by Silva Hart
“The thing is, he was fine until after the movie. I thought it would be cool to go to The Overlook. I mean, I’ve always had fun there with you. And I like looking out over the town, especially at night. But the way he was talking about it while we were driving … I don’t know, I just got a weird vibe from him. I started feeling like maybe it wouldn’t be such a good idea to go there alone with him.”
“He wanted in your pants.”
She snorts. “Like that would ever happen.”
This makes me feel better about how their night went.
“I guess he assumed it was a date. I thought we were just hanging out. That’s what we do in California anyway. But then things are a little more chill there.”
When we get to her house, no lights are on. She stares at the drawn curtains for a moment. “I bet he’ll be a total asshole at school now.”
“Probably.”
“Like I don’t have enough to deal with.” She sighs. “Whatever. See you later.”
“Yep.” I feel bad for her. Having Carlton and his gang chewing on your ass at every chance is no picnic. That I can definitely attest to. I’ll just have to look out for her even more now. They won’t get a chance to harass her. Not on my watch.
The next morning, I plod into school. A girl steps from the faceless throng and stands facing me. She’s blushing furiously from the neck of her peach sweater to the roots of her short, wavy auburn hair. “Hi, Jett.” She sounds as if she’s just run around the school ten times and is trying to catch her breath.
I glance at her and step around. She’s probably from some club that’s trying to sell something.
She blocks my path again and holds something out. “Um … I won these tickets to the dance.”
I stop and look at her. What dance? What does she want?
“I was wondering if you want them.”
What?
She fidgets nervously under my mute stare. “I thought maybe you could use them.”
Has she ever seen me at a school dance? No. No one has. So what the hell is this about?
She’s looking desperate, sweat beading on her upper lip. “I mean, you can take anyone you want. It doesn’t have to be me.”
“No thanks,” I say.
Pools form in her eyes. Her blush deepens, which I would have bet wasn’t even possible. She jerks her hand back as if I stabbed it with a pencil. I haven’t done that since third grade. “Oh … um … sorry,” she stammers.
What is she apologizing for?
One of her friends shrieks, “I told you to just asked him to the dance.”
I’ve never even seen that girl before. What the hell would make her think I’d want to go to a school dance with her? This has put me behind in my morning routine, and I come across Anna at her locker.
“Hey,” I say.
She looks up. “Hey.” Her eyes flick past me and she mumbles, “Here they come.”
Now I feel as if I should go find that weird girl and thank her. If she hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t be here for this. Carlton is with Grant. Of course he is. They both glare at me.
“Hey, Anna,” Grant says. “I was wondering if I could talk to you for a minute.”
“Sure,” she says, not moving.
His eyes dart to me then back to her. “I mean, in private.”
“This is as private as I’m ever going to get with you.”
Grant’s lips thin, but Carlton gives him a nudge from behind. “Okay, well, I just wanted to apologize for last night. I drank too much and acted like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that. I probably shouldn’t have even been driving, so I’m sorry about that too.”
Seriously? I did not see that coming.
Anna softens. She even rewards him with one of those trophy-worthy smiles. “Thanks. And, yeah, I get it. Alcohol has made me stupid before too.”
Grant exhales a relieved laugh. “Yeah.”
Carlton steps in. “Hey, you want to go to the game with us tonight? There’ll be about a dozen of us. Everyone’s coming to my place for pizza and beer after school.”
“I’ll see.”
“Cool,” Grant says with a shit-eating grin. “Well, see you later.”
“Yep.”
She closes her locker door and we walk to homeroom.
“Well, that was different,” she says.
“Yeah, it was.”
“Those guys don’t seem so bad.”
Damn, that sure as hell worked well for them.
After homeroom, Lexi comes bounding up to me like a puppy who hasn’t seen its owner all day. “Oh my God, Jett. You helped me so much with algebra yesterday. Can we make that a regular thing?”
The only thing it would interrupt is my third study hall of the day. “Sure, why not?”
She squeezes my bicep. “Thanks, you’re a life saver.”
