“What about Elliot? I seem to remember you telling me he is your source of information on Isaac.”
“Yeah but he’s not too happy about it.”
At that very moment Elliot rejoins us and, sharp as ever, asks, “Who’s not happy?”
“Isaac,” Jaz answers for me. “Did you know he’s back?”
There’s no chance of this conversation stopping now.
Elliot’s expression hardens. “No.”
Jaz huffs at his lie.
He shakes his head at me, while Jaz focusses on pouring wine into the second glass.
“You know he is, and of all things an MMA fighter.” She laughs.
“Is he?” Elliot hisses out to me.
“Go on, Cate, show him the photo.”
“No, it’s fine. Elliot’s not interested in looking at men’s bodies.” I deadpan. Hoping to lighten the mood between Elliot and me. But it doesn’t work his mouth twitching with annoyance.
“Anyway guys. Let’s forget that loser,” I change the subject. “I’ve exciting news.” I clap my hands together in a not-me fashion.
Jaz turns to me, all ears. Probably wondering how I can upstage the revelation of Isaac being back. Elliot tries very hard to remove the black look from his face.
“Hope and I are going to Disney next week.”
“Oh, wow!” Jaz says.
“Yep. So, she finishes school on Monday and then we’ve got a day packing and what not Tuesday, driving there late Wednesday morning.”
“Oh my, I bet she’s super excited.”
“I’ve not told her yet. She’ll be uncontrollable. I can’t let on until Wednesday morning.”
“So cool.” Jaz slurps on her wine. “Why’s she at school on Monday? I thought they finished today?”
“Yeah, but Hope’s booked in for summer school. I’m taking her out for a few days, which they’re fine with.”
“Ah.”
“You booked the holiday with work?” Elliot asks, his lips barely leaving his teeth.
“I’ve cleared it with Tessa. Yes. So sorry hun, you’ll have to cope without me.”
I think my news finishes Elliot off. He’s gone into a complete hissy and I decide not to press him on it for fear of a showdown. I know how much he wanted to go to Disney, and I suppose it’s callous of me to go on, but part of tonight was for me to let them know I wouldn’t be around for a few days. Telling Jaz about Isaac was my need for advice, which I’m obviously not going to get while Elliot is around.
After another round of drinks, I decide it’s as much as I can bear.
“Right, I’m going now.” I stand, my phone in my hand ready to call a cab if there’s not one out on the streets.
Jaz giggles. “Enjoy. I bet Nate’s trying extra hard now he knows your ex is back on the scene.”
I clear my throat. “Yeah. Something like that.”
Shit, this evening didn’t go as I planned.
Jaz comes with me to the door and I take hold of both of her hands, almost squashing her cigarette in the process. “I’ll tell you more about Isaac, but for now, please don’t say anything to anyone. It’s hush-hush at the moment.”
“Okay. I’ll be at the salon tomorrow, so pop by if you get a chance.”
“I’ll try, and it’s best not to discuss it with Elliot either, he is kinda pissy about him too.”
◆◆◆
It takes more time than I need it to, to get home and pick up my car to drive to Isaac’s. Every signal on red. Every crosswalk full. I’m desperate to speak to him and to make sense of everything building in my head since we last met.
I roll the car into the usual entrance and enter on the rooftop, for what will be our last time together before we leave for our new life.
Isaac’s mood is more serious. And although I wouldn’t describe him as being nervous, I feel the waves of tense energy as he paces the room, and it makes me uneasy.
“Are you sure we need to go through with this, Isaac?” I grab hold of his hand as he passes me again, while I sit on a stool at his kitchen island, sipping on a glass of white wine.
“Yes,” his answer clipped.
“I’m sure between us, we could come up with another way. If you tell me what you have planned or what you need to achieve.”
He chuckles, sarcastically. “No. This is the only way. I need you to trust me on this. I will tell you everything once we’re out of danger.”
“Are you sure everything’s all right? You seem tense.”
For a few seconds, which isn’t a great length of time but longer than feels comfortable, he looks at me. Then his face softens. “It’s okay. I’m sorry, I’m thinking about the fight.” He lifts me off the stool and onto the island, so my eyes are in line with his.
“I’m sorry Isaac. I should have realized you’d be focused on that.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’ve planned this for a long time. And so far, everything’s where it needs to be.”
I rest my forehead against his, to show him support. “So, what’s the plan then?”
“I’ll be out of touch tomorrow and Sunday. You go to work and Hope goes to school on Monday and we’ll meet at five at the parking lot in Granville. Where the carnival was.”
Suddenly, I remember. “Hope has a dentist appointment Tuesday afternoon.”
“Perfect. Don’t change it but she won’t be going. You can cancel it on Tuesday once we’re well away from here.”
