Broken Lion

by Devon Hartford

  He said, “I know what I want! Cheesecake with Oreo cookies!”

  “That sounds good,” Brigid said. “We can split that.”

  I gave her a sly smile. “I know what I’m getting.”

  “What?”

  “It says here on the menu they have an Irish Kiss.” I winked at her. “I’m getting that.”

  She blushed and stared at me, her eyes twinkling. Damn it, if this was different circumstances, I would lean right over this table and kiss her full on the mouth.

  “What do you think, Irish? Should I get the Irish Kiss for dessert?”

  “It does not say that!” She reached for the menu.

  “Does too.” I handed it to her.

  She read it out loud. “Jameson Irish Whiskey, Baileys Irish Cream and Monin Spiced Brown Sugar topped with whipped cream, chocolate morsels and chocolate syrup. That sounds really good.”

  “I want that!” Dan gasped.

  She said, “It has alcohol in it, Daniel. You’re too young.”

  “Awww!”

  “I’m old enough,” I said. “But it sounds pretty rich. You wanna split an Irish Kiss with me, Irish?”

  She smirked at me but she was loving this.

  “Well?”

  “Okay. You get one and I’ll just take a sip. One of us has to drive home.”

  “If you’re worried, I can order the alcohol free Irish Kiss.”

  “I don’t see that on the menu,” she smirked.

  “It’s not on the menu.” I gave her a pointed look, meaning me.

  She knew what I meant. “You’re bad,” she giggled.

  “So they say.”

  “What are you guys talking about?” Dan asked.

  “Just dessert, buddy.”

  When the waiter returned, we ordered. A few minutes later, he brought out Dan’s Cheesecake and one Irish Kiss. Dan attacked his cheesecake with his fork.

  “Can I have some?” Brigid asked.

  “There’s only enough for me,” Dan laughed, his mouth full of Oreos.

  “Be nice, bud. Your mom didn’t order her own dessert. So you and I both have to share with her.”

  “Okay,” Dan groaned.

  Brigid forked a bite of the cheesecake and savored it. “That’s really good.” She set her fork down. “That’s enough for me.”

  I sipped on my Irish Kiss. It crossed my mind that having a public orgasm like in When Harry Met Sally just wasn’t the same when a dude did it. Plus Dan was here. But I could still have a foodgasm while I slurped it up. “Oh, man. This Kiss is really good. I mean, really, really good. Wow. Who would’ve thought an Irish Kiss would be so tripping good?” I never swore in front of kids. “Oops! Got whipped cream all over my lips. Sure is messy. In a good way.”

  “Would you stop?” Brigid blushed.

  “Stop what? I’m just enjoying my Irish Kiss. Bet you want some.”

  “It can’t be that good.”

  “Best dessert I ever had.”

  “Oh! I want some!” Dan begged.

  “Sorry, buddy. It’s got alcohol. When you’re older I’ll get one for you.”

  “Do I have to wait?”

  “Yup.”

  “I’m old enough,” Brigid said.

  “Want some?” I teased.

  “Yes.”

  I smirked at her like I was five and turned away, hooking my whole arm around the glass. “Can’t have any.”

  “Fine,” she sneered with a smile. “I don’t want any.”

  I grinned, “Okay, I’ll share.” I slid the glass across the table.

  She tipped the glass up to her face and sipped. “Mmmm, that’s really good.” When she lowered it, she had whipped cream on her lips, which she licked off.

  I would’ve liked to have been the one to lick it off. I was dying to kiss this woman. She still had a dot of whipped cream on her nose, which she didn’t notice. I bumped Dan. “Hey, what’s that on your mom’s face?”

  He snickered around another mouthful of cheesecake. “Mom looks funny.”

  “What?” She smeared her napkin across her lips. “I already licked it off.” She totally missed the dot on her nose.

  Dan sniggered harder. “You missed it, Mom!”

  She wiped her mouth again. “Did I get it?”

  Dan leaned against me, laughing.

  “What?!” She glared at me. “Are you guys messing with me?”

