Love, Lies, & Crime: Anthology

by Kimberly Blalock

  She gears up next to me. “Excuse me, this is none of your business.”

  God, she is annoying. Now I understand why Maria sneaks out. At that moment, a cab pulls up; I give Maria a warm smile, mentally wishing her good luck.

  They get in the cab and I get the death stare from her sister. I scoff as I shut the door and signal for the cab driver to go.

  Shaking my head, I turn toward my apartment and decide to take the subway home.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Taylor

  THE MORNING ALARM blares, startling me from my dream. I let out a mumbled groan as my body stretches in bed, deeply regretting that subway ride home. It took way longer than expected and to top it off, it started pouring just as I made my way above ground. Running home ten blocks in the rain was not fun at all.

  After only two and a half hours of sleep, I force myself out of bed and slip into a pair of sweatpants. I grab the nearest hoodie and pull it over my head. Within minutes, I’m washed up and fully dressed, ready for my morning run.

  Locking up the apartment behind me, I plug in my earphones and start my Spotify workout playlist. My legs rush down the stairs, taking a couple at a time as I get my heart rate pumping. Crashing into the building’s main entrance, I push the door open and the blinding sun shines my eyes awake. The city streets are already packed with pedestrians and the morning rush hour traffic is already at a standstill.

  After a quick stretch, my feet start pounding the pavement as I make my way around the city. Evening my breathing, careful not to exert myself too hard, I focus on the task at hand: breathing with control. It’s a technique I’ve mastered over the years. It’s a particular skillset really, and it wasn’t easy to fully grasp. Victor got on me for months.

  I can hear his voice in my head as I run through the streets. Breathe boy. Breathe! Running through the city, my mind goes back to last night at the club. Damn, that girl really got on my nerves. No wonder Maria wanted to get away. As I approach 34th street, I see an ad for NYU displayed on the city buses. I let out a little chuckle, thinking about Maria.

  As my body runs along the streets, my mind leaves the girls behind and focuses on the present. I have a match later this week in Atlantic City and need to start cracking down. Victor has already warned me this won’t be an easy win. Apparently, the opponent is an MMA veteran and already has the winning pot. If I win this fight, it will be a complete upset.

  My lips curve into a smile. That’s what I do. I show them that confident nature and give them the surprise of their life.

  A sound notification chimes on my iWatch and I glance down to see a text from Victor.

  Victor: Running late. See you @ the gym in 30

  I respond with a quick “ok” and continue my run, heading toward the subway. Within ten minutes, I’m on board the train and take a seat in the corner, calming my breath after the run. Sweat drips down my face as I pull out a napkin from my sweatpants pocket. A few teenage girls sit across from me and I catch them staring at me. I chuckle under my breath. Catholic school girls. Always chasing boys.

  Nerves course through my body as I hear roaring from the arena. Victor tries to keep me calm, but it ain’t helping. I’m usually not this nervous before a fight but to be honest, I’m fucking terrified. After seeing the ESPN coverage last night about my opponent, Bone Crusher, I’ve been shitting bricks.

  My phone rings as Rob’s face flashes on the screen. I rush to pick it up. “Dude, what the fuck! Where are you?”

  Rob’s voice chimes through the speaker, “Hey man. Sorry, I’m not gonna be able to make it. I have an emergency meeting in the next couple hours in D.C.”

  His confession shocks me. “What! Fuck the meeting. You’ve never a missed a fight.”

  He says with sincerity, “I know, I’m sorry, but this is my job man. I can’t skip out. This is important.”

  Jealousy spews from my mouth. “Yeah, whatever you say man.”

  I hang up the phone before Rob can respond. Victor gives me a concerned look, but I brush it off. I step outside into the hall as Victor follows close behind. I hop in place as I allow the anticipation of the crowd to fill me. Adrenaline starts to build as I make my way to the cage.

  The announcer states my name as I step inside the cage. Victor pats my shoulder before he exits, giving me one last piece of advice. Sizing up my opponent in front of me, I see he towers over my height. Yes, he’s much older than me so may not be as agile, but his veteran status enables him to understand the fight. The first round bell chimes in the background, causing the crowd to explode into roars.

