by Cora Brent
“Achilles,” I said.
“Of course,” he smiled. He had brown teeth. “Or you wouldn’t have made it this fucking far.”
He opened the door and waved me through with a flourish. My footsteps echoed in the dim stairwell as I climbed to the next door. As soon as I pushed it open everything changed.
The rooftop was the scene of a party. Every corner had potted palms strung with festive lights. There were a few dozen guests laughing and mingling as they removed wine glasses from trays held by silent waiters. The men were a diverse collection of ages. They all reeked of entitlement. The women, all young and perfectly packaged, milled around as part of the scenery. I wondered how much money was on the line tonight. It had to be a sum worth more than a man could make in a lifetime at an honest living.
My attention was caught by a knot of men standing in a far corner, beyond the clearing which was being prepared to host a brawl. These men all had shaved heads and looked nasty as fuck. I saw swastikas tattooed on at least two arms. One of them noticed me. He poked his buddies and they all turned to stare.
There was another man who I hadn’t seen at first because he’d been sitting. He stood up then. His shirt was off and I could plainly see the hate symbols inked into his skin. He was a big bastard, but then so was I. That wasn’t what got to me. I stared at the shit decorating his chest. A man who wore such evil in plain sight wasn’t afraid of consequences. Hate and fearlessness, what a fucking lethal combination. He grinned at me.
Feeling increasingly wary, I fell back into the shadows and watched the shiny people from a distance. I saw Gabe with his arm around a leggy brunette. He had a wine glass in his hand and was laughing uproariously at something being relayed by a white-haired man in a suit.
“Bullshit, eh?”
The voice scared the crap out of me but I stood still. I felt the heat of another person very close by and then he stepped out of the darkness enough for me to see his face. He was likely in his mid thirties with a solid build and leathery pockmarked skin. There was a glint of humor in his eyes though.
“Fuckin’ fakes out there,” he said, looking me over thoughtfully. “I know you.”
I didn’t retreat. I met his gaze and nodded. “You do, in a way.”
He chuckled softly. “We fought once. You were good.”
“No,” I shook my head. “It was my brother Cord you fought, Emilio.”
He stared at me in silence. I raised my eyebrows.
“That is your name, right?”
“For now,” he answered. His gaze traveled over to the men I’d seen. I realized one of them, likely the big shit who’d stood up, was going to be fighting tonight.
“Gentry,” Emilio said, nodding as if he’d just remembered. “That’s who you are.”
I swallowed. “This is your fight, isn’t it?”
“Hell yeah. Big payout. My kids need shoes.”
I looked around. “I remember you having quite the entourage last time.”
Emilio’s eyes narrowed as he looked to over to where the shaved men were milling like hungry dogs. “This ain’t the place for a crew like mine.”
“Gabe set you up with this?”
Emilio smiled. “Gabe who?”
“Right.” I gestured to the ring. “So what do you know about this guy?”
Emilio’s smile vanished. “Name’s Jester and he’s out of Kingman.” He made a sign of disgust. “A real angel. He takes ahold of your pretty head, amigo, and that shit’s comin’ clean off.”
I mulled this over as Emilio lit a cigarette, his voice low. “Mother fucker. He gets you on one knee and you ain’t gonna stand again. Not in an hour, not in a week, never.” He sighed and took a big drag from his cigarette before exhaling into the night. Then he smiled again, showing the gold caps on his teeth. “But don’t get your pants wet, Gentry. I’ll take care of this. Then next week it’ll be us in there.” He pushed a finger into my chest. “You and me.”
There was no time to respond because the announcer, a baby-faced old man with a booming voice, started ringing a bell. In the middle of the rooftop party was a large roped off clearing. He stood in the middle of it. Everyone turned to him excitedly. I looked at the gilded surroundings and at these polished dipshits standing around. I wanted to dropkick every single last glassy-eyed one of them.
Emilio was already gone. He’d slipped away at the sound of the bell.