  She was so damn cute I couldn’t take it. I tapped the tip of my nose.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh. You should’ve said something.”

  “What, that my whipped cream was all over your face?”

  Her eyes popped and she blushed like wine. “Would you stop?”

  “Not until I get my Irish kiss,” I said suggestively.

  Her eyes flicked at Dan. “Not with… Not here.”

  I played dumb. “I mean this one.” I reached across the table and grabbed the glass and took another gulp. “Mmm, mmm. My favorite kind of Irish kiss.”

  She beamed a blushing smile and silently mouthed the words, I hate you.

  “The feeling is mutual,” I chuckled.

  Chapter 13

  LION

  When we finished eating our desserts, the waiter brought the check, I had to fight Brigid for it.

  “Today was my idea, Irish. So was dinner. So I’m paying.”

  “Okay. But I’m paying next time.”

  “Next time? Where’re we going next time?”

  “Disneyland!” Dan blurted.

  Brigid laughed. “Daniel, haven’t you had enough amusement parks for the summer?”

  Dan smiled. “No.”

  “What he said,” I chuckled.

  “I’ll think about it,” Brigid said.

  “Next weekend you have free, we’re going down to the DL. Ride us some Space Mountain and Indiana Jones, maybe some Pirates of the Caribbean. Right Dan?” I held up my fist for a bump.

  He punched it. “Right.”

  “What do you think, Irish?”

  “Maybe,” she scowled. But she was still smiling.

  It was pretty late when we left the Hard Rock. The CityWalk was still lit up, but the crowds had thinned down to a trickle and the earlier buzz of thousands of people talking and laughing had faded to a soft mutter.

  Dan stretched his arms in a huge yawn.

  “Goodness,” Brigid said. “It’s way past your bed time, Daniel. We need to get you home.”

  “But it’s summer, Mom!”

  “You still have to sleep.”

  “I don’t want to sleep! I want to go to Disneyland!”

  “Look what you did,” Brigid said to me.

  “It’s the sugar,” I said. “We just gotta burn it off.”

  We took the elevators down to the parking garage. When we got off at our level, the elevator next to us was opening too. Three shady looking guys walked out. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. There were shady looking people all over LA. It didn’t mean they were going to mug you.

  Because we had arrived so late, Brigid’s car was parked way out in the boonies at the far end of the parking structure.

  “That was a nearly perfect day,” Brigid sighed as we walked.

  “Nearly? What would make it more perfect? I mean, after all was said and done, I had a ton of fun and got my Irish Kiss. What could be better than that?”

  She blushed and shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  If it wasn’t for the damn crutches, I’d brush my knuckles across the back of her hand to see if she wanted to hold mine. Yeah, it was against the rules. But sometimes you had to say fuck the rules.

  Stupid crutches.

  We finally found Brigid’s four door parked way down at the end of one of the aisles. At this hour, most of the spaces were empty. It had been absolutely packed when we’d arrived. A few of the overhead fluorescent lights were out on this level, giving it a dark and lonely feeling.

  Dan was jumping up and down as we walked, still hopped up on sugar and bouncing
off the walls. Time to burn it off.

  “Hey, Dan. I’ll race you to the car.”

  “But you’re on crutches.”

  “So? I bet I can still smoke you.”

  “No way.”

  “Then we’re on.”

  “Okay.” He was excited.

  “On my count. Ready? On three. One, two—”

  He took off running.

  “Cheater!” I laughed.

  Brigid laughed too. “Better go get him.”

  I didn’t waste any time swinging after Dan. There was no way I was going to beat him, but I could at least catch up. We were both out of breath when we got to the car. He tagged the trunk.

  “I win!”

  “Yeah you did, Speedy.”

  Brigid was strolling toward us, but she was halfway back down the aisle. Dan and I leaned against the trunk of the car while we waited, watching her.

  The next thing I knew, the shady guys from the elevators were walking up behind Brigid. She turned back and said something to them. I couldn’t make anything out because the sound of their voices was muddled by the echoes in the garage. My entire chest tightened. I could tell from Brigid’s body language that she was agitated. The shady men kept talking, but I still couldn’t make anything out.