  Bone Crusher jumps forward with hard fists flying and I block his advances. Taken aback by his fierce height, I compose myself, breathing calm. With a burst of force, my right leg flies toward his face, landing a solid hit. He stumbles backward, absorbing the hit. A smile curves along my face as I stare down my opponent.

  A loud growl echoes from Bone as we circle each other in the cage. The roaring crowd echoes distantly as I try to block out any and all distractions. Bone throws a couple punches as I sway away from his advances, careful to watch his feet. Looking for an opening, I spin my body into a twisted curve as my leg aims for his chest. Just as it’s about to hit, he blocks me and grabs hold of my leg, twisting it as I cry out in pain. Without letting go of me, he hoists me off the ground and tosses me across the ring. My body slams onto the hard surface and my lungs scream for air as excruciating pain aches from my chest. Before I can even stand, Bone Crusher is on top of me, landing punch after punch.

  My arms try to block him, but he’s too heavy to lift off. Blood spills from my nose and trickles into my mouth. His coarse breathing sounds above me as his body crushes mine. Pounding hits crash into my face as my vision starts to blur and a glaze of dizziness begins to form over my surroundings as light headiness starts to seep in.

  At that moment, I can no longer lift my head and my arms fall flat on the floor. With that, my eyes close as the crowd erupts into a frenzy. Their cheers echo as I fall back into darkness.

  A slapping hand smashes my cheeks as I groggily wake. Victor’s blurred face comes into focus as his mouth forms words, but I can’t make out what he’s saying. Shadows of other officials surround me as they examine my face and wounds. Flashing lights shine into my eyes as I try desperately to keep them shut.

  “Stay with me kid.”

  I groan as Victor nudges me conscious. “Ugh. Wha…what happened?”

  “Well, you got your ass handed to ya.”

  Victor’s statement irks me, and I try to move my body.

  Hands grab me before I can lift myself up. “Hold on there kid. Looks like you got a couple broken ribs.”

  “That bad huh?”

  “Yup. We’ll get you fixed in no time. Here, let me help you stand.”

  Victor and the others help me stand as I glance around. Bone Crusher cheers from the opposite side of the cage and the crowd cheers along with him. Victor assists me in walking forward as pain surges from the chest. My haggard breathing is harsh but manageable. Bone Crusher notices my advance and walks toward us.

  He reaches out his hand, asking for mine, and I comply. We shake hands, showing good sportsmanship. “Congrats.”

  He nods and returns to accepting his new belt from the commissioner. Victor helps me out of the cage and back toward the locker room. I sit on top of the metal bench as a couple medics take a look at my bruises. After a few minutes, my ribs are iced and wrapped carefully.

  Victor watches attentively as the medics work their magic. His fingers rest on his lips as he ponders his next statement.

  “Well, this injury will put us back a couple weeks.”

  The feeling of defect crushes my spirit as I ignore Victor. Once the medics are all done, I hop off the bench and wash the blood off my face. Inspecting my broken nose, I shrug like it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Victor continues to speak about the training schedule, but I couldn’t care less at this point.

  He notices my reservat
ion and steps forward, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t sweat it kid. We knew this wasn’t going to be an easy win.”

  I shrug out of his grasp and groan. “I got my ass handed to me. Knocked out cold. It’s not something to discuss calmly.”

  “Taylor, I know you’re upset, but anger is not the resolution. Preparation and training harder is what we need.”

  My fists slam the sink as I step back to face him. “I have been training! For years! So don’t give me some bullshit about trying harder!”

  Anger spreads through me as my breath seethes through my teeth. “You know what…fuck this.”

  Within seconds, I’m at the door and just as I exit, Victor calls out, “Where are you going!”

  Without looking back, I growl, “Out. Don’t bother waiting up for me. I can make my own way back to New York.”

