Bounty

by Aubrey St. Clair

  The man smiled at her. "Nah. This one stands for Underground Fight Club. These guys just wish they were in the real thing."

  "Oh," she said. That made more sense.

  The crowd let out a quick sound as the bigger man threw out a quick jab that caught the blond in the nose, snapping his head back. Amber sucked in a hiss and put her hand to her mouth.

  "You have money on Joel? Might be a good bet, I'm taking the same gamble," the man next to her said. Joel. That was his name.

  "Why?"

  "He's somewhat new, but he's hungry. Haven't seen him lose a fight yet. He is a bit over-matched this time, though. Brutus is a lot more experienced."

  "Why is he fighting him then?" All of sudden she felt simultaneously concerned and silly that she cared about a man she had never met.

  "He was a last minute sub, although I doubt he knows that. Randy, the organizer, tells me this kid is pretty naive."

  Another roar from the crowd and Amber's gaze snapped back to the action just in time to see Brutus had somehow gotten behind Joel with his arms around the smaller man's neck. Joel had one hand in between his neck and the other man's forearm, keeping him from locking the choke in completely. The two of them struggled for at least a minute and Amber was sure it was the end for Joel. All of a sudden he manoeuvred himself in such a way as to expose the other man's torso and he was able to deliver a swift elbow to the solar plexus.

  Brutus stepped back and his grip loosened enough for Joel to wrench his way out, his job easier as they were both slick from the rain and mud. He pushed the big man away as both fighters paused to catch their breath, eyeing each other like wild animals.

  "Whew, thought he was done for there," the man observed.

  "How much did you bet?"

  "I have $100 on him," the man answered.

  "So everyone here just comes to watch the fight and place bets on who wins?"

  "Of course," he replied, as if it was the most logical thing in the world.

  "Are there rules to this... spectacle?"

  "No weapons, bare hands only. Other than that, no." The man pulled his glasses off and wiped them on his shirt, as if just now noticing how wet they were. They were already splattered with fresh drops by the time he returned them to his face.

  The men in the middle were circling each other again, each one looking for a weakness in the other. Amber's breath seemed caught in her throat as she watched, each nerve on edge as she waited nervously for the action to continue.

  7

  Joel

  His opponent tonight was strong, fast and wasn't falling for a lot of the tricks he'd been able to pull on fighters in the past. Joel could feel his heart thumping in his chest and if it wasn't for the pounding rain coming down and the roar of the crowd around him, he was sure he'd have been able to hear it as well. It had been a long time since he felt this emotion. Fear.

  "Get out, get the fuck out!"

  "Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

  "You think I care, boy? I'm done letting you leech from me. For 18 years I've paid for everything, wiped your ass, let you eat my food. I'm done. I've been dreaming of this day."

  "Fine, you fucking prick. Let me just get some stuff and you'll never hear from me again."

  Joel's father laughed, but there was no joy in it. "Everything in this house is mine, boy. I paid for all of it. You're lucky I let you keep the clothes on your back."

  "Are you fucking kidding me? Mom! Mom?"

  "Leave your mother out of this, she's with me on this. We've both been waiting for this day. Get out before I fucking go and call the cops on you for trespassing."

  A year ago, his threat would have been to kick his ass, but as Joel matured his father had begun to slowly realize that was no longer possible. The last time the two of them fought, his father had been the one that had ended up needing a doctor. No doubt that was part of why he'd been trying to get rid of him. But Joel's mother would have no one to protect her if he left. Why wasn't she sticking up for him.

  "Mom?"

  "I told you to get the fuck out already."

  "Not until I talk to Mom," Joel said. He stood up to his full six feet two inches and pushed his chest against his father. He looked down at the older man, daring him to make a move.

  "Fine," his dad said, taking a step back. "Linda, come out and say goodbye to Joel. He's finally getting the hell out of our house and leaving us in peace."

  Joel's mother finally appeared in the hallway leading back to her bedroom where she'd been most of the day. A lot of times she didn't even make it out at all anymore. She was wearing a housecoat and her eyes had circles under them. From where she stood, Joel couldn't tell if they were from lack of sleep or a fist.

  "Mom, I-"

  "It's time you left, Joel," she said simply. She seemed to be staring at him, but when he moved slightly her eyes didn't follow. She was staring past him.

  "He won't even let me take any of my stuff..." he said weakly. A pain hit him in the chest and he felt an overwhelming urge to start sobbing. He hadn't done that in years. Damn if he'd let his father see it, though.

  "You heard your father," she said. "We paid for that stuff. Just get out."

  "Who will protect you?"

  "Fuck you, you little shit," his father said, advancing on him again but Joel pushed him out of the way and took another step towards his mother. To his horror, she took a step back, maintaining her distance.

  "I got along fine before you were born," she said. "I didn't ask for you to protect me."

  "That's right," his father sneered. "You think you've made a difference in this life, boy? You haven't and you never will. I wish we'd never even had you. What a fucking mistake that was. God damn the number of times I think about if I had only just fucking jerked off into a tissue one more time you'd have been flushed down the toilet."

