by Janice Ross
“Bitch!” the owner of the fist hollered out. He’d reached ten steps past overstepping his boundaries, ruining his luck. And then the bastard kicked my ride. This time the force was so much that it rocked.
My mind scattered. Kick my damn baby? He’s looking to get shut down. I held my breath, said a prayer, a Hail Mary . . . Absolutely anything that would shift my focus away from kicking open the car door and bashing it on top of the guy’s head. These desires were no longer mine . . .
Not the new and improved Lucas Akins. They should no longer be my desires. The urges should have left me ages ago. I was a new person; free to live amongst civilization, so to speak. I’d learned a long time ago to keep myself under wraps. In doing so, I had a habit of allowing things to get tucked inside of me. I was typically good at making predictions on how things would play out, though it had been years. This present circumstance, this was no longer my life and this drama should not have been mine to defend.
How could I have miscalculated the night this way? If I had remained in the seat at the bar, buying rounds for the hell of it and ignoring the bullshit, I wouldn’t now be forced to do something, anything, to rectify the shitty aftermath of trying to help out a damsel in distress. As much as I’d fought the inevitable, there was one way to deal with this here issue. I damn well couldn’t remain inside the car any longer. Taking a deep breath, I held onto the door handle, yanked and swung my feet to rest on the ground.
“Man . . .” My voice trailed into the air, even above the shit that had been going on, on the opposite side of the vehicle. The asshole forgot about Erika and instead rushed over to me.
The guy’s head barely reached past my shoulder. He had wild black hair that came alive the more he moved around. From several feet away, large lights flooded the lot, shining directly at us. Only moments earlier, it had been dim. I made note of the wide pupils of the dude. Not that there was an ounce of fear, but rather pity. We wrestled around briefly; each pushing before backing up to assess the other. My shoulders expanded. His chest pushed out. Though my body was not as wide as the shorter guy sizing me up, I ran different scenarios through my mind; ones that would use my height to the advantage.
“Bitch!” the guy spat out, spraying spit up into the air and onto my shirt.
“The only bitch I see is your short ass,” I fed him, not even moving to pat off the spit. There was absolutely nothing he was capable of doing to knock me off my game. The dude was too hyped, too overeager, and too emotional. Those traits would have anyone behaving in an irrational way, and in this case, get his ass beat.
“You ready for me?” Erika’s man roared. I refused to imagine that a random guy would go through all this trouble. The guy was a sight—a short, stocky goon with an ugly mug. He forced toughness, phony intimidation. He stretched out his neck, then expanded an arm to display a thick tattoo of a snake trailing from one end to the other. I shook my head. He couldn’t make me budge.
The guy lunged for me. His fists tightened at his sides until, within a matter of seconds, he stood two inches away. At this exact moment, a right body punch connected with my lower abdomen. I stumbled backwards and braced on the Camaro. There wasn’t enough time to build back up before another punch flew by my jaw. I felt the breeze more than the blow because of how I’d positioned myself on the metal. And the entire time, the jackass kept grunting and pulling for air as he jabbed for me.
“All of this over what?” I taunted as the bastard tipped a tight fist against my chin. Taking a few punches was part of the game. I wasn’t the type that ever planned for a fight or drama—never did, but somehow I got sucked into things like this. But that was supposed to be a life of the past.
“I’m gonna—”
WHAM!
I landed a fist dead in the guy’s mouth before he could get another word out. Not an assault, not a flurry. Just one calculated thump in his mouth. My knuckles ached, but that was the least of my worries right then. I was anything but a street fighter, at least not at this stage of my life. Sure I had done all types of shit when I was younger, but after a certain point in life, that bull had to come to an end. I tried to shake off the memories of a life that seemed to exist within another man. The person I was might’ve been far removed from the man I’d become.
WHAM!
This trip down memory lane afforded my opponent the chance to get a quick one in and knock me on my ass.
