INVINCIBLE (Fight #2)

by London Casey

  That was good enough for me.

  I walked to the edge of the circle and then left it. It was completely disrespectful to walk out of the circle like that. The fight hadn’t been called, except in my head.

  I shouldn’t have been there.

  I should have been drunk.

  I should have been crying.

  I should have been fighting myself.

  I should have just done the right thing… and just done myself in.

  ~

  People touched my shoulders. People screamed my name. People told me I was a great fighter. People told me I fought like a pussy. Someone threw a drink at me for costing them money.

  I went into the hallway and looked up and down. I thought about that voice behind me from before. Asking me if I was okay. No, I fucking wasn’t okay at all. I wanted to find that bitch and show her that I wasn’t okay. You want the fucking fantasy of fucking a fighter? Then come and fucking get it.

  As I walked the hall, I touched my cheek. It was swollen pretty good. Johnny had a hell of a left on him. Maybe he’d smarten up and once he got his ankle and knee fixed, he’d go back to the fucking ring with some gloves and a referee.

  I found the bathroom and splashed water on my face. My cheek was bleeding pretty good. An inch higher with his fist and Johnny would have knocked my eye swollen shut.

  I hung my head, leaving the water running…

  “Get him over here! Get some water on his face! He’ll wake up!”

  I stood there, alone. It was like nobody gave a shit about Shane. I swore I could see dirt mixed with the blood from the guy’s boot. That might have been the final blow that killed Shane. Or maybe Shane had died after the first blow.

  The crowd stirred and was breaking up. A lot of the guys in the crowd looked sick to their stomachs. Yeah, fuck you all. Fantasize about the violence and death… then you see it… and you get sick?

  I dropped to my knees and grabbed Shane’s head. My thumbs at his temples, my fingers at the back of his skull. It was warm and mushy. At first, I thought it was his hair. Then I realized… it was his head. His brains. My fingers were digging into my brother’s brains.

  He was gone.

  He was fucking gone.

  I looked up and Aton stood there, in a white suit, black tie, a look of disgust on his face.

  “Get him out of here,” Aton said. “What a goddamn shame.”

  “Don’t take him,” I said. “He needs help.”

  “Wes, he needs a hole to be dug,” Aton said. “It’s over. I’m sorry. It’s just business.”

  It’s just business.

  Everything was business. Even the family was all about business. They had everything from corporations to politicians in their pockets. If someone didn’t do what the family wanted, they killed the person or overtook his position of power.

  There was nothing I could do about it.

  Aton paid for a small funeral. For the casket, the plot, and the stone. He did it to keep me sane. To normalize Shane’s death as though it were some unavoidable tragedy.

  I stared at myself in the mirror. I gripped the sink and then felt myself let go. I pulled the sink from the wall and slammed it to the ground. Water shot up out of the pipe as I turned and walked to the bathroom door.

  I saw Danny waving at me, wanting me.

  I walked the other way.

  What the fuck did it matter? I needed whiskey and I needed to visit Shane. I had already fucked the night… but the good news? If everything went as needed, I’d be joining my brother in afterlife by morning.

  3.

  (Rose)

  “When is it ever going to be safe?”

  I laughed and snorted, the wine definitely doing its job. My best friend - or closest thing I could have to a best friend - Macie sat next to me on the couch.

  “You tell me,” I said, slurring a little.

  “You’re in this, not me.”

  “You’re fucking my brother.”

  “Only when he chooses me,” Macie said and frowned.

  She was in love with Luke and I would never understand why. Luke wasn’t the kind of guy you liked, or loved. Maybe you just respected him and only enough to just stay the hell away from him.

  We were in a cramped apartment above a restaurant. The restaurant was a front for some gambling and dancing that happened in the back room and the basement. Nothing about the place was legal, but the apartment was a great hideout spot. Luke told me to hang here for the night, until the smoke cleared. I had no idea what that meant. Well, truthfully, it meant Luke caused a problem. I just didn’t know what kind of problem that was.

  At least I had Macie.

  And wine.

