Uncaged

by Paige Notaro

  Andre stroked my cheek. "That's pretty big wisdom for someone so young. You're gonna be a force to reckon with a few years down."

  "So are you," I said. "Well, you already are."

  "I am. Against these spineless, coward murderers and rapists."

  "That's not all you are though."

  "No, but I take their money. And for what, so I can escape to a place that doesn’t want me?" He swept the vast sand plains. "There's so much else out there, baby. So much more than this fake gold to live for. To fight for even. The US ain't the only place with legitimate competition. I could find a clean fight even in Mexico City. It's odd how these things don't come to you, until something big happens."

  "What happened?"

  He smiled broadly at me.

  "Oh, yeah," I said.

  "I thought I wouldn't be happy till I found my way back to Georgia. But you're already here. I've found you. Which means we’re free to go anywhere."

  I didn't know much more about the world than he did, but my brain filled with possibilities I couldn't even fully voice. I just looked at those soulful brown eyes and nodded. "Yes we can."

  We kissed a long time in front of the dropping sun. "We'll figure it out soon," he said. "For now, how about once more down this hill."

  I flashed a wicked grin, and soon we were wailing out once more against that free open sky.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Georgia

  A week flew by in a blur of love and laziness. Andre would leave our bed at the crack of dawn, more eager than ever to train and practice so his body could build us a future elsewhere. Maria still refused to let me come back to work, but she would take a taxi over at lunch. Sometimes we'd go out to local restaurants, but I liked it better when she brought over a sack of ingredients and a margarita mix so we would cook and chat. Or rather I would drink and she would cook and talk.

  When she left I would study Spanish. I was used to having books be my only teachers and with all this free time, I was learning pretty fast. A ton of the words were the same as English and soon I could make sense of most of the menu at dinners. Even when it didn't have pictures.

  If I got a chance to go back to the bar, I wouldn't be the gringo ignorante anymore. The practice would be even more useful if Andre and I really did go deeper into Mexico. I didn't know at all what that might mean, but I wanted to be ready for anything.

  We weren't moving in any rush though. Friday came and it wasn't just the end of the week. Andre had another Cartel fight.

  Maria shut the bar down early on Thursday night and I finally got to go back in. The place echoed with silence as I entered, with all the stools stuffed neatly under the tables and none of the life I’d known it to have. Still, it was like going back home. I paused at the door, savoring the dank odor of spilled beer and damp wood. Who knew I'd ever miss that?

  "Is she getting drunk off the air?" Dennis asked, already pouring himself a pint.

  "She's small enough to," Andre said.

  I flashed my eyebrows at him. "I'm pretty sure you called my size just right last night.”

  "Yeah, ok, new topic." Dennis buried himself in a deep draw from his mug.

  "Puritan," Maria said.

  "First of all, we're Georgian which means we're Baptist. And second, you're technically a sinning Catholic, honey. So don't throw stones."

  "I know I'd be happier if someone threw me a beer," Andre said. Maria poured him a pint and he sat at the booth across from Dennis. I joined at his side.

  "Should you be drinking?" I asked.

  "Beer's fine. I burn through it like I burn through everything else." He flexed his arm and the mound of muscle rose out. "That is a finely tuned engine right there."

  I made a show of not being able to wrap both my hands around it. "It's powerful. But don't big engines need the best fuel?"

  "You're right." He wiped the suds off his face and pushed me the rest of the mug. It was darker than I preferred in my beers, but I was glad to take it if it meant keeping his head clear. Andre beamed at me then turned to his brother.

  "Yo, pass me some of that Patron," he said.

  "Silver label?"

  "You know it."

  Dennis poured the shot and Andre downed it in one fluid motion. I sighed.

  "Trust me, baby," he said, curling that arm around me this time. "I’ve gone to fights in much worse condition and come out on top. Believe me."

  "I guess you know what you're doing. This fight just feels dangerous."

  "You’ve said that about every fight,” he said. “Is there a particular reason, this time?’

  His eyes bore into me. "Because you know me," I said.

