Stone Fist

by J. D. Weston

  “Your word is good enough for me,” replied John. He sank his brandy and felt the satisfying burn as it made its way down his gullet. “People rarely let me down, Tyler.”

  “I need to think about it. What happens if I say no?” Tyler asked.

  John set his glass on the table. He leaned in, beckoning Tyler to meet him halfway, and lowered his voice to a whisper.

  “We just made a deal, Tyler. If you back out now, they’ll be scraping bits of your poor old mum off the kitchen wall for a week. Do I make myself clear?”

  The phone in Harvey’s pocket vibrated. He couldn’t ignore it any longer. With a nod of thanks to the man sitting by the fireplace, Harvey pulled the phone out and stepped outside into the rain. He checked both directions and crossed the street.

  “Harvey, where are you?” asked Melody. “You said you’d be back.”

  “I’m coming back now,” he replied. “I stopped to see someone.”

  “See who? You’ve been gone hours, Harvey.”

  “Well, I’m coming back now. Get yourself ready to go out. I’ll be thirty minutes.”

  Harvey disconnected the call and turned into the side street where he’d parked Melody’s car. Something wasn’t right. The way the car was sitting was off; it was leaning to one side. He edged along the wall of the end-of-terrace house and saw the huge frame of the boy sitting in the passenger seat.

  Harvey stepped into view and, although the street was dark and any moonlight was blocked by the heavy clouds, he saw the white face of the boy turn towards him through the rain-spattered glass.

  The door opened and the car’s suspension seemed to sigh with relief as he eased one long leg out of the small vehicle and pulled himself out into the rain. The boy towered over Harvey and was nearly twice as wide, but his hands fumbled with a nervous energy as if they sought something to do.

  “I’m sorry,” said the boy. “I saw you park here. That’s how I knew it was your car.”

  “So you sat in it?” said Harvey.

  “The way you spoke to them in there. You wasn’t scared. They’re dangerous. One of them had a gun.”

  Harvey studied the boy’s proportions.

  “Having a gun is one thing. Using it is another. And using it properly is another thing altogether.”

  The boy was silent.

  “It’s Tyler, isn’t it?” asked Harvey. “I heard that bloke call you Tyler.”

  The boy nodded.

  “You want my advice?” said Harvey.

  Another silent and ashamed nod.

  “Run away. Get away from them and don’t look back,” said Harvey. “You seem like a good kid. But if you carry on with those guys, it’s the beginning of the end. Trust me.”

  Tyler’s face seemed to drop as if every muscle in it had relented to the pressure of holding back the emotion.

  “I’m in trouble,” he said. His voice had raised an octave. “I don't know what I’ve got myself into.”

  Harvey watched the boy fight his emotions, but didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he checked both ways in the dark street then sighed.

  “Get in the car,” said Harvey.

  He walked around to the driver’s side, opened the door and climbed in. The sheer width of Tyler’s frame occupied most of the space inside and when Harvey pulled his door closed, the two men’s shoulders had nowhere to go but rest against each other.

  “How do you know them?” asked Harvey. He started the engine and set the fan to clear the windscreen, which was fogging up.

  “I don’t know them. They came out of nowhere. I left my flat to go to training and they jumped me. They hit me and put a gun in my face.”

  “And you didn’t fight back?”

  “I wanted to,” said Tyler. He stared out of the windscreen, his eyes shining in the dark. “I should have, but…”

  “But what?” asked Harvey. “If two guys jump me, I fight back. I’m guessing you’re strong. You could have handled them.”

  “Not with the gun. Plus, I’m not allowed.”

  “You’re not allowed to fight back when two men put a gun in your face?”

  “I did it once before. I hurt someone pretty bad,” said Tyler. “The police arrested me, but the guy came around in the end and they dropped the charges.”

  “Came around?” asked Harvey.

  “He was in a coma.”

  “You put him in a coma?”

  “I didn’t mean to. I only hit him once or twice, not a lot.”

