“What about Gary?” I asked. “What about the others?”
“Fuck the others! Who the fuck cares about them?” He shouted. The crowd was eating this up – they thought it was part of the show. “But my old man didn’t even make it to fuckin’ trial – he was murdered in the middle of the night! When his friends were gonna squeak, someone had him executed in revenge! I barely made it out of the fuckin’ cell block alive!”
“And you blame me,” I observed.
“Of course I fuckin’ do,” he growled. “I don’t care who called the police. I figure it was you or your buddy Naysayer who played that card.”
“I’m not Naysayer’s friend.”
“You’re the one who fuckin’ worked with him,” his finger angrily jabbed my way. “You escaped retribution while the rest of us rotted in a goddamn jail cell. You were the fucker who got out of that mess and skipped out to paradise. Judgment has come…and it is time for your punishment to be paid.”
All the while that he told his little tale, I quietly studied him – his stance, how he moved, his musculature. In the time since the police raid on Happy Pat’s, he’d clearly refined himself into an efficient, streamlined fighting machine. Five years ago, he’d been a scrawny but powerful fighter, focusing on honing his fists into steel. But now…he had trained himself to the limit, sculpting every detail into a work of art. His body was built to weave effortlessly at a second’s notice. The way he moved, I could see that swift footwork and lightning-fast reflexes would put him exactly where he wanted to be for every second of the match. Prison had made him hard, but he was going to be every bit as slippery.
The name suddenly made sense.
Jabberjaw.
Jab ‘er jaw.
I’d thought it was a stupid name, but it was a warning – I wasn’t facing some dumb chatterbox who hoped to distract me during the fight. I was going up against someone who moved insanely quickly, throwing rock-hard thrusts that I could barely predict. He might as well have gone with Payback or Fisty McFuckYou.
There was no way I could have prepared for this. I was built to be a quick but mighty powerhouse, withstanding blows and delivering crushing defeats. What I faced was the most efficient glass cannon I’d seen – someone who could withstand maybe a pair of solid punches from a fighter like me, but someone who I’d never hit.
What faced me in the cage wasn’t Slippery Pete anymore.
It was my worst nightmare.
“Now that sharing time is over, maybe we can get this shit-show back on the fucking road!” Vinnie called out over the hushed crowd, “I’m proud to announce the return of the legend, a man who has shed blood in this very cage time and time again…Boooonesaaaaw!”
The crowd went wild, but my senses were all tuned towards my opponent, who only sneered with their cheers.
“His challenger is a relative unknown to these parts, but an up-and-coming contender from the west coast,” Vinnie declared loudly. “Apparently, these guys have some fucking history, huh?”
The crowd roared in reply, splashing beer and shouting at the top of its lungs.
“A vicious cage fighter, hailing from the seediest depths of Phoenix, Arizona…I give you the lightning, the wise-cracker, the Jaabbeeerjaaaw!”
The crowd booed, and Jabberjaw thrust up his fist in pleased recognition. “Fuck all y’all sons of bitches!”
Vinnie continued loudly. “As a special treat tonight, all restrictions are lifted. No tap-outs, no guild rules. This is an unregulated bout with anything-goes rules until knockout!”
“What?” I hissed, turning to him while the crowd exploded. What the fuck is going on? This isn’t underground cage fighting…this is a fucking duel.
“Luke,” Vinnie contested quietly to me.
I turned towards the proprietor with a vicious glare, who cowed under my rage. Darren looked panicked, glancing from Jabberjaw, to me, to Luke.
“Luke! What the fuck did you do?” Darren glowered at the owner, but I couldn’t hear the sheepish response over the roar of the crowd.
“Thought, you know, I’d liven shit up,” Jabberjaw told me as the crowd still cheered. It was clear that they wanted blood, and that they were happy that they were clearly going to get it. “Been a long time after all, Fucker. After I paid my way into this fight, I would have been fine with just smacking your shit up and down the cage. But then a little birdie told me about the, uh, financial troubles…let’s just say I had some winnings to blow, and I thought, you know…why the fuck not? Let’s make it special.”
“You staged this,” I realized. “You want a bloodbath.”
“You’re goddamn right, shit-stain.”
Vinnie was clearly disturbed, but his hands were tied. He called out in his booming voice to quell the crowds. “On this side, the reigning veteran, Bonesaw. On the other, the challenger, Jabberjaw. Gentlemen, when the buzzer begins…”
He stepped out from between us and through the gate, closing it behind himself. When I heard the distinct lock sound, I turned towards him with a betrayed look. Remorse covered his face – so, on top of everything else, Luke had also been paid to lock the cage and keep me trapped in here with this monster.
