by E. M. Moore
There aren’t a lot of people here. Mostly members of each gang. There are no crowds hungry for a fight, just those who have a stake in the outcome. Evan is already bouncing on his feet in front of a bunch of strangers I don’t recognize except for Roza Fonz. She’s sitting in a folding chair, still smoking her cigar, and surrounded by a bunch of men with guns on their hips.
Magnum cocks his head, telling us to go ahead of him. Johnny must sense that I’m in the zone because he doesn’t try to talk to me, and he doesn’t offer me his arm like he usually does either.
On the opposite side of Roza Fonz’s group is ours. I recognize a few from school. Brawler is there, leaning against a folding chair. My heart hiccups when he turns to look at me. He stands up straight, eyeing me as we approach. Oscar is standing in the back, too, talking quietly to someone in the shadows. The only person I don’t see here yet is Big Daddy K, but I know he will be. I’m not worried about that at all.
Roza nods at Johnny and me. I nod back at her, then switch my gaze to Evan to watch him as he warms up. He’s what I pictured after only seriously seeing him for half a minute. Magnum really was the perfect training partner for this guy. His build is so similar. My confidence ratchets up. I’ve prepared all I can, now it’s just time to lay everything out and see which fighter is best tonight.
Hopefully things will swing my way.
Johnny sits in one of the chairs waiting for him and his father, and I slip into the background with Brawler. His tense jawline tells me everything I need to know. He’s worried.
“I got this,” I say.
“I know you do,” he says, taking the reaction I wish Johnny had the other day and using it to settle my nerves. His gaze says everything else. It apologizes to me for even being in this mess. It tells me he hopes I don’t get hurt too badly. It tells me he wishes he was the one going out there instead of me. Instead of saying all that, he asks, “Did you warm up?”
“Yep.”
“Do some more,” he says. “Big Daddy will be here any moment and then this is on. There won’t be any time to talk or discuss.”
I start stretching, bouncing on my toes as I go to get the blood flowing. Broken gravel crunches under my feet. I take a moment to check out the area we’ll be fighting in. There are a few potholes barely visible in the low light of the old streetlights lighting this area. Dust, rocks, basically shit that might make my shoes slip.
I test the grip of my sneakers, making sure I know how they’re going to react in the fight. Not good, but not terrible either. It’ll suck if this goes to the ground because all those tiny rocks are going to get imbedded into our skin.
A flash of headlights sweep over us as another car approaches.
I glance away. We already know who it’s going to be.
I can hardly even believe I’m here in this moment. I know I have to do it to get in, but who would’ve thought a daughter of a couple Big Daddy murdered would be fighting for him? The irony isn’t lost on me even though I should be focusing on nothing but the fight.
I work my shoulders out, rotating one then the other. Brawler’s heated gaze settles on me again, but neither one of us is stupid to do or say anything that would put a spotlight on us. Not with members of both the Heights Crew and a rival gang here. Tension is already thick, like a black cloud over us all.
Big Daddy K approaches our side with three guards surrounding him. He sits in the chair, and he and Johnny speak in low whispers to each other before Big Daddy K sits up straight. Johnny turns, giving me a nod. I step forward, but two strong hands on my shoulders stop me for a second. He pulls me back, massaging my shoulders quickly like he’s getting me ready for the fight. “Do everything you fucking have to. Do you hear me, Kyla? Everything. Whatever it takes.”
I nod, hop up and down a few times, and then make my way out into the center of the area everyone surrounds. Evan moves forward, too. We look each other up and down. I doubt anyone is going to come out and tell us when to fight, so I’m cautious of when he’s going to make the first move.
“I have to admit I was shocked when they said I was fighting a girl.”
“Yeah?” I ask, grinning. I love being the underdog. I hope he underestimated me. I hope he thought this fight was going to be a walk in the park. “This isn’t the first time I’ve fought an overconfident douche.”
Evan’s lip curls. “It’s sad I have to kick your ass.”
