan struggles but stops when he sees he has no chance of breaking free.

"Don't touch me," I say quietly. "And get out of my house."

"Fine." Bryan's eyes are wide, like he's scared. I may be laid back most of the time, he really shouldn't push too far. He looks like he gets the message loud and clear.

"Let's go." I march him towards the front door.

Bryan shakes me off, but doesn't protest.

"Go home," I say. Then I slam the door behind him. This time I'm sure to lock it, too.

I'm angry still as I walk back into the master bedroom. I can hear the shower running, so I sit on the edge of the bed again and sigh. I came so close to punching Bryan in the face. That kid really rubs me the wrong way. I'm thinking about our company, our business arrangement, wondering if Bryan and I have any chance of making our partnership work when I hear the crashing noise.