Understanding the ferocity of my predicament, I turned to face my opponent, lifting my fists. He turned and spat onto the floor, a malevolent grin across his face.
The buzzer sounded, and Vinnie called out.
“FIGHT!”
(Return to Table of Contents)
Chapter 17 – Saffron
Pensacola, Present Day
Sawyer had probably thought that he was being clever all that week. He had made no mention of the coming fight, or of any identifying details on where it might be – although I had already figured these details out, as I mentioned before. That’s why, when the night came, I lazily enjoyed some food in front of the television as he nonchalantly pretended that he wasn’t about to wander out in the city and knock somebody’s teeth in while an audience cheered.
He still clearly trained for it – and even still insisted on doing it at home. While we were slightly awkward around each other, after the erection incident, I didn’t shy away from swimming outside while he trained. I didn’t watch him as much, and he didn’t look over at me as often, but we continued our unspoken companionship. I liked to think of it as some sort of support, maybe. Perhaps he didn’t even really notice.
It was clear to me that he was growing tenser at the night approached. He neither trained the day before, nor the day of – obviously letting his body rest for the coming match. However, he was on edge the whole day, aimlessly wandering around the house but unwilling to leave or talk to me about it.
“You seem frustrated,” I observed casually, reading a magazine on the couch. “You want me to help with that?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled, ignoring my tease.
“You don’t look fine.”
“Your nose is buried in a fashion mag.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“Shut up.”
I shot him a filthy look – he stopped, looking apologetic.
“I’m sorry. There’s just a lot on your mind.”
I closed the magazine, hiding a smile. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“I can’t talk about it.”
“Sure you can.” I leaned up, grasping onto the top of the couch as I peered impishly over it. He was wandering around the foyer nearby, and he glanced briefly in my direction.
“That’s a good look for you,” he observed.
“Huh?” I directed my attention to my mess of hair, batting at it a little. “Why do you think so?”
“It’s cute. Natural.”
“Riiiiight,” I chuckled, blowing a few strands out of my face. “You’re just distracted.”
“Yeah…I guess so.”
“Why don’t you go relax, huh? Pool’s probably warm.”
“I don’t have time,” he muttered, glancing up at the clock.
“Sure you do. It’s not eve
n –”
Oh crap. How did it get so late?
“Well then,” I improvised. “Why not just go out for a ride or something? Feel the breeze on your hair, you know. Stuff like that. Why pace around when you can just get out some steam on your motorcycle? You’re a big, tough motorcycle guy, right? Go do motorcycle junk.”
He looked at me with an odd expression on his face.
Oh shit, did I say too much?
“Yeah…that’s actually not a bad idea,” he thought aloud. “But I might be gone for a few hours. Lots of road, lots of stress to burn…”
“You go do that. I’ll be fine.”
He turned towards the stairs to the upper landing, then stopped and turned. “What are you going to do, Saffie?”
“I dunno!” I shrugged, still kneeling on the couch and watching him over the back. “I was reading earlier, might pick that back up. There’s also Netflix. Might go out to a club again–”
“To a what?” He suddenly looked furious, taking a few steps towards me.
“To a…club…look, you weren’t here, remember? I had to do something to keep myself entertained while you were still being your asshole self…”
I cowered down, afraid that he was going to lash out at me again. He staggered towards me in a blind rage.
“Saffron.”
“Y…yes?”
He glowered down at me, but his expression changed subtly. It was just enough for me to straighten my back, looking up at him meekly.
“I’m your stepbrother. I’m responsible for you. You know you’re not supposed to leave this house… And besides that… I’m not going to let another man touch you, understand?”
“No, actually…that’s sort of my decision, right?”
“No it’s not. Not now.” He growled. It became clear to me that he was holding back the majority of his anger, but he was still fuming down at me.
Oh, great. Now the cage-fighting brother is going to do the whole overprotective “I’m a big, tough guy, and I’ll beat the shit out of anyone who touches my sister” act.
It was kind of a turn-on.
“Well…I can’t promise anything.”
“Yes you can.”
“Okay, what then? We’ll see if I’ll play along.”
It was dangerous to push his buttons while he was mad…but I enjoyed it. I’d grown to delight in being on this side of our little rivalry, or whatever the fuck I’d call his cocky arrogance.
“You will promise me that you won’t go out to one of those clubs, bars, any of that alone. Understood? You’re safe here. I don’t know if you’re safe out there. And if something does happen to you…”
I thought about winding him up, but he was being so sincerely furious about this…and it was a reasonable request.
“I promise.”
“You promise what.”
I sighed. “I promise that I won’t go to a club or bar without company, and that if something happens to me, I’ll tell you anything.”