  “When is Luke going to come back?” Macie asked.

  “Take it easy,” I said. “You know how he is.”

  “I’m kind of eager…”

  “Ew,” I whispered.

  I stood up and the room spun.

  “Don’t be jealous.”

  I looked back at Macie. “First off, I’m not jealous of anything. He’s my brother. It’s just… you and him. Together. I can’t picture it.”

  “Oh, I can,” Macie said and twirled her finger in her hair.

  “He’s…” I sighed. “You know who he is. He’s killed people, Macie. Is that what you want?”

  “He’d kill for me I bet,” Macie said. “It’s hot.”

  No, it’s not. You think it is. But it’s not. He’s really deadly. He used to fight. He gets paid now to protect… to steal… to kill… he’s the bad guy! He’s the fucking bad guy!

  “What?” Macie asked. “You’re giving me the eyes.”

  “No I’m not,” I said.

  “Look, I said you’re jealous because I’m getting sex and you’re not. That’s why you’re angry right now. Face it.”

  “Sex? Are you kidding me?”

  “When was the last time you had sex?”

  “Why is that relevant?”

  “Exactly,” Macie said. “I know you’re kind of protected by Luke. It’s sexy, really. I mean, not you and him. Just that he would go so far for his sister. It’s so manly.”

  I gritted my teeth. It had nothing to do with Luke being a man. Luke needed me and used me. And I did the same for him for my own mistakes that were always looking to take me down.

  Bottom line - Macie didn’t understand my life. Or Luke’s.

  “Don’t worry about my sex life,” I said.

  “You have no sex life,” Macie shot back.

  “Maybe I like it that way.”

  “Yeah, right. I don’t know how you do it. You get to watch those sexy sweating fighters and it doesn’t do anything for you?”

  I thought about the guy from the other night. Standing there, facing the wall. His muscles were trapped in my mind. My fingers tingled, along with some other places.

  “Look at you getting red,” Macie said. “You like it! You like the fights.”

  “I grew up involved,” I said. “I have a rule against that stuff though. There’s so much money involved, if anything goes wrong, people die.”

  “What? If you fucked someone and they lost, it’s your fault?”

  I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. Depends on who is running the fighter?”

  “What do you mean?”

  Macie stared at me innocent, brown, doe-like eyes. She really had no clue. She was pampered, spoiled, and thought all of this was a game. I used to think that way too. Until I saw people die. Until my father died. Until my brother started to hold me hostage to make him money. Until I tried to get out of it all and ended up almost dead. Well, I was supposed to be dead… and they would find me and kill me.

  “Nothing,” I whispered. “Just nothing.”

  “Hey, are you supposed to be drinking wine?” Macie asked. “I mean, does it bloat you or anything before a shoot?”

  “I don’t give a damn,” I said and walked toward the window.

  Outside the street was normal. Cars coming and going. The valet gu
y leaning against the podium. He was the owner’s nephew, Marco. Not the smartest guy in the world so they let him park the cars and earn on tips.

  There was a thundering boom on the door.

  “Open the fuck up!” Luke’s voice bellowed.

  Macie hurried to jump up.

  As I walked by her, she grabbed my arm and told me to wait. She fixed her hair, pulled on her shirt to show more cleavage, and took a deep breath.

  I opened the door and Luke came barreling in, still dressed in his fancy suit. Only now he looked a little messy. His hair roughed up, his face white. I thought for a second there was an attack or something but then I saw his eyes.

  He’d been snorting.

  “Hey Luke,” Macie said as she looked at her nails, trying to be casual.

  “Macie. What are you doing up here?”

  “Waiting on you.”

  “Let’s go then. I’ll give you a tour of the kitchen. Private.”

  “I’d like that,” Macie said.

  Just like that, my best friend walked to my brother. She touched his chest and then poked at his chin with her pointer finger. Luke grinned and then smacked at her ass. Macie jumped forward, yelling.

  She left without saying goodbye to me.

  When the door shut, Luke’s smile was gone.

  “I’m going to tear her apart.”

  “That’s gross. That’s my friend.”