The announcer beamed at the waiting crowd. This place certainly had a different vibe than the street matches I was used to. A cold sweat broke out on the back of my neck.
“Ladies and gentleman, thank you for coming out on this fine evening. Please note that as of this time all betting is closed.” He motioned to the outskirts of the ring. “A match for the ages! In one corner we have Emilio, hardened by the bowels of the barrio. In the other corner we have Jester, who is looking to maintain his undefeated status. In the end, only one will be standing. The fighting begins at the next bell.” He smiled and looked at the fighters. “And gentlemen, rules don’t live in this house.”
The announcer retreated. Emilio and Jester took the ring and seconds later the bell went off. Emilio shuffled, circled. Jester stood still, watching with coldblooded calculation. Emilio took a jab and Jester evaded without taking a step. Some Tiki torches had been lit to give the scene an oddly tribal feel. A few of the spectators sipped their damn wine as they stared. I saw Gabe’s hand squeezing the ass of the girl who’d been glued to him. He saw me watching and grinned before returning his attention to the ring.
Emilio was sweating. I could see it clearly. I stared at him and thought the same thing I’d thought the night Cord took him down. He was a strong man. But his strongest days were behind him. He was soft in a few places and he wasn’t as quick as he should be. If he didn’t find a way to get his opponent down quickly, then it was all over.
Jester was content to watch, forcing Emilio to make the next move. When he did, Jester got him in the jaw. I heard the impact but understood it was a soft hit. It was meant to rattle the other guy a little and start the show. I remembered what Gabe said about getting the crowd interested. I could see a few of them licking their lips and shifting with excitement as Jester got two more blows in.
Emilio was tired of being toyed with. He spun and landed a hard hit into Jester’s chest. It should have knocked him over. It would have knocked almost any other man over. But that Jester dickhead remained standing, staggering only slightly. His eyes narrowed. He was only willing to play along until something pissed him off. He was now angry. He let fly with a kick to Emilio’s face. Emilio tried to block him but it wasn’t enough. The blow crushed his nose. There were a few female gasps as blood spurted. I expected there would be some whoops from Jester’s corner but apparently that wasn’t their style. The firelight shone on their bald heads and they watched with the predatory look of a pack awaiting their alpha’s victory.
Victory wasn’t long in coming. Emilio struggled to push the blood out of his eyes. Jester got him in the kidneys and the ribs. I’d noticed that Emilio favored his left leg slightly, that his knee was a little shaky. Jester must have seen it too because he went for the joint with a swift sweep that made Emilio bark in pain and go down.
“He gets you on one knee and you ain’t gonna stand again.”
Emilio was breathing hard, blood dripping on the concrete beneath him. He charged but Jester stepped aside and chopped a thick arm over his back, bringing Emilio’s belly to the ground. His leg was lying at a crooked angle and Jester stomped on the bent knee. An audible crack and a scream followed. A few in the crowd began to stir, looking around with discomfort. But they were outnumbered by those who were thirsting for the next cry of agony, the next drop of blood.
Any other fight would have been called by now. The announcer seemed ready to do just that. He stepped forward and licked his pink lips. But the man who’d been chatting with Gabe earlier held up a hand. My stomach turned. I had seen the look in Jester’s face. I recognized it. It was pleasu
re in cruelty. Emilio was coughing and spitting blood on the ground while clutching his crushed knee. He was virtually defenseless at this point. Yet the announcer hesitated to call the fight because his boss had made a sign. Jester saw an opportunity and took it. He kneeled down, whispered something in Emilio’s ear, causing the man to jerk with furious panic. Then he pulled his fist back and sent it crashing into the back of Emilio’s skull. I closed my eyes at the sound of the crack. Emilio’s head had been only inches from the concrete of the rooftop. A hard blow like that would smash every bone in his face on impact, possibly crush his skull.
When I opened my eyes again Jester was walking calmly back to his corner. There were a few horrified gasps followed by excited chatter as the crowd forgot the reality of the bleeding man at their feet.
