Bad Ink

by Megan Hetherington

  He drags Ulyana to her feet and she slow claps alongside him.

  Carlos thinks he’s lost everything. Although it’s not what will scare him right now. It won’t be what he’s lost which scares him. It will be what he’s gained. Enemies. Gamblers who put big money on his tip-off. His sure bet. Gamblers with ties. And guns. And people who will fire those guns.

  I smile inside when he looks across at Señor Ramirez. Carlos’s mouth twitching with fear.

  When I get to the dressing room, Carlos is already there. As I expected him to be.

  He spins around when I walk through the door. Launching towards me. I sidestep his assault.

  “What the fuck?” he hisses, dragging his short fingers through his greasy black hair. “What the fuck did you do that for?”

  Before I need to answer, the door opens again and Señor Ramirez stands in the doorway.

  Carlos is about to drop to his knees, kiss his feet and beg for mercy.

  But Ramirez ignores him and strides straight to me and pats me on the back, before turning to Carlos.

  “Thank you,” he says to the gob-smacked Carlos. “You surpassed yourself this time, hombre.”

  The range of emotions which pass across Carlos’s face is comical. It’s dawning on him, what I did out there was a massive favor.

  “It’s what makes this game so fucking brilliant,” Ramirez explains.

  Carlos avoids answering, instead, sparking his lighter against his cigar and waiting for more of an explanation.

  Carrying on, Ramirez says, “the double bluff is always the most rewarding. I’ve made twice as much tonight as our original deal. And so did you my friend.”

  Carlos feigns a smile, although I can tell he’s seething underneath.

  He wants to like that Señor Ramirez is thanking him, and he wants to like that he’s made more money than he expected, but what he doesn’t like—it wasn’t within his control.

  And it’s clear in his eyes when he next flicks them across to me.

  I hope it will be short-lived. Like him.

  “You’ll get your money tomorrow, Carlos. Oh, and think of the odds you’ll get next time.“ With one last hearty pat on the back, he leaves Carlos and me alone.

  Carlos waits until the footsteps outside fade. “Raul?”

  “You know I’ve always got your back.” His eyes pierce into mine, I ignore them and nonchalantly unwind the tape on my hands. “This way everyone is happy. Ramirez was going to double-cross you, anyway.”

  “How?” His head slowly cocking on to one side, the weight of the revelation making him engage every brain cell he possesses. “How, hermano?”

  “The other guy was going to tap out in round four.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because it was the bet Señor Ramirez was going to make. I heard about it from Chico and persuaded Ramirez to go with my suggestion instead. This way, everybody was left guessing: the bookies, the organizers, even the opponent was surprised.”

  “So why didn’t Chico come to me?”

  “Because if he had, you’d have known. To work, this had to be a surprise to everyone.”

  Carlos considers me for a second, then leaps over and gives me a resounding clap on the face with both hands.

  “You’re a fucking genius, hermano.” He kisses me on the lips. “But never do it again.”

  “That was definitely the last time.”

  He sucks on his cigar for a few puffs while I untie my boots and slip out of my shorts.

  “You’re a dark horse, Raul,” he shouts after me as I head for a shower. “Maybe it should be your new fighter name. Raul the horse.”

  I laugh at his unfunny humor, and turn on the shower. It’s then when I allow my legs to shake with how close I came.

  When I get out of the shower, he’s sat on his own on a bench which isn’t a good sign. Carlos on his own means Carlos with his thoughts and that’s a dangerous place to be.

  “So, it’s time to party, Raul?” It’s not a question, even though he couches it that way. There’s only one time in this life to go against Carlos’s direct orders and I’ve already used that.

  “Sure.”

  “It must have killed you passing up on the booty these last couple of weeks.”

  “The fight was important. Success is in the preparation you know?”

  He laughs. “Good, well now the fight is over, it will be pussy on tap.”

  I’m not looking forward to that.