  “She’s not your fucking friend. You don’t have any friends. Remember that. You don’t get close to anyone. They’re all out to use you, Rose. Christ.”

  “Why am I up here, Luke? I want to go to my place.”

  “No. I can’t have that. Where’d you park?”

  “Marco parked it.”

  “Eh, fuck. Stupid kid. He’s going to get his brain blown through his asshole someday.”

  “Luke, why are you acting all weird right now? You’ve been off for a few days. Ever since the fight…”

  Luke rubbed his nose. “Fuck that. Don’t worry about that, Rose. You get a paycheck yet from that other thing? That catalog thing?”

  “Not yet.”

  “I’ll get it,” Luke said. “I’ll send Jimmy and Little Ace down there.”

  “No!” I said. “Please don’t do that. Don’t burn bridges.”

  Luke laughed. “I only burn them so I could build them and call them my own. That’s how we survive this, Rose. Okay? You just need to hang tight. Play it cool. Yeah?”

  “You’re high, Luke. You shouldn’t be on drugs when you’re worrying about business.”

  Luke growled and snapped. I should have known he was going to smack me. Maybe I was used to it. Maybe I didn’t care anymore. I felt the pain as I went down to the floor. I put one hand down to catch myself, which only ended up hurting my wrist.

  “You’re not Ma,” Luke snapped. “She’s fucking dead, just like Dad. They’re fucking gone and I’m not. I’m carrying all this shit on my own, Rose. You don’t fucking listen you’re going to end up in a hole like them. Goddammit.”

  I stared up at Luke. He was the monster. He was evil. I never needed to look under my bed or in my closet to find a monster.

  I kept my mouth shut and waited Luke out.

  He adjusted his suit, tugged on his tie, and then moved for the door. He left the apartment and I rubbed my cheek. I climbed to my feet and went to the small kitchen. I grabbed a bag of frozen peas and slapped them against my cheek.

  I wanted to run away. For real. That’s what I had tried to do before and that ended bad. So fucking bad. I was trapped. The saddest part of it all… the pain from Luke was far less than the pain that waited if I really tried to leave.

  What I truly wanted… what I needed… was someone to come save me. To take me. To keep me their secret.

  ~

  “Are you okay?”

  He started to turn around.

  Holy fuck, he’s turning around.

  The beautifully built back and arms soon became a chiseled chest and stomach. Black hair hiding his face, his head down a little. Veins throbbing from his hands all the way up through his biceps and into his shoulders. A man built through giving and taking punches. A man built through facing fear and death, always coming out on top. Always surviving. Always ready for the next battle.

  “You can talk to me,” I said. “It’s okay. I promise.”

  I stepped toward him. My hands reached out and touched his stomach. He was sweaty, my fingertips twitching. The ripples of muscle that went up and up to a well defined chest. But I kept going. I touched his neck. Then his face. The roughness of his facial hair was like sandpaper to my palms. I kept going even more. My fingers touched his wet hair, pushing it up and out of his face.

  His hands then grabbed my waist. A second later, he spun me around and put me against the wall.

  “What do you want?” he asked, that growly voice shooting through my heart.

  “You,” I whispered. “You to save me. To take me away.”

  I started to move his hair back even more. I needed to see his face. To stare into his eyes. To look at his lips before I tasted them.

  “You have no idea…”

  My phone started to ring. I turned my head and saw a nightstand. An alarm clock. A lamp. My phone glowing and vibrating. I looked forward again, wanting to apologize, but he was gone again.

  Duh, Rose! You’re awake!

  I blinked fast and I realized I was in the dark. I was in bed, my left hand dangerously close to my inner thigh.

  Was I really just about to…?

  My phone kept ringing and vibrating.

  “Okay, okay,” I grumbled.

  Of course, it was Luke calling.

  I grabbed the phone, yawning, and answered it.

  “Luke… it’s the mid-”

  “Don’t you even leave the fucking room, Rose! You understand me?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m in bed.”

  “Get under the bed. In the closet. Something. You understand?”