The announcer stood over Emilio’s body. I stared but I wasn’t sure whether he was breathing. A few security guards emerged and began unfolding a stretcher. I didn’t want to see the mess that was about to be loaded onto it. As I walked quickly to the exit door I was relieved to hear a soft groan from Emilio. It sounded pitiful but it meant he was still alive.
I didn’t know what made me turn around before I opened the door to the stairwell. But I did turn around and saw Jester staring at me. He had a towel draped casually over his neck. He pointed a finger in my direction, the meaning clear.
You.
My chest burned as I hustled down the stairs and through the corridor. I wasn’t waiting for the elevator and took the stairs three at a time all the way to the ground floor. As I burst into the lobby the guard on duty stood up sharply but I blew right past him and out the door. I felt like I couldn’t breathe right again until I was in my truck and out on the freeway.
The whole thing was gruesome; the crowd, the money, the blood. It was a fucking disgusting spectacle. It didn’t belong among civilized people.
I wanted a drink. I wanted ten of them. I wanted to kick something solid until it was dust. Instead I drove home.
The apartment was dark. I was surprised to realize it was only slightly later than ten because I felt as if the night had gone on forever. Cord must have walked over to the restaurant to greet Saylor as she ended her shift. I checked Chase’s room but it looked as if he hadn’t been home at all.
My guitar was in its usual spot in the living room. I picked it up, tuning the strings absently, remembering how I had promised Truly that I would sing for her soon. Waking up to her sweet voice this morning was like waking up to the music of angels. Then seeing her there in her kitchen – stunning, barefoot, with a song on her lips – was like the answer to every fantasy I never even fucking knew I had.
I set the guitar down. The walls felt too close in here. I stepped onto the dark patio and sat down on the weight bench, listening to faint laughter and conversations of passersby.
I was glad now that Cord and Chase hadn’t seen what I saw tonight. They would have been as sick about it as I was, maybe more.
The sliding glass door was open a few inches so I could hear Saylor and Cord walk through the front door. They were arguing, which was unusual for them.
“-can’t hide from it all,” Saylor was saying.
“I’m not fucking hiding from anything.”
“You wouldn’t even listen to what I had to say about Chase. You just got pissed off at me and turned your back.”
“Chase is fine.”
“Chase is NOT FINE!”
They were closer, in the kitchen. Cord’s tone was low and irritable. “You think after a few months you know my brothers better than I do? Let me tell you something honey, you’ll never know a tenth of what’s between them and me.”
“You want to know what I think? I think you’ve got your head up your ass right now. Creed’s about to risk his neck in some medieval blood brawl and Chase can’t go six hours away from whatever garbage he’s addicted to. Cord, they’re both in trouble, bad trouble.”
“Dammit Saylor, enough!” Cord’s voice was raw with emotion.
They were silent for a full minute. Then I heard the horrible noise of my brother sobbing with great big heartbreaking gasps.
“Cordero,” Saylor said in a soft voice and I pictured her taking him in her arms. I was glad she was there to do it.
“I love you, Say,” he choked out. Their embrace soon turned passionate. They comforted each other with sex and vows of love. It wasn’t something meant for me to hear. I jumped over the patio wall and left them behind.
They’d never even know I’d been there.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Truly
After I left Creed in front of his apartment I felt a little hollowed out. I believed him when he said he wasn’t all bent out of shape over another girl, but something was troubling him. And whatever it was, he didn’t feel like sharing it.
“Get a handle on it, Truly,” I grumbled. I was irritated with my own disappointment. Creed didn’t owe me anything, not really. The time we’d spent together had been nothing short of incredible but we hadn’t exactly pledged our undying love to each another. I drove the short distance back to my apartment in a funk.
Usually an evening to myself was a gift. I loved curling up with Dolly to read, watch a movie or do anything to pass the hours quietly and happily. I craved that kind of peace tonight but knew I wouldn’t find it. I craved something else more.
“I’m starting to like you too much.”
“Who says?”
