by Silva Hart
“Nah.” I open my jacket and pull her into it, wrapping my arms around her. She snuggles against me. It’s nice.
During this race, I get the same rush as I did during the first one. Each horse struggles so hard to win, but some of them just don’t stand a chance.
Back inside, Lexi says, “We won sixty-seven this time with the favorite, but Sir Roderick Theodore Mandrake III didn’t do so well.”
“His name must have weighed him down.”
Lexi giggles and smacks my arm. The evening flies by.
“You hungry?” Lexi asks.
She’s been buying everything all night so, when we get to the concession stand, I pull out the ten I’m now glad Anna returned to me. She swats it away. “I asked you here, so it’s only right that I pay.”
“I can at least buy us some hotdogs.”
“No, don’t worry about it.”
She gets two hotdogs and bottles of water and we walk along the tan, industrial tiled floor between massive concrete pillars. Televisions broadcast every live minute of what’s happening on the tracks.
Sheets of newspaper cover some homeless-looking guy. With his eyes closed and hands folded on his chest, he looks like a cadaver lying across several of the orange plastic seats bolted to the floor in rows.
“Want to go look at the horses?” Lexi asks.
“Sure, why not?”
She leads me to a paddock where the horses for the next race await their turn to churn the track. Some are turning in endless circles, nipping at the others, and rearing. Some are sweating despite the chill air. One has his head hung down to his knees.
“That one looks like Eeyore,” I say, pointing.
Lexi laughs. “I hope that’s not Flat Fleet Feet. I just bet on him.”
“Flat Fleet Feet,” I repeat. “Pity the poor announcer.”
Minutes before the race starts, we reclaim our spot along the fence. I pull Lexi against me again, wrapping her inside the warmth of my coat. We try yelling for Flat Fleet Feet but our tongues keep tripping, and we crack up.
We place bets at every race. Some win, some don’t. All too soon, we’re browsing the list for the last race of the night.
Chapter 27
I burst out laughing.
“What?” Lexi asks.
“Hoof Hearted. We have to bet on Hoof Hearted.”
Lexi laughs. “Who Farted? Is that seriously a name?”
I point to it, and we both double-over.
“Oh my God, Jett. That is hilarious. I’m betting everything on him.”
“Wait, what?” I sober. “Didn’t you win like five hundred bucks tonight?”
“Yeah.”
I gape as she feeds one bill after another into the machine. “Are his stats at least good?”
She shrugs. “No, but this is too good to pass up.” She plucks the single ticket from the machine, and I follow her out to the fence.
When the race starts, we scream “Hoof Hearted” at the top of our lungs between gales of laughter. I can’t remember ever laughing so hard in my life.
After the dust settles, I ask, “Did he win?” Some anxiety returns at the amount she bet.
“Nope, came in fourth.”
She may as well have sucker punched me in the gut.
“What? Don’t look like that. It was only five-hundred.”
How can she be so nonchalant about losing that much cash? That would have kept me in gas, food, and cigarettes for two weeks or more. Hell, I’ve made that stretch for a whole month by keeping my driving down, getting value meals, and drinking tap water.
“Hoof Hearted was worth it.”
At hearing the name, we both burst into laughter all over again.
After dropping her off, I realize that was the first time we hung out where we didn’t have sex, and I didn’t miss it. Just being with her and laughing and having fun was enough. She made everything better. I didn’t think about Anna at all and don’t feel anything at this realization. She’s where she needs to be. I’m fine with that.
It’s Friday and I’m anxious. There’s no way I can go another week on the money I have left.
In the hall, Lexi bumps against me, but something seems off with her. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
She gives me a startled look of wide-eyed innocence. “Nothing, why?”
Right. And I just found out I’m Bill Gates’ secret love child.
She’s quiet. Lexi’s not quiet. I pull her off to the side. “Talk.”
Her smile is flustered. “About what?”
I grit my teeth. “Something is up with you. What is it? Does it have to do with Carlton?” I swear to God I will have no problem killing that asshole if he did anything to her.
