Fight for You

by Magan Vernon

  Mark released Dominic’s head and then padded into the dining room after Aunt Jo. I followed behind the two of them. Seeing the large spread on the two dining room tables made me wish I’d left early. Uncle Guido cooked enough for an army and I couldn’t eat any of it. If I was even a half a pound overweight at weigh-in, I’d automatically be disqualified. Which would mean that El Lobo would win.

  “You know, I should get going Aunt Jo. I’ve got a lot of work to do.” I scratched the back of my head, grasping at straws and trying to think of some sort of an excuse. I should’ve had this planned out better before I came.

  Aunt Jo grabbed onto both my shoulders, forcing me down into a chair next to my sister. “Nonsense. You have nothing else you need to do but be with your family and put some meat on your bones.” She patted my back.

  I stared at the food on the table. All of the traditional Sicilian foods were there: Swordfish, pasta alla norma, Caprese salad, and enough breads, cheeses and desserts that I was putting on weight from just looking at them. There was no way I was going to get away with just eating a little something.

  “Okay, everyone sit, sit. Before you mongiat, Uncle Guido is going to say our prayers!” Aunt Maria yelled and Uncle Guido stood at the head of the table.

  I thought this meant that everyone would keep their head down and be quiet, but instead Aunt Jo took that as her chance to load my plate up with food. I wanted to protest, but if I even tried to open my mouth she would smack my hand, and within the minute-long prayer my plate was overflowing with food.

  “Ey, how come Nicky got all the first bites?” Phil asked as soon as he put his head up and looked across the table.

  Aunt Jo pressed her lips together and squeezed my cheeks. “When your face looks as skinny as his then I’ll start piling your plate too.”

  “Gee, thanks, Aunt Jo,” he replied but that didn’t stop him from piling a big serving of pasta onto his plate.

  “Aunt Jo, I’m really not hungry,” I whispered.

  “Just have a little something, Nick. You’re going to offend your uncle if you don’t take just a bite.” She patted my knee.

  I gripped onto the fork. All these weeks I’d done nothing but train. I hadn’t touched a carb in years. I’d dehydrated my body before the fight, making sure I didn’t gain a single pound, and I didn’t want to throw it all away just so I wouldn’t hurt my uncle’s feelings.

  “What’s wrong, Nick? I thought you loved eggplant?” Ang looked over my shoulder. “Do you want some of Gabby’s gnocchi instead?”

  “No, I’m fine. I’m just not really hungry,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “What? Is my cooking that bad now, Nicky?” Uncle Guido piped up from the head of the table.

  “What seems to be the problem, Nicholas?” Dad’s voice was the one that carried above everyone else’s. It was condescending and his eyes blazed right into mine. It was as if he was punching me in the jaw all over again.

  I stabbed the pasta with my fork. “Nothing is the problem. Everything looks great. Just been awhile since I ate like this.” I forced a smile and shoved the pasta into my mouth.

  I didn’t even swallow before I heaved the next piece in. Then another. I washed it down with a glass of wine, Aunt Jo pouring me another full glass of Uncle Morty’s homemade red. Each sip fueled my rage and the throbbing in my jaw increased but I kept eating. I ate until the plate was completely clean and then I ate another, and drank a third glass of wine. I ate until my jaw was completely numb. The numbness that I felt when I trained was back. The numbness that I hated. And I knew it was time to leave my aunt’s house. To purge the numbness.

  “Do you want dessert, Nick?” Aunt Jo asked, placing a tray of cannolis under my nose.

  I shook my head, patting my stomach. “No thanks. I hate to eat and run, but I really need to get going.”

  She made a pouty face, setting the tray down in front of her. “Okay, Nicky. I guess that’s okay.”

  I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Next time I come over you can stuff my face with cannolis. I promise.”

  “Okay, Nicky. You’d better show your sweet face around here more.”

  I stood up. “I promise I will.”

  Dominic stood up as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

  “Okay.” I nodded and then waved to the rest of the table. “I’ll see you guys again soon.”