  The last two weeks with Cate mean I’ve not given the whores a second thought and I can’t cheat on her. Not now.

  If I could, I’d make my move now before the dust has a chance to settle.

  The next couple of days waiting for Chico and Ramirez to finish what they’ve started will crucify me.

  25

  Isaac

  I was physically sick on Saturday night. Although I side-stepped anything compromising, it still clawed away at me I was having to spend a single minute in Carlos’s company. And not be with Cate.

  Although he bitched about Ramirez to me, I know he doesn’t have the balls to do anything about it. He doesn’t know Ramirez is the jefe whose territory he robbed. Nor that Ramirez was in prison with me.

  Carlos has learnt nothing from his first failed drug haul seven years ago. Or certainly the most important lesson. Know everyone. Learn everything you can about the players, large and small. Significant and inconsequential. Carlos’s ego is too big for any of that. He thinks he should act the person he wants to be. Above everyone else and above reproach. He knew nothing about the land he claims is his heritage. Never did and never will.

  He celebrated hard. And as soon as he passed out in the club, I sneaked home.

  Sunday was a recovery day for me, spent at home on my own. It was the longest day of my life, waiting on confirmation from Chico the fallout from the bets is ricocheting around town. Carlos will feel the squeeze soon.

  And today, I have to make out there’s nothing wrong. So it means I’ve completed a run on legs which wanted to sprint in the opposite direction and I’m now punishing myself at the gym.

  “Carlos wants to see you.” I look up from my weights to Joe. “He’s in his office.” He scurries away before I’m able to ask why.

  After completing my reps, I grab my towel and water, carrying them with me along the corridor and up the stairs to Carlos’s office.

  He doesn’t do business from here and I’ve no idea why he’s asked to see me instead of coming to the gym floor. But then that’s Carlos for you. Likes to keep everyone on their toes.

  I try not to read too much into it as I bound up the stairs two at a time, flinging the towel over my shoulder.

  The door is ajar and I push on it, realizing as I do, the groans and grunts will lead to a vision I won’t be able to unsee.

  Ulyana’s sister, Zoya, tilts her head, as much as she can with a belt looped around her neck, and glances over her shoulder at me. She smirks before the next yank of the belt pulls her back onto Carlos’s thrusts. The wheels of the chair she’s knelt on squeak as they move back and forth against the friction of the carpeted floor.

  I turn and click shut the door.

  Fucker. He wanted to me to see that.

  And I bet her pussy clenched around his cock when she saw me.

  “Raul,” he bellows after me.

  “Catch you later,” I shout back, tripping on down the stairs.

  I need to react normally, not in a way which would make him suspect there’s something wrong. Going home now would only lead to him visiting me there, when I’m about to leave for good.

  I carry on with my weight routine until I can pump no more. It’s not possible to further sculpt my physique, but it still takes effort to keep it in shape.

  It’s mid-afternoon now and most have left for the day to their jobs and lives. My intention is to shower and change, go back to my apartment for my usual sleep then meet with Cate in Granville. But Carlos is in the changing room, circling the w
ooden-slatted bench while he talks into a cell held in front of his mouth. He wants the person on the other end to shut up and listen as he’s got no intention of hearing what they have to say.

  I acknowledge him with a nod, I’ve no desire to eavesdrop, in fact quite the opposite. He winks at me, a gesture loaded with meaning.

  Leaving him to it, I grab two protein drinks from the refrigerator in the kitchen. Draining one straightaway, I cast the empty plastic into a nearby trashcan and repeatedly toss the full one as I make my way to the stretching mats.

  Juan enters the gym to work out. Heading over, he tells me discreetly, the last piece of the jigsaw is in place and shit will now heat up. Ramirez has given the nod for me to leave San Diego.

  I pop in my earbuds and lay on a mat, hugging one bent leg into my chest and then the other. I’m going to take five minutes, finish my routine and then get out of this shithole for the last time ever.