  It was close enough to the truth. Maria sat on the other side of me and touched my shoulder gently.

  "I've known you for a while Georgia," Andre said. "It's only made my life easier."

  "Awww," Dennis said.

  "Shut up and fill this glass."

  Andre and Dennis went around taking stock of the bar's liquor, debating each's merits and taste-testing everything. Maria and I sipped at one pint of beer after another. She tried to show how to play darts. It was a good thing the bar was empty because I would have been a mass murderer with my aim otherwise.

  Eventually the boys joined us, smiling and acting cocky, but mostly just swaying a little bit more than usual. We played guys vs girls, which mostly ended up being a contest between Maria and Dennis. Andre's shots flew hilariously off course.

  "No wonder you fight with fists," Maria said. "You cannot aim more than one meter in front of you."

  "I'm aiming for Georgia's darts."

  "Well, you're missing those too," I pointed out.

  Maria took out Dennis, then Dennis took out Maria and eventually they were going for 6 out of 11. Andre and I each took one by the arm and dragged them toward the door.

  We stumbled noisily into a nearby taqueria. My head swam with booze and I rested using Andre’s body as a pillow. The food could not have been simpler - just sizzling onions and meat grilled almost crunchy - but we ate it amidst rounds of stupid room-clearing laughter. I could feel myself slip away, swaddled in the layers of friendship and love all around.

  Soon my belly groaned under the weight of all the slow cooked meat and beans and rice. We all were kind of just smiling happily propped up on the table. Andre was the only one who still looked erect, roosting over us like a king.

  "Come on, what is this?" he said. "The night is young."

  "Then why are we so goddamn drunk already?" Dennis asked.

  "Cause you didn't spit out the alcohol after tasting."

  "You drink my alcohol for free and then spit it out?" Maria demanded, eyes flashing.

  "No, no, never. I was just trying to make my big bro feel like more of a man."

  "Mission accomplished," Dennis said. "What do you wanna do anyway?"

  "Not sure. What do you wanna do babe?" Andre asked.

  I rose and looked around the restaurant as if that would give me some idea. "I dunno," I said, "What have we done at night? Well, other than...uh. Well, only salsa I guess?"

  Maria shot up and clapped her hands. "Oh, that is fantastic, niña. Yes."

  "That's not a bad idea," Andre said. "Get some more footwork in before tomorrow."

  "Gnph," Dennis grumbled into his elbow.

  We went back out to the streets, which were now lit only by car lights, neon bar fronts and a few lonely streetlamps. Andre ushered me through a thick crowd down a street I hadn't ventured before. I tried to remember the three-step as we walked, and Andre noticed and slowed down to let me get in a couple attempts.

  "Can't even wait, huh?" he asked.

  "It's better for both of us if I don't."

  He threw out a booming laugh that startled people walking by. I seemed to have a knack for surprising him like that these days and not even by accident anymore. So maybe I wasn’t exactly helpful yet, but at least I wasn’t useless.

  We started walking past a long queue presse
d against a wall. The women in it wore shimmering loose cut dresses, and the guys had on sharp vests or suits. We looked like tourists in our shorts and jeans and tees, but Andre swept us right up to the front, had a few words with the hard-eyed bouncer and led the four of us right in.

  I heard some swear words, some curses for dark skin, but one look back from Andre snuffed them out.

  A thumping Latin beat pressed down on us as we came in. Andre chuckled. "Those people weren’t wrong. I am a dick for cutting em off, but hey that's how the world works. I hope it didn't sour your mood. "

  "Not even a little," I said, tugging him in in for a kiss. "Come on, let's go dance."

  "Sí, papi," Maria said, tugging at Dennis behind us. "Come on."

  The two of them stumbled into the jittering dance floor and Dennis transformed. He started whirling Maria around and slipping in and out with the rhythm like it was power to his body. I was so startled that when Andre tried to get me to move I forgot my practiced steps. He dipped me and that reset my head. There was just the floor at my back and his face, hard and sexy, overhead. When I came back up, the music filled me like oxygen and I remembered my footwork like it was breathing.

