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“Good, I enjoy doing it.”
“So, the military.” Luca tried to open an eye, but a glob of soap stopped him.
“I was a kid without parents, on the street, too young to get a job.”
“Why would you need a job?”
“Because I needed to eat.”
Luca scraped the soap out of his eyes. “Your dad didn’t give you any food?”
“My dad was usually too smashed to know I existed, and Christy, the new wife, didn’t care if I burst into flames as long as I didn’t do it in her sparkling kitchen.” Nox went back to washing Luca. “In high school, I took boxing and martial arts.”
“That must have been some kind of school?”
“An after-school program put on by some volunteers around town. I really liked it. Plus, I was pretty good. Then things got worse at home, and I dropped out of school. But one teacher doing the classes put in a good word for me with a guy who owned a gym—I can’t even remember his name—who trained mixed martial arts.” Nox ushered Luca under the water and rinsed him off.
“I think you’re ripping off at least three underdog-to-kung-fu champion movies.”
“Ripping off what?”
“You know, martial arts master, kid with champion dreams, takes the wanna-be under his wing. Teaches him everything. Then he does the whole Crane move and wins the tournament.”
Nox laughed. “Not hardly. I did grunt work. Cleaned the bathrooms, the locker rooms, swept the floors. Anything for a buck and a place to sleep.”
Because he didn’t want to go home.
If living with parents who didn’t care about Nox could’ve been called that.
“On Saturdays, they held amateur matches,” Nox said. “Some money got tossed around, and the winner got thirty percent of the take. A couple hundred bucks at most, but it was more than you could make in a day.”
“You started fighting to make money?”
“Not then. I was still a water boy who stayed late to beat the hell out of a punching bag. But one night between matches, I was outside getting some air, and this guy started harassing a homeless man. His dog tried to protect him, and the guy kicked it, and since the dog couldn’t kick back, I did it for him.”
“I hope you broke his nose.”
“His nose, his knee, three ribs, knocked out some teeth.”
“Good.” And Luca meant it. “What about the dog? Was it okay?”
“Yeah, I gave the dog owner my paycheck to take it to an emergency vet. I called later to make sure it was enough to cover the bill. They said the dog was just bruised, and he’d be fine.”
“What about money for food?”
Nox lifted a shoulder. “I managed.” He traded places with Luca, and Luca picked up the soap.
“But the guy I beat the shit out of was the big name in the gym owner’s little ring. Not having that fight meant the gym would lose a lot of money. And boy was the owner pissed. He was going to kick me out, but I begged him to let me fight in the guy’s place.”
“Did he let you?”
“Laughed at me for a good ten minutes first.” Nox chuckled. “Jesus, I think I promised him my soul. You do not want to sleep out on the streets in Miami, trust me.”
Luca washed Nox’s chest, and he hummed with pleasure.
“Finish your story.”
“What story?” Nox traced the bow of Luca’s mouth with his thumb.
