Robert (Fallen Angel Series Book 1)

by Tracie Podger

  I nodded my thanks and left to get on with my job. Joe had wanted me to collect a debt that was owed. He didn’t anticipate any trouble and after my fight, word had already got round I was not someone to tangle with. I would use that to my advantage. The debt we were to collect was from a guy who had borrowed a lot of money. He had paid most of it back but had decided he had done enough and was holding on to the last of it. I didn’t care whether he thought he had the right. He had paid a great deal of interest, I knew that, but he had been lent the money in good faith and whether he was morally right or wrong, the debt needed to be cleared.

  We arrived at the store the guy owned and watched for a little while outside, waiting for it to clear of customers. It was just a convenience store, like everything else in the neighbourhood, tatty and run-down. Entering, Travis pulled the door shut behind us and turned over the open sign, indicating that the store was closed, he slid across the bolt.

  “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a voice shouted.

  A grubby, fat man sat on a stool behind the counter, his greasy hair stuck to his forehead. The front of his torn T-shirt stained with whatever he had eaten for lunch. At his shout his friend appeared from a behind a door, a storeroom I guessed.

  “I’m here to collect your last payment to Mr. Morietti,” I asked, politely.

  The man laughed, coughing up phlegm which he spat on the dusty floor at my feet. I looked down at it in disgust.

  “Get this, that prick Joe, sent two kids to collect his money,” he laughed again, his friend joining in.

  “What the fuck you gonna do kid, beat me up,” he said, finding this highly amusing.

  I stood rock still, my eyes boring into him and I watched a flicker of uncertainty as he swallowed hard, his bravado wavering. The only people who referred to Joe by that name were the people closest to him. That man had just seriously disrespected him. Travis took a step closer to me, there was a glance between us, a flick of his eyes, a silent communication of what we were going to do and both men noticed this.

  “I don’t have his money,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed the guy by the storeroom door reach inside his jacket. Before he could get to whatever it was, Travis was onto him. He punched him repeatedly. The guy didn’t see it coming and he went down like a sack of spuds, crumpled on the floor and out cold. I never took my eyes off the one behind the counter who now looked in shock at his friend.

  “I’ve come to collect what you owe,” I said quietly and I watched him, with trembling hands, open his till and take out a wad of cash.

  As he handed it over I grabbed his wrist, pulled him forwards so he was half over the counter and I leant my face close enough to smell the stench of him.

  “If you ever disrespect me or Mr. Morietti in that way again, I will break every bone in your fucking hands. You will never work again, you will struggle to even wipe that filthy ass of yours. Do you understand?” I said.

  He nodded, I hoped his fear had made his mouth too dry to speak.

  “I said, do you understand?” I growled.

  “Yes, yes I understand, now take the money,” he replied.

  We left, checking the coast was clear, started up the car and drove off. Travis laughed, he found everything funny, even beating the shit out of someone amused him. I didn’t know who was worse, him for liking to fight or me for not have any emotion one way or another about it. Shaking my head at him, I told him to gun it, let’s get the payment back to Joe then we can hit the gym. When we got back to the office Joey was there. Neither me nor Travis had taken to him, we tended to avoid each other as much as possible and the feeling was mutual.

  “Joe around?” I asked.

  “No. What can I do for you, Rob?” he asked, spitting my name.

  “I have some money for him, that’s all. I’ll catch up with him later,” I replied and as we turned to leave, he said, “Give to me, I’ll deal with it.”

  “It’s cool, Joey. I’ll wait until I see Joe,” I replied, the tension between us mounting.

  “I said, give it to me.”

  There was no way I was going to give him the money. I doubted all of it would find its way back to Joe and I would be accountable for the rest. I turned to leave and felt a hand grip my arm. I stopped and looked down at it.

  “Joey, do yourself a favour, take your fucking hand off me,” I said, in a low growl.

  His hand shook a little. “You need to watch yourself, Rob,” he said.

  I spun round so fast he stumbled back a little. Travis lounged against the desk with a smirk on his face.

  “From who, Joey? You?” I said, staring at him, watching him shrink before me.

  I laughed, nodded at Travis and without a backward glance we left the office. I knew I had made an enemy that day, I had no idea to what extent and how that would affect me later in my life.

  ****

  I guessed Travis and I were fearsome. We noticed that when we walked along the sidewalk people would either move out of our way or greet us with a tentative handshake. People recognised and respected us, girls threw themselves at us.

  Travis was the first to get laid, it was with a married woman, someone we collected rent from and he was also the first to get caught. I remembered the day. He came running down the apartment stairwell, laughing and clutching his clothes to his chest. A man, way older, was running after him, cursing. I stood and watched Travis run to the car, jump in and wheel spin away. He had his middle finger out the window to the guy who was, by then, bent double, hands on his knees, wheezing like mad.

  “For fuck’s sake, Travis, not on our bloody doorstep,” I cursed, quietly, at him.

  I watched the man rise, mumble and as he turned to return to his apartment, he saw me. He stilled, unsure of what to do. He knew of me, he knew Travis and I worked together.

  I shook my head in exasperation. “I’ll have a word with him,” I said as I passed.

