by Wyatt, Dani
You’re the one that can’t handle this. Men like us aren’t made for happy endings, for love, for forgiveness. You will never change, everyone is the enemy in our world man. Just how it is.
There is nowhere else to go. You can’t outrun this — not this time.
He slipped his fingers around the back of his belt, the hard metal in his palm as he dropped himself into the driver's seat, thinking about how far away he needed to go to make the pain stop.
48
A thick layer of condensation rose half-way up the backward painted letters on the front windows.
Someone forgot to turn the music on.
Victoria wandered onto the gym floor, the new young Irish guy was already here, pumping on a heavy bag with grunts and puffs of effort, earphones in his ears, barely noticing Victoria coming around the corner.
In less than a month, the new face became as much a fixture as old Ruddy Meyer, who had never missed a day working out since 1982 when he traveled to New York for his mother’s funeral.
Exactly how many mornings had she done this same drill?
She set her bags down in the office, then making the rounds on the floor. Checked the towel stacks, the front desk, adjusted the volume or station on the stereo, keyed open the drop box to see what trickle of income they might have earned that day.
Only today, besides Ruddy and the new Irish guy, there was no other noise. Sure, it was the day after Thanksgiving, so a lot of people were still away or sleeping off their Turkey hangovers.
But, the eerie silence cast a tension in Victoria’s muscles as she wound her way passed the square practice rings toward the front desk. She knew Roger was at home; he called her just before she walked out the door of her apartment asking if she could bring him two packs of Chesterfields and a pint of Vodka.
She did her best to manage a smile at her Aunt Lucy’s Thanksgiving dinner after she left the disaster at Larry’s, but it was more of a study in emotion control than anything else.
She kept imaging Cameron pounding down the door any moment, rushing in and talking some sense about how unreasonable he was and begging her to take him back. That didn’t happen.
Roger had slung back the last of his 18 pack of Budweiser by eight o’clock; he slurred on, trying to revive some family fight from back in 1960. Victoria’s felt her heart give up, and she did her best to hustle Roger into the passenger seat of her Corolla and get him settled in his recliner back at the house.
As she wrapped the blue and white checkered quilt over his legs, Roger shifted, and his watery, red eyes followed her face as she worked to get him set up for the night.
“You love him?”
She wasn’t sure she heard him correctly, and she felt like a fist made contact just below her diaphragm sending what little breath she managed to inhale out of her lungs.
“Go to sleep, Dad.”
“You love him?” He raised the volume and cleared his throat.
“Dad —”
“I loved your mother — but, I never treated her the way she deserved so, she left me. He’s dangerous, Vic, not to you — he’s always been there for you. More than I ever was —”
“Dad, sssshhhh. Try to get some rest.” Victoria felt her face flush; he never before spoke of her mother, let alone anything about Victoria’s private life.
As far as she knew, he barely knew anything about her besides what service she provided him at the gym.
Roger’s hand fought its way out from under the quilt, tightening around Victoria’s arm. She looked into his face, the lines cut deep, eyes sad and lost from decades of his self-destruction.
“He loves you. He’s loved you since I can remember. I could see it, even back when you were still a little girl I could see it. If you love him, I want you to be happy, Vic. You deserve more than this —”
His eyes closed, the force of his grip on her arm softened, and his head fell at an odd angle, lips open with beer and cigarettes on his breath. Victoria leaned the recliner back and raised his legs as she did countless times before.
“Good night Dad.” Her eyes clouded, the tears finding a familiar home down each cheek as she turned to the door, leaving him to sleep it off.
He resumed his demeaning, demanding tone when he called at 7:14 am the next morning chortling on, ordering she bring him a morning delivery of supplies.
Now, inside the gym, the clock showed 8:00 am.
Where is he? Is he okay? Is he gone? God, please help me. Please let him be okay. Why is everything a war with him? Why is everyone just one word — one mistake — away from being the enemy?
The gallery texted her early as she left Roger with his necessaries. Vincent made sure she would be there by 1:00 to approve everything for the opening of the show. The show that he was supposed to attend with her.
Now, she needed to explain why the central character in her images was a no-show. For a split second, she thought of backing out, but she knew she would never do that to Vincent. His kindness and enthusiasm were real gifts to her, and for him to take this chance on an unknown artist, it would be wrong.
Jesus, God, please, help me. I’m so lost.
Victoria had given up calling. Cameron’s phone number only yielded a recorded message that this number was no longer in service. He could be anywhere by now.
The vicious, brutality of the fight last night rocked her. She watched Cameron slay dragons and villains before of every size and shape, inside the ring and out. Last night was different. The way he commanded his brutal power, the sheer force of his blows frightened her and almost killed his opponent.
Jake Rashney left the ring on a stretcher. From what she heard, spent the night under observation with a broken jaw, five missing teeth and a concussion that left him slurring his words and unable to walk a straight line 12 hours later.
Now, the gym had an odd, empty feeling, the music that normally thumped and pounded around in the industrial metal supports and ventilation tubes of the ceiling was missing.
