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“You’re not my fucking parent,” Matty said. Matty stopped in front of him, chest heaving with labored breath. He pushed Taylor again as if to test him, but Taylor, again, did nothing in the way of retaliation.

“Don’t-is that all? Is that all you’re going to say?” Matty said, practically yelling at this point. “I don’t need you,” Matty continued, jabbing a finger in Taylor’s beefy chest. I can take care of myself, damnit!” Matty pushed Taylor up against the van, Taylor letting himself be pushed. “You know, you don’t have to come running up to me like my mom all the God damned time. Taylor was standing a few feet away from him and leaning against the driver’s side door of his van. Matty wiped the blood away from under his lip using the sleeve of his leather jacket as he paced under the dirty yellow glow of the street light. Matty looked similar to a small child now: red face, breathing heavy, angry tears streaming down his face. Taylor was letting Matty blow off steam the way a mother sometimes lets her child have that one, long temper tantrum. The van was parked under the only street light in the lot and it was illuminating the mist that was falling and seeming to hang in the humid air of that summer night. Matty’s nose wasn’t broken, but it was bleeding by the time that Taylor led him out to the back parking lot to cool off. That someone happened to be the guy sitting next to Matty at the bar that was two sizes too big and two times too mean. Family matters had been weighing on him a lot lately and he needed to vent it out on someone. Well, it had been a night just like any other in that regard except that Matty was more heated than usual. Taylor would dust off his sometimes bloody friend and take him outside to cool off. It wasn’t to say that he was a bad fighter, it was just that he had a bit more bark than bite, and he normally had to rely on someone to pick him up off the bar floor sticky with spilled beer and God knows what else.

#Knockaround guys song bar professional#

Matty Demaret, professional smoothtalker, lets his gift of gab get a bit too out of hand when whiskey is involved.