  “You can’t remember?” asked Harvey. “Is it hazy?”

  Tyler nodded. “I remember it, but the details are cloudy, like…” Tyler searched for the right words. “It’s like I was drunk, but I wasn’t. I don’t drink.”

  “It’s okay. I know what you mean. But you need to control that. You need to channel the anger and control it.”

  “That’s what I did earlier. I held it back.”

  “You held it back and had a gun put in your face, then you were chucked into a car and driven off. That’s not channelling the anger. That’s called being kidnapped, Tyler. You need to take that energy, but instead of suppressing it, you need to drive it to where you want it to be. When you feel that anger coming on and all you want to do is hurt someone, you need to remember your training. You need to go back to basics and let that anger bubble away in the background. Don’t push it away but don’t let it overtake your training.”

  The two sat in silence for a moment. A car drove past and its headlights flashed across the dashboard.

  “You sound like you have it too,” said Tyler. “The temper.”

  “It’s not a temper,” replied Harvey. He questioned if he should continue; he’d already said too much. But the boy was genuine, and he had a familiarity that had caught Harvey’s attention. “I don’t know what it is, but you’re right, it’s inside me.”

  “How did you learn to control it?”

  The question came out of nowhere. It shouldn't have. Harvey should have seen it coming. But it hit him hard.

  He didn’t reply.

  “Did you end up in trouble like me? Is that it?” asked Tyler.

  “Somebody showed me, Tyler. Somebody saw it in me and helped me.”

  Harvey’s phone began to vibrate once more. He put his hand in his pocket.

  “Can you help me?” asked Tyler. “I mean, do you think you could? I can fight, but I’m in trouble. If I lose my temper, it’ll all be over.”

  “I’m not the man you need, Tyler. Trust me.”

  “I do,” said Tyler. “I don't know why. I don't know you. But do you think you can show me how to channel it? Or at least get me started? I could pay. I have money, a little.”

  “I’m not the man you need, Tyler,” said Harvey. “Nobody needs advice from me.”

  He put the car in gear and pulled his phone from his pocket.

  “You can get out here, or I can drop you on the way. That’s about all I can do for you,” said Harvey. He hit the green button on his phone.

  “One second, Melody.” He looked across at Tyler. “What do you want to do?”

  “It was you, wasn’t it?” said Tyler. “Earlier?”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “I saw you. I know it was you.”

  “Where?”

  Tyler looked at his feet again and scratched at his hand.

  “At my dad’s grave.”

  8

  Low Places

  “So I was wondering if maybe we could talk, you know, about my Dad,” said Tyler, as Harvey pulled the little Mazda up to the entrance of Tyler’s building.

  “There’s not a lot I can tell you,” replied Harvey.

  “It doesn’t have to be a lot. It doesn’t have to be much at all. It’s weird, but I feel this connection to him somehow through you.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “Can I call you? Or you could call me? I don’t know anything really. I only know what he looked like from photos and Mum doesn’t say much about him. She shuts down if I men
tion his name.”

  There was a naivety in the boy's language that Julios wouldn’t have tolerated, but also a softness in his eyes. There was no denying the boy was Julios’ son. Harvey could see it in his size, and his features in profile with the large square jaw, piercing eyes and an over-sized nose.

  “You can call me,” said Harvey. “Do you have a pen?”

  Tyler rummaged through his bag and wrote Harvey’s number on the back of his hand.

  “It really means a lot to me. Thank you for this.”

  “I’m in London for a few days. After that, I’ll be gone and I doubt I’ll be back.”

  “I’ll call. I promise,” said Tyler. “Can I ask one thing?”

  Harvey’s eyebrows raised in anticipation.

  “Can I ask what your name is? You didn’t say and maybe my mum knows of you.”

  “Your mum doesn’t know me,” replied Harvey. “What’s her name?”

  “Leah. Her name’s Leah Thomson.”