Her feet moved one in front of the other even as her heart felt like a glass mirror shattered by a cannon ball. Rounding the corner of the last roped ring, her brain tried to make sense of the two white tennis shoes that stood out of place from behind the front counter.
In a split second, her mind and body put the flash of what was two tennis shoes at an odd angle, to Larry laying in a crumpled ball behind the counter. His leg caught in the wires of the stereo and a trickle of blood dripping and dotting the floor as it escaped from his nose, the whites of his eyes now the color of a candle flame.
“Oh, Jesus…LARRY! Oh my God— HELP! SOMEONE!”
49
Reggie ushered the two other men out into the hall as Cameron’s eyes darted back and forth. He was always on guard even though there was no way anyone else could come or go through the door without him knowing.
Cameron finally gave in to the constant annoying vibration in his pocket. After he finally figured out how to take a deep breath, he settled into the seat of the Camero as his brain tried to process what just happened inside the dark bar.
There were six missed calls and ten text messages.
Since there was only one person who knew his number, Cameron drove right to Tyson’s. It was the only haven he had at the moment, he needed desperately to hit someone or something (preferably both), and at least he could do that there without the threat of jail time.
Inside, Reggie recounted his call with Victoria. She had reached out to trying to track Cameron down.
Just the mention of her name put his head on a roller coaster, but as Reggie explained what was happening, Cameron felt his mind start to shatter.
“He’s in ICU. Victoria said he’s stable for now. It’s not a big surprise, but it’s still bad man. I’m sorry dude. I know you got a lot going on.”
“Fuck man.” Cameron paced as Reggie leaned back in his desk chair, giving his friend a second to process.
“You okay?” Reggie broke the thick silence.
&
nbsp; “Dude, I’m so fucking far from okay.” Cameron dropped his chin to his chest.
“I get it, man. I do.”
“No man, you don’t. Reg, man, you know what I went to do this morning?” Cameron felt the world spinning.
“What?”
“I went to off him — Topher. I went right to O’Leary’s. I got a piece from old Luther Rigby and headed right fucking there man. I couldn’t see any other fucking way. I wanted to wipe up the floor with his ass, take whatever he had in retaliation and just be fucking done. I am so fucking done with all of it.”
“Jesus, Cameron, dude.” Reggie paused, Cameron expected him to start firing off questions like a weapon on full auto. “So, you obviously didn’t do it. What happened?”
Cameron looked over at his friend, something in his voice was off. There was a knowing hitch that he couldn’t hide.
“What do you know Reg? You got something to tell me? You knew the debt got paid, didn’t you?”
“Man, I took out a strong bet on you last night dude. I had to place it through a friend; I can’t be caught betting on my own — bad form, I’d lose credibility. But, I bet my ass on you, and it fucking paid, man. You schooled his ass and a knock-out paid out double. Serious injury paid triple. Dirty bets, but they pay.”
“Are you fucking serious? What the fuck man?” Coaches never bet on their own, especially Dudley-Do-Right’s like Reggie.
“Then, I sent my winnings plus a little of my own green over to make that payment to cover your little issue. You’ll pay me back, I’m not worried.”
“What the fuck Reg? I don’t have that kinda money. If I did, I’d have taken care of this shit a long fucking time ago.”
“You don’t now, but you will. Simon Reed’s on his way here. They’re offering you a sweet fucking deal man, contract — UFC, dude. You blew them AWAY last night. You’re their new ‘It Boy’, they’re calling you The Force, man. You can’t fucking concentrate with all that other shit hanging over your head. So, just consider it an investment in my newest business venture.” Reggie flashed a smile.
Cameron felt his bones crack as he flexed his neck side to side, and his eyes closed. His brain was in utter overload, but still, he could barely feel his heart beating as the tightness in his chest hadn’t subsided even a bit because — well, because of her.
What the fuck is happening? I can’t fucking stay here, how am I going to tell him I’m leaving?
“So, can you wait to talk to Reed before you go see your old man? He said he would be here by 10:30. Shouldn’t take long.”
Both of them looked up at the clock hanging over the pictures of Reggie with all the young hopefuls he had coached through the years.
It was already 10:20, it didn’t leave Cameron any time to figure out what to do. He couldn’t stay here, not with her. Not in the same fucking city, not even in the same damn state, he was still debating if he would need to leave the damn country.
Ex-patriot. It’s got a nice ring to it. At least you threw the damn gun in the river, crazy ass. That shit didn’t feel so good pointed at your head did it? There’s fucked up and then there’s fucked up. Good thing you figured out the damn difference before you hitched that trigger back.
Now, there sat smiling Reggie, how could he let his friend down? Throw away the opportunity of his life?
And, Larry was in the hospital, he couldn’t leave Asher to handle that —
Fuck it. Asher — I need to talk to Asher.
He loved his brother as much as himself, probably more because there was a shit-ton more about Asher that was actually lovable. He couldn’t make life harder for him.
