by Amy Faye
He picked up after 3 rings.
"I need a fight."
"I told you I'd call you if I had something."
"Then make something."
"Wes, I can't—"
"Look, I'll fight anyone. I'll take anything. Half my usual fee, but I want to fight. Tonight."
"I can get you a fight in two days, another big one like last night, and if you don't fuck up somehow, you'll be golden."
"Okay, what about tonight?"
"Are you that fuckin' impatient, Wes?"
"I need the money, you know that."
"Yeah, I know. Look, I can get something. It's not the usual place, and it's not the usual guys. I don't trust these guys, so… I dunno, bring a piece, and bring a friend."
"I'm not worried," Wes said softly.
"I'll make a call, let them know you're coming."
"What time?"
"Two."
"Send me a location when you've cleared everything up."
"Yeah."
"Thanks, Todd."
"Yeah."
Wes hung up first and slipped the phone back into his pocket. Todd was right to worry about him, to think that this was too much. It was lucky that he'd only been fighting guys who Wes either outclassed or got lucky and didn't have to fight long.
If the fights took more than a few hits, and he took more than a punch or two, then it wouldn't be a pace he could maintain. It wasn't as if he had much choice, but he would do what he had to do, regardless.
Wes let out a long breath. He couldn't keep fighting like this. He couldn't keep fighting every night, knowing that if he got a broken nose, it wasn't going to matter. He would still call Bradley the next day, try to show up with a big white bandage holding his nose in place.
It would paint a big goddamn target right on his face, which wouldn't be particularly helpful. How long could he keep it up? A month? A year? Not long. Not long enough to see the kids out of high school. Certainly not long enough to put them through college. Not long enough.
But there were no alternatives for him. Nobody was lining up to make sure that he was doing fine, to make sure that everything wasn't going to shit. Would it matter if they did?
The fact was that he needed a meal-ticket that wasn't a constant risk. He'd considered it before. There were plenty of places that he could go to get regular jobs. Even places that would hire an ex-con for legit work. It wasn't as if construction was bad work, or anything. But it wasn't enough money. Never enough money.
The places he could make more were exactly the sort of people he'd come here trying to avoid. Falling back in with the same crowd he'd left New York to get away from was a one-way ticket back to New York, and as nice as it would be to see the girls, there was a reason he couldn't go back.
Wes settled down into his sofa. His hands hurt, and the wooden floor was stained with that idiot fucking asshole's blood where he'd let himself bleed all over the damn place. Couldn't these thugs at least have the decency not to get their blood all over his stuff?
He tried to gather up the energy to put everything back in order, but it was only a kind of halfway order anyways.
The idea occurred to him a few minutes later, while he tried to calm his nerves. There was an alternative. Something that he could do to make money. Free money, not much work involved.
Wes was no expert on the Yakuza, but Todd Bradley was a man with connections much higher up than either of them, and if he put out the call and got back that Shimizu wasn't to be fucked around with, that meant they weren't some hick, backwater family.
Minami was every bit the rich girl he'd pegged her for, but it wasn't her boyfriend's money. It was her father's. He could exploit that relationship, if he tried. No problem. He tried to muster up some moral reservations, but the fact was that he didn't feel anything like that. There was no time for morals, not when it was about his family.
The idea lit a fire under his ass, sent him shooting up from the couch. He wanted to make something happen, make sure that she was on the hook. He knew she was; she'd come back twice in one night, and that wasn't the sort of thing someone did lightly. Not where he came from, and that went double for the daughter of some big Yakuza family.
She would come back eventually. Maybe even 'soon,' if he was lucky. Then it would be time to turn on the charm and see how much he could get out of her. With luck, he could do it without scamming her. He could talk to her about it, eventually. He'd tell her the truth.
Not right away, though. He wasn't a god damned idiot. When it was time to tell the truth, he'd do it, but first he'd have to get closer to her. Women didn't always like a man to have that sort of history. Men didn't particularly like it in their women, either.
Once she was on the hook, he'd be able to tell her, and she'd understand. Until then, he'd keep it from her as long as he had to. Because there wasn't any other option. He had a responsibility to those girls, and the fact that Minami might not approve didn't change the responsibility.
Wes forced himself to sit, forced himself to be still for another few moments. He needed to calm down, needed to dissipate that nervous energy somehow. Once he was settled in, he could start to plan. Right now he wasn't useful to anyone.
The relationship that was going to come was just like a fight. The first line of defense was his feet. Placement. Second were his hands. But master of everything was the ability to see things for what they were, and react appropriately. That meant being calm, and that meant being smart. It had worked for him in hundreds of fights, and it would work for him here.
All he had to do was calm down and think.
Eleven
Minami
Minami's breath went out of her lungs unsteadily. She didn't like feeling this way, and she sure as hell didn't like that Wesley Park, underground fist-fighter, was the one behind it.
Father's business was Father's business. The sooner he realized it, the way that she had all those years ago, the sooner she could have her own life. The sooner she could get away from the world that she had no interest in remaining in.