In class, we have a pop quiz. Lexi looks back at me over her shoulder and gives me a thumbs up. She’ll pass this one because of me. It feels good.
After school, I spot Anna ahead of me. It’s Friday and Dair and I are going to the fights. She’ll probably want to come along. I’m about to call out to her when I catch Galloway’s lime green Porsche out of the corner of my eye. As if the color isn’t obnoxious enough, it has a spoiler the size of a dinner table, a black thunderbolt painted down the sides, and orange spinner rims.
It slows to a stop, the rims still whirling. A window rolls down. Grant pokes his head out. “Hey, Anna. Want to go hang out at Carlton’s?”
She wavers.
“Come on, it’ll be fun. You’ve never seen anything like his place. A bunch of us are going. Free pizza and beer before the game.”
She shrugs. “Okay.”
My knuckles whiten as she gets into their car. What the hell? I have half a mind to follow them but decide that would be pointless. And since when did I stalk someone?
At the gym, I work out. Dair comes in, but One-Eyed Mike keeps him busy on footwork so we don’t get a chance to talk. After the gym closes, we go around to the back of the building.
“Hey, so you meet Mia yet?”
I laugh. “No.” Why’s he so nervous about that?
I scan the area then duck behind the dumpster and down a short set of steps to a metal door.
“I didn’t even know this was back here,” Dair says.
We walk down the damp, narrow hallway to the metal door. I rap on it, and One-Eyed Mike’s eye appears in the six-inch letterbox window. When he sees I’ve brought Dair, his gaze softens and I know he approves.
“Hey, I’m glad you showed up tonight. I had a guy cancel on me at the last minute. Normally, I have a waiting list but there must be a full moon or something because things are happening all over and no one can make it. You mind filling in?”
“Sure, why not?”
“What spot you want?”
I hadn’t really planned on fighting tonight. “Wherever you need me.”
“How bad you need cash?”
“I could always use it.”
“All right, you’re up second. Terry and some guy named Creed are on first. You’ll fight the winner of that one.”
“Who else is on?”
“Starting with Terry and Creed, then you, Austen, Carlos, Don, Jimmy, Ivan, Lorenzo, and Mac.”
Ha, so he put Mac last. I bet that’s One-Eyed Mike’s payback for disrespecting him.
Dair has been listening but also taking in the dim basement room lit only by a bare bulb in the center under which the fights take place. Everyone’s faces are kept in shadows on purpose. Greetings, smack-talking, and the pros and cons of different fighters fills the air.
We step aside for others to place their bets.
“Which one should I go with?” Dair asks me.
“What if I tell you wrong?” I’m not comfortable betting with someone else’s money.
He shrugs. “I’d rather have some information than none.”
“Terry is the martial arts guy. He’s fast. Creed must be someon
e who got an invite. Never heard of him. So that one could be a toss-up.”
“Hmm,” Dair says.
“I need to go warm-up.”
He nods.
I go into one of the side rooms and stretch then start jumping rope. I wasn’t exactly expecting this, but then again I don’t expect most of the fights I get into.
One-Eyed Mike signals the start. Everyone forms a ring. I’ve never fought Terry before and want to know what this Creed guy can do so go out to watch.
Terry is a lithe red-head. Creed is a muscled Mexican. His arms are about as big as Terry’s legs. The fight starts. Creed circles Terry. Terry, used to more forward attacks from opponents, pivots in the center to stay facing him. Creed throws a jab. Terry dodges.
He’s fast but, when he tries to counter-punch, I can tell then Creed has him. The kid just doesn’t have enough power to affect the squat boxer who moves as if he’s been in his share of matches, maybe even pro.
Creed knocks Terry down and Terry signals he’s done. I don’t blame him. I’m pretty sure this is his first time here, and he’s just not ready for a guy like Creed. I hope he doesn’t get discouraged and give up. Not everyone is as good as Creed.