  “Bye, Nicky!” Almost everyone waved. Everyone but my father, whose eyes were just narrowed on me. He knew where I was going. I knew he didn’t approve. But fuck if I cared.

  I walked past the rest of my family members and out to the foyer, slipping on my shoes. It was then that I felt Dominic’s presence behind me. “Do you really think it was such a good idea to pound all of that food down like that?”

  I stood up and turned slowly toward him. “I know what I’m doing, kid. I’ve been at this a lot longer than you have.”

  He took a few steps closer to me, lowering his voice. “Look, I know your dad busts your balls about a lot of things, but you can’t keep letting him get to you like this. Brandon is right about that. You’re a really good fighter and I don’t want to see you DQed tonight.”

  I took his hand and shook it. “I know what I’m doing, Dominic. You just have your ass there and let me take care of the fighting, capeesh?”

  He held onto my hand even after he was done shaking it. “Alright, Nicky. I trust you.”

  “You’d better, kid. You’d better.”

  ***

  I knew the road back to the city like the back of my hand. I’d driven it so many times I could have done it blindfolded. Which is how I knew exactly where I could go and no one would look for me.

  I pulled over to the side of the road near the abandoned barn. The first time I went to the barn was when I was sixteen. It was the night of my first hit. His name was Roy LeFave and he owed over a hundred grand in gambling debts. The guys made it look like a suicide. I remember watching him beg for his life, telling me that he had kids. A family. All of that was drowned out by my dad screaming in my ear and then the sound of my glock.

  Afterward I ran into the cornfield and heaved until I threw up everything we ate at family dinner. Dad called me a pussy. He said I had to man up if I wanted to live up to my title. So I learned to be sneaky about it. Quick. Because the guilt never stopped after every hit.

  I walked past the barn and stared up at the stars. In the city I never got to see them, but out in the suburbs there were millions of them. They all dotted the sky and looked over me. As if they were a million flash bulbs going off. Taking pictures of me. Watching me. Knowing each step I took. I was never really alone.

  I dropped on my knees in the hard soil and raked my hands through my hair as I stared up at the stars. Were they really watching me? Was someone going to come out there and say Nick Ragusa, what the hell do you think you’re doing? Did I really fucking care?

  Slowly I looked down at my hands. The hands I used for fighting. The hands I used to caress Jackie’s face. I clenched my fists and unclenched them before I stuck out my index finger and slid it across my tongue, jamming it against my uvula, pushing it onto the back of my throat. I gasped, bending over and purging everything from that night onto the ground in front of me. I kept heaving, pushing until I was coughing up nothing but air.

  I removed my finger from my throat and placed both hands on my knees, breathing heavily as I looked back up at the stars. Maybe they really were watching me. Maybe they were judging me, telling me I needed to stop what I was doing. Stop running and man up.

  I stood, wiped my mouth and dusted off my jeans. Maybe I did need to stop running. Maybe I did need to man up, but for now I had to get to my fight, because I made a promise and I intended to keep it.

  Chapter 8

  The Candy Shop wasn’t in any better of a neighborhood than the gym, but that didn’t stop people from coming to a strip club. I guess that’s why the promoters decided to do the match here. They figured the same people that like
d to watch women take their clothes off also liked to watch grown men beat the shit out of each other.

  A lot of guys just wanted to pound their fists into something, but that wasn’t my deal. I had enough bloodshed in my life. I did it to escape my reality. Fighting in the cage was the only thing that ever made sense to me. Once my gloves went on I was in the zone.

  I pulled into a parking spot toward the back of the lot. I didn’t want to draw any attention to my car, or to me for that matter. People knew me as El Principe in the ring, but most figured it was a stage name. Anyone who figured out I was son of the biggest Don in Chicago, just wanted to see me shed some blood.

  I grabbed my bag out of the back of the car and turned toward the strip club, spotting Jackie’s silhouette standing near a back door. I wasn’t sure it was her until she turned slightly and I caught a glimpse of her bright green eyes. I didn’t care that she wasn’t the traditional blonde haired, blue eyed, big titted girl that all of my guys usually got hard for. She was dark and sensual. Almost untouchable.

