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Dirty Souls have a healthy relationship with the Burlusconi's. Raoul is one of the rare men who still believes in the loyalty of a handshake. And although they work more closely with our Long Beach Charter, Prez being founder of the club is always the one that seals the deal.
The Burlusconi’s don’t work with people they don’t trust.
We’re all getting the message Cooper’s delivering.
He’s invited him here as a witness, if we had any intentions of going back on our word, or if this was a trap we could lose the main source of our income. He’s also showing us that he has the same connections we do, that we’re replaceable, and I’ll bet he’d be happy to crawl up Burlusconi’s ass to take our place.
Clever fucker.
I notice Storm shift in his seat so he’s a little closer to my girl. The kid’s been given the lecture of his life about taking care of her. Where she goes, he goes. And if there’s any sign of trouble, his primary concern is getting her in the cage and getting her out of here.
I have a routine before I fight, some might call it a ritual, but tonight is different, this isn’t some junk yard, or abandoned warehouse where the stakes are a few grand and my pride. I’m fighting for my club, for the town we’ve made our home, and I’m fighting for Shaniya and her family. I can’t let myself think about how many people I’ll let down if I don't win this.
The guy I’m up against is big, Autumn told me to wear him down and tire him out before I go for a knock or tap out. But I just want to get this fucking over with. I feel like I’m gonna fuckin’ explode from all the pressure I’ve been carrying inside me.
Never, not in eleven years of fighting, have I been nervous to step inside a ring. Tonight, I can barely breathe from all the weight that’s on my shoulders.
I come away from the window and pace the floor, allowing all the thoughts that I usually shut out to creep into my head. This is the shit that gets my blood pumping. It’s bitter memories and wicked thoughts that put enough tension in my muscles to take down men double my size.
Fifteen years old
“Please don’t… baby,” I can hear Mama pleading from outside our trailer, her and Wes must fighting again.
It’s a daily occurrence, Autumn doesn’t even bother to come home anymore. He bunks around his friend's houses to avoid it all. I spend as much time as I can away from here too. Autumn’s trainer lets me hang out at the gym after school, and since I help out, holding pads and keeping the place tidy, he lets me in the ring from time to time.
I like sparring with Autumn, mainly because it takes my mind off all the shit that’s happening at home. We both know Wes beats on Mama, and Autumn pretends not to know that he beats on me too.
Autumn pretends he doesn’t give a shit about anyone, but he can’t fool me. This is his way of teaching me how to defend myself without having to get deep about it. And I am happy to be his student. My brother’s the best, everyone knows he’s gonna make it and go pro.
I take a deep breath before I open the trailer door, and when I step inside, the first thing I see is my mom crying on the floor. The place has been trashed, and when I turn my attention to Wes, he snarls at me and it’s obvious he’s been drinking.
“Who the fuck do you think you're looking at like that, boy?” he glares at me.
“Go to your room, Travis, it’s fine.” Mom steadies herself on the table and stands up. She’s shaking because she’s scared, and she tries to hide it from me with a weak smile.
“You heard her, get to your room,” Wes yells at me.
“What happened here?” I look past him to her, she’s surrounded by broken glass and there’s food in her hair. I’d guess from the spaghetti splattered on the wall behind her that Wes threw a dinner plate at her.
“Your mother doesn’t know how to keep her damn trap shut, that's what happened,” he answers for her, with a snigger that makes my insides burn.
“You deaf or something? I told you to get to your room.” He steps up to me and jabs his finger deep into the center of my chest, but instead of backing away like I usually do. I pull back my shoulders and stand strong. I think about some of the shit Autumn’s taught me over the past few weeks and how I’d like to cause this asshole some pain.
“You better step back, boy.” Wes jabs me again, and it’s all it takes to have me losing my shit. I don’t care that he’s at least a foot taller than me, or that his fists feel like they're made of lead when they hit. I put all of my power into my hands and use them to shove him back, throwing him against the thin trailer wall.
He laughs at me, and I respond by slamming my knuckles into his throat and knocking all the air right out of him. I throw more jabs, landing them all on target. I’ve been hitting pads for weeks, and not once have I felt the same satisfaction as I am making this son of a bitch suffer.
I keep going, blow after blow until his blood covers my fists, and the sound of Mom begging me to stop screeches over the rage thumping in my head.
I stand back and stare down at the mess of a man on the floor while I catch my breath back, wondering how the hell I just found the strength to take down a man fifty pounds heavier than me.
“Travis.” Mom looks at me, horrified, as she rushes to his aid, and I slowly back away, crashing out of the door and rushing into the fresh air. I run, as fast as my legs can carry me and until all the anger inside me starts to loosen.
I call Autumn but he doesn’t answer, so I hang around the streets until I’m calm enough to go home and face the consequences.
When I got there, Wes was gone, and that was the last we ever saw of him. Of course, Mom was sad about it. She’d been abused by him for years. Wes was a cunt. But to her, he was a cunt that stuck around.
I thought things would get better from there, but it didn’t go that way. Mama found comfort in something I couldn’t fight off.
