by Nikki Wild
The crowd was calling out now, a cacophony of sound. I couldn’t tell what was going on – some were booing, others were calling out my brother’s stage name. The latter started to pick up steam, and soon the entire throng was chanting his name.
“BONE-SAW!”
“BONE-SAW!”
“BONE-SAW!”
The referee was a thin-looking guy, but he proved himself to be pretty strong as he helped slide Sawyer onto Darren’s strong back. Holding him in place, the bodybuilder carried him out of the cage and down the stairs, and Luke quickly darted after them. I managed to squeeze into the group before the crowd cut me off from them – and there was no way I was letting him leave my sight.
They continued to chant the name of their fallen hero. I felt beer splash over my shoulder as they riotously called out in a barely-organized mob.
“BONE-SAW!”
“BONE-SAW!”
As a small group within the crowd, we fought our way towards a door in the distance. Darren spotted me among them, and pulled me close, safely further into the circle from the chaos. Even with a limp body around his back, he pushed people out of the way – spectators who wanted to get close enough to touch my stepbrother, apparently.
It was a sea of outstretched hands and implacable chanting. If not for the entourage surrounding us, I feared that I would be swept up into them. Without the safety of their bodies around me, I’d be lost in the noise.
“BONE-SAW!”
“BONE-SAW!”
Finally, we reached the door, pushing ourselves through and locking out the noise. It was a small waiting room of some sort, with an exposed light hanging above some loose furniture.
“Help me get him down,” Darren told the others, and I stepped back as they carefully slid Sawyer onto the couch. His hand sagged off of his chest, his knuckles plummeting to the carpet.
“You – come with me,” Darren commanded, pointing at Luke. “Vinnie, stick with the girl. We have to go get the other jackass responsible for this.”
“Yessir,” the referee nodded, already diving for a chest of drawers in the corner. He rummaged around in the top drawer as the others steeled themselves and left through the door again.
“Is he…is he going to be okay?” I asked, my voice trembling. “I’ve never seen him fight – I don’t know what to expect.”
“Never seen Bonesaw fight?” He paused, looking incredulously at me over his shoulder. “Aren’t you supposed to be his sister?”
“We’ve been…distant,” I confessed.
Vinnie turned back to the drawer. “Heh. That I can understand. I have a sister, you know. Annalisa. She’s a tough little signora. We ain’t spoken in years. Decades, even…”
I reflected on this as he rushed from the drawer, carrying a small armful of medical supplies. He knelt beside Sawyer and dropped them on the floor near his feet.
“Look, the dumbasses…we gotta move him to the floor.”
“Didn’t you help get him onto the couch?”
“Eh, sheddup,” he smirked, his bushy moustache wrinkling. “You and me, on three. One…two…three!”
He tugged Sawyer down by his shoulders as I grabbed his thick, sweaty legs. We haphazardly moved him to the floor, groaning with his weight. It would have done more damage if he just dropped the two feet to the ground, but we managed to get him onto his back.
“Good, good. Let’s get a look at this guy…”
Vinnie gave Sawyer a thorough inspection, checking his face and examining his hands. “Hmm. Your guy is tough. Real tough. I’ve seen him fight in this cage for years.”
“What do you mean, years?”
“What, you didn’t know?” Vinnie’s thick brush wrinkled again. “Your boy here, he practically started this place! He was the first cage fighter on the itinerary. Without him, hell, I’d have been out of a job in three months!”
“He’s that important?” I was stunned.
“He’s your family, you know,” the referee continued. “Here. Help me roll him over.” I did as I was told, wondering what was taking the others so long. Sawyer was a big guy, and we had to throw ourselves into rolling him onto his stomach.
“Yeah...I don’t know. Hospital’s not a bad idea, but I think the big guy’s just tuckered out,” Vinnie observed. “This is the first time I’ve heard of him going down after a fight, though. I mean, he technically won, but a no-rules match? I should never have called it.”