  But I’d had her once before and I knew she was there for me which made me think of other things than beating the shit out of some guy and what I could do to her outside of the ring. I took a few steps forward, ready to approach the dark-haired angel, but another guy beat me to the punch: her ex-boyfriend Emilio. Who the hell invited him to the fight?

  I ducked to the side, hiding in the shadows. The last thing I needed was to be DQ’ed because I got in some brawl in the parking lot with a fucking gang banger. But I had to make sure Jackie was safe, so I kept a close distance and watched, because if he did do something stupid I would make sure that he paid.

  She stood with her arms crossed over her chest as soon as he approached, narrowing her eyes. Good, at least she didn’t want him here. He smiled, arms extended. He wore a red tank top, revealing arms that were covered in tattoos, and not ones that looked like they were done in a shop. These looked more like badly drawn prison tats.

  “Hey, Jackie,” he sneered. “Didn’t expect to see you here.

  “What the fuck do you want, Emilio?”

  “Ouch. My heart.” I couldn’t see his face, but his words dripped with sarcasm. I didn’t know what the fucker was up to, but it was getting hard to hold myself back.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble. I’m just here to see the fight, okay?” She turned toward the door and he grasped her arm, jerking her back toward him. A muffled cry escaped her lips as he spun her around to face him.

  It took everything in my power not to move.

  “Don’t fucking lie to me, bitch. I know you’re here to see Nicky Ragusa, fucking El Principe. My brothers told me that you were running around with him. Heard he even got you a sweet little bike. Aint that nice?” His greasy hand was wrapped so tightly around her arm I knew he was leaving bruises.

  “Yes, Emilio, I’m here to see Nicky. Is that what you want to hear?” The words came out a garbled mess. This was not the tough chick that walked into my office. She genuinely feared for her life.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. If it meant that I was disqualified then fuck it. I had to save her. I clenched my fists and slowly walked out of the shadows. But the crunching of gravel and the echoes of laughter alerted me that people were approaching and it brought me back to reality.

  I couldn’t start a fight in the middle of the parking lot. Not when there were witnesses. People walked by and offered a polite smile. I glanced back to where Jackie and Emilio were standing, but they were both gone.

  My knuckles were still white, my fists in tight balls at my side. I didn’t know what he was doing at the fight tonight, but I was going to find out. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my phone, punching in Dominic’s number and sending a text.

  Find out who Jackie’s ex-boyfriend Emilio is. Tattoo guy at Do or Dye. I want every piece of dirt you have on him.

  Dominic’s reply was quick.

  Is he one of El Lobo’s guys? Did he say something to you?

  I don’t know. He’s here at the fight and he just threatened Jackie. Fucker messed with the wrong fighter.

  A few guys were setting the cage up in the middle of the strip club parking lot. Another guy put a few chairs around the massive metal structure for fans to sit on and watch the fight. I didn’t think anyone actually ever sat on any of the chairs.

  I walked past the set up to where the stage was set for weigh-in. There was always a crowd that wanted to watch us get weighed, mainly because half of us had to strip naked to make our weight class. They usually covered us with a towel so the audience didn’t see our junk, but that didn’t stop anyone from enjoying the show.

  Coach was already standing at the side of the stage and his eyebrows raised as soon as I approached. “Nick, what the hell are you so dressed up for?”

  Shit. I should have stopped home and changed before I came. Now I looked even more like a dickweed in my button-down and jeans instead of the sweats that the other guys were wearing. “Sorry, Coach, I had to go to a family dinner first.”

  He shook his head and patted my back. “No matter. As long as that scale gives us a good number, we’ll be safe.”

  I swallowed hard. I hoped it did too.

  The promoter that put on these fights was a shady looking guy, Malfoy Runge. He stepped onto the stage wearing a pair of cargo shorts and a faded t-shirt with his long red dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail. He was the best at putting on these underground fights. The guy was only about 5’7” 150 pounds, but I didn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.