  Joel let out a scream and swung his fist, catching his father in the nose and sending him reeling back. His mother yelled and rushed forward. "Get out!" she screamed. "Just go!"

  Staggering back, the young man turned and yanked open the door to his house for the last time. The night was cold and rain was coming down in sheets. His light red hoodie wouldn't protect him at all, and he had no idea where to go. His heart was pounding in his chest as he ran down the pathway leading away from his house, already drenched. What was he going to do now?

  The rain pounded into Joel but his mind was somewhere else, and he didn't even notice Brutus charging at him again until it was too late. He spun to get out of the way, but the big man caught him in one of his beefy arms and pulled him along, slamming him roughly into the brick wall of the building behind him. His head snapped back and he heard and felt it crack against the stone. Immediate warmth on his neck told him it was bleeding badly.

  He blinked as the air around him grew darker and it was only instinct that made him bring up his hands to protect his face an instant before he felt Brutus' fists crash into them. He could hear yelling and screaming, but all he could think about was that he hoped that it wasn't coming from him.

  It's the crowd. People are watching. They're paying to watch you fight. Watch you win. Don't get paid to lose.

  He shook his head to clear it even as blows continued to rain down on him. He realized suddenly he was on his knees, so he caught one of the arms of his opponent the next time he was hit and used it to yank himself back up to his feet, while at the same time pulling the big man off balance in surprise.

  Joel stood up and threw a punch in the area where he thought Brutus stood, but still not seeing straight, it just went wildly past the other man and connected with nothing. The crowd around him cheered again but he had no idea what for.

  All of a sudden he felt a big thick forearm wrap around his neck and slip against the wetness on his face to settle under his chin. Fuck.

  8

  Amber

  Amber watched in horror as Brutus held tightly around Joel's neck as the blond struggled briefly, and then went limp. The c
rowd was going crazy, and the man standing next to her was cursing wildly.

  Brutus held on for a few more moments and then let go. She watched with wide eyes as Joel slipped out from his grasp and crumpled lifelessly down onto the pavement below. The winner raised his arms and let out a howl, almost like a wolf, and then walked into the crowd surrounding the fighters. Everyone was patting him on the back.

  "Well, that's that then, time to finally get out of this rain. That's the last time I bet on the underdog," the man next to her said.

  "What now," she asked. "Are they going to make sure that he's okay?"

  "Who knows, who cares," the man said, turning around and starting to walk out of the alley along with many of the other spectators. "He's a loser now, no one remembers the losers."

  Amber looked back at the body of Joel, still lying on the pavement. She could see that he was breathing, though, but still covered in some of the mud that the rain hadn't yet washed away. She was soaking wet as well, but barely aware of it.

  No one was paying any attention to the fallen fighter, including the big black man she had seen him speaking to last night. He was too busy with his arm around Brutus, laughing and talking as if the two had just come home from watching their team win a football game.

  She quickly scurried over to the fallen man and bent down, hesitantly reaching out and touching his shoulder. As she did, the lights from the car in the alley turned off and she was plunged into a heavier darkness. Joel didn't move, so she poked his soggy arm a bit harder. "Joel? Are you okay?"

  Finally he started to stir. He cracked an eye open, and then another. He seemed confused and then shook his head a bit as he pulled his arms down and back underneath himself to prop up on his elbows. "What the hell..."

  "You were choked unconscious," she said.

  He stared dully at her for a moment, letting the words sink in until they found meaning in his addled brain. "Shit. I lost?"

  She just nodded. Typical man to think about whether he won or not as he lay injured on the ground.

  "Who are you?"

  "No one," she said. "I mean, I was just watching... my name is Amber. Amber Sinclair."

  "What the fuck do you want, Amber Sinclair," he said. He was struggling to sit up now but just as he did he swayed and put out a hand to brace himself on the ground so that he didn't fall back down. Amber instinctively reached out and grabbed him under the arm to help. He glared down at her hand.

  "I'm just trying to help," she said. "You seemed to need it. No one else was going to." She looked around and noticed that they were one of the last two in the alleyway; almost everyone else had left in a hurry to get out of the rain.

  "I can do just fine on my own," he said, his voice hard. He pulled his arm away from her.

  "Wow, okay. Suit yourself," she said. That's what you get for being nice in this city. Mind your business. Her mother's voice was yapping in her ear again. She hated when it did that, especially when it was right.

  She stepped back to give Joel some room. He was rude, but not really surprising given what he did with his spare time. How many fighters did she think were gentlemen, anyway?

  He pushed himself to his feet and then swayed again. This time he didn't have the ground to reach out for and his arms swung wildly. Amber again instinctively reached out to help him, something she had gotten used to doing around closing time at her bar every weekend. This time Joel's hands clamped down on her arm as well as he accepted her help.

  "I think you need a doctor," she said.

  "Nothing's broken," he replied.

  "You hit your head pretty hard. I think it's still bleeding." From the angle he was standing, she could see a trail of darkness moving down his back. She had thought it was mud at first, given the lack of light, but now she wasn't so sure.

  "It'll heal."

  "You really ought to get that looked at."

  "I'm not paying some doctor to tell me to man up and take an Advil."

  "What if you need stitches?"