I shrug. “What can you do? Life of a fighter.”
“You can give in now.” His eyes gleam with hope, but I’m not stupid enough to think he wants to stop this fight because he doesn’t think he can win. In his head, he’ll feel bad if he kicks my ass because I’m a precious girl.
Well, he needs to get the fuck over it.
“Just kick her ass, so we can get on with this, Evan,” Roza says from behind him.
That makes me smile even wider.
I know from experience that I have to wait for his move. His reach is far longer than mine, so I have to get through his to the inside. I have to be quick. Strike hard and strike fast before getting out again.
We circle one another, and this time, it’s apparent the fight has started. He won’t be saying any more remarks to me. He’s in his own head, just like I’m in mine.
He’s watching every move I make, just like I’m watching his. He has good technique. Unlike Brawler, he’s had technical training.
So have I, though.
I fake him into moving forward. I catch a right hook to the jaw for it, but I also come up on the inside, punching him in the gut and then coming up on the other side of his body, giving him a backfist to the neck. He cranes his neck this way and that, and then we both circle again. Cheers erupt on both sides. Each one calling out words of encouragement for their chosen one.
I fake a punch, wait for his reaction, and then move inside, punching him square in the jaw three times before getting back out again. It’s a bare-knuckle fight and my knuckles split for the pleasure of it, but his lip is split too. He reaches up, wiping a smear of blood over his lips and grins.
I know that feeling. You smile, even though it hurts like hell.
Evan rushes, trying to use his strength against me. I know if this goes to the ground, I’m done for. All he has to do is use his weight to hold me down while raining blows down on my head. I sprawl, my forearms cutting into his shoulders, allowing me time to get out of the way. He wasn’t ready for the force of my stop, so he puts his hand down to steady himself. I take the opportunity to knee him a few times in the face before getting back out of his reach again.
He bounces around, shaking his head like what I just gave him didn’t bother him at all.
“Is it wrong I’m fucking turned on right now?” he asks.
My gaze narrows. Shit like that pisses me off. Don’t demean me in a fight between equals, motherfucker.
He comes at me. I block his punches until he kicks me in the gut, and I stagger back. Even with the adrenaline pumping through me, that fucking hurt.
“Come on, Kyla,” Johnny says from behind me. His voice is low, growly.
He’s rooting for me.
I step forward again, Brawler’s words repeating in my head. Do anything necessary.
Evan kicks me in the gut again. “How’d that feel?”
“Like you’ve got a weak kick.”
His face tightens. He wipes at his lips, which trickle blood from the center. This time when he comes in, I round house him in the stomach. He groans but catches my foot.
Fuck!
He brings his elbow down into my calf, connecting with a crack. I suck in a breath, wrenching my foot from his hold. As soon as I put my foot down, my leg buckles, a fierce pain emanating from the point his elbow connected with my bone. It’s not broken, it just hurts like a bitch.
I flex my toes and absorb the pain as I step back on it again. I need this foot. It’ll hurt way worse after the fight is over when all the energy has died down and I’m not hyped up on the fight itself
.
Seeing that I’m injured, Evan goes to kick the same leg, but I block it by bringing my knee up, then faking a kick high to get his guard to rise while I get in another body shot on him.
He starts sucking in air. I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke a rib with that one. At the very least, they’re bruised, and it’s super difficult to breathe with a bruised rib.
“Time to stop playing,” Roza says behind Evan.
I hate to say this, but the girl’s a dumbass. We’re not playing. Unless she really thought he was just going to be able to walk through me, and now she’s worried I’m actually still fighting.
We trade blows, each of us getting some solid punches to the face. I have a goose egg on my forehead like the one I got the first day of school.
Aww, Nevaeh. Back when my problems were easy.
I expect Evan to retreat like we’ve been doing, but he doesn’t this time. He stays inside, using me as his personal punching bag. I block and retaliate, waiting for him to make a mistake. He gets overconfident because of the amount of strikes he’s been able to get in that he leaves his head unprotected. I elbow him across the nose and blood spurts from it. I get in another blow to his forehead, cracking the skin open before he finally wises up and steps back.