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  “She knew all the faces around here. Anyone that was worth knowing, that is. She was married to some gangster bloke, but they were divorced before I was born. Mum said they got married too young. Mum started seeing my dad, on the quiet, you know? She wouldn’t have people talking about her.”

  “And what happened to the gangster?” asked Harvey.

  “He was killed eventually. I guess when you walk that line you have to expect it might happen one day, right? Good riddance, I say.”

  “And you never met your dad?”

  “No, he stopped coming round but used to send mum money. It’s weird. It was as if she didn’t want him there, but she never speaks bad of him, not like the other fella, the gangster.” Tyler paused. “Didn’t he ever talk about me?”

  “Your dad didn’t say much at all, Tyler. He was a private man.”

  “I wish I knew him. From what Mum says, he was a great man. But he just couldn’t commit to us. It’s weird though, a couple of times while I was on my way to school or out with my mates, I’d imagine I saw him driving past or walking nearby. But whenever I looked again, he’d be gone. It’s almost as if some part of me wanted him to be there.”

  “How long have you been going to the grave?”

  “A few years now. Mum found out where it was and told me. I don’t really know why I go. I guess it’s just a connection. I talk to him about mum and about my training.” A solitary, weak laugh broke Tyler’s memories. “He’s a good listener.”

  Harvey left Tyler with his thoughts for a few seconds and considered what to say. For the first time in a long while, there was so much Harvey wanted to say, but there was also so much he couldn’t. A memory here and there might open the boy’s wounds. But nothing might close him off, and he was the closest Harvey had to having his old friend back.

  “I should go,” said Tyler. He reached for the door handle and glanced through the windscreen at the torrential rain. He turned back to Harvey as he pulled on the door handle. “Thanks. I will call you, maybe tomorrow.”

  “Wait,” said Harvey. He’d started. He couldn’t stop now. “Close the door.”

  Tyler pulled the door shut and the interior light flicked off.

  “Do you want to know about your dad?” asked Harvey. “I didn’t know my dad either. I know what it’s like, the wondering.”

  “Anything,” replied Tyler, his eyes wide in the semi-light of the dark street.

  “My dad was killed. My mum too. We were fostered by a man, not far from here. I don’t remember it happening. I was just a baby. But my sister and I were taken in by this man and his wife. It was the same man your dad worked for. He was his security.”

  “Like a minder or a bodyguard?” asked Tyler.

  “Exactly that,” replied Harvey. “I ended up in some trouble. I was heading the wrong way, probably just like a million other boys out there right now. But my foster father asked Julios to take me under his wing, you know, show me a better path.”

  Tyler nodded. His eyes glistened at Harvey mentioning his dad as if the words had added a reality to the name, the photos and the grave marker.

  “I was only young, about thirteen years old, I think. Maybe older. He started to train me, taught me to swim, made me run and do push-ups. All the things a kid hates, right?”

  “Right,” said Tyler with another single laugh enthused with an anxious energy.

  “Then he started to teach me defence. I loved it. I ended up spending more time with your old man than my own foster father. We grew very close.”

  “So he taught you to fight?” asked Tyler.

  “He taught me a lot of things, Tyler. Yeah, fighting was one aspect of it. But it was more than that. The fighting, the training and exercise, it all came second to a mindset, a way of thinking.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Harvey turned in his seat and edged into the corner, allowing him to see Tyler without turning his head.

  “Everything your dad ever did was part of a plan. If he put his keys on a table, he’d do it a certain way. If he opened a door, he did it a certain way.”

  “Why?” asked Tyler. “I mean, why open a door a certain way? How many ways are there?”

  Harvey looked up at the street outside.

  “Do you see that door there?” he asked.

  “The green one?”

  “How would you open it?”

  “I’d pull the handle and walk inside.”

  “Who’s on the other side?”

  Tyler shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Was his job dangerous?” asked Tyler.