  My drunkenness burned out as we danced through two songs. The beat switched to a more sensual slow track and the hairs on my spine rose. Bachata, in a club, finally! Andre switched his grip and we slid side to side, deep against each other, already slippery with sweat. Our eyes held each other, while his muscles ground against me. By the time the tempo swung back to salsa, I felt like he had been inside me in the middle of all these people.

  Parts of my jeans were almost drenched to the outside. I motioned over the music that I was going to go the bar to get some water. Andre gestured toward the men’s bathroom. Dennis and Maria swayed in their own world, seriously liplocked. We shared a smile at the sight and then split.

  A wall of people smothered the bar. I found a crack and tried to remember through the haze how to say ‘excuse me.’ Apparently my Spanish wasn't strong enough to survive a kind of hungover brain.

  Right as "por favor" came to my mouth, the guy in front of me turned, saw me and edged out a bit to make room. I thanked him a lot and wiggled in to ask for agua. The young guy working the counter was frowning, but he saw me, winked and came right back with a glass.

  I tried to wiggle back out, but the man who’d helped me in stopped me by the shoulder.

  "Ey, cómo te llamas?" he said.

  "My name?" I asked, stunned by the sudden strength on me. "Uh, why?'

  "Oh, Inglés." He had light skin but dark eyes and a hawklike look in them. Just before I placed it, his own eyes bloomed with recognition. "Ah, the Americana from the bar."

  My stomach dropped into a pit. "Oh, sorry, I don't remember you," I said.

  "Ah senorita, don't play this game. I read men as part of my work, so no woman can fool me. You know me as well as I remember your beautiful face."

  The music kept on playing a disgustingly cheery beat. "Yeah, you are Maria's business partner right?"

  He snickered. "Yes, of course. Business partner. So you could say I am your boss then."

  “I guess…” I was digging myself in deeper and deeper.

  "So you are out already. How about we dance? Then I can show you how to live in this city. What the boss says you cannot refuse, yes?"

  "I'm here with someone," I said. It might have been dumb, but I saw that someone pushing quickly towards us.

  "Oh, who?" He followed my eyes and lost the ugly smile at the sight of Andre's big form looming in on us.

  "Hector. What's going on?" Andre asked in a voice that boomed deeper than the bass.

  I knew that name. This was the same man that had stopped us at the embassy. He was high up.

  "El Muerte Negro," the man said. "Ah, so this is why this woman caught my eye, again and again. She is the prize for winners, yes? "

  "She’s not a prize," Andre said. "But she is mine."

  Hector shrugged. "So you are not done with this one yet?"

  “She’s with me,” was all Andre would say. “There’s plenty of other women here. Try another one.”

  “Ah, but this one has not yet answered my question. Señorita, are you declining me?"

  He wasn’t being polite, but he had a point. "Yes, sorry," I said, shrugging him off. "I came to spend tonight with Andre."

  "Ah, Andre." Hector smiled too broadly at that. "You two must be very close."

  "We're just here to have fun tonight," Andre said, taking my arm.

  "Of course.” Hector nodded, then looked at me with a blank face. “So when can you and I spend some time alone?"

  My mouth hung open.

  "Do you want trouble?" Andre said.

  "Do I want trouble?" Hector laughed and looked up at some men behind him. They were tall and in suits, like a lot of the other guys, but I realized that they must be guards like from the arena. "The monkey wants to give me trouble."

  Andre's muscles tensed on mine. A space had cleared around us. I felt suddenly very afraid. Even with everyone around there was no safety in this city.

  "I’m not looking to fight," Andre said. "I'm just gonna talk to my people in the Cartel and tell them how you're treating their investment."

  "Your people?" Hector drew right into Andre. "You work for my fucking uncle. He will pluck this girl from your arms and make a gift of her to me to remind you who you are. You think you are worth anything? You are just a dancing monkey."

  Even the music seemed to have dimmed.

  "If that's what you call what I do," Andre said softly. "Then you best not stick around in a dance hall with me."

  Hector blinked a few times, then started swearing in Spanish and hustled off towards the door with his henchmen in tow.