Sawyer hovered, staring down at me, before his shoulders began to sag. “Good,” he muttered. “I don’t need to worry about you getting yourself into any trouble, on top of everything else I have to deal with…but for what it’s worth…I’m sorry.”
I was confused. “What are you sorry about?”
“I shouldn’t have been so inaccessible,” he confessed. “I should have been around more, able to handle…”
He let the thought wander.
I glanced over at the clock again. “You’d better get going, Sawyer. You’re going to be late for your…drive. I mean, why not go ahead and get it out of your system now?”
My stepbrother looked at me oddly again, wondering what I knew, and then followed my gaze to the clock. “Shit, you’re right,” he replied. “I mean, why not? Why wait. I’d better get going now.”
“You’ve got it,” I nodded, feeling for my smartphone in my pajama pocket. It felt reassuring under my fingertips – a breach, yes, but a constant connection to him. “I’ll just sit back here and relax. You go have fun. Do whatever you have to.”
“Right…” he murmured, shaking his head. He disappeared upstairs, then back down with a duffle bag and his motorcycle helmet. After opening the door, he hesitated, turning towards me.
“Listen, Saffron…”
Buried in a Netflix queue, I turned over my shoulder. He sounded concerned, and that briefly worried me. “Yeah? What is it?”
“I just want you to know…” he paused, fumbling for words. “I have always enjoyed being around you. If I’ve never told you…I’m happy to have you as part of my family.”
I smiled wide. “You haven’t…and now that you treat me a little better, I can say the same for you. Good luck.”
He nodded, reflecting on the last part of what I’d said. It didn’t take much to see the cogs spin in his head, reaching the right conclusion. I halfway expected him to grow furious again; he’d drop his things and fly back across the room, demanding that I promise I wouldn’t try to go visit him during the fight. It’d turn into a fight, or maybe I’d just lie and tell him I wouldn’t go.
Instead, he glanced at me knowingly and nodded.
“I don’t need luck. I’m ready for this.”
“Knock ‘em dead, Sawyer.”
He flashed me a grin, and closed the door behind himself. I followed him from the couch with my smartphone, watching the signal stop at New Horizons, and checked my email for the pre-purchased anonymous ticket. That was harder since Dad took away my credit cards. I had to use an old paypal account. The site had loaded poorly on my phone – I’d just bought the ticket for the only fight that was shown for the night, even without getting to see any of the major details.
With everything fallen into place, the only thing to do was to place a beacon for a driver to arrive. I took the opportunity to change, and waited impatiently outside until the driver arrived – a bearded hipster with black-rimmed glasses.
“New Horizons,” I told him. “Do you know the place?”
“Hell yeah! You’re going to go check out the fight? Now’s the time…that thing’s gonna start in about thirty minutes!”
I smiled mischievously as I climbed into the passenger seat. “You’re damned right I am. Think you can get me there before it starts?”
“You got it.”
We kicked it into gear and drove around the late Saturday night traffic, caught at a few more red lights than I would have liked. But he still made it there in reasonable time, and I checked the time on my phone.
Crap. The fight’s already starting.
I showed my ticket to the guy at the door. Curtains had been hung along the glass, hiding the interior from sight, although I could already hear some cheering through the walls.
“We’re just locking up, little miss. You’re lucky you’re here now.”
“Sorry, traffic was a nightmare…”
“Better run along inside. The crowd’s rough tonight.”
“Is it?” I peered into the gym as he held the door open. He was right – it was a complete mess, a massive wave of beer-soaked spectators, angling for a show. I could see that there were already three people in the ring – Saywer, whomever his opponent was, and what looked like a referee. “Dammit, I come all this way and I’m not going to get a good spot…”
“Well, that’s why I encourage you arrive earlier,” the doorman told me firmly. “Hell, we had people here two hours ago.”
“But I’m his sister!” I muttered. “Is there, like, a VIP section or something?”
“Hold on, you’re Bonesaw’s sister?” He looked over at the ring, then back to me, and then back again. “You don’t really look like him all that much…I mean, I guess there’s a bit of a–”
“Stepsister,” I corrected myself. “He might not have mentioned me, actually…”
“Well…it’s true that you’re going to have a terrible spot, no matter what. And these guys are taller than you…you might as well not even be here, unless you pla
n on hanging out way back here.” He looked around outside, then ushered me in, locking the door behind himself. “Look, the owner’s up front with the lead trainer. They’re sweet on cute little things like you. Let’s see if we can get you a decent spot.”
“Oh my god, seriously? You are my best freaking friend right now.”
“Eh, don’t mention it,” he chuckled. “I’m not promising you anything, though. Come with me – stay close. These guys are rowdy.”
Cage Page 13