“Was it Luke’s fault? That’s what Darren was saying…”
“Yeah, the cheap piece o’ shit. That other guy calls in, he starts making these offers. The boss likes what he hears, the whole arrangement’s thrown outta whack. I should never have gone along with it. Bonesaw’s a tough guy, you know? He’s taken down the best I’ve seen. But this was somethin’ else. That guy wanted to spill some blood, no matter what…alright, time to flip him again. On three!”
We pushed him back onto his back, and my unconscious brother gave a very slight groan. I thought he was coming back around; unfortunately, he stayed down. The only motion was the heaving of his chest.
“Do you think he’s gonna be alright?”
“Who, the dipshit from the cage?”
“No, Sawy–I mean, Bonesaw.”
“Well,” Vinnie started, standing up and wiping his hands against each other, “my paramedic years, they tell me he’s gonna be fine. Sure, he’ll probably say he’s fine when he wakes up, that he doesn’t feel much. That was always his way. He’s a fighter to the end, this guy. His body was probably just waiting to drop at the end there.
“Your job is to help me patch him up and get him out of here,” the referee continued. “Take him to a hospital if you want – he might need a few stitches, but I doubt it. Resilient. That’s Bonesaw. Resilient as a motherfucker.”
The door burst open, and the others came back – carrying the limp Jabberjaw over a shoulder. A few audience members tried to push through, but Darren punched someone and growled at the others, and Luke forced the door closed.
“How is he?” Darren immediately asked. He didn’t bother to inquire as to the change in placement; instead, he carefully slid Jabberjaw onto the couch.
“No broken bones, nothing irreversible…I think…” Vinnie answered. “When he wakes up, he’s gonna be in for it, but with some decent pain meds he should be just fine. A bit woozy, maybe. That’s why we’ve got little Skipper here to keep an eye on the big guy.”
Everyone but Vinnie turned to me.
The referee, on the other hand, immediately flocked to Jabberjaw’s side. “Now, this guy…this guy’s the one who worries me. We’re gonna need to get him an ambulance on the double…”
Darren pulled me aside as Luke looked back and forth between everyone, backing up slowly towards the door.
“Ahhh, nuh-nuh-nuh…” Vinnie declared, wagging his finger at the retreating rasta guy. “Nope, you? You aren’t goin’ anywhere. You’re coming right here and playing nurse, or I’ll wring yer fucking neck myself.”
Darren cast Luke a fierce, smoldering glare, and Luke’s shoulders finally sagged. Defeated, he dropped to Vinnie’s side.
“Alright, what do I do?”
“Well, you’re gonna start by handing me that bottle…”
Darren turned to me again, his hand on my shoulder.
“Are you okay? I’ll get you anything you need.”
“No, I’m fine, I’m just worried about him…”
“I know, sweetheart,” the bodybuilder smiled sadly. “Tonight was fucked up. It wasn’t supposed to go down anything like that. I’ve fought alongside Sawyer for years…we go way back. Do you need me to call an ambulance for him? Better safe than sorry.”
“Yeah, that’s probably–”
“No,” a hissing, pained voice called from the floor. “No ambulance. I need…I need to get back…home…”
It was Sawyer, miraculously. He was starting to move around on the floor, but he snarled with a burst of pain and slid back onto his bac
k.
“You’re hurt! You need to see someone!”
“No…I’ll be…fine,” he groaned. “We have…things at…home. Medicine cabinet…fully stocked. Strong stuff…in there. Just need…home…” The pain left his face, and his body slumped subtly.
Darren turned from him to me.
“Looks like he’s back out cold. What do you think?
“What would you do?”
The bodybuilder glanced over my shoulder, down at the crumpled form on the floor. “It’s a tough call…but he’s a tough guy. If our resident medic can’t see anything particularly life threatening…I’d honor his wishes. I can help you get him back home, get him set up. Is that what you want to do?”