  "Stitches are just to make a scar look pretty. It's at the back of my head under my hair. What the fuck do I care what it looks like."

  "Oh," she said. She was still holding his arm and by the way he was grasping onto her, he still felt like he needed it.

  "You've never had stitches, have you?" he asked.

  "No."

  "Well aren't you living a charmed life," he said.

  "Not everyone chooses to beat the shit out of people in alleyways," she threw back.

  Joel opened his mouth to reply but then shut it. He turned and looked away as the rain pelted down against his body. Amber was getting cold.

  "Look," she said. "I get it, you don't want to go to the doctor. But how about I at least take a look at it? I live right here. You can come up and dry off. I can put some peroxide on the cut at least."

  "Why?" he hadn't turned back to face her, he was still looking out into the night and the rain.

  "Because you should at least get it cleaned and stop the bleeding."

  "No, I mean why do you want to help me? What's in it for you? I haven't got any money to give you. Losers don't get paid."

  "I'm not looking for money, I just want to help. Why is that so strange?"

  "Nobody just wants to help. Everyone wants something," he replied. He finally turned to face her and his eyes were hard as he glared at her.

  "You know what? Fuck you. I'm tired of this rain. If you want me to help clean that up, you can come. Otherwise, have a nice life." Amber turned before he could say another word and stomped off and out of the alleyway.

  9

  Joel

  He watched the girl, Amber, turn towards the door to her building with exaggerated footsteps, each one splashing the pavement as it stomped away. He didn't believe her for a moment that she wasn't after something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what just yet. He clearly had nothing on him, but maybe she thought he would come back and repay her another time after being overcome with gratitude. Fat chance on that one. He could make his way back to the YMCA and his locker where he stored all of his stuff before a fight, and then find a place to sleep for the night. His head would be better in the morning.

  He took one step, though, and pain shot through the back of his head making it spin again. He wasn't going to make it too far just yet. Damn it.

  "Wait!" he called out. He wasn't sure if she heard him as she had already turned the corner and was out of sight. Could be he was too late. He walked towards the wall and put a hand on it to steady himself, following it until he turned the corner himself. Amber was standing at the door of her building, under an awning, and holding it open as she looked at him expectantly.

  When he reached the door, he just nodded to her. "My name's Joel," he said.

  "I know." Amber turned and walked through without another word, so he followed quietly behind her, making sure to keep a hand on each door or wall that they passed to keep the dizziness away until they got into the elevator. He leaned back against the wall of it as it started to shake and ascend.

  "Don't bleed all over that," she said, looking at him critically now.

  He moved forward to keep his pants and back from touching anything, but kept one hand on the wall for support.

  Now that they were inside and in the light, he was able to see her clearly. Her hair was a wet mess, plastered down against her pale skin as drops of water rolled down her smooth cheeks. Her lips were puffy and full, and she had green eyes that sparkled even as she glared at him. She was beautiful, even soaking wet. He wondered again what the hell she was doing helping him.

  "Where's your shirt, anyway?"

  He shrugged. "In the alleyway somewhere. Probably ruined from the mud and rain at this point."

  "I'm not sure what I have that would fit you," she said.

  "Don't worry about it."

  "Stop being an ass," she snapped. "You're injured and bleeding and I don't need a half-naked man walking around my apartment." The elevator stopped as sh
e spoke. Seventh floor.

  As soon as the doors parted she stepped through and he followed as she walked down the hall to 706, fumbling with her keys for a moment and pausing before putting them in. He wondered if she was having second thoughts about helping after all.

  "You're not a lunatic, are you?" she said, turning to him. "I mean, beyond willingly fighting other men in alleyways. Fuck. You are a lunatic. I don't even know your last name. What the hell am I doing?"

  "You want me to leave, I'll leave," he said. He swayed a bit and then reached out to ground himself by touching the wall next to her door.

  Amber looked at him, their eyes meeting for what felt like longer than was appropriate until she finally shrugged and gave a sort of half smile. She turned back to the door and put her key in, opening it. "Well, fuck it. You're here now anyway, might as well come in. You're in no shape to attack anyone now anyway, even me."

  10

  Amber

  The first thing she needed to do was make sure Joel didn't ruin any of her furniture by bleeding all over it, so she directed him immediately to her little bathroom, the only one in her small apartment.

  "Don't mind the mess," she said. "I wasn't really expecting anyone."

  Joel just grunted, his eyes looking around and taking everything in as if he'd never seen the inside of a girl's apartment before. His eyes landed on a bra she had drying over her shower rod so she grabbed it and put it behind her back. "Let me get some fresh towels, I'll be right back."

  She hurried into her bedroom and shoved the bra and some other clothes she had scattered around under her bed. She shouldn't care what this man thought, and he wasn't likely to come in here anyway, but she still felt self-conscious about the mess. Her mother's voice in her head was about to have a conniption.

  She found some old towels in her closet that she didn't mind ruining and brought them back to the bathroom. At the door, she stood for a moment and watched the stranger she had just let into her house. Joel was studying a picture of the Eiffel tower that she had on her wall, one of the few souvenirs she had brought back from her trip to Paris the year before she had planned to start college.