by Kar, Alla
Taylor smiles. “Hopefully we won’t be worrying about that for much longer. It’s about time to go, I told Trent I was taking you out. They’ll be fine. Remember, it’s not them he is after, it’s us.”
Us. The truth is he really isn’t after us, he is after me. Taylor has just taken it upon himself to defend me, like a great boyfriend. Like a boyfriend that is fearless and would do anything to protect his girlfriend. “Actually,” I say, grabbing his shirt. “He wants me, not you, just me.”
Taylor’s brows furrowed, and he takes in a huge breath. “Well, if he comes any closer to you and I get a hold of him, he’ll want me dead, too. I’m going to kill him, Layla.”
There was no joking tone to his voice. Does he really think he is going to get close enough to kill him? I know Taylor. He is a badass fighter, but not a killer. I watched this guy kill both of my parents without blinking an eye. Then he searched for me until the cops were called. That is the only thing that saved my life.
“Stop overthinking things, Layla. Let’s go get this fight over with.”
I nod and get into the passenger side door. Taylor takes his time driving toward the school. He seems relaxed, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and causally pointing out places from his childhood. I don’t understand how calm he is before a fight. It shows me he can control his emotions when fighting, unlike some of the newer fighters.
When we pull down the road of the school its parking lot if vacant. Only a school truck and the school buses line the space. It isn’t until we get to the football field that I see the massive amount of people. I have no idea where they’ve parked, or if they’ve walked but I know there are so many people here.
“Damn,” I whisper. “I hope the cops don’t get called.”
Taylor shakes his head, rubbing his thumb against the corner of his mouth. “Nah, they have fights here all of the time. The school is so far out that not many people come by here. We’ll be good for a few rounds.”
I crane my neck looking at the massive amount of young people gathered around a portable cage. Taylor parks behind what I assume is a field house, considering all of the football equipment scattered around outside. He takes my hand and squeezes it. When we’re about to the field, he turns me toward him, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Look, if anything goes wrong, you see Damon or scorpion guy, I need you to get the hell out of here. Here are the keys,” he digs around in his shorts until he is dangling them in my face, “run if you have to. Do you hear me?”
I swallow a huge lump that’s formed in my throat. My body is racing all of the sudden. “I don’t want to leave you – I won’t leave you.”
Taylor rolls his eyes and pulls out his eye piercing. “Don’t get all dramatic on me. I know you don’t want to. I promise that I will make it to you no matter what happens. I just need you to be prepared. This guy could be in the crowd for all we know. Now, let’s go beat this bitch.”
Girls grab at Taylor as he makes his way to the stage. A different guy is holding the clip board this time and talks to Taylor for a minute before pulling out a portable microphone. “Taylor BadAss Jacks in the arena, folks! It’s time to get this baby started.”
While everyone screams and acts mentally unstable Taylor jumps around jabbing at the air. Sweat is already starting to drip from his forehead. He looks so masculine. His muscles rippling with every jab, not to mention his ass in those shorts. The problem is, I can’t hate any girl for drooling over him, because you would have to be blind not to.
“Okay, guys! The anonymous request online has brought us here. Let’s take a look at BadAss’s opponent. Give it up for Damon Devil Jones!” The roar of the crowd is ringing in my ear. At first I think it’s an accident, it’s got to be a mistake. Until I see Damon emerge from the crowd, his shirt off and hands in a fighting stance.
Taylor’s stance is nothing but confident, but his eyes are fire. I can see the rage running over his face. The thoughts of beating Damon to his death. This is not going to be good. The announcer doesn’t seem to notice the tension, but I see it perfectly fine. Damon’s eyes search over the crowd until they land on me. They are almost pleading. The cut on his lip is still fresh and the image of Damon’s bleeding face comes back to me. There is one thing about Damon’s story that I just don’t get. Why he looks so innocent. You can tell someone who wants to fight from a person that doesn’t. He doesn’t. But he looks like he has no choice. There is an underlining reason for him being here today, and I don’t think it’s to fight Taylor.