She puts a calming hand on my arm. “Jett, I’m fine. Really.” Her fingers move to my hair. “But it’s sweet of you to ask.” Her face is inches from mine, and I want to do nothing but take her in my arms and kiss her dizzy. She reads my mind. Of course she does. Those lips–lips I’ve started to crave–press against mine and transport me away from everything wrong with the world. She breaks away all too soon. “Are you still fighting tonight?”
I nod.
She sighs as if she simultaneously knew the answer and is exasperated by it. “What time does it start?”
“Around nine.”
“When is it over?”
“Whenever the last person is standing. The time varies.”
“Well, come over if you want. It’s Friday, so stop by anytime. Up to you.”
I nod.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, and with that she’s gone.
I still can’t help but feel she’s hiding something from me. This thought distracts me all day.
In English class, Mrs. Kroft looks flushed and nervous. She keeps glancing at me every five seconds until I wonder if the other kids are noticing. She was a mistake, especially in the school, but she caught me at a vulnerable moment. I hope she lets it go and doesn’t expect anything more will come of it.
By the time I get to the gym after school, I have a blazing headache. I don’t get headaches. After popping aspirin, I try to sweat it out. It lessens only slightly. I get a hot shower and start cleaning the gym.
As I’m bending over to get the trashcans, my head throbs. God, how do people put up with these things? Some people get them all the time. I can’t imagine that. I’m lugging the full bag to the door to take it to the dumpster when my foot catches on the edge of a mat and I stumble, nearly dropping the bag. Okay, so that wasn’t normal either.
When I come back in, One-Eyed Mike says, “Jett, can I talk to you for a minute?”
He leads me into his office. I perch on the edge of the chair, feeling uneasy. He closes the door. This isn’t good.
“How are you feeling, kid?” he asks, lowering himself into his office chair.
“Great.”
“You want to talk about anything?”
“Nope, I’m good.” I know he’s trying, but there’s really not much to say. And why did we have to come into his office for this? We’ve always talked easily out on the floor. This feels too much like Principal Douchebag.
“How’s school going?”
“Fine.” This seems short, so I add, “I’m passing everything.”
“Are you getting any headaches or anything?”
Shit. Why did he have to ask me that so directly? I don’t want to lie to him, but I need in the fight tonight. Did he see me get the aspirin? I settle on, “I mean, everyone gets headaches sometimes, right?”
He studies me, seeing through all my bullshit just as he has from the first day I walked into this place. Reaching into his desk, he pulls out two sets of twenties each bound in a paper band that has “$100” stamped on it in red.
Tossing them across the desk, he says, “I’m giving you an advance. You’re not fighting tonight.” He holds up a hand to silence my protest. “That doesn’t mean never. And this loan is temporary. You’ll win it back. But not tonight.”
My knuckles whiten around the arms of the chair. “I’m no charity case. I’ll get by. I always have.” I stand to leave.
“Jett.”
I stop.
He comes around the desk with the money in his hand and stands facing me. “In case you haven’t been able to get it through that stubborn skull of yours, I care about you. I know you’re not a charity case. Charity is giving something for free. I’m giving you this now instead of later because I know, down the road when you’re ready to, you’ll earn this and pay me back. Now take the money.”
I take the money and have to clear my throat before I can say, “Thanks.”
“No problem. Now rest up and get better. Take care of yourself. You need to eat something other than fast food. And clean your car out. It’s starting to look like a dumpster.”
I can’t help but smile. What doesn’t he notice?
After securing the money in my room, I go to my car. He’s right. I hadn’t really noticed, but empty soda cups, food wrappers, bottles, and cans litter the backseat and floor. As I’m pitching everything in the dumpster, Dair comes out for a cigarette.
“You going tonight?”
I shrug. I don’t really have anything better to do. “Sure, why not?”
“Good, you can help me make some more money. And I’m definitely listening to you this time, man. So you meet Mia yet?”