  “Stay here, Dan.” My heart was racing as I crutched toward Brigid and the men.

  “Lemme use your phone, lady,” one of the guys said when I got close. He had a thin mustache and curly hair like a villain from a drug cartel action movie.

  “I don’t have a phone,” she lied. She’d had it out earlier when we were taking pictures.

  “Yeah you do,” Curly said, his voice menacing. “Pretty lady like you always has a phone. Lemme use it.”

  “I said no! So take a hike!” She was in the shadows below where the overhead lights were out. I was in shadows too and Brigid was between me and the men. Maybe they hadn’t seen me. If they did, they might back off, so I swung out to the side into view.

  “Back the fuck off, buddy!” I barked as I crutched forward like a wobbly wind up toy.

  The men slowed, watching me.

  “Thank goodness,” Brigid muttered as I came up beside her. She stepped behind me, putting me between her and them. “Where’s Daniel? Is he safe?”

  “Yeah. At the car.”

  “I better make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s fine. But you should go get him and put both of you in the car.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll be fine. When you get him in the car, you should drive out of here as fast as you can. I’ll meet you down on Universal Studios Boulevard. Where we drove into the parking lot by the 101.”

  “I’m not leaving you here!” She hissed.

  “Can you just go? I’ll meet you down by the freeway onramp.”

  She stared at me, mad.

  “Will you go?”

  She glared at me before turning toward the car.

  I stared at the three guys. They reminded me of the gang bangers I’d grown up with in East LA, which was only a few miles from here. The gangs came out to Universal Studios just as much as anybody else in LA. Everybody loved rollercoasters and theme park rides in a fun and safe family-friendly environment. Sarcasm.

  Where the hell was security? Maybe it was late and they’d all gone home. Who knew.

  “You got a phone, crip?” Curly asked.

  “Crip? What, because of the crutches?” I don’t know why he’d be making a gang reference. I wasn’t wearing blue anywhere and these guys weren’t wearing red or any other colors I recognized. Not that it mattered. Gangs weren’t showing like they used to. Not even tattoos. It made it too easy for cops to track them. Nowadays gangs wanted to keep a low profile.

  “Lemme use your phone,” Curly said. “I know you got one.”

  “Why don’t you and your buddies turn around and head out,” I suggested.

  “Lemme use your phone and I will.”

  I knew this drill. It started with harassment and escalated from there, depending on how brave these guys were. Three against one guy on crutches might make them stupidly brave. I had no interest in dealing with them. I considered turning and crutching away, but I wouldn’t risk turning my back on them. Too bad I hadn’t practiced crutching backward more.

  Brigid’s car started up in the distance behind me.

  “Looks like your lady is leaving you, crip.” He looked over my shoulder.

  I wasn’t going to fall for that by turning to look. I kept my eyes nailed on him.

  One of the other guys reached under his baggy T-shirt. It was baggy enough to easily conceal a medium caliber handgun like a 9mm or a .357.

  Casually, I swung forward one step on my crutches. I wanted to be in striking range if Baggy had a gun under that shirt of his. You never wanted to be too far away from the guy with the gun unless you had your own. I didn’t. Closer was better.

  “You reaching for your phone?” I asked. “Thought you said you didn’t have one.”

  Baggy stared at me. “I do. He don’t.” He nodded toward Curly.

  He was lying. Heck, they were both lying.

  I said to Curly, “Use his phone.”

  “He outta minutes.”

  “Of course he is.”

  The three of them were sizing me up while they got their courage up. In the shadows, they probably didn’t notice my ripped arms. All they noticed were my crutches. This was serious. I could feel the contempt coming off these guys in waves. I was nothing but shit to them. An easy target.

  Nothing more.