But that wasn't going to be an option, not if he had his way. Minami knew that it was only a matter of time before Wes was going to get the hammer of the Shimizu family dropped on him.
When he did, it wasn't going to be a case where he might be totally fine. He was, for all intents and purposes, already dead at this point. He didn't know it yet, but Minami, she knew.
That should have made it easier to leave him to his fate, and that was exactly what she'd intended to do. Return to her online life, her online friends, and get the hell away from the madness that she'd been thrust into completely against her will.
But she couldn't get him out of her head. It wasn't the sex, though that had been more than a bit better than previous lovers. Something about having a man who knew what he wanted only served to draw sharp lines of contrast to the boys who had wanted to pander to her and complain about their stupid problems.
She didn't have time for that sort of man. But with Wesley, she felt something else, as well. Something that almost bordered on… pity? As if seeing him crushed beneath the boot of the Shimizu clan was beneath him. Like a butterfly killed by getting hit by a car. Ruining something beautiful that never deserved it.
'Never deserved it' seemed like an incredibly odd description for Wesley. He gave every impression of deserving the worst anyone could give him, and he didn't seem like the kind who cared much about what people did to him either, for that matter.
But more than that, the thought kept ringing in her head that he was more than that. Was he a bare-knuckle fighter? Sure. Was he a thug? Almost certainly.
But he wasn't afraid of the Shimizu. Whether it was through ignorance or arrogance didn't matter. Nobody could have looked at Takuya Higa and had any doubts about his underground affiliations. He wasn't big or imposing, but he dressed so much like a Yakuza that even the most oblivious could pick up on it without much trouble.
Yet, even with that being the case, he'
d dared Higa to try to stop him, and then he'd walked off with her. The entire situation almost felt magical, because it was so close to what she really wanted. Someone to take her away, not from a bad date, but from the world that she kept getting sucked up in.
If it was only her, and she had to convince her father that she should be allowed to leave the world that he'd built up an empire in, then there was no way that it would happen.
But if Wesley did it, if he really managed to get her out, then… she blinked the thought away. That sort of thinking was dangerous. Too dangerous. She could be in serious trouble, thinking things like that. Or she could get what she'd come all the way to America to get, once and for all.
Peace.
She picked up her wallet and slipped it into the pocket of her shorts, the pocket that was just barely large enough to contain it. Her phone stayed in her hand.
She'd have to find a driver, and if Father was away 'smoothing things over' with the Higa family, then Majima was going to be out.
The first person she came across bowed deep and greeted her reverently.
"Young mistress!"
"I need a ride," she said. Better to be up-front with it.
"Yes, young mistress."
He rose back up and she followed him into the garage. Three cars seemed like overkill, but they had four, just to be safe. She slipped into the back seat and he turned on the engine.
"Where are you going?"
She tried to figure where she could be gone a few hours, near his apartment. It would be better if she could have an excuse for having been gone, and it would be much better if her father didn't find out where she'd been. Not where she'd really been, anyways.
"The library, please."
"Yes, young mistress."
He started driving. "Not the downtown one—just… I'll give you directions."
He wasn't going to know the city's layout well. The man was a pickpocket first, a driver second. But with Majima out, she had to take who she could get.
"Shall I wait for you here, young mistress?"
"No, I'll be a few hours. I'll call Father to have Majima come and get me when I'm finished."
He looked nervous at the idea of leaving her alone. Father wasn't the sort to forgive a mistake like that, but she had no patience for it.
"I want to have time to myself. Father will understand."
"Yes, young mistress."
She watched the car pull away before heading for the door, stepping inside, and getting a sip of water from the fountain just inside.
Satisfied that he was gone, she stepped back outside and started heading down the street. She had to get to Wesley's apartment, and she had to get there before more of Higa's boys came around. Or, worse, before her father rounded up enough men to make an attempt on the place, because then, it would be too late for Wesley to take her away from anything.
She took the elevator up and stepped out. The floors no doubt all looked the same, but she was fairly certain that she was in the right place. Wes opened after a moment when she knocked.
"Hello," she said, as he stood there, speechless.
He stepped back away from the door and turned back. He hadn't, apparently, bothered to put on a shirt today, because he answered the door with all his muscles on display. His back stretched wide even as he walked, relaxed, away, drawing a sharp v-shape to his slender waist.
"Good morning," he called back.
"It's afternoon."
"That's fine," he said dimly. "Did you need something?"
"I thought we could get something to eat."
"Oh, yeah?"
"If you're not interested—"
"Well, I just had to pay the rent, so…"
"It's my treat, then," she said, smiling. If it cost her a few dollars to get him to trust her, she would gladly pay that price to secure her future away from her father. She had a little money put away from the job she'd been told, point blank, to quit when Father decided to relocate to America.