  “Do you fancy a bout?” Carlos has snuck up on me, lent over my face and removed one of my earbuds. He punches the air between us.

  I politely laugh. “You’re joking, right?” It’s not unusual for us to spar in the ring; but right now?

  “I’m serious, hermano.” He looks away briefly and then, with a less than pleasant expression, fixes his stare back at me. “Why, you got somewhere else you want to be?”

  Sirens go off in my head. It may be paranoia or it may be Carlos being Carlos. Either way, I must play this cool. I’m supposed to be meeting Cate this afternoon and I don’t need a tail from one of Carlos’s men.

  “No. I’m done for today and going home for my regular sleep.” I realize I’m explaining myself too much.

  “It won’t take long. Still time for you to get your beauty sleep before the club.” He throws a pair of training gloves at me from out of a box at the side of the ring. “I’ve pent up energy today for some reason.”

  “Yeah, about that.” I point upstairs. “Did you want to see me on something?” I push away the image of him sticking his dick into Zoya.

  “Probably. But whatever it is, has gone right out of my mind.” He chuckles.

  “So, we’re actually doing this?”

  “Yeah why not?” He hops from foot to foot, punching the air between us.

  I inwardly sigh. “Do you want a gum shield?”

  “Will I need one?”

  “Always.” I deadpan.

  For a moment, I think I glimpse worry in his eyes but then, maybe not. Carlos is on the wrong side of insane and it gives him a ruthless edge. And in my seven years in the Mexican jail I think I’ve seen a full spectrum of hard men. So many men with nothing to lose and every crazy-ass reason to try. Carlos is up there on that scale.

  He leaps over the top rope, as is his fashion. He is wiry with not an inch of fat on him. His olive skin marred with rudimentary tattoos, mostly etched onto his skin before puberty. Such was his destiny. Whereas mine are more detailed and cover most of my body, depicting incidents which have shaped me both good and bad. His tells only one story—his one goal in life. To be the head of this joke of a crew and rule it with a hard-hearted stranglehold.

  Juan looks over at us, a flash of concern darts across his face and he settles onto a pec-deck with a full view of the ring. Two other trainers leave for the changing rooms. I guess it’s gonna be hard watching this for some. A misplaced smirk could see their life change.

  I slip between the ropes and for the first few minutes Carlos circles the ring, leaping from one foot to the other in a display of cockiness. I smoothly pivot on the spot keeping him in front of me at all times. My arms are elevated from my side and I’m ready for him to pounce, which eventually he will.

  “That was Pedro on the phone earlier,” he tells me.

  I jerk my chin to him in a non-comital fashion.

  “He’s dealing with the fallout from Saturday night.”

  I shrug my shoulders as I continue to circle. “Nothing he can’t handle, I shouldn’t imagine.”

  “Yeah that’s right. Pedro will fix it.”

  Then, with lightning speed, he makes his attack and even though I see it coming, he still latches onto my upper arms. He tries to swipe my legs from underneath me but unlike him, I don’t miss out on leg day. Like a tree rooted to the ground I’m immovable. I take advantage of his imbalance and push him over. We roll to the floor, writhing around until I have the upper hand.

  He’s not going to injure me and I have to show the same restraint. Because as much as I want to and will if I have to, I won’t snap his neck. It will be down to one of the losers from the betting.

  Carlos never knew who eventually bet on his recommendation, but those who did will see it as his fault. Especially when it comes to light, as it’s starting to, he won from the last-minute switch in result. Chico will make sure the right information gets into the right hands. That way Chico and Ramirez stay clean, while Carlos takes the fall. Just like he did to me all those years ago.

  Like the snake he is, Carlos slips from underneath me and jumps on my back, hooking his elbow around my windpipe. For a moment he thinks he has me but it doesn’t take much to flip him over my head, where he lands square on his back on the mat. I resist the urge to jump flat on top of him, making do by resting my body weight progressively onto his chest. With the air squeezed out of him it doesn’t take the cigar smoker long to tap on the floor.