  “No, I don’t! I’m tired of this Luke!”

  The phone went silent for a few seconds. I could hear my brother breathing. He was angry. Very angry. He wanted to hurt me, I could sense it through the phone. Yet at the same time he protected me because I was something of a prize to him.

  “Rose, listen to me carefully. You hide in that fucking room until I tell you not to.”

  “Give me one good reason,” I said, tired and cocky.

  Luke did just that…

  “Because they’re coming to kill you, Rose. Tonight.”

  4.

  (Wes)

  I drank myself drunk for days after the fight. Each time I shut my eyes or tried to sleep, all I could see was Shane. Except Shane was Johnny, or Johnny was Shane. It was Shane’s face but the giant eagle tattoo from Johnny on his body. Shane on the ground, begging for his life. Reaching back into his own head, pulling out his brains, showing them to me. Then he’d ask me why, over and over until I woke up.

  I put a bucket next to my bed because each time I woke up, I puked my guts out. I wasn’t sure if it was from the booze or the dream of brains.

  Thinking about it made my fingers tingle.

  I had put one mission on my life and that was to find the guy who killed Shane and get revenge. All I knew - and all Aton told me - was that the fighter was called the assassin. He didn’t fight under a name, simply called the assassin. He always wore a black mask when he fought. Rumor had it that the fight - the fucking murder - with Shane had been his last one.

  I licked my lips and reached for the bottle.

  It was empty.

  Another bottle gone.

  I dropped it to the floor and swung my feet off the edge of the bed. I ran my hands through my hair and looked around the room. I was hungry. I was horny. I wanted to fight something, someone.

  Falling to the floor, I dug under the bed and found another bottle. I had walked into the liquor store a few days ago and put down more than enough money to buy all I needed
to drink myself to death. Only I kept doing it wrong. I’d get drunk and pass out. I’d never push myself over that edge.

  “Fucking pussy,” I whispered.

  I twisted the top off the bottle and took a swig. The sudden taste of chocolate made my stomach turn. I swallowed and then it all came back up. My face was in a trashcan, the smell of rotten vomit making me throw up even more. Through my hazy eyes I saw the bottle was goddamn chocolate vodka. I had no idea how the fuck that happened.

  I heard the door to my apartment open.

  Most people would get freaked out, right?

  I didn’t care.

  My bedroom door then opened and two men stood there, holding guns.

  They were Aton’s guys.

  I put my hands up, my fingers like guns, like I used to do with Shane when we were kids.

  “Pow! Pow!” I said.

  “Jesus Christ,” one of the guys said. “It stinks in here.”

  I saw Aton push through and his nose wrinkled at the odor. “Goddamn, Wes. I figured it would stink in here, but I thought it was going to be your body decomposing. Thought you were dead.”

  “I am dead,” I said.

  “No, you’re not. And we need to talk.” Aton waved his hand in front of his nose. “Get him in a cold shower. I’ll go make some coffee. Back to business, right now.”

  I grabbed at the bed and tried to stand up. I kicked the bucket of vomit over. One of the guys, standing about seven feet tall, grabbed his stomach and started to dry heave.

  “Toughen up,” Aton said. “Get him cleaned up.”

  Next thing I knew the two guys were grabbing me by the arms. They dragged me out of the bedroom and into the bathroom. They tossed me into the shower and turned on the water. One of them turned on the shower and the ice cold water hit me. My body stiffened and I screamed for a second. I propped myself up on my hands and knees and threw up again. So I just stayed there, letting the water hit me.

  “Squirt him with soap,” one of the guys said.

  They drew a line of shampoo from my head down to my ass, even though I was wearing clothes.

  They then argued over who was going to clean up my room.

  I looked up and let the cold water pound on my face. I reached up and started to pull myself up. I got to my feet, put my hands to the wall, and stood there. My stomach was empty. My heart was empty. My head was full of memories. I pushed from the wall and stood on my own. I grabbed my shirt and peeled it off my body. I dropped my jeans, boxers, and left all my clothes. I stepped back into the cold water and washed myself.