  Maria rushed in and held the both of us. "Oh shit," she said. "Why is he here? What did he do?"

  "Nothing," Andre said, still eyeing the door. "He's not gonna do shit."

  "Who was that?" Dennis said, slipping in behind us.

  I tried to remember all the things that he'd said. "What did he mean his uncle is your boss?”

  I saw a flash of doubt in Andre’s eyes but he wiped it away. "It means he's related to the guy that brought me to Mexico. It’s fine. Nothing happened and nothing’s going to happen. I'm valuable to them."

  "Yeah, but what about to him?" Dennis asked. "The Cartel's not disciplined. A kid like that who grew up in power and violence is bound to think he’s above everything."

  "We need to go," Maria said.

  The beat was back in full swing, but now it just sped up my already pounding heart. I slapped the glass down and helped corral Andre toward the door. We went out and grabbed a cab back to the hotel. Andre held my hand, but he couldn't still my brain, which was fixed on one horrifying fact.

  "Your fight is tomorrow," I said.

  "Yeah," he shrugged.

  "You have to walk into the middle of the Cartel," I said. "Hector will be there."

  "He's a little shit. He's not gonna do anything."

  "How can you say that?" I asked. "He could rig the fight."

  "Half my fights are rigged," Andre said, stroking my hair. "Don't worry baby. As long as you're safe, I'm good. Nothing's gonna happen to me."

  He looked away. I glanced at Maria, on my other side, then met Dennis's eyes through the side mirror.

  If Andre was safe, then why did they look so worried?

  4

  Exodus

  “Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home” - Matsuo Basho

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Andre

  All around me faces roared in anger, hundreds of them open and ugly outside the cage. They were like that at the end of all my fights, but I could feel the difference this time. That frustration sat centered on me, for dragging this one out.

  The other guy wobbled a few feet away from me. I could weave in under his stance, and knock him out. The path lay mapped out in my head, but I held back just like
I had the entire fight. The harsh red timer counted down above our heads: Thirty seconds.

  Truth was, I wasn’t worried for me. Hector was connected, yeah, but I was too. Which just meant that if he lashed out he wouldn’t go after me directly. Georgia had a giant target on her and I needed to be at a 100% to keep her safe. I needed to stay whole to get us the hell out of this town.

  People started shouting for murder. No one went to fights to see the clock run out, especially not here. I was The Black Death, fast and vicious, but today I was about as slow as heart disease. What happened here didn’t matter to me anymore. The only fan I cared about was the one I’d watched sleeping last night. Her brow had been creased as if even her dreams didn’t give her comfort.

  Don’t worry, baby. I’m almost home.

  My battered enemy stumbled forward. His face shone with exhaustion but I’d left him otherwise intact, which looked now like a mistake. He was gonna lose without being taken out and the shame of it burned from his eyes.

  "10" flashed in big red digits, and the guy screamed and charged. I pictured the punch line up on his face, but I screwed my fist back and waited for his move.

  He swung. I took it on my shoulder and shoved him back. His other hand had been at his waist, reaching for something maybe, but now it was flailing uselessly. The counter was at 5. He snarled and came at me again. I decided to give the fight a clean end.

  My fist pumped into his face. Something broke under it. The rest of the guy crumpled to the floor just as the buzzer sang.

  The crowd sank with groans. Even after my last close fight most of the bets were over/unders on my time. I’d probably made a few people happy and most of the crowd just pissed. Something to worry about if not for the fact I didn’t plan on being back here again. I only needed to get out of this ring tonight.

  The referee came over and held up my hand for ceremony and it was over. I beat it to my room and packed up my bag. Most of my wardrobe remained in the closet: the calf leather shoes, signed one-of-a-kind sneakers, all but a couple of the exquisitely tailored suits. I left anything from my old life that I couldn’t sell and use in a new one.

  Of course, I took the championship belt I'd won in my first high school tourney back in Atlanta. I took the picture of my mom, beaming at me like she'd had little reason to do when she were still alive. It was the parts of the past I wanted to keep in my memory.