  “Sometimes,” replied Harvey, but redirecting the trail of conversation. “Everything he did was meticulous. Parking a car, he’d drive up and down the street twice before even attempting to park. Your dad was a smart man, and that mindset was habitual. It drove his life and he passed that on to me. I think, more than anything, that’s what I learned most from him. The mindset.”

  “But you didn’t drive up and down before you parked,” said Tyler.

  “I’d like to think that part of my life is over. What I’m trying to say, Tyler, and believe me, this is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to say, but your dad meant the world to me. More than anyone I ever met. If you turn out to be half the man he was, you’re onto a winner.”

  Tears had overflowed the wells in Tyler's eyes and a single drop rolled down each of his cheeks.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow, yeah?” said Tyler. He gave Harvey a thoughtful look and hid his face, embarrassed by his tears.

  Harvey didn’t reply.

  Just as the car door was about to slam, Tyler ducked inside once more. Harvey had straightened and put the car into first gear.

  “You didn’t tell me your name,” said Tyler.

  Harvey stared back at him, considering the consequences and weighing up the odds. But his affection broke through the defences that the boy’s father had taught him.

  “Harvey,” he said. “Harvey Stone.”

  It took just a few seconds for the downpour to soak Tyler through. He looked up at the windows of his flat. The lights were off. If his mum had been up, he’d see the flickering of the TV through the kitchen window. It was a trick he’d learned as a kid when he’d stayed out too late.

  He pulled his hood up as Harvey drove away and checked to see if he looked in his mirror, but the rain, the dark and the tiny window made it impossible to see.

  Tyler watched the little Mazda drive to the end of the street, where it turned right onto the highway towards Tower Bridge. Tyler turned and fumbled in his pocket for his keys, but as he did, a shadow stepped out of the neighbouring doorway, broad and as black as the night.

  The movement caught Tyler off guard, and he stumbled backwards. The man moved towards him, his hands in his jacket pockets and a dark hood pulled over his head, which covered half of his face.

  “You let him down, Tyler.”

  It was only when the man s
poke that Tyler’s fear sank further into a sense of dread, a tightening at the bottom of his stomach.

  “Lloyd, I can explain.”

  “So explain,” replied Lloyd. “Do you know how many people get the chance you had? You missed training, Tyler. Would you rather be out with your mates than-”

  “It’s not what you think, Lloyd. Honest. I can explain.”

  “So tell me,” said Lloyd.

  Tyler took another glance up to the windows.

  “Shall we talk inside?” asked Tyler.

  Lloyd looked up too, and then shook his head.

  “I don’t need to intrude. I just came to warn you. You have everything going for you, son. You have the talent and you have the trainer that will take you to the top. What you don’t have is the mindset.”

  “Mindset?” said Tyler.

  “Did I say something?” asked Lloyd.

  Tyler was looking past him to where Harvey had disappeared around the corner.

  “No,” said Tyler. “No, I understand.”

  “Do you? Do you understand that right now, the old man is talking about not even letting you back in his gym, let alone training you.”

  “I told you,” said Tyler. “Something came up. Family stuff.”

  “You can’t kid a kidder,” said Lloyd. “If there’s one thing a lifetime of being around juveniles has taught me, it’s how to spot a lie.”

  “It was,” said Tyler. “Honest.”

  “And the man in the car was family, was he?”

  Tyler fought to keep eye contact with Lloyd.

  “Yeah. Yeah, he was, in a way.”

  “Training tomorrow. I’ll talk to the old man, but it’s the last time. You let us down again and you lose it all. And don’t think any other gym will train you once the old man drops you. If you mess this up, that’s it. That’s your career in the ring over.”

  “Thanks, Lloyd. I won't let you down. I promise.”

  “Don’t come by tomorrow. Let me talk to him. Come on Saturday night. Double session. Be prepared to work hard.”

  “I will,” said Tyler. “No, wait. Saturday. I can’t.“

  Lloyd cocked his head and even in the darkness beneath his hood, Tyler could see his eyes narrow.