“Get up and fight, you bastard!” the man’s gruff voice demanded. He paced from one leg to the other, resembling an Italian Mike Tyson in his prime.
“Tony!” Erika called out, finally exiting her end of the car. “Please, you’re gonna kill him.”
“You get over there. I’ll deal with you later.” Tony paused to look her way.
“I’m not yours to deal with, not anymore.” Her pleading died down as she neared him. Bloody spots surrounded her shoulders and the side of her face. Her clothes had become raggedy and torn around the neck. She was now barefoot. Her appearance wasn’t what I’d expected when I’d spotted her over on the other side of the bar.
Tony shifted his entire body, closing the distance between them. “All this after us?”
“Us? More than six months ago,” she meekly pointed out.
“So you go off with some asshole?” Tony’s hollow voice rang out into the night, drawing attention from over on the opposite side of the street, beyond the parking lot and all. But after he lashed out on Erika, he shifted back to me. “Fight like a man!”
I cleared my throat. I didn’t want to insult the girl, especially since she’d clearly gone through everything. As much as I found it hard to remain calm and just reason through things, especially after looking at the damage the bastard had done to the Camaro. Sure I was with his girl, or ex-girl or whatever the hell, but I was only trying to protect someone hurting. “Grow up.”
Again, I miscalculated Tony’s attempt at a jab to the gut, and I doubled over.
“Get up, asshole,” Tony touted, pacing sideways while ejecting air with each breath. He grunted and griped, believing that he was that important, that threatening. Tony felt his strength, like a wrestler at the top of his game.
I hadn’t been prepared for a fight, but knew I needed to attack this head-on and settle it for good. The only problem was that I wasn’t a bad boy like this guy. The punk was walking around with a short guy’s complex. Hadn’t been “bad” like that in quite some time. Not anymore. It just didn’t seem like anyone else had gotten the memo.
Standing straight, I unhooked two buttons of my shirt. I then moved swiftly into Tony’s space. But didn’t stop there. My opponent drew his fists behind his head, aiming for my jaw. That’s all the midget bastard could manage, since I was so far over him. I had to give props where it was due. Tony had landed some punches, and for other opponents the guy might’ve been a potential threat. Taking a quick second to exhale all apprehension, I grew tired of playing around.
Being one to think ahead, I deflected a blow by reaching in the opposite direction. My inches provided a slight advantage, plus the fact that I was thinner. Not skinny, just more slender and able to manipulate the setting better than this guy. And before I knew it, I managed to sidestep the bastard’s charge. I slammed an elbow into the upper portion of Tony’s back, just below the neck and in the middle of the shoulder bone. Every inch of muscle, along with my 200-pound frame, went into the assault. Tony didn’t just stumble, he flew into a nearby truck that had been parked across from the Camaro. He was instantly winded, coughing and gasping for air.
Erika screamed before racing in the opposite direction, only to hide behind another vehicle. Suddenly, out of nowhere another guy appeared, about equal size and length, racing like a bull. This guy’s boots created loud thuds as he pounded the parking lot pavement. The entire sprint consisted of him trash-talking, even though he couldn’t finish a full sentence. I had already assessed one opponent and wasn’t mentally prepared for another. Not yet.
The new guy’s br
ick-like body drew down on me. Rather than try to shut down the bum’s effect, I stood directly in the path, bracing for the inevitable. He bulldozed into me. We crashed into a nearby sports car. But I quickly leapt up from under the bearish grip. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Tony’s attempt to bum rush. Catching the overeager bastard off guard, I waited to the point where I was but a few footsteps away. Not only did I have the advantage of height, I carried a knack for cruelty. Perhaps something I’d buried along with the memories of my troubled childhood.
The second man’s shadow blanketed the space, so there was no discretion. I sensed him nearing and swung around, crushing down with a solid jab to the idiot. “Know who you’re fucking with!” I screamed out as my fist landed in the bastard’s jaw.