  I race to the hotel room, grab my belongings, and check out at the concierge desk. “Any reason for checking out early Mr. Monroe?”

  “Just heading back to the city earlier than expected. Do you happen to know when the next New Jersey transit will stop?”

  The concierge cautions, “Actually there isn’t a stop here. You’d have to make your way to Freehold, and you can hop on the train there. Or we can call you a cab.”

  Glancing around, I see the flashing lights of the hotel bar as music from inside echoes through the halls.

  Returning my focus back to the concierge, I say, “You know what, I’ll stick around here and leave in the morning. I’ll be at the bar if anyone needs me.”

  “All right, sir.”

  I make my way to the bar and take a seat. The bartender notices me sit and nods, indicating he’ll hit me up in a few. When he finishes up with his current customer, he stalks toward me.

  “What’ll it be sir?”

  I groan. “Whiskey. Top shelf.”

  He places a glass with ice in front of me and pours whiskey to the rim. I thank him and take the glass, tipping it back and allowing the cool liquor to fill my mouth. The sharp taste spills down my throat as I revel in the taste.

  Before I know it, he’s filled at least ten glasses, and I’m feeling the buzz. Just what I needed. The sound of ESPN chimes from the television above the bar crowd and my eyes focus on the newscast.

  “And tonight’s final broadcast, the MMA fight in Atlantic City, Bone Crusher versus Taylor Monroe. Witnesses say it was one of the most exhilarating fights they’ve seen, and according to recent reports, it’s already broken records for the quickest KO of just one minute and thirty-eight seconds. Taylor Monroe suffered a minor concussion and a couple broken ribs but is expected to make a full recovery. And now, let’s take a look at the footage from the fight.”

  My eyes shy away from the telecast with no desire to rehash my ass beating.

  The bartender glances at me and then back up at the screen, putting two and two together. He sighs and pours me another glass. “This one’s on the house.”

  “Thanks.”

  I sip on the liquor just as a deep yell chimes from my left side. “Hey! You’re that kid. From the fight!”

  A drunken customer nudges my shoulder and shouts into my ear. “Man, you got your ass kicked! Shouldn’t you be in a hospital?”

  I shimmy out of his grasp and swivel my barstool away from his face, trying to ignore his arrogant behavior.

  He calls back to his buddies, “Hey fellas, looks like we got a sore loser on our hands.”

  Blood boils inside me as I try to keep it cool. I call over to the bartender so he can close my tab.

  The asshole’s buddies gather around me and begin to pester me about my defeat. “You got your ass kicked by an old man. How does it feel to lose with millions of people watching on TV?”

  He starts poking my shoulder as I close my eyes, breathing to relax my anger. My hand grips my glass of whiskey with a fierce hold; it might snap if I squeeze any harder.

  The asshat turns to his friends. “Ehh…this one isn’t any fun. Besides, he fights like a girl.”

  His last statement causes an explosion inside and I swivel my chair to face him just as he begins to step away. My hand holding the glass of whiskey flies through the air and smashes it on top of his head, breaking the cup into shattered pieces.

  He falls to the floor, crashing hard. His buddies rush over to help him and one of them reaches out to punch me. I duck backward just as his fist passes me by. At that moment, it’s me versus them. Fists swing through the air, glasses fly across the room, and shouting echoes through the bar. My body clashes with the others as they all tackle me. Punches hit my bruised ribs and I cry out in pain. I’m pretty sure a couple fists hit my broken nose. The taste of blood fills my lips as I wipe it away.

  The sound of sirens chimes from the distance, growing louder as they get closer and closer. The other patrons rush out of the bar, retreating from the fight. Bodies rush toward me as my aching limbs struggle to control their weight on top of me. Too heavy to handle, I slowly fall toward the floor just as the police barge into the bar.

  “Police! Stop where you are. Hands up!”

  The bodies lift off me as I gasp for air, my lungs crushed into the floor. I stand up, swaying as the alcohol hinders my ability to focus. Shining flashlights blind me and my hands rise up, blocking the blinding light.