I roll my neck and step into the circle. Creed eyes me up and down, sizing, assessing, strategizing. I know because I’m doing the same. I’ve got at least eight inches in height on him. We circle. He jabs. I dodge. I jab and land. It’s like punching a wall. This guy won’t be easy.
This will be one of those slow ones all about stamina. We continue on. The crowd is silent. As we show each other’s abilities some respect, he scratches his stomach. He literally takes the time to scratch his stomach.
It’s the gesture Tony always makes before he gets a beer. Tony. A shot of pure power surges through me. I jump at Creed with everything, swinging a flurry of punches, changing it up, moving, dodging, connecting blow after blow.
He seems completely thrown off by my attack. A blow to the jaw drops him. He sits, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, gazing up at me. He gets up. Guys like him are used to going until a knockout or a bell. There’s no bell here.
I roll my shoulders and go at him again. Tony. Attacking. Relentless. This is Tony. A gash appears over his eye. He wipes away blood. I crack him across the temple and see his eyes lose focus. One more shot and he lays flat.
Chapter 16
One-Eyed Mike comes into the ring signaling the end. Creed gets up and fist bumps me. “Good fight, kid,” he says. Yeah, he’s definitely pro.
One-Eyed Mike calls Austin’s name. This is another one I’ve never seen before. A tall kid about my age with tousled, dirty-blond hair kisses a petite brunette before stepping into the ring. So, he’s here to impress a chick. Not the best reason.
He puts his fists up and smiles over at the girl. She clasps her hands and smiles back. Jesus. I feel like telling him there are way better flirting techniques than getting your face bashed in.
The match starts, and he hops around the ring like the damn Easter Bunny. I wait patiently, my arms down, watching him make a fool of himself. He slides toward me, his head bobbing and weaving. He swings sloppy, and I give him an upper-cut to the ribs.
He grimaces, falls back, and starts hopping around the ring again. The next time he approaches, I block his swing with one hand and drill him in the eye with my other. He swears loudly and folds in half, clutching his eye. The brunette runs to him. When she breaches the circle, One-Eyed Mike calls it. The brunette helps the blond to a wall where she fusses over him.
Carlos steps into the ring. He looks like a Neanderthal with a barrel torso and disproportionately long, hairy arms. His deep-set eyes are predatory. He has a dark, brooding air about him. I don’t trust this guy.
After the mandatory sixty-second wait, we go at it. I’m not sure what to expect and go in. He blocks and gets me in the ribs. I go in again. He blocks me and lands another punch.
Damn. This guy is good. Maybe the best I’ve ever fought. He seems to know my every move before I do.
I try to fall back, but he won’t let me. He follows me around the ring landing punch after punch. I’m nothing but a heavyweight bag to this guy. My vision blurs and my feet tangle. I go down. I stay down and signal I’m out. There’s no way I’ll win this one. Maybe some other time, but I know I don’t have what it takes right now.
“Damn, bro, that was badass,” Dair says when I reach him. “Those guys were good. I mean, not the blond kid, but those others, holy shit. I can’t believe you beat that first guy. He was a beast.”
I nod. “You win anything?”
A grin creases his face. “Yeah, when I bet on you.”
I nod at the guys in the ring. “I’d bet on that Carlos guy if I were you. Here,” I reach into my pocket and give him as many crumpled bills as I have on me.
Dair doesn’t hesitate but dives into the crowd toward One-Eyed Mike to get the bets in before the match starts. He returns in short order and we watch the match. Carlos wins, as I knew he would. Dair and I bet on him again. He wins that one too, as I knew he would.
Dair is nearly bursting from all the money he’s making. “How ‘bout this one. Who would you bet on?”
I’m not sure. “Ivan is a tank. He’s taken me down. But this Carlos guy … I don’t know. There’s something about him.” We decide not to bet.
Ivan’s smart. He’s had three fights to study this guy’s moves, and it shows. They circle each other. Ivan dodges the patterns that had taken me under. Carlos does have a rhythm. I’m seeing it now. It takes several minutes, but Ivan finally wins.