Stephanie was sitting in the unlit kitchen when I walked in. She had Dolly in her lap, which was strange because usually she paid as much attention to my cat as she paid to everyone else. In other words, virtually none.
“Hey Steph,” I said as Dolly jumped off her lap.
My roommate looked at me. We’d shared the same apartment for the better part of a year and I barely knew her. She was from New York, didn’t talk about her family at all, and didn’t mention to me that her twenty first birthday had passed until a month after it happened. She was always talking to people, yet seemed to have no friends. It had occurred to me that perhaps the reason I’d adapted so easily to Creed’s stoic nature was because I’d become used to seeing it every day in her.
“Hey,” she answered in a lackluster tone.
I paused. It hadn’t taken us long to adopt a routine. We greeted one another when our paths crossed. Sometimes we had short conversations. But I wouldn’t describe us as friends. We didn’t joke around and seek out each other’s company like Saylor and I did. Suddenly that made me sad.
Stephanie brushed a lock of her curly blonde hair across her lips as she watched me sit in the opposite chair. She was wearing her glasses, which she rarely did. I had no idea what the hell was going on in that girl’s head as we stared at each other across the table.
“No boy tonight?” she asked.
“Doesn’t look like it,” I answered. “What about you?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What about me?”
“Do you ever have nights with boys?”
She smiled. “Are you asking me if I like boys?”
I held up my hands. “Not judging. Like whomever you want. I was just curious because I didn’t know the answer.”
Stephanie looked out the kitchen window. “I like boys,” she said faintly.
“Any one in particular?”
“No,” she answered in a flat tone. Then she sighed. I couldn’t shake the feeling something heavy was weighing on her mind. Lately she’d been even more brusque than usual. If Creed were here they could glare at one another in tight-lipped silence. It would be a hard fought contest of stubborn detachment.
Stephanie cleared her throat suddenly. “Where are you from, Truly? I never asked.”
I didn’t know what prompted this sudden fit of interest but I decided not to question it. “I was born in Louisiana. Then for seventeen years I did time in various parts of Georgia, both Carolinas, Florida, Alabama, Arkansas and Mississippi.”
She looked curious. “Why?”
I shrugged. “Because we were usually running from a landlord or a shitty man. Because my mama didn’t like to let roots gather under her feet. And because she never let our need for stability get in the way of doing whatever the hell she wanted.”
Stephanie nodded slowly when I finished talking. “I grew up on Long Island. It’s the only place I’ve ever lived other than here.” She coughed once. “I had a nice mother. She gave me a good childhood.”
She said these things with a forlorn quality I’d never heard from her before. I was trying to figure out how to respond when her phone buzzed. She grimaced when she looked at the screen. After firing off a quick text she rose from the table.
“Problem?” I asked, noting the angry look on her face.
“Client,” she answered curtly. “I’ve got to go.”
She disappeared into her bedroom. I stayed at the table and listened to her crash around on the other side of the wall for a few minutes. When she emerged she was wearing a dark oversized sweatshirt even though it was over ninety degrees out.
“See ya,” she grunted with a wave. I figured that was likely the end of any heartfelt communication for at least a month or two. I wondered what kind of ‘client’ she had. Then I deliberated whether my roommate might be a prostitute.
I was restless. For a while I just wandered around the apartment, aimlessly tidying the place. I peeked into Stephanie’s room. It was messy, as usual.
After changing into a pair of gym shorts and a plain white t-shirt I took the rest of the gumbo out of the fridge. I ate it right out of the container and thought about the Gentry boys. Both Creed and Chase had seemed so strangely pleased by the simple act of someone preparing food for them, as if no one had ever done so before. I’d listened to Saylor describe what the boys were like growing up. They were all, including Cord, a pack of wild rogues from a rotten family. As they grew to manhood they had been feared as much as they were desired. Saylor was now deeply in love with Cord and she treated his brothers with sisterly affection. Those three might be a little rough yet, but I was starting to realize what she already knew; they were all decent men who were eager to be loved.