I looked down at Sawyer. He looked so peaceful. Every ounce of me realized that if anything happened to him, I’d be devastated. He was a jackass, but he was my jackass, and I’d be damned if he didn’t get the attention he needed. At the same time…I felt like that was wrong. Something inside me rebelled at the thought – I felt as if he needed to be home, that he was right. That to send him to the hospital and sit by his side was the wrong choice. I don’t know why; my instincts had never been particularly strong. But my gut told me that I would regret it, and it was strong enough to make the decision for me.
“Alright. We’ll do it. Let’s get him home.”
Twenty
Sawyer
Pensacola, Present Day
I felt heavy, weary. My body was weakened, with some bruising and swelling here or there, but none of my limbs shrieked with agony if I slowly lifted anything. I was comfortable, I remember – it took a while for me to open my eyes and recognize that I was lying in my bed at the Beach House.
I remembered slight flashes – being carried to the back of a car, my eyes barely registering Darren’s determined, distracted face above. There was another – Darren pacing beyond my feet, and Saffron trying to calm me down and make me take some pain medication. Incoherently, I’d tried to explain something to them – but I had been delirious. There were other glimpses, and I realized that some time had passed. I didn’t know how much. Could have been a day – could have been close to a week. Time meant so little to me in this place.
My eyes adjusted to the light. I deduced that it was late afternoon. The faint caws of distant gulls hit my ears, and I almost chuckled at their sound.
Saffron was here with me. She convinced me to take another pair of pain pills, and swig of water to wash them down. Issuing some kind of calm command to me, I barely heard her, electing to close my eyes again. The bed was so comfortable, and my flesh was so weary.
The command was repeated. She sounded agitated now.
Parting my eyelids again, I frowned slightly at her request.
“Sawyer! Listen to me!” She was telling me, mildly exasperated. “You’ve got to swallow, or you’ll choke on them!”
Oh, that’s right. Everything’s still in my mouth.
I leaned forward wearily; it was just enough to comfortably swallow the pills and the mouthful of water. She helped me rest backwards, and I felt the compulsion to close my eyes again.
But I ignored it.
Saffron looked so beautiful. Tired, upset, her face hovered in sight. Her eyes were holding back tears, and her lips were pursed with concern.
“Are you okay, Sawyer?” She asked sadly.
I realized that my normal reservation was gone. It was freeing, to be in this place where I wasn’t worried about my actions, or playing some part as the arrogant prick in her life. All of that had shifted to the side, and it was just me now – and although I suspected that the pain medication she had been feeding me was to blame, I knew that this was the opportunity I needed to push it all aside.
“I love you,” I whispered.
“Of course you do,” my caretaker grumbled, shaking her head. “That stuff we had to give you was pretty strong. You’re pretty out of it.”
She didn’t understand.
“No, Saffron…I mean it,” I responded, my voice taking back some of its strength. In fact, just saying the words seemed to have given me some refreshed momentum, and I meant to make the best of it. “I’ve always loved you.”
She hesitated. “Sawyer, you should get some rest.”
“No, Saffron…” I murmured, reaching up the fingers of my right hand. I gingerly brushed her hanging hair out of her face with the tips, reaching down to cup her cheek. “You don’t understand. I’ve loved you from the bottom of my heart for years…and I’ve wanted you so badly. It’s why I left in the first place.”
My stepsister was visibly stunned.
“I…Sawyer, I don’t…”
“Go,” I told her. “Make me some coffee, and bring it back to me. I need something to energize me…”
“You need rest,” she insisted.
“No.” The syllable was strong – the cadence of my voice was back, and I felt in charge. I pushed myself up in bed, my limbs a little sluggish but still responsive to my commands. “I need to tell you these things now, before this all wears off…make me a cup of hot coffee, and I’ll explain things to you.”
Saffron was troubled, but she nodded briskly and left my side – pausing at the doorway to look over her shoulder at me. With a quick shake of the head, she disappeared from sight, and I leaned forward and held my head.
Am I really going to go through with this?