“If you’re going for this one, bet on Ivan,” I tell Dair, then add, “That’s what I’d do anyway. But I’m sitting this one out. Lorenzo’s an unknown, so I’m not a hundred percent.” I’m still not comfortable telling him what to do with his money. Money is hard enough to come by without seeing it get taken away because of something as uncertain as a bad bet.
He heads to One-Eyed Mike. Ivan wins in short order. Now it’s Ivan against Mac. This is a strange pairing and one that would never happen in the real world of boxing. Ivan must have two hundred pounds on the emaciated Mac.
“Which one?” Dair asks. “Or do I even need to ask? It’s obviously Ivan, right?”
“That’s Mac, the mean one I told you about before. He’s got piss for blood. I wouldn’t bet on this one if I were you.”
“Seriously?” Dair looks at the two that resemble Sylvester the cat towering over tiny Tweety Bird. He shakes his head. “I’m going with Ivan.”
I shrug. I wouldn’t make that bet. And I’m glad I didn’t because Mac wins. He not only absorbs everything, but he doesn’t have any patterns that Ivan can pick up on.
“Are you kidding me?” Dair yells.
“How much did you bet?”
“I thought it was a sure thing.”
“I told you it wasn’t.”
“Yeah, but …” He sighs and shakes his head. “I lost fifty bucks, bro. At least I didn’t bet it all like I was going to.”
Fifty? That sucks. But I warned him. We both still cleared okay.
We shuffle down the hall with some of the others until we get to my car.
“Thanks for inviting me. That was awesome,” Dair says.
“You don’t need an invite now. You can come anytime whenever you want.”
“Really? That’s cool. You coming next Friday?”
“Maybe. Not sure yet. I’ll let you know.”
“All right, see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, take it easy.”
Back in the gym, I take my frustrations out on the heavy bag as I picture Anna in Galloway’s mansion doing who knows what with those guys. If they so much as lay a finger on her, I’ll kill them all. I spend a restless night tossing and turning on the narrow cot.
Saturday morning, Dair’s already in the gym lifting weights when I shuffle out of the room I’ve been sleeping in. There are only a few others getting in an early morning workout.
> Dair looks at me in surprise. “You live here or something?”
I nod. He gives me a strange look before turning back to his weights. I head outside for a smoke. After a few minutes, he joins me and lights up.
“How long you been living here?” he asks.
“Not long.” I like the guy, but I’m not ready to tell him all about how much my life sucks. Besides, why go on about it? It is what it is.
“I’m in the foster system,” he says.
I wasn’t expecting this. You hear horror stories about that system. “You like where you’re at?”
He’s quiet, staring at the dilapidated wooden shed across the alley. “I did.”
Then what happened? I don’t pry. If he wants to tell me, he will.
“I was surprised how many people there were last night that weren’t regulars,” he says, changing the subject. “Is it always like that?”
“Pretty much.”
“I still can’t believe you took that first guy down. Man, you are good.” He gives me an admiring look.
“Did you see how Ivan took down that caveman looking guy?”
“Caveman,” Dair snorts. “He did look like a caveman, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. The only way Ivan got him was because of his pattern. It’s easy to fall into. I do it too. That’s something you want to stay aware of.” I take a drag and exhale a stream of smoke. “Ivan’s the best at picking up on those. That’s how he got me last time too. He told me about it after. That’s the only way I know about it because I didn’t know I was doing it. So, it’s something I need to work on. Everyone has something they need to work on.”
Dair nods and is quiet another minute. “Hey, man, you want to go to a diner for breakfast? I’m starving and there’s all this money burning my pocket.”
“Sure, why not?”
We stroll around to the front of the building and down the sidewalk, passing shop owners rolling up the metal curtains that secure their stores every night. Plastic bags and takeout wrappers blow around our feet in the light breeze.
Two blocks down and one over, we enter a narrow Mom and Pop restaurant. They’ve lined either side with red booths that attempt to lend a cheerful air to the dingy interior. Workers clatter in the kitchen at the back.