Taylor’s gaze lands on me, an unreadable expression on his face. I shake my head, begging him to get out of the ring. I can vaguely hear my name being called over the noise of the crowd. I hear it again, then I realize Damon is calling my name. “Please, listen to me, I’m here to help you. Please.”
The depth in Taylor’s voice startles me. “Call the match,” he says. “Call it so I can beat this bastard senseless.”
More applause. The ringmaster loving the tension blows his whistles. Taylor shoots off like a bomb, barreling toward Damon. Damon is yelling something at Taylor, but Taylor’s eyes are glazed over, his fists tight at his side and his legs taking him around the cage quickly. “I’m not him, I swear –“I hear barely through the noise, right before Taylor hits him with a right hook. More applause. Damon’s head hits the side of the cage, rattling the fence my fingers are looped through.
Taylor isn’t listening. He is crazed. He sees the man who destroyed my apartment. The man that followed me around. He doesn’t see the innocence in his eyes like I do. Taylor sends a kick to the side of his face, all the while Damon isn’t trying to fight back, only trying to reason with him. Blood is running down his face and onto his torso.
No. Biting my lip, I walk toward the cage doors. A couple of ‘body guards’ are standing by the latch. Squeezing my fists, I walk up to the gate. One of the guys looks down at me and starts to open his mouth when I punch him the stomach, hard. He stumbles to the ground, tripping over the steps, long enough for me to unlatch the gate and run in.
Half of the audience is staring at me, standing hopelessly in the middle of a cage fight. The other half hasn’t taken their eyes off of Damon or Taylor. Damon has gotten a few punches in, but his face shows that he has taken many more hits than Taylor.
Taylor picks Damon up, slamming him down on the floor, causing Damon to retract into a ball. “Stop,” I yell. “Please.”
Taylor jerks his head toward me, eyes glazed and breathing heavy. Taylor holds his hand up by his head. “Get out of here, Layla. I’m dealing with this.”
“No,” I fling myself over Damon, wiping the blood from his face. He glances up at me, green eyes bright. “I’m Damon Jones,” he says, like I’m supposed to know what that means. “I’m Henry’s kid.”
Henry Jones. My heart rate accelerates and tears threaten my eyes. Henry Jones was my dad’s partner in crime. He was a hustler to the core, his game almost as good as my dad’s. Henry would come over when I was young, bringing Damon with him. I haven’t seen him since before Kindergarten. “Why – I don’t understand. Why are you here? I haven’t seen you since we were four.”
Damon coughs, blood dripping from his mouth. “Before your dad died – he told me it was my job to keep you safe if anything every happened.” More coughing and blood. “We never thought it would happen. But, when you went off to college I had to be sure you were safe. I promised. I carefully watched from a distance. Then I realized he had found you. I had to get into your life. I had to save you.” His gaze flickers to Taylor’s. “I just didn’t think doing so would be so difficult. I have to set up a time to get my ass whooped just to get your attention. I’m here to help.”
The crowd is yelling obscurities in my direction. Booing me to get out of the cage. Taylor helps me up, wiping the tears from my eyes. Turning, he raises his hand as acceptance that he has won. The crowd starts screaming. While Taylor talks on the microphone, making up a bullshit lie about my interference, I take Damon’s head in my l
ap. The “paramedics” which are college students in training in the medical field are setting up at station for Damon. We can’t really call the cops since it’s an underground fight. “I’m so – sorry, Damon. I wish you would have told me earlier. When we say your shirt, we thought you were in on it.”
Damon holds his sides, shaking his head. “I know – I just didn’t want to scare you off. I needed to be just a friend until he came around, then you guys moved… he is here. In town watching you guys. You’re going to have to be careful…ouch,” he says through clenched teeth.
I nod and stroke his hair from his eyes. “We will, I promise.” When the paramedics pick Damon up I give him a small smile and leave the cage. Taylor is waiting for me by the fence. He is dripping sweat and even has a small cut above his eyes. I guess Damon got a descent hit in on him.
His shirt is still off, muscles bulging from the fight. He takes me in his arms as soon as I get close enough. His barrel of arms engulf me, pulling me close to him. “I – I don’t know what to say… I mean I wish he would have –“
“You didn’t know,” I say. “Let’s just – let’s just get home.”