  He stood at the microphone and gave his usual spiel, talking about the fight and weighing in. I tried to zone out when he talked. I didn’t need to hear the rules. I knew what they were. The biggest thing I had to understand in the cage was that the fight was more internal than it was external. I always had to block everything and just let it all out in the cage or I’d find myself getting fucked over.

  “And next up we have Nick ‘El Principe’ Ragusa,” Malfoy’s voice boomed over the microphone.

  The music started and I sauntered onto the stage where I was greeted with some cheers.

  “It looks like Ragusa has some fans,” Malfoy joked.

  I unbuttoned my shirt tossing it to the side and then stripped off my undershirt. As soon as that was off I heard a yell, “Hey Nicky, Jackie wants to fuck your brains out!”

  I sharply turned toward the direction of the sound and saw Haley and Jackie standing in the crowd. Haley was clothed this time, but had a huge smile on her face and Jackie was looking down at the ground, biting her bottom lip. She may have been embarrassed, but she looked sexy as hell.

  I waited until she finally looked back up and I caught her gaze. Then I shot a wink in her direction and shucked off my shoes and pants. That had the crowd roaring even louder.

  “Looks like Ragusa really does have a fan club.” Malfoy laughed.

  I got down to my black briefs and took in a deep breath, closing my eyes and trying to block out the crowd as I stepped onto the scale. If it didn’t say 185 I wouldn’t hit the middleweight class requirement. All of my training. All of the time. None of it would matter.

  “One-eighty-five exactly!” Malloy’s voice boomed and the crowd cheered. When I opened my eyes I looked into the crowd and met Jackie’s smile. I was going to win this one for her.

  I stepped off the scale and stood to the side of the stage where Coach was waiting with my pants.

  “And next up we have Ricky ‘El Lobo’ Martinez,” Malloy yelled into the mic. A few people in the crowd howled.

  I turned and watched as El Lobo swaggered onto the stage, bouncing up and down and punching the air like everything was a big show. He was a lean guy and definitely a lot younger than me. I don’t think he’d been fighting long. Maybe a few months? His head was completely shaved and once he stripped off his sweat suit I saw why he had his nickname; a giant wolf was tattooed onto his back. The large black ink drawing took over the entire surface and moved with his
muscles as if he was one with the wolf. He stepped onto the scale, holding his arms high above his head.

  “One-eighty-five point one,” Malloy yelled, followed by another howl from the crowd.

  EL Lobo stepped off the scale and turned toward me, putting his hand out for me to shake. I gave him my hand and he pulled me in for a hug. His lips were at my ear, his words laced with venom as he whispered, “Nice to see the mafia likes our sloppy seconds when it comes to women. I’ll remember that in the ring.”

  Before I could even react, he pushed off of me and smiled, pointing out into the crowd, right at Jackie. Somehow she was connected with El Lobo and his guys. I didn’t want to know how or why, all I knew was that I had to get her the hell away from them.

  ***

  Since we weren’t in a gym or anywhere close to one, I had to get ready in one of the VIP lounges, and there wasn’t anywhere to really warm up besides on the couches or the pole in the middle of the room.

  “You’re ready for this, Nicky,” Coach said as he wrapped my hands.

  I clenched and unclenched my jaw. With every match, I took everything bottled up inside of me and used it to take on my opponent. All I could focus on was the look in Jackie’s eyes when she saw Emilio, her fear when he had his claws on her. I wanted to make him pay for hurting her, and I had to pour all of that aggression into the cage. I knew how to harness my energy and exactly when to use it. I wasn’t like these fucking kids who paraded around the ring and tried to harass their opponents. I calculated. I played the game the best way I knew how: by winning.

  “El Lobo’s coach come in and talk to you?” I raised my eyebrows but Coach didn’t look up from wrapping my hands. He was intensely focused on his work.

  “No. Not yet. I’m not sure that he will either. A lot of these guys don’t exactly play by the rules.”

  “Anything else we know about him? Anything with his previous fights? Associates that I should be worried about?”

  Coach finally looked up from my hands. “Nick, will you quit dancing around the subject and just come out and ask me what you really want to ask?”