  I often had to clear up one mess or another Travis had got into and I started to walk back to the office.

  My first sexual encounter was in a club one night that Joe owned. Travis and I had just discovered the delights of beer and clubs. Although not old enough to gain entry, let alone buy a beer, because of who we were, we were allowed in. We would get dressed up and had a place reserved for us by the bar. We would go there on a Friday after the gym, leaving in the early hours of the Saturday morning.

  At first the small group of girls were annoying, so transparent, giggling, making sure they stood as close to us as possible to order their drinks. We would pick a couple out, fuck them in the toilets or out back against the wall then come back for another. It was quick and without any real feeling. They were cheap and easy and I had no respect for any of them. It was hard to have the respect, these girls would join their friends knowing they had all been fucked by us and compare their experience.

  Neither me or Travis had any trouble picking up girls, they saw us, saw the lifestyle we lived, the money we earned and they would assume we were older. The only problem was that they always wanted something neither of us were willing to give, a relationship. I doubted we would know how to have one, let alone take a girl out, wine and dine them. It wasn’t necessary, we got what we wanted without the expense.

  I guess like any teenager with raging hormones, I loved sex, I fucked a lot. I took what I wanted without any real thought to giving pleasure. Part of the problem was that I didn’t like these girls, I had no desire to please them. All I wanted was my release. I must have been doing something right though, the girls lined themselves up for me.

  ****

  “Trav, do you want a fight?” Joe had asked one day.

  “Sure thing, what have you got?” he replied.

  “A young kid, done well so far, not lost a fight, might not be easy,” he warned.

  So Travis prepared for his first fight. It was to be held on the same night as my next one. We trained together, prepared and
as a surprise Ted had some new matching shorts made for us, in the club colours.

  We arrived at the venue, the usual disused warehouse, often one Joe owned. It would always be kept secret until the last minute for fear of the cops closing it down. They were starting to get a bit heavy on illegal gambling, often raiding the place just before the fight started. We found our makeshift changing room and readied ourselves. I wanted to watch Travis, it was his first fight so we headed out, ringside.

  As Travis entered the ring I saw his opponent, maybe mid twenties, already a broken nose, a seasoned fighter. I also noticed something odd about his gloves, they didn’t seem to have the shine they would normally have. It was an old trick, paint on some glue and dip the gloves in crushed glass or sand to cause more damage to the skin when they connected. I whispered to Ted, he had to let Travis know so that he was aware. I cursed that the ref had not picked up on it, or maybe he had and chose to do nothing about it.

  The bell sounded for round one. Travis was far more impulsive than me, he steamed straight in throwing punches. He didn’t take the time to watch his opposition, to learn how he would move or respond and he soon found himself on his ass from an uppercut that he had not seen coming.

  It’s not like he was hurt, more surprised, but it was an introduction to his negligence. Round two saw a slightly more cautious Travis, he backed off a little but he had grazes to his face from the roughed up gloves. Now, there was something Travis was obsessed about, his looks. When he realised his face was marked, he got pissed, really pissed. Being angry in a boxing ring is not always the best thing, it makes you careless. For the second time, he ended up on the floor. At the end of round two I climbed to the ropes and leant over his shoulder.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Trav?” I asked.

  He looked round at me.

  “Back off bro, watch what he’s doing then wait for your moment, keep away from the gloves, they’ve done something to them,” I said.

  In the meantime the betting was going mad, a win for the other guy and if Travis didn’t alter what he was doing, they would be right.

  The bell sounded for round three and the guys squared up to each other. If Travis got his head together, they would be evenly matched but he was allowing his emotions to distract him. Joe and Ted were looking worried, there was a lot of money riding on Travis winning. People around the ring were starting to mock him. I began to get angry, he was seventeen for fuck’s sake. I started to shout at Travis to pick up the pace and finally he began to box the way I knew he could. He lasted the whole match but lost on points and he was devastated. I put my arm around him, led him back to the changing room, not before watching his opponents corner laugh at him and not before shouting at a group of guys who mocked him as we passed, happy to see them back off in fear.

  My turn and I was angry, I wanted revenge. The guy I was to fight had the same corner team. Like Joe, they were fielding two fighters and like the previous gloves, these ones were altered to cause as much damage as possible. I squared up to my guy, my heart pounding, not in fear but in preparation for what I was about to do.

  The bell sounded and I backed right off, moving around the ring, watching for any weakness. He was an arrogant bastard, taunting me, trying to rile me.

  “I fucked your momma last night,” he said.

  “Bet that was pleasant, she’s been dead ten years,” I replied.

  Unlike Travis, I could be very angry and internalise it until it was time to let it out. A straight punch through his defence caused him to stumble backwards, opening his hands slightly. I saw my opportunity and I let rip, he didn’t stand a chance. I didn’t care that the crowd wanted to see a fight, this would be over in round one. These guys had come to this fight and cheated, that was something I would not let go. Fair enough, Travis was outboxed, but to doctor the gloves was wrong.