The ride to the house is quiet. Taylor is hard in thought, rubbing his forehead and eyes. His knuckles are bruised from hitting, and a dry scent of irony blood is on his hands. Taking a shirt from the floor, I start to wipe off the blood. “You’ll need to be clean when we get back, or your mom will catch on.”
Taylor nods and lets me wash them clean. “You think I’m like him, don’t you? Does fighting make me like him?”
At first I have no idea what he is talking about. Then I realize he is comparing himself to his father. I crawl closer to him, placing my head on his shoulder. “No. You’re nothing like him. You stopped – because Damon was through. He had had enough and was only trying to talk to us. You’re not your father – because your father didn’t love like you. You would never hit Trent, Amy or even me. You’re a stronger man than he is. I see it.”
I’m not sure if my talk helped Taylor but I know he smiled a little more on the way home. I can imagine his fear of becoming his father. Honestly, because of Taylor I’m not turning into my father. And I’ll do whatever it takes to help him stay on the right track.
When we get home his mother’s vehicle is in the driveway. I’m half-way relieved she is here. Trent or Amy won’t bring up a fight in front of his mother. I don’t want to ever bring up that fight again. My heart wasn’t even back to its regular rhythm yet. Mandy is standing in the kitchen when we walk in. Her gray eyes tired.
“Where have you guys been?” she asks. She doesn’t ask it in a suspicious way, but in a Mom way. It stills makes me nervous.
“Downtown,” I blurt out. “Window shopping.”
Taylor gives me a sidelong glance but goes into the kitchen to chat with his mom anyway. I’m thinking about how hot and nice this shower is going to be once I get in it when Amy pulls me into her room and shuts the door behind her. Her eyes are huge and her chest moving up and down really fast. She looks panicked.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask. My eyes frantically checking her for wounds or a man looking into her window.
“I - I got my first kiss,” she whispers.
Unable to help it, a smile crawls up my lips. I remember my first kiss. It had been behind the movie theater with my first crush Jacob. I was around twelve or thirteen myself. My mom had already passed away so I had no one to talk to about it. It wasn’t like I was going to tell my grandma. Then have her chain me to my bed for the rest of my life.
I laugh, not because the situation is funny, but the deer in the headlight look on her face is priceless. “Well, how was it? When? Who? Tell me?”
She grins, grabs my hand and leads me to her bed. “Last night…I kind of snuck out. He was throwing rocks at my window – he kissed me by the pond out back.”
Fear rolls over my body as she glares off into a daze. She was outside, with one boy last night? Anything could have happened. He is watching us. My throat feels like it’s on fire. “What’s wrong? Do you think I should have waited?”
Had she been talking? My mind is racing too much to listen. “No – I think if you were ready it’s fine. How was it?” I fake a girly smile.
She sighs and holds her chin up with her hand. “Amazing. His lips were so soft –“a loud thud from outside of her door stops her.
Her brows furrow, and she glances over at me. Panic rises in the pit of my stomach. A few seconds later Trent bust into our room. His eyes are huge, his mouth slightly opened. “There is – I saw someone in the kitchen with Mom. We have to hide. Call the police.” He starts rambling, racking his fingers through his hair. He is freaking, making tears form in Amy’s eyes.
“Trent you better not be playing, get out of my room,” Amy says, biting her lip. I can see the hope in her eyes. She wants Trent to be joking. She wants this to be a joke, just like I do. But, as soon as I hear another crash I know it’s not.
“Get in the closet,” I say, standing up. Both kids look up at me and dive into the closet. I crawl behind them, holding Amy close to me. Trent is shaking, his eyes fixed on the door. “Look,” I say. “I need you guys to stay here. I’m going to go see what’s going on. Please, do not leave this closet. Do you understand?”
Before I finish my sentence, Trent is shaking his head. “No, I can’t let you go out there. Taylor would never forgive me if something happened to you. Stay here with us – I can fight him off while Amy and you escape. Please – don’t—,”
I press my finger to his lips, partly because his voice is rising and secondly I want him to calm down. Panicking is never the thing to do. Chairs scrap across the kitchen floor, and then the sound of glass shattering echoes throughout the house.