  “I’m out,” he gasps.

  I jump to my feet and offer out a hand. He pulls on it laughing at the situation. Although I’m sure if anyone else joined in his laughter, it wouldn’t be funny for very long.

  “We should do it more often,” he jokes.

  I don’t respond.

  “So, you coming to the club tonight?” he asks “Or have you got other plans?”

  I roll my lips.

  He throws his gloves straight passed my ear towards the storage box. “Maybe to hook up with some girl I’ve never seen before?”

  Not expecting an answer he carries on, shaking his arms and shoulders as if to loosen up. “Actually, I’m beat. You’ve seriously taken it out of me, hermano.”

  There’s a brief mask of seriousness on his face followed by a hearty chortle. But that’s Carlos for you. Nobody ever knows if he’s joking or not and which way to take him. Although if anyone ever asked my advice, I would tell them straight. Dead serious.

  “I think I’ll pass on the club—spend the night at home with my beautiful girlfriend.”

  My stomach churns in disgust.

  “Only joking.” He laughs, “I’ll see you at the club later. The guys will pick you up.”

  26

  Cate

  I take several deep breaths to calm my nerves as I skip up the stairs to the school entrance.

  Nothing unusual, it’s what Isaac made me repeat when I last saw him on Friday night. Nothing out of the ordinary and although I could hardly concentrate at work today, Elliot stepped up to the mark and took on more than I expected. I hope he gets the promotion he deserves when they fill my position.

  As I reach the top step, I see someone out the corner of my eye heading toward me and, although I keep my focus, there’s something about the movement of this person which makes me paranoid.

  Three more steps before I reach the security console which will give me access into the school.

  My heart beats out of my chest and my mouth becomes alarmingly dry.

  One more step.

  I reach in my purse for the security tag given to parents, but it’s not in the pocket I usually keep it. Panic rises from deep within my stomach. I lower my wrist, so a strap sags open in the cavernous purse. Frantically, I scrabble for the orange lanyard they attach the security tags to; pushing through the myriad of useless articles which litter my purse. I’m about to turf everything out onto the floor when something touches my elbow. Or someone.

  My legs turn to Jell-O and I’d scream, if I could, but my mouth is so parched no sound materializes.

  All I can do, is suck in a shar
p breath before I turn to look with no implements or weapon other than my feet and fists. I try to remember the moves Isaac showed me and I’m about to stomp on the person’s foot when a glimpse of orange catches my attention.

  “Here, ma’am, you dropped this outside of your car.”

  I lift a hand to calm my heaving chest and muster a smile. With the key fob now firmly in my hand, I swipe the console.

  All is quiet and cool inside the school except for the clicking of my heels, which grow faster as I hasten my pace to the reception window.

  The administration staff in the office chatter away and normally I would wait until they look up. But for obvious reasons I’m in a hurry today and don’t want to waste any time. I press lightly on the top of a brass desk bell.

  A receptionist, Josie, comes to the desk.

  “Cate. Everything okay?”

  “I’m here to pick Hope up.”

  She nods, the smile on her face turning into a frown. “Dentist. She’s gone to the dentist,” she says.

  For a moment I maintain my smile while I decipher what she said.

  “Is it her teacher you’re here to see?”

  “No… What do you mean? Her dentist appointment is tomorrow.” The anxiety rising in my voice.

  Isaac and I planned meticulously by putting three appointments in the next few weeks for her. Everything as usual. All planned as if we will be here tomorrow and back in town after Disney.

  “It was in the diary Cate, you put it in yourself.”

  I could have sworn I double checked it and it was for Tuesday.

  Tears cloud my eyes and my voice cracks when I ask “Who?” It’s the only word I’m able to utter.

  For a moment the receptionist looks at me blankly then she realizes what I mean, she says with a smile, “Hope’s grandmother. We called her when you didn’t show. We don’t let the kids go with anyone. Only those who parents have approved. We tried to call you.”