Page 20 of The Fighter

The crowd surrounding the roped off fight ring surged forward when they saw me. I didn’t bother with a hood or any of that dramatic shit. I wore a pair of shorts and taped hands. That was it. They began chanting my name, which I always thought sounded serpentine when they got going. “Husssssk. Husssssk. Husssssk. Husssssk.”

I’d been fighting for a long time, and while the crowd changed over the years, there were always the regulars who started the chant and got it going. They were the ones who’d seen me fight way back when I was still angry, still bitter. I didn’t have time or energy for anger and bitterness anymore. All my energy had to be spent on staying alive. Some of those regulars wanted me to stay on my feet, while I’m sure others were waiting on my inevitable downfall. They didn’t know why I was fighting, or what I was fighting for. I’d win or die trying.

When I got to the ring, I flexed my fingers, the tightening of the tape on my knuckles a feeling as familiar as the concrete under my bare feet. The chant had begun to change now, as Dirk came bouncing toward the ring. He wore an unzipped sweatshirt, glaring at me from underneath the hood pulled up over his hair. What a fucking tool.

I just wanted this over with. I wanted a burger, and I wanted to sleep. In that order. And maybe a nice jerk off session thinking about Con fucking me. I could really go for those plans.

Dirk paced back and forth like a tiger in the ring, all while glaring at me like this was some sort of real fight. This was illegaland underground with no rules. Whatever the fuck he was doing was for show, and I was going to smash in his face for it.

Chen hired a guy he called a ref, but he didn’t do anything ref-like other than tell us when to start fighting. Pretty sure I could have gouged out Dirk’s eyes, and the ref would have been over at the side of the ring chatting with some ring girl with big tits.

All that training, all the years I’d put into fighting. I never thought this was what would become of it. I touched the red strip of cloth tied around my bicep. I remembered my sister giving it to me. I remembered what I was doing this for.

“Figheeeet!” The ref called.

And then it was game time. I went into the familiar form, hands up, fists loose, rocking back and forth on my feet. Back in the day, I’d practiced these moves to be the best. To win belts and titles. To make money. I’d learned how to put on a good show so that I could maybe get a contract. But now, I put on a good show, because that was what kept the crowd coming back. The crowd that made Devlin money. And since the only reason I was any use to him was because I made money, it mattered. The day I stopped making money was the day my body—along with my sister’s and my nephew’s—would end up in the Detroit River.

Dirk wore a snarl on his face. Seriously, he was a tool. I wasn’t sure what he thought this was or what his handlers told him. This wasn’t a steppingstone to anything. There were no fucking scouts here. This was the basement with no ladder. There was no getting out of here. And that pissed me right off.

I took it out on Dirk’s face. I advanced quickly, taking advantage of his lax arms. He’d been too busy scowling and trying to act menacing that he hadn’t kept up his form. It didn’t take long. He got in a couple of jabs, a thigh kick, but that was only because I let him. The sharp pain in my cheekbone told methat he tore open the skin. And once the blood began to trickle down my skin, I took him out.

A quick blow to the side of his head, right where his jaw started under his ear, and he fucking dropped. The ref called the fight. The crowd went berserk.

And I walked out of the ring.

NINE

Conrad

My wine glass was halfway to my lips when my buzzer sounded. I frowned and walked over to my front door. I pressed the call button, which lit up a grainy screen showing me the doorman’s face in black and white. “Mr. Stafford.” There was something off about Vernon’s face, the lines around his mouth tense. “You have a visitor who will only give me one name, which is against our policy and…” There was a murmur behind him, and Vernon flinched, then swallowed and spoke again. “He says to tell you that Tav is here.”

I hadn’t seen him for weeks. I had thrown myself into Soto’s attack on Devlin and was just beginning to get some of my sanity back. I usually only thought of Tav once a day right before sleep, when my brain was too tired to fight. That was the only time I allowed myself to descend into the madness of my all-consumingwantfor him. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t let Tav up and wreak havoc on my emotions. I was exhausted from my legitimate work and that of Soto. I wouldn’t cave to Tav.Gripping the wine glass so tightly that I nearly crushed it, I said, “Tell him I’m not available.”

And then I shut off the screen with my heart pounding like a herd of elephants in my apartment.

The buzzer sounded again immediately. I stood in my foyer, frozen, wishing that I’d drank the whole bottle of pinot noir, so I was drunk right about now. I thought about putting on my headphones, or blaring music, or something because that buzzing wasn’t stopping. It was going on and on in my head, pounding, stinging, and…

I lunged at the call button. “I said?—”

But it wasn’t the doorman’s face in the screen. It was Tav’s. There was a butterfly bandage below his left eye, and a darkened area on his jaw. His lower lip was swollen on the left side. His eyes shone eerily in the black and white screen, one lighter than the other. There was a voice in the background, and I assumed it was poor Vernon trying to get Tav away from the door. I might have paid money to see my five-foot-seven-inch-tall doorman make Tav do anything. I’d have to give him a massive tip to make up for this.

Tav stared at the camera. He couldn’t see me. The camera only went one way, so he was staring into a blinking red light right now. “Let me up,” he demanded.

My breath whistled between my teeth, and I curled my hand into a fist beside the screen and leaned closer, my gaze taking in every darkened area on his battered face.

It was on the tip of my tongue to refuse him again, to rescind the ultimatum and tell him that I changed my mind. That this entire thing was over. But he was hurt, and I was weak. I wassoweak, because this wasTav. Big, beautiful Tav who submitted to me like a dream. He leaned closer, so all I saw was his eyes. “Please, Con,” he whispered.

That voice, it went right through me, called to the very depths of my soul, yanking thread after thread. My finger pressed the buzzer to approve his entry. Immediately, I wanted to take it back, but the screen was off, Tav having disappeared the instant I’d admitted him, and I knew he was on his way up. I swirled the wine in my glass, watching as the red liquid coated the inside, then I tossed it back in one gulp.

Minutes later when a fist pounded at my door, I was waiting. I opened the door and stepped back, granting Tav entrance into my apartment. He walked by me, smelling like leather and sweat. His hair was damp, the dark strands sticking to his forehead and neck. He needed a haircut. And a shave.

He shrugged off his leather jacket and held it in his fist. He wore a pair of sweatpants, the outline of his cock visible through the cotton. There was a sheen of sweat on his face and drops of blood on the collar of his tight T-shirt.

I crossed my arms over my chest, dangling my empty wine glass in front of me. “You look like shit.”

He snorted and shifted his weight, ducking his head. When he lifted his gaze to look at me, there was a smirk to his lips. The little shit. I had thrown down that ultimatum at my office, and I should have been demanding everything from him right now. His name, his occupation, his fucking biography, and yet all I could do was think about how badly he needed to be cared for. And that was why I abandoned my own rules and decided his well-being came first.You’re weak, the devil on my shoulder whispered.Weak for Tav, the angel on the other shoulder whispered.Only Tav.

“Take off your shoes.” I turned on my heel and walked down the hallway leading to the bedrooms. I heard two thumps, and then the sound of Tav’s footsteps as he followed me. Once we were in the bedroom, I held out my hand for his jacket, which he handed to me. I hung it up in the closet and then pointed to thebathroom door. “Shower. Towels are on the rack. Use whichever one you want.”