It seemed to be a trend. Dude fell for Alghren and managed to find their way onto Brandon's bad side. He couldn't count the times he and Zimmerman had fought over the few months they'd known each other. Yeah, he knew that Silas had a thing for the stripper, but he didn't ever think she'd let herself slum enough to give him the time of day. “That's what you say. But you never fucking notice it, man.” She was like a disease. Get a guy into her and pretty much take over their life.
For a minute, Silas' reaction, a simple tell off, fooled Brandon into thinking that he had the upper hand. But that didn't last long. He felt the contact of Silas' fist against his jaw and stumbled for a second, if only because he didn't expect the contact. “What the fuck!” he shouted, popping his knuckles and then shoving the other man's shoulders to catch him off guard.
He bent his left arm and placed it against Silas' collarbone, pinning him against the wall and narrowing his eyes. “Big fucking mistake,” he seethed.
While his left hand was busy pinning Silas to the wall, his right came up and connected with Silas' face. “Fuck you. I don't have to grow up. I was the one putting together a fucking memorial that your girlfriend would've fucked up, while you were off where Fantasy Land meets Never Gonna Happen Ville!” His voice was echoing through the building, and he pulled back to punch Silas again.