Blood drips down his face and into his eyes. He swipes furiously at it, but I use his lack of vision to my advantage. I step forward, blasting him several times in the nose, and then once to the throat, making him choke.
“Fucking bitch!” he roars as soon as he gets his breath back.
He moves in blindly. His arms moving furiously. I sweep his leg, tripping him, but grab onto his arm, so I can use his leverage to spin me to face him so I can continue to hit him. I drop hammer fists onto his face until he’s able to wrangle his arm free and cover up.
Everything goes in underground fighting. And I mean, everything.
When I retreat, I kick his balls, then stomp on his hip.
His hands move to cover his family jewels, and I pounce on him. I use the sharp point of my elbow to do the damage. My focus moves to a pinpoint. I’m on top of him, his arms trapped. As long as I can keep this spot, I’m fine. I don’t let up. I don’t let him squirm his way out of this. He tries to buck, but I return to what I was doing. Elbow after elbow rains down on him. I split the cut he already had on his forehead wide open. Blood splatters everywhere. I know it’s all over me. It’s all over his face. It’s dripping to the ground.
I go and go and go. I don’t let up. I don’t stop. I need this. I let my hate for Big Daddy fill me up and fuel my strength. I yell through clenched teeth, like a caged animal, not caring about anyone else but my own safety.
I don’t stop for a long time until strong arms grip me. It’s then I realize that Evan is limp. As I’m being pulled away, the bloody mess I made comes into focus. Evan isn’t dead. He’s just knocked out cold. The cut on his head is nasty. His short hair is practically coated in red.
My body starts to shake. I blink, letting my surroundings come into focus little by little.
Roza Fonz’s crew looks shocked beyond anything. They’re gaping at an unmoving Evan.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” a voice says next to my ear. It takes me too long to figure out it’s Johnny who has me. He brings me back to our side of the circle as Big Daddy K stands, walking toward the center.
Roza looks pissed. She sneers at her guy and throws her cigar to the ground, stomping it out with her feet. When she walks past Evan, she spits on him.
Johnny leans over to say something to me, but I can’t even focus. I can’t believe she disrespected her own fighter like that.
She turns an angry glare to Big Daddy K. “What are you playing at, old man? Who is that girl?”
“We had a deal,” he says. But he doesn’t give her a chance to respond.
Everything melts into slow motion. His hand moves first. It sneaks to his hip, and then he holds his hand out. His body blocks my view, but I don’t have to see the gun to know it’s there. The gunshot that sounds shortly after tells me everything I need to know. As does Roza falling to the ground, a bullet hole between her eyes.
I exhale, and all hell breaks loose as a trail of blood leaks from the single bullet wound in Roza’s head, running through the parts in her braids like water trickling through a stream.
29
Gunshots ring out. I’m shoved to the ground from behind. The gravel eats at my palms, digging in deep. Unlike before, time doesn’t slow like when the first shot rang out. It speeds up, like I’m looking at everything through fast forward. Guards rush to Roza while firing randomly in the air. Grunts of pain fill the all but deserted parking lot, but then dissipate.
“Come on,” a voice says in my ear while I’m getting tugged away.
I turn to find Magnum pulling me back. The small stones are embedding into the skin of my stomach as I’m being dragged, my tank top inching upward, leaving my skin exposed. I look past him, searching the area for Brawler and Oscar, who I knew were just here seconds before the fight started, but I don’t see them anymore. Bodies lie on the ground, and I cry out, hoping it’s not them.
He drags me right into a hedge that lines the parking lot and then pulls me upright. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He shakes me, and all I can see is the chaos of the shootout still in full swing. My heart gets stuck in my throat. Brawler’s brother and sister died in a shootout. He must be so scared. I shrug Magnum off and start for the parking lot again, but he grabs me from behind and lifts.