  A volley of punches hit the guy on the head, the face, his stomach and his knees buckled. He might have been a good fighter but I had speed on my side and I would not give him a chance to get even the most feeble of punches thrown my way. I had him on the ropes and all he could do was to keep his gloves up to his face. I was too close for him to do anything to me. My last punch was the hardest I had ever thrown, an uppercut. I heard a crack and his arms instantly fell to his sides. I watched his eyes roll back in his head before he had even hit the floor. He never got up. I stood over him, watching the panic in his teams faces. As I approached them, they backed away leaving their guy lying in the middle of the ring and the crowd quietened.

  “You did that,” I shouted in their faces, pointing at him.

  “You roughed up those gloves and that is what happens when you fuck with me,” I told them.

  I pushed past the ref as he tried to calm me down, climbed under the ropes and made my way out, leaving a room full of silenced spectators. Travis and Ted ran to keep up. We changed back into our clothes and headed out for the car. I was pumped, I bounced on my toes unable to keep still. Joe, with Mack by his side had the shirt of the referee bunched in his fist. As he saw us approach he pushed the ref away and we climbed in the car.

  We arrived back at the house and sitting in the kitchen while Evelyn cleaned up Travis’s face, I turned to Joe.

  “Did you know about the gloves?” I asked, not taking my eyes from him.

  “Rob, of course not. I know it happens, but I expected a fair fight, same as you two,” he said. “The ref knew and he’ll pay for that, don’t you worry.”

  Joe had lost a lot of money on Travis that night but that was the risk he had taken.

  “Set him up another fight, soon as,” I told Joe, before heading off to bed.

  ****

  As the months wore on, we stayed more and more with Joe, abandoning our little camp at the office. Joey and we still danced around each other, still avoided any real contact but I had started to feel a huge resentment from him. He’d had his opportunities, no different to Travis and I but he chose to not take them, to rely on his father for handouts instead of earning his own money.

  Travis got his second fight and this time he won, easily. We fought on average, once a month earning big bucks towards the end. We had many offers to travel for fights, they could be arranged in New York and even Vegas for much more money than we had earned so far. As much as I told Travis to go for it, if he wanted to, it wasn’t for me. Joe had enough guys at the club to do that.

  “It has been put to me that you two should fight each other,” Joe said one morning.

  “What do you mean?” Travis asked.

  “An associate let’s call him, in New York, asked to put the pair of you in the ring. I told him no but it’s only right you make the decision,” he said.

  “No, I won’t fight my brother,” I replied.

  “How much?” Travis asked.

  “A lot, big money,” Joe replied.

  “It’s still a no,” I said again, scowling at Travis for even being mildly tempted.

  Travis and I looked at each other then back at Joe with a shake of our heads. We were brothers, we would never get in the ring against one another for real. I believed I would win, no doubt Travis thought the same, but I wouldn’t fight him. I would spar with him, I had an element of control when it was just for fun or training, but in that ring, with those spectators calling out my name, I didn’t trust myself not to hurt him.

  ****

  One day we were called into the office, Joe wanted a job done. A lorry load of cigarettes would take an unfortunate detour. We would relieve the driver of his cargo, he would wait a couple of hours before calling the cops and reporting the robbery. Both the driver and Joe would earn well from this. Sometimes the lorries would be full of booze, other times it would be household items. What we were to do with a lorry load of kettles and toasters amused Travis and I for a long time.

  We arrived at the office to collect a package, it should contain the money required to ensure the driver would have amnesia. Pushing open the door, I noticed Joey sitting i
n his father’s chair, his feet resting on the desk.

  “Where’s Joe?” I asked, no attempt at politeness anymore.

  “Out, money’s there,” he replied, pointing to a bundle wrapped in brown paper.

  After picking this up Travis and I made our way outside, into our car and headed off.

  “Trav, pull over, something isn’t right,” I told him.

  Instead of going to the warehouse, Travis drove to an underground parking lot and taking a small penknife from my pocket, I pierced a small hole. Withdrawing the knife, I noticed a white powder on the end. Cocaine, I guessed. What had raised my suspicion was that money was not normally wrapped in brown paper, drugs were. In the past Joe would give the money in an envelope and I knew he was not involved in hard drugs, a little dope was all he would tolerate. Getting out of the car, I hid the package and we headed off to the meet.

  Arriving at a warehouse, similar to the places we boxed at and where the lorry should have been in the process of being unloaded, my suspicions were confirmed. There was no lorry to be seen, however, the door was slightly open. We made the one and only mistake we have ever made that day.

  We parked the car and got out, made our way through the door into the dark room. A look passed between Travis and I, a silent message to stay quiet. We separated up, each moving to one side of the building, my instincts and hearing on high alert. I heard them and I calculated there to be about three people but they were heading Travis’s way. He was out of sight, no way for me to communicate with him without giving away both our locations.

  “What the fuck?” I heard him say as he was grabbed from behind.

  I stood in the shadows. It was not that I hadn’t wanted to get to Travis as quick as possible but I needed to see who they were, what they were up to. I caught the glint of something shiny, where the moonlight had filtered through the broken windows. Someone held a knife to Travis’s throat. This was serious and I had to make a plan and quickly.

  “Where is it?” someone asked.

  “What? Where the fuck is what?” Travis replied.