Though breathless and scattered, neither of the men gave up.
“There’s two of us, asshole.”
“We’re gonna murder your ass!”
I wasn’t one to be thrown by idle threats. There was a point in life, when I’d barely reached my teenaged years, when I’d observed street brawls and near-death battles. Hell, I’d done my part at screwing things up. For a time I wanted nothing more than to be caught up in this lifestyle. But that was in the past. Moreover, my break-out years had provided just enough knowledge, just enough bravery. It helped shape the cruelty. But I eventually came to live a normal life once again. Unfortunately, however, from time to time, the guy that had been left behind needed to reappear when no one gave a shit about respect, making a decent living, and doing what was right.
From one to the other, I unleashed an onslaught of fury onto the men. Beyond the jabs, kicks and even full-on body slams, I forgot about the calm man I’d created. Instead, I found myself sneaking back into the dark past, revisiting the beast of a caged man. Though I’d relocated to lower, slower Delaware, my mind reverted to desperate measures in the fight for my life. I blacked out.
~
—————
LUCAS
I ATTEMPTED TO shift loose by rolling from one side to the next as they fought to secure me on the ground. The policemen were like flies, with the exception of their guns and batons. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, considering that the words were huskier since my chest was shoved onto the concrete.
Each of the cops had taken a region of my body. They didn’t appear to be too concerned with causing a scene, even though the two thugs were allowed to sit on the ground and have a conversation with law enforcement. And they weren’t even sitting. They were pressed against tires; slouched to be exactly. Faces that were once tough and manipulative were now soaked in blood. Swollen eyes, nose bridges lumped up, and God knows what other unseen damage existed.
As Erika prepared to give a statement, she looked on with a glossy gaze as the cops tightened my cuffs and moved me away. Next the medics tried to dress the scratches she’d sustained from the shattered glass. I watched her from the corner of my eyes, suddenly wondering if she had been passing judgment. Reality sunk back in as I turned away to catch a glimpse of Tony.
Our eyes connected. Erika was the cause of this drama. The idiot had made a fool of himself, for the sake of a woman that didn’t want him. Now, she wouldn’t take her eyes off of me. She pulled to me, as much as the cops would allow. Tony was shredded, yet she pitied me.
“He slaughtered them,” one of the cops commented to his buddy as they secured me in the back seat of the cruiser. By the time they’d arrived, the only way to settle me down had been with a Taser.
“Sir . . . sir, we’re gonna need you to cooperate with us, otherwise we’ll be forced to use even greater force,” one of the officers with a squeaky voice had warned.
I now remembered the fight, their attacks . . . My own defense before I’d blacked out. But that much damage? My mind ran on Rory. This was the type of excitement that he thrived off, so quite like himself, he could easily have taken them on.
“They came at us . . . Lucas did what he had to do to defend me,” Erika shouted at the cops.
“Do we need to take you in too, ma’am?” One of the officers stood directly in front of her. His elbows stuck out as his fingers slid through the belt loops.
“I’m not causing any problems, it’s just that he didn’t start this. That one,” she paused to spread her left hand for Tony, then continued on, “knocked in the side of his car. I mean look at what he made happen to me.”
“So what’s he to you?”
Erika closed her eyes; squeezed them tightly before biting her lips. I watched and listened with little connection. She wasn’t my concern beyond what had taken place. Can’t say that I wasn’t curious. Hell, any guy would be.
“He’s my ex,” Erika confessed. I felt the heaviness of her stare.
“All this is over you. So maybe I need to take you in . . .”
“For moving on with my life?” Erika stepped closer to where I had been seated on the concrete ground. She had taken off her shoes, and kept yanking at different spots of clothes to shield herself. The blood had already dried up, though the marks still stood out.
I forced myself to tune out the useless back and forth between the two. There was no sense in arguing with law enforcement. They were gonna do whatever the hell they felt was needed to be done, whether you, as a normal citizen, agreed with their decisions or not. So I readied my mind to be taken in by these guys.