“Nope.” This time I add with a devilish grin, “But I’m really looking forward to tomorrow night when I finally get to. I bought a new shirt and everything.”
His expression is priceless, and I can’t hold in my laughter.
He punches me in the arm. “Man, don’t even mess with me about Mia. I’m telling you straight up. You will get knocked out.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
We go back inside and finish working out. My headache is easing up by fight time, but I’m glad I won’t be getting hit tonight.
When One-Eyed Mike slides the six-inch window open, his eye widens.
“Hey, you got any openings for tonight?” I ask.
His eye narrows at me. “I told–”
“Relax, I’m joking. We’re here to watch,” I say with a disarming smile.
He shakes his head and lets us in.
“Who’s up tonight?” Dair asks him.
Checking out the clipboard, he says, “Jason, Clarence, Juan, Theo, Malcom, Stuart, Donny, Mac, Chuck, and Sylvester.”
Dair looks at me expectantly.
“The only name I recognize is Mac.”
“I’m definitely betting on him tonight.”
We find a good spot to stand. A few minutes go by, when I hear One-Eyed Mike yell, “Hey, Jett” over the noise of the crowd.
That’s weird. Does he need me to fill in after all? I’m honestly not sure I’m up to it.
When I reach him, he says, “There’s a young lady standing out there who says you invited her.”
“What?”
He slides the window open and stands aside so I can look out.
Lexi gives me a nervous smile. “Hi, Jett.”
She’s wearing distressed jeans with an oversized oatmeal-colored sweater than hangs off one shoulder exposing a white, lace tank top.
“How did you …” I glance at One-Eyed Mike. “I mean, yeah, she’s with me.”
“You invite her?”
“Yep.”
He gives me an I-call-bullshit look but opens the door anyway and lets her in.
I take her hand and lead her away from One-Eyed Mike before turning to her. “How did you find this place?”
“I waited until I saw some guys coming down here and followed them in. I really want to watch you fight, Jett.” Her sapphire eyes plead with me.
“I’m not fighting.”
“You’re not? But didn’t you say–”
“No,” I cut her off.
She twists her hands, her face creased with concern. “I’m sorry. Is it because of me? Because I came here without an invitation?”
Seeing tears build in her eyes exasperates me. I don’t want her to cry. But what the hell is she doing here? “I wanted to, but One-Eyed Mike won’t let me. He says it’s too soon after the concussion. I thought you had a game tonight.”
“I do, but I told them I was sick.”
“You did that to come here?”
“I did it to come watch you. That’s what I was hiding this morning when you asked. I had it all planned out.” She gazes up at me, the tears threatening to spill. “I didn’t think it was like this.” She gives a nervous glance around the crude setting and rough crowd. “I mean, I didn’t really know what to expect. Did I cause you problems by coming? I didn’t mean to.”
“No, I’m just surprised is all.” That and having her here feels a little too close to her finding out how I really live. Of all the places on a Friday night, why would she come here? This is anything but her scene.
She holds her hands up and gives a weak laugh. “Surprise.”
Well, she’s here now. Taking her hand again, I lead her to Dair. His eyes widen and his mouth drops open then snaps shut. I feel a puff of pride. Yeah, she’s stunning. And she’s with me.
“Lexi, this is Dair. Dair, Lexi.”
“Lexi? The Lexi who knows Mia?”
Of course that’s what he opens with.
Lexi smiles. “Yes, I know Mia. It’s nice to finally meet you.” I’m glad she refrains from adding the “I’ve-heard-so-much-about-you” line.
“So, you’re the one who keeps this guy in line, huh?” Dair winks.
“No one can keep Jett Dixon in line,” she says, and they laugh together as I look on, glad they’ve synced so quickly.
“Mia’s really sweet,” Lexi says.
He stands taller, a goofy grin on his face. “She’s the best.”
“That’ll be fun tomorrow night. Seeing you two reunite.”
“I can’t wait,” he says, rubbing his palms on his thighs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Lexi take in the room and people. She looks as if she tried to dress down, but her glossy, golden mane stands out like a lighthouse beacon. If anything happens to her while she’s here tonight, I’ll never forgive myself.