  I knew for a fact people got jumped in this parking lot all the time. One of my students at the dojo told me about their friend getting mugged here a few months ago. Worse, last year, the boyfriend of some woman who worked at the park snuck a gun in and shot himself in front of her while park patrons watched in horror. Lucky he hadn’t shot anyone except himself. Two years before that, there was a shooting outside one of the CityWalk nightclubs. Bad shit happened here often enough, no matter what people said.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was going to be somebody’s unlucky day. But it wasn’t going to be mine.

  “Do I know you?” Curly asked, searching my face. Since it was dark, I wasn’t wearing my shades anymore and my Minions hat was in my back pocket.

  “Not yet you don’t.”

  “No, I know you. You Lion Maxwell.”

  I couldn’t decide if him recognizing me was a good thing or bad.

  “Who the fuck Lion Maxwell?” Baggy asked.

  “He that WMAA fighter.”

  WMAA, meaning the World Martial Arts Association. If they wanted my autograph, I would rather do that then get into a scuffle.

  “You undefeated, ain’t you?” Curly said.

  I didn’t like how he said it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Dan Smith.” It was the first name that came to mind.

  “Nah. You Lion Maxwell. Only you ain’t gonna be undefeated after tonight. We gonna beat yo ass,”

  The third guy, who had a bald head and a long biker beard and wore a sleeveless Harley Davidson T-shirt cracked his knuckles menacingly. Gothic letters tattooed on his knuckles spelled out LOVE and HATE. Together, this crew looked like a multicultural prison break. The only thing they were missing were the orange jumpsuits.

  I had known animals like this. They thought they smelled blood. They all snarled the same tough guy smile. Next they would lick their chops like rabid wolves.

  We all knew what happened when a wolf challenged a lion.

  The great thing about crutches was that they were made of metal and they added another three feet to my reach. I whipped the first crutch hard against Baggy’s shin. I wanted him to forget about whatever he had in his pocket. Sure enough, he doubled over, grabbing at his shin. My other crutch punched Curly in the solar plexus. He folded around it like a meat pillow. I brought the first crutch up and around and sliced it across Baggy’s face, nearly tearing his nos
e off. Then I brought both around and hit Biker Beard high and low at nearly the same time, one to the side of his head and the other to his groin. His nervous system didn’t know what to do so he dropped to the cement. All of this literally took two seconds. I was a whirlwind of aluminum death.

  Baggy still had some fight left in him. “Motherfucker done broke my nose!” Blood poured down his face and he covered it with one hand.

  I was in full battle mode and went at him again with both crutches. If he had a gun, I didn’t want him getting to it. Good thing I had practiced crutch fighting at home for the last four weeks. Beat the shit out of a heavy bag until I tore it open. It was what you did when you spent your life immersed in the fighting arts. Everything had an application as a weapon if you knew what to do with it. I did.

  I was so busy making sure Baggy was out of action, I never saw Curly’s boot coming for my ribs.

  CRACK!!

  Sharp pain speared my side.

  He probably broke a rib. Or two. I’d thought he was down for the count. I was wrong. Fighting is always messy and unpredictable.

  The surprise of Curly’s kick threw me off balance and I fell forward onto Baggy. I landed the side of my crutch in his throat and heard something crunch. His problem, not mine. His eyes popped out of his skull and he gagged.

  More kicks from Curly rained down on my back. He was aiming for my head. His boot grazed across the top of my head, tearing skin from my scalp and nearly taking my ear off with it. This was too close for comfort. I rolled off Baggy, trying to get some distance. Any second, Biker Beard was going to get up and join Curly in the kicking spree.

  This was getting out of hand really fast.

  I wasn’t a superhero.

  But I did have crutches. I whacked one right across Curly’s forearm. He wasn’t thinking about his arms because he was so busy kicking. He instantly regretted it and screamed, cradling his wrist against his chest.

  “Shit! Shit! Shit!” He danced in pain.

  I tried to get to my feet, but my bad knee buckled and I went right back down and hit the cement hard. Lucky I had the knee brace. But it didn’t stop a nail gun from shooting a thousand nails into my knee from every direction. The crutches had me off balance and I pitched forward and rolled, throwing the crutches down in the process.

  This was a disaster.