Page 17 of My Irish Roommate

As soon as Rowan is out of sight, the man from the stick-fighting class begins to approach me. I pretend I don’t see him and hop off the treadmill. I hope that my hasty retreat will deflect his advance, but I’m not that lucky. He corners me behind a rowing machine and says, “I saw you watching us over there. Did you like what you saw?”

“Oh, I’m not from here, and I’ve never seen that type of fighting before. It looked interesting,” I reply, doing my best to move farther away from him. He doesn’t take the hint and leans in even closer.

“I thought you were smiling at me, so I came over to say hello and introduce myself,” he tells me. “My name is Jack and you are?”

“I’m Ricki. It’s nice to meet you, but I have to go. Can you excuse me?”

“Look, I was just trying to be friendly,” he pouts but moves aside to let me pass.

That’s when I see Rowan coming full speed across the gym with fire in his eyes. My first thought is that he believes this man, Jack, is my stalker, so I step behind the man to prevent Rowan from plowing into him.

9

ALTERCATIONS

ROWAN

Ricki is gone from the treadmill when I return with the water, and I scan the gym desperately to find her. I tell myself that it’s an overreaction, but my heart pounds, causing the veins in my temples to pulsate.

My mind races as I try to determine the best course of action. Maybe she went upstairs for something, but if I leave the gym floor to check and something happens to her down here, I won’t be here to intervene.

I begin walking the perimeter of the facility, and though I don’t see her, I do see a man about my size with his back to me. His body language tells me he’s speaking to someone who I can’t see so I start moving in his direction.

I’ve only taken about three steps when the man moves slightly to the left and I see that it’s Ricki behind him. He has her cornered, and her expression shows that she’s distressed. All rational thought flies out the window, and I rush toward them without thinking. My purpose becomes laser focused. It is to eliminate this threat to my girl.

Ricki sees me and somehow manages to move behind the man. I should slow my roll and just be thankful she’s not in any immediate danger, but I can’t quash the rage that’s brewing in my gut. This guy, whoever he might be, crossed a line and made her uncomfortable. He needs to know what a horrible mistake that was to make.

I push Ricki out of the way and grab the man by the shoulder. He spins on his heels, shocked by my aggression, and throws his hands up. He pushes against my chest trying to shove me away, but years in the ring have taught me to stand firm.

When pushing me doesn’t work, he raises his fist and attempts to punch me. I grab his hand mid-swing and squeeze, causing the bones to crack under the pressure. He cries out but still tries to punch me with his left hand. Before the blow comes close to reaching its target, I pop him in the mouth with a series of left-hand blows, making his head wobble.

“Rowan, stop. It’s okay. Please!” I hear Ricki call out from behind me, but I’m not finished yet. I bend the man’s arm behind his back and walk him out the front door to the curb. A crowd of gym-goers rushes the door behind me.

I toss the man against the brick wall outside and say, “Don’t you ever step foot in this gym again.”

He spits blood from his split lip onto the ground and asks, “What the hell did I do?”

“Just go!” I shout. “And don’t come back.”

He stares at me for a moment, and I prepare to continue this altercation. A few seconds later, his eyes drop to the ground, and he turns to walk away.

I look back at the crowd that’s gathered behind me. My employee, Dillon, asks, “What was that all about?”

I ignore him and make my way back inside to find Ricki standing in the doorway. She’s as pale as cotton and staring at me in disbelief.

“What did you do that for? I told you that it was alright,” she stammers.

“Did he pursue you and pin you against the wall so you couldn’t walk away?” I ask her.

“Yes, but then he moved,” she replies.

“So, his behavior should be forgiven because it didn’t escalate to something more serious? Should I only intervene after someone hurts you or, worse, kills you? I told you I was gonna keep you safe. You don’t get to decide what that means.”

“It wasn’t that serious,” she whispers and touches my face. “You could have gotten hurt. What if he calls the police?”

“What did I just say? It’s not your job to worry about me. It’s my job to keep you out of trouble. What is it gonna take for you to stop putting yourself in harm’s way?”

She stares at me with a look of utter confusion, and her eyes become glassy like she’s going to cry. I feel a sting in my chest. I didn’t mean to upset her.

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