Oh no. Oh, God. What do I do? “Okay, shhh, I’m going to be right back.” I pull out my phone and hand it to Amy, who hasn’t said a word since we entered the closet. “Call the police. Tell them someone has broken into our house and there are possible injuries. Do you have a bat or something, Amy?”
She turns and moves things around slowly behind us, pulling out a baton. I frown but take it and thank her. Reaching for the door, I feel a hand on my forearm. Trent puts on a strong face and kisses my cheek. “Please, be careful. We love you.”
Amy nods, wiping her suddenly snotty nose. Warmth builds in my chest, knowing I have family again. I squeeze his hand and smile. “I love you guys, too. I’ll be right back.” Which isn’t something I know for sure, but if it helps them calm down it’ll help.
I’m not nearly as confident as I was in the closet. The air outside seems thick, like it’s slowly choking me. I grip the baton, taking slow steps toward the kitchen. My eyes looking in every corner. I don’t know who or when someone is going to jump out at me. I’m breathing so hard, I’m sure anyone in a mile radiance can hear me. This man has been following me for…I don’t even know how long. Years? Months? Who knows? I creep into the kitchen, not seeing anything at first. Until I take the corner. My dream slamming into me, almost knocking me onto the aluminum floor beneath me.
Taylor’s Mom is lying on her stomach, blood streaming from her body. A scream rips at my throat, but I cover my mouth with my palm. Is she dead? Hurt? Injured? Why would he do this? He. Will. Not. Take. My. Family. Not again. Not ever.
A sickening laugh slices through my reality, bringing my rage to an ultimate high. Turning slowly, I see Taylor on his knees, his back to me. He is standing in front of him, a sick sinister smile curling along his jaw. My times coming face to face with him before, haven’t seared fear through me like it does now. A low, throaty noise escapes from his throat.
I can’t tell how long I’ve been standing here. It feels like days, but I’m sure it’s only been a couple of minutes. My heart beat is thumping faster and faster against my ribs, making it hard to breathe.
“Layla,” he coos, his voice shockingly light. “It’s nice to finally meet you, dear. You look just like your mother.”
“Don’t worry, love. I won’t hurt him – too badly. Like you’ve said, it’s you I want.”
“I’ll fucking kill you,” Taylor growls. A loud, hard slap echoes over the kitchen, making Taylor’s head snap quickly to the left.
“You don’t do the talking. I do!” he screams. A curse of fear stabs me again. His control is lacking, and I’m scared what that means for us.
Lifting his face, I get a perfect glimpse of the scorpion tattooed onto his skin. It’s black, huge and darkly drawn. It makes my skin crawl to look at it. When he tugs off his hood, I gasp loudly. I’ve never seen his entire face before. On the opposite cheek a huge scar travels down from his eyebrow to the corner of his lip.
“Like that, do ya?” he coos, grabbing Taylor’s hair at the nape of his neck. I cringe, wanting to release all my anger on him, but knowing I need to be careful. He lifts an eyebrow. “You’ve been a hard one to find. When your grandparents took you off the map in the backwoods of Dallas, I knew I’d never get you there. Your grandpa had the place heavily secured. But…” he laughs, sending my hair on end, “when you moved here, ummm I knew I would get you. Then this one showed up.” He tugged hard on Taylor’s hair, making him look up at him. I wish I could see his face. Frantically, I glance around trying to find anything to help me. Twist-ties are tied tightly around Taylor’s arms behind his back. I can see a stream of blood travel down to the tips of his fingers. “He has fight…I had to be careful, but – when you moved here it was perfect. No guns. No cameras. And a house of two teenagers. Perfect murder scene.”
“I’m not him, you know. I’m not – I’m not my dad.”
Anger flashes over his face, and he pulls Taylor’s hair harder. I want to scream. Let. Him. Go. “No – but you’re going to be just like him. You’re good, too. Hustling all the college boys around here. Making money off of cheating people. Sounds like you’re just like your dad to me.”