Chapter 28
One-Eyed Mike calls the first round. The first two fighters enter.
“See the tall guy’s feet?” I ask Dair, during the fight. He’s light and moves around easily. The other guy is planted.
Dair nods.
As the guys go at it, exchanging blows inside the human ring, Lexi clutches my arm. “Is that where you would be right now if you were fighting?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh my God, Jett. They’re really hitting each other.”
I almost laugh. She’s so out of her element here. I knew she would be.
The tall guy wins.
“Should I bet on him?” Dair asks.
“I don’t know.” The next guy could be pro for all I know.
It’s good he didn’t bet because the tall guy loses the next one. And that’s how the rest of the night goes. No one gets past their second round. Lexi clings to me, burying her face in my arm when it gets particularly bloody.
Then Mac is up.
“I’m going to bet on gummy bear,” Dair says and disappears into the crowd.
“I don’t know how you do that?” Lexi breathes. “I mean, how do you actually get hit like that? I didn’t know … I mean, I’ve seen you with cuts and bruises, but I wasn’t picturing anything like this. This isn’t like the boxing matches on TV. These guys aren’t even wearing gloves or anything. This is brutal.”
It is brutal. But it’s my life, one she probably couldn’t begin to imagine. And one she sure as hell wouldn’t accept or fit into.
Dair returns just as Donny and Mac start. Donny’s a serious kid with broad shoulders. Mac lands a few right away, ducking in and away cobra fast. As he’s coming in again, Donny connects with Mac’s jaw right below his left ear. Mac goes down. For as solid as it was, I suspect it was
a lucky shot.
“What?” Dair shrieks. “Are you kidding me?”
I’m stunned too.
“What?” Lexi asks. “What happened?”
One-Eyed Mike starts a count and Mac climbs to his feet, but he’s unsteady now. He gives his head a few shakes before resuming his stance. He looks pissed off. Pissed off is never a good thing in the ring. It makes you stupid.
Mac charges and bloodies Donny’s nose. They circle. Mac steps in again and Donny jackhammers into the side of his head. Mac staggers and goes down. He doesn’t get back up.
Dair gapes at me as if he just caught me spray-painting his car.
I shrug to hide a twinge of guilt. “Mac can get beat. I told you I’ve beaten him before. That other guy had a lot of power in his punch.” I’m glad I wasn’t fighting him.
Dair looks like he wants to punch something, me, anything.
“How much did you lose?”
“A hundred bucks, man.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, man, it sucks,” he snarls, getting in my face.
I’m wondering if he really will take a swing at me and step protectively in front of Lexi.
“I wanted to buy something nice for Mia with that money, and now I can’t,” he yells, as if I’m directly responsible, before storming out of the room.
I don’t follow. There’s nothing to gain from it right now. He just needs to have a smoke and cool off. He’ll be back.
“What happened?” Lexi asks, wide-eyed.
“Dair lost a bet.”
“A hundred bucks? Is that what he said? I can give it to him, if he needs it.” She reaches into her pocket.
I grab her wrist. “Don’t.” I know she’s trying to help, but that’s not the way to do it.
Donny ends up moving through the last two guys too, tying my personal record of four wins. He’s good. I wonder who’s been training him, not that I’d ever leave One-Eyed Mike.
“Where did Dair go?” Lexi asks.
“No idea.”
“I feel bad for him. At least he gets to see Mia tomorrow night. That should make him feel better.”
I shake my head. She means well, but she just doesn’t get it. Can’t ever get it. Lexi may be relatively new to being a billionaire, but she’s never been poor a day in her life. She’s never known what it’s like to be down to nothing but a ten-dollar bill with no more in sight. She’s never known what it’s like to be homeless and have only yourself to rely on. She’s never known real hunger and wondering when and where the next meal might come from. She’s probably never been hit a day in her life either. I can’t fault her for it. That’s just the way it is. She’ll never understand my world.