Little dude was set to graduate from high school early. He had a life to build. If Cameron left now, he’d be the one stuck taking care of a sick old man instead of living his life.
The spinning started getting faster and faster, like some twisted, evil carousel ride raging out of control.
Asher
Dad.
Reggie
Simon
Victoria
Victoria
Victoria
Everywhere he turned, the brick and mortar just kept getting higher.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, that’s it. How’s that sound to you?”
Reggie’s eyes glued onto Cameron as Simon read the terms of the proposed contract. Cameron’s world had spun off its axis, and he had no idea what to say or how to react.
Accepting meant he had to stay, refusing would mean probably no one would ever give him an offer again, and he would be shitting on the one person that had stuck by him all these years, paycheck or not.
“Give us a second, will you?” Reggie stepped in, he could see the angst on Cameron’s face.
“Of course. Cameron, we see something in you we haven’t seen in a long time. I think you can make it right there, the top man — top billing. We know we’re the ones to take you there.”
Simon gave Reggie a tip of his chin before he slipped out the door, and the lock clicked into place.
“I’m here man, look at me, what are you thinking?”
Cameron could see Reggie was doing his best to stay neutral, but they both knew this kind of opportunity came once in a lifetime. 10% was nothing to shit on if he made it big.
“Fuck man, I’m so fucked up right now. I don’t know what the hell to do.”
“What’s the sticking point? Something in the contract? I’ll have my lawyer look it over, but it looked good to me man. Now, that being said, you gotta WIN to keep that gravy flowing.”
“No man, it’s not the contract.”
Reggie gave him a long moment, but Cameron didn’t have the words to explain how his world was worthless without her. He couldn’t be around here, he needed to get as far away from her as possible. He had fucked it up, but there was no way he could go back now.
“It’s her isn’t it? I know what I know man, and I know you. And, if we can put aside the business end of things for a second. Friend to friend, you can be a complete dick, you know that?”
Cameron felt his face blister hot.
What the fuck?
“Don’t look at me like that’s some fucking surprise. You know it, you’re an ass with a capital ‘A’ and when things don’t go your way, you can be a prick the size of Texas. So, if I had to make a wild ass guess as to what is going on here, I would say you probably need to tuck your fucking tail between your legs and go apologize for whatever shit you said or did. Vic’s a prize man, and she’s got a heart of gold, so whatever went wrong, I’d place the same bet I did last night that it was your fucking fault.”
“Fuck you. I’m —” Cameron seethed.
The truth stings like you just ran the damn lawn mower over a hornet’s nest.
“See? Right there. I’m trying to give you straight up good advice and you can’t see past your own fucking ego for a second and consider what I just said. Have I ever steered you wrong? Ever lied to you? Told you something was white when it was black? NO. And I’m not now. So, just shut the fuck up for once and realize you might just be the fuck up here.”
A glimmer of reality snuck through Reggie’s words even as Cameron’s defenses went into full alert.
“Maybe. I don’t know man. My head is so fucked up.”
“Well, let me tell you this, your head is going to be more fucked up if you let this contract go. I’m telling you, friend to friend, take the deal, and let everything else work itself out. You’ve got the gorilla off your back, so, throw me a bone here man and realize I want the best for you, too. Take the deal, settle in and figure your shit out. And, most of all, do whatever you have to fucking do to get Victoria back, because a shit head like you ain’t ever gonna do better than that.”
Reggie smirked and stood up, walking to the door whether or not Cameron was ready, he let Simon Reed back in.
“So, what’d you decide?” Simon leaned onto the edge of Reggie’s desk, crossed his arms and waited.
50
Larry barely took up a third of the small hospital bed as he breathed low and slow, his skin a sickening tone of yellowish gray against the stark white of the hospital pillow and sheets.
“Where have you been?” Asher looked up as Cameron slipped between the curtains, his eyes sunken farther into his brow that an 18-year-old on the cusp of the best years of his life should be.
“I’m sorry man. I fucked up. So, I talked to Doctor Leonard on my way in. How are you doing?”
“I’m fine. He’s been sick for a while. He didn’t want anyone to know. I only figured it out because I read all the pill bottles and put two and two together. But, he made me promise not to tell you.”
Cameron wanted to fly off the handle and lay into him for keeping something like this to himself, but for once in his life, he decided maybe the hammer in the face approach may need a rest.
“It’s cool, Ash. I haven’t been the best at keeping in touch. Hey — I’m sorry I took off and left you with Dad. That’s no fucking lottery win, I know.” Cameron took a deep breath, actually trying to let whatever was bubbling up inside out in a slow fizz instead of a messy explosion. “Look, I have to tell you something.”
Cameron felt like she was right there, just the thought of mentioning her name brought her scent right back to him and he felt his soul shift back into the light.
“What?” Asher looked up toward his big brother.
“It’s Vic. Me and her. Man, I should have said something before, back when you said –” Cameron’s eyes bounced from his brother’s face to the floor and back.
“I know, she told me. That day at lunch. I get it; it’s okay.”
“She told you what?”