I wasn’t sure if I should. Fading in and out during my recovery, she had always been there – always taking care of me, never leaving my side. Thinking harder, I remembered a faint glimpse; I had seen her asleep in her chair by the bed. She had dedicated everything to keeping me comfortable and keeping me safe…the role that I was meant to play for her.
My face lifted from my hands. I unsteadily climbed from the bed, slipping out of my fighting shorts. Listening intently for her footsteps against the stairs, I staggered into the closet and examined my wounds in the mirror – a little puffiness here and there, but ultimately my body had already healed up a number of the injuries. Sure, there was the evidence of a split brow and some ample bruising, but I’d suffered these things before.
I took the opportunity to quickly dress, whipping on a pair of jeans, a belt, and a graphic tee. I quickly splashed water against my face in the bathroom, and then sat back down on the edge of the bed.
All the moving around had drained me – I needed to take it easy for a little while, and the coffee would help put some spunk back in my veins.
She returned shortly after, bringing me a fresh cup of Robusta coffee. The wafting, uplifting scents of some gourmet Swiss chocolate blend filled my nostrils, and I carefully took the dish from her. My stepsister was clearly surprised at my change of clothes, but didn’t say anything about it, choosing to allow me to enjoy the hot beverage.
Lifting the cup to my lips, I blew across it steadily before swallowing. It did the trick – a slight burst to my senses, probably just the heat, but I knew that the caffeine would hit my system as I told my tale.
And that’s exactly what I did, as Saffron sat by my side.
I told her everything.
My words carried me forward, drawing additional strength into my veins. I started by revealing the conflicting feelings I felt when we began living together; I continued by explaining my decision to leave home, and how much of an impact she had made on it. I told her about New Orleans, and how I met the man I previously knew as Slippery Pete. Then there was the police raid on our home – and arriving in Pensacola, meeting Darren, and setting up New Horizons. I continued through to decision to leave, testing out my luck on the national underground circuit. I even explained a few side adventures: Rio de Janeiro with Darren, hiking alone in Colorado, and hitting the open road on the back of my Suzuki.
Finally, I lead up to the defining phone call.
The one that kicked all of this into gear.
“What was it?” Saffron asked, the first words she’d spoke aloud since I began. “What did you two talk about?”
>
“I suspected that he wanted me to return. For that reason, I almost didn’t bother,” I confessed. “But it was more than that. We did the small talk thing first – he explained a few changes in his business life, I told him the cities I’d driven to. I was impatient, wanting to know his angle…
“But then,” I continued, “he was heading to Paris. He wanted to take our mother abroad, and he didn’t feel right leaving you for the summer. Said there were threats made against the company. Bad ones. They named names… They named you.”
“Who would want to hurt me?” she asked quietly.
“He said he didn’t know. He was going to either ship you away somewhere for a few months, or let you have full rein of the Beach House for the same period of time. It’s a gated community, lots of security out there, and nobody knows he owns it. You’d be safe down here…”
Saffron nodded, understanding.
“Of course, you’re aware that there was a catch. He wanted someone there to protect you, and he wanted it to be me. Turns out he’d been keeping tabs on me. He knew about my cage fighting, and he knew that I would take care of you. In his eyes, I was perfect for the role. But he needed an answer then and there.”
“And you said yes.”
“I said no,” I told her, and she looked uncomfortable for a moment. “But I changed my mind. I figured, it’s been five years. I can handle my emotions now. I can deal with being around my stepsister without feeling anything for her. I’ve knocked a hundred men out in the ring; I’ve escaped from the police, ridden a bus halfway across the States, and I’ve seen incredible things. After all that, I can handle being around my old flame again.”
She looked demure for a moment. “Could you?”
“Fuck no,” I chuckled. “The moment I saw you, I realized how wrong I’d been. You were so fucking beautiful from that first moment and on. I spent time away from the house in the build-up to the trip, just hoping beyond reason that I’d be able to get a grip. But I couldn’t.”