~
—————
LUCAS
RORY WAS WAITING when I exited the station early the next morning. He was still dressed in the same clothes from the night before—khakis and a cotton button-down that had been rolled up at the sleeves. There was a hint of a smirk extending from Rory’s lips as his eyes danced. The day was hot, as usual for midsummer. The sun was ruthless, as it should’ve been. Rory squinted at me, then extended his arms. About two seconds later, he flexed his arms back down before letting them hang at his sides.
“Let’s go.” I slapped my palms together before addressing Rory, and without making further eye contact. After having spent more than six hours at the station, I was ready to not only get the hell away from there, I was longing for the seclusion of Delaware. I’d thought about Shayna, and whether or not she’d ever know about what had taken place. How could I justify giving her a half-assed story? To mention the fight would open the door for questions about what had led to the fight.
I took off walking and mulling over the thoughts. Although Rory had been shooting questions nonstop, our surroundings had been too loud for any to register until he got closer. Revisiting last night was the last thing on my mind.
“It’s like that?” Rory called out above the crowd, though he’d fallen into stride with me.
I shrugged.
From that we paced on in silence. Outside in the crisp summer air, one couldn’t help but contemplate those less dramatic stages of life—the ones where the bullshit faded away.
“Seriously, Lucas, what happened?” Just that quickly, Rory yanked me from a peaceful place.
“With what?”
“Don’t be a dick. What’s up? What the hell you think I’m talking about, man? They just let you go, just like that,” he continued, snapping fingers. “I heard you pulverized those bastards.”
I shrugged like before. A series of unspoken words dangled between us. No doubt Rory was there. Right. There. With. Me.
“You screwed up on your own. Don’t get pissed off with me.”
“Don’t,” I shouted out. My eyes remained straight ahead, while I continued along with wide strides. Several other walkers avoided me as others paused in anticipation. Not only had I drawn attention with my words, the sun embraced me. I was so pissed that I didn’t know how to control myself. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen to me. Rory maybe, but not me. Now here I was, by my own doing, at the center of drama. Each second only multiplied. I became the center of life, the heartbeat for all. My “don’t” carried a level of pain only Rory, Bash, and I could understand.
For once, Ro
ry didn’t pressure me. With the exception of a brief nod, Rory fell in line behind me. I knew that I’d get hell for the outburst, typically, but Rory knew better than to test me now, especially with having just come out of the precinct.
“Where’s my Camaro?” I asked, picturing the jacked-up windows with glass lying all inside of my ride.
“They were gonna put it in the pound, but I got Ryan to take it.”
I waited for more because, surely, Rory wouldn’t have some random guy up and take off with my car, right? When I didn’t hear anything else, I stopped walking. “Who the hell is Ryan?”
“He’s good people. His father owns a business in Manhattan—”
“And why in the hell does he have my ride?”
“Oh, seriously, were you planning to drive back to Delaware with a busted-up ride? I’m sorry, forgive me for looking out.” He shoved at my shoulder.
“If this guy is someone important, then how’d he end up with you for a friend?” I scratched at the side of my head. My friendships had purpose. I couldn’t think of anyone I associated with who was simply not good for a damn thing.
“So, this girl?”
“Aw, man—”
“I saw you step out of the bar with a broad. Next thing I hear you’re kicking some guy’s ass—actually two. Dudes come at you for two reason: their money and their chick.”
“I got locked up over this. And that damn girl.”
“You hit it?”
“I’m not you,” I teased.
“You’re damn right, and don’t ever forget it.” Rory tapped my shoulder. “Why didn’t you let me know what was going on? They nearly trashed your ride.”
“Man, I don’t wanna hear anything else about that. But this Ryan, what kind of business are you in, Rory?” Sometimes I had to wonder if he honestly thought things through.