Minami hadn't needed it before now, so it had sat there in her bank account. Now it seemed to make good sense that she shouldn't spend Father's money. He'd know that she'd eaten with someone else when he saw the charges on the bill, and then it would be a hop, skip, and a jump to figuring her whole plan out.
The longer that she could pretend that she had nothing to do with Wesley, the longer that she could avoid the consequences that were going to fall on his head, and the more likely that he'd be able to get her out. Until then, she'd keep him as quiet as she could keep him, because a secret weapon only worked when it was a secret.
Twelve
Wes
Wes looked down at the girl laid beside him, pushed himself up, and checked the time on his phone. A little past one meant it was time to go. He rolled out of bed and rose to his feet, dressed, and headed out. For a moment he considered taking the roll of quarters, but the notion of breaking his fingers wasn't one that he was looking forward to, and if things turned ugly, he could probably manage unless they decided to pull a gun.
If they did that, it didn't much matter what he brought with him, because guns weren't the sort of thing he was prepared to deal with.
The drive out was easy, if not quick. Ten minutes outside of the city and somehow they'd managed to find a goddamn wheat field. He'd wonder if they even had those so close to the city if he hadn't just found it on his phone G.P.S.
He pulled off next to the other cars and turned off the engine, looked in the mirror and got himself settled. Ten minutes to showtime, but there was no reason not to be early.
The guy who waved him over was short and built like a goblin, with thin limbs and a pot-belly and a head that was nearly as wide as it was tall. Wes knew better than to make something out of it.
"You! You Wes Park?"
"You got it."
"You ready to fight?"
"Mr. Bradley said I would be, didn't he?"
"Good. You'll be up first."
"Perfect."
"Five hundred for the fight, another five hundred if you win. That fair?"
"Sure, I don't see why not."
The man gestured with his head to follow, and started off. "So how's Todd doin' these days?"
"Okay, I guess. I'm just a fighter."
"Sure, sure, but the guy doesn't shut up, you let him get talking, right?"
"Sure," Wes agreed, not wanting to get into it with the guy. If anyone he'd ever met had a problem of not shutting up, it was this gremlin of a man, but he wasn't about to say that to a guy who was going to hand him a fistful of cash.
"Ring's right through here."
Wes could already see the ring of cars that they'd circled, all the headlights pointed in. From outside the circle, he could just about see where there were already several dozen people carrying red plastic cups and lining the ring to get a good angle, a few even sat up on top of the hoods of the cars cross-legged.
The ring itself was big, which favored him. Too tight, and it turns into a brawling match. Wes could win them, but it would cost him something. A big ring like this, he could afford to take his time.
"You ready? We're about to announce the fight."
"Ready enough, it's your show."
"Okay, then." The gremlin raised his head and waited a moment, as if he were waiting for someone to notice him, which was going to be a lucky shot if anyone could see him through the crowd at all. Then he nodded, and a girl who wasn't exceptionally unattractive stepped out and announced him as an out-of-towner, which wasn't totally inaccurate.
He stepped into the ring, stripping off his shirt and leaving it laying on one of the car hoods. He raised his hands as he entered, and then settled back and made what few mental preparations were still required.
The problem came in when the others stepped in to meet him. The first guy was a gorilla. Probably three-hundred pounds, and fists the size of a cannonball. Then another. And they didn't look like they had much intention of fighting each other, particularly as they touched fist
s.
Two-on-one weren't odds that he liked, particularly when they were this big. Maybe Todd had been right not to trust these guys.
Wes took a breath and waited for the girl's hand to drop. The sound of the crowd around him fell away as her hand moved, and then they were away. Wes circled around. There had to be a way to win. Some kind of weakness.
As big as they were, no doubt about it, they'd hit like a truck. How fast were they? How agile? How smart?
He had been in worse scrapes than this, he reminded himself. Six on one last night, and they'd even tried ganging up on him. These guys weren't as green as those ones had been, but they made up for it with numbers. His body was still tender where they'd clobbered him, though, so maybe that wasn't painting such a great picture for him.
The two big guys started to spread out almost immediately. If they caught him on both sides, the fight was over. He had plenty of space, and that was good, but with two of them it was a double-edged sword. They'd have plenty of room to flank around him.
The only answer was to play it as a long fight. He wasn't going to knock the guys out fast, but he could do damage slowly. The one on the right stepped in a fraction of a second before the other, and Wes used that chance to rocket a fist into his ribs, and then lunged out of the way of a coconut-sized fist coming around straight for his head.
He danced a few feet away and the dance began again. Closing in as he tried to circle around, tried to get close to one without getting close to the other. Another chance to hit again. Another chance to run away, and it started again.
The third time he wasn't so lucky. He hit the guy's mouth, and he sprawled back to the ground satisfactorily, even if only for an instant. The feeling of the thick python-strong arms wrapping around his waist, on the other hand… that wasn't good. He kicked out with a booted foot and connected with bone on the one he'd knocked down, sending him back to the floor, and then tried to wriggle free of the big man's arms.