  Hatred spews outs of me as the policemen step forward. I glare at the scumbags across the bar and the whiskey settles in my stomach as I sway from left to right. My head pounds as a migraine begins to take shape. A few officers ask the bartender what happened just as that asshole yells from across the room toward me. “It’s his fault! He jumped me first!”

  His lies heat my blood as I leap across the room, rushing to teach him a lesson, but just as my fist lands on him, a cop grabs hold of me and hoists me back. “I said freeze!”

  Struggling out of his grip, I push him backward and he falls to the ground. My target comes into view and as I take a step toward him, a jolting surge of electricity courses through my body. My knees buckle as I fall to the ground. I feel my body stiffen like a board and lose all motor skills, though I’m completely cognizant of what is going on. It’s the strangest feeling in the world.

  I try to scream but can’t move a muscle. What feels like forever is only a matter of seconds as the jolts wear off. As the feeling of helplessness rolls away, I’m hoisted off the ground and my arms are pulled behind my back. A cop clasps them in handcuffs and lays out my Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you? With these rights in mind, do you wish to speak to me?”

  I let out a groan as he arrests me and pulls me toward his police car. Well shit.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Taylor

  “HEY MAN, WHERE’S my phone call? I know I get one.”

  My hands bang against the bars of the cell as I stare down the guard. He glances at me as he sits in his chair, eating a fuckin breakfast muffin. “You’ll get your phone call when I say so, all right?”

  My fists slam the bars as I grunt at him. Pacing back and forth, I glance at the time and notice it’s almost five in the morning, meaning I’ve been locked up for a good two hours. This is fuckin bullshit. After fifteen more minutes pass, there’s still no mention of a phone call, and my agitation is getting worse and worse. On top of that, I gotta take the meanest piss, and I refuse to use the toilet in the corner. Damn liquor went straight through me, and I’m pretty sure I gotta piss as much as Austin Powers did when he was unfrozen.

  “Come on man! I need my phone call. I’m supposed to be in New York in an hour!”

  The cop chuckles. “From the looks of it, you’re gonna be late.”

  “Asshole!”

  The cop jumps out of the chair, acting all high and mighty toward me. “What did you just call me?”

  I snarl at
him. “You heard me.”

  The cop reaches for his baton and his set of keys and slowly approaches my cell.

  “Sit your ass down Watson.”

  I glance toward the entrance of the holding room and see the cop that arrested me. The tough guy cop sits back in his seat. “This guy’s asking for trouble.”

  The other cop grabs Watson’s keys and opens my cell, stepping inside. “Do you want your phone call or not?”

  I nod my head and allow him to lead me out of the cell and into the hall. We reach a desk and he pulls a desk phone toward me. “Hurry up. I’m timing you.”

  I grab the receiver and start dialing Rob’s number, thankful I know it by heart. After a couple rings, my nerves start to pile up. Come on Rob. Pick up the phone.

  The ringing stops as the speaker clicks on and I hear Rob’s groggy voice on the other end. “Hello?”

  A loud gasp escapes me. “Oh, thank god. It’s me.”

  “Taylor? What the hell man? It’s like five thirty in the morning. Wait, why aren’t you using your cell phone?”

  “Uh yeah, about that. I’m in jail. Can you get me outta here?”

  His shocked voice blares through the receiver. “What! Jail! What happened?”

  Glancing around me, I see the cop staring at his watch. “Look, I don’t have a lot of time on this call. I’ll explain later. I need you to come bail me out.”

  “Where are you?”

  “In Atlantic City. What time do you think you’ll get here?”

  Rob huffs. “Look man, I can’t come get you. I’m still in D.C., remember? I can’t just up and leave.”

  I plead with him. “Rob, come on. I can’t stay here.”

  “Ok, I’ll call my associate to go get you. It will be a while until you’re bailed out, probably not until the afternoon. Can you wait until then?”

  I breathe aloud. “Yeah, I can wait.”

  “Good. Now behave yourself and don’t say a word to anyone until Harley gets there.”

  My brow arches. “Harley?”