“Let me fucking go! Magnum!”
He runs, holding me in his arms. The branches of the wild bushes scrape at my body. The sounds of cars starting and peeling out of the parking area reverberate through me. I’m running through the images in my head, wondering if I can remember seeing Oscar or Brawler. Hell, even Johnny. He was right there. Right fucking there.
Now, where are they?
Magnum pulls me out onto a side street, and we crouch next to a dilapidated garage. I push him. “You knew that was going to happen. What the fuck?”
He staggers back but catches himself. Ignoring me, he looks around the side of the building.
“What’s going on?” I hush out. “Shouldn’t you be helping Johnny? What about Big Daddy K?”
Why I’m asking that, I don’t know. I don’t give a flying fuck if that fucker got hit. He just shot someone in cold blood. Oh my God. My stomach revolts, and this time, I really do wretch. It’s been building and building ever since I first saw him in real life, in his skin. He shot Roza without a care in the world. Talking one second. Dead the next. Her eyes so wide as she went down. Surprise captured in a moment in time while she fell backward, dead before she even hit the ground.
“We need to get out of here,” Magnum says. “Johnny told me you were the number one priority.”
“Where is Johnny?” I ask, looking behind me.
Magnum shakes his head. My stomach plummets. I don’t know if he’s shaking his head because Johnny didn’t make it or if he’s shaking his head because he doesn’t know.
“Here. This car.”
Magnum jumps into the middle of the road, holding his hands out. He pulls the gun from his holster and points it in the windshield. “Get out of the car,” he orders.
The woman inside shrieks.
“Get the fuck out!” Magnum yells.
The woman scrambles out of the car, tears already running down her face. “Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot. I have kids. Please.”
Magnum waves the gun, telling her to get to the side of the road. With it still pointed toward her, he comes back over to me, yanking me up by the shoulder and shoving me into the front seat.
The woman falls to the ground, sobbing, shaking. I’m numb to her pain. I should be having a reaction to this, but I can’t think about anything other than what I’m leaving behind in the parking lot.
“Fuck!” Magnum yells. He jumps into the car and pins my head down. A moment later, the windshield
in front of us explodes in fireworks of glass. Magnum presses on the gas, peeling out. “Keep your head down,” he grinds out, wrestling with the steering wheel.
We’re already at the end of the block when he finally reaches out and pulls his door closed before he takes a sharp right. I slide in the seat, tucking my head between my knees. I only know what’s happening by the way my body moves over the front seat. More shots ring out, but they must miss us because I don’t hear the explosion of them hitting their target.
The woman’s car is meticulously clean except for a receipt on the floor. It’s from McDonald’s. The print says “Happy Meal” in all uppercase letters. I close my eyes.
None of this makes any sense. I won the fight. Why would he kill her? What the fuck?
Within a few minutes, Magnum slows the car. He places his gun on the seat. “They’re gone but stay down just in case.”
“Where are they?” I ask, panic rising inside.
“I don’t know where anyone is,” Magnum says. I glance up. His eyes are sharp, calculating. His copper stubble disheveled. Before long, he pulls the car to the side of the road. No one glances our way, like people driving around with a smashed windshield is a regular occurrence. “Get out,” he says.
I slide out of the car, my knees wobbling. I try to stand, but my leg is still injured from Evan’s well-placed elbow. I hiss in a breath.
“Can you walk?”
“I can limp,” I tell him.
He slides the gun into the waistband of his pants. I lean on him as we walk to the Heights Crew building where Johnny and Big Daddy K live. When I glance up at it, he says, “We’ll be safe here. If Roza’s group reforms, they’ll come for us. This is the safest place.”
“Don’t they know where this is? We should go to my apartment.”
“You think they don’t know where you live?” he asks. “They’ve known about you since Big Daddy K threw you to the wolves. This place is engineered with so much security it’s basically impossible to penetrate. It would take a bomb to get to us and none of Roza’s guys are as smart as Rocket.”