“And I’ve said I’m contactable on Tuesday if my work colleagues need me. They know I’m not going to Disney until Wednesday.”
“Don’t worry, they’ll be able to call you.” He moves away to look into the refrigerator. Shutting the door without selecting anything.
I hop off the island and walk over to the sofa, snagging my wine on the way. “And I’m sure Mom will want to keep in touch, but I must text her and she won’t be able to speak to Hope.” I sigh. “I can’t see how this will work, Isaac.”
“It will. It has to.” He sits next to me and rests his arm around my shoulder. “Put more appointments in for you and her in the coming weeks. It’ll help with everyone thinking there’s nothing amiss.”
“But won’t it make it worse, when we don’t show to these appointments?”
“No Cate.” He removes his arm from around my shoulder and, with an earnest face, tells me, “This is about the next few days and there will be a very short window during which we can escape. Too early or too late and it’s over. We have to make it look as if we’re not going anywhere.”
“Why do you keep saying we? Do people know about me and you?”
“No, but they will as soon as I disappear. They will make sure they know everything about me then.”
“And when will I be able to tell my parents and everyone else exactly what’s happened?”
“We’ll have it fixed before you’re due back. By then we’ll have our new life set.”
Doubt is a curious state of mind. With a smattering of knowledge, it breeds to the point where there’s nothing able to take it away. And doubt about this situation rattles around my head.
Jaz’s reaction wasn’t what I expected and Elliot’s arrival curtailed any probing. It was as if she wasn’t taking it seriously. And it leads me to worry I shouldn’t either. Did she believe I was over him? Because if she’d have asked, I would have said, no, isn’t it obvious?
“You okay?” he asks innocently.
“Yes.” I plump my chest and straighten my back. “So, do you want to see the house I’ve chosen and the area it’s in?”
“Sure. As long as you’re happy then I am too.”
I tuck my legs under my backside and pull up the email from the real-estate agent so I can show him the photos. I’ve not gone anywhere near the budget he said we could afford.
“Yes, looks nice,” he says, handing me back my phone.
He’s focused on the fight. The next few days. Keeping us safe. I shouldn’t be concerned he’s not interested in a house we might neve
r see, if he doesn’t keep his focus.
I put my phone on the table. “Okay so we’ll meet at five on Monday?”
“Yes, we’ll get lost in the commuter traffic if anyone follows us.”
“Do you think they will?”
“No. But I’m not taking any chances. Oh, and we’ll take your car. Nobody knows about it.”
“Okay.” I think how little space my trunk holds for clothes and toys. “Will we be able to pick up our stuff another time?”
“I’ll find a way,” he says, not very convincingly.
“What if it goes wrong, Isaac?”
“It won’t.”
“I’m scared.”
Then he looks me up and down. “Have you ever done any martial arts or self-defense?”
“Eh… no,” I splutter, my eyes bugging out of my head.
“Okay. I’ll teach you a few basic moves. Nothing fancy. But…”
My mouth lingers open, dry breaths heaving over my quivering lips. “I’m not sure I’m feeling confident about this.”
“If I’m with you, no-one will come near.” He burrows a hand into my hair and pulls me to his lips. “This is as a back-up. Over the next few days I can’t be anywhere near you. I’ll have people watching, but I’ve got to be focused on the fight and the aftermath. And the people involved in it all.”
“Okay,” I utter with a cracked voice. “I wish you could tell me more. It seems so bad.”
“It will be. But it’s still better you know nothing.”
“And what if it goes wrong?”
For a moment he deliberates. “If I don’t show, go anyway. I will put money into your bank account.”
“How do you know my account details?”
“I just do. Check on Monday there’s a deposit and if I’m not there as planned, go anyway. Someone will get in touch with you to let you know what’s going on.”
“Who?”
“Someone you know.” He lifts my chin so I see the seriousness in his eyes when he says. “And this is important Cate. Do not go anywhere with anyone you don’t know and trust. Okay? Even if they say I need your help or they’re taking you to me.”
I nod. My bottom lip trembling at the thought.
He pulls me to my feet. “But for now, I can at least show you how to protect yourself if you need to.”
I giggle nervously and he taps my feet apart with his. “Stance is important. Maintain your balance at all times. And focus on your opponent’s weak spots.”
He shows me where they are and what I should use to hit them with. Elbows, knees. Parts of my anatomy which are not feminine and fragile.
“And if Hope’s with you.” He gulps. “Show no remorse. Don’t run until you’re sure you can do no more damage. And remember, they will harm you if you agree to go anywhere with them. And probably Hope.”
My whole body is instantly heavy with foreboding. I slump back on the sofa.
“Okay, so tomorrow I’ll pick Hope up from my parents and then we’ll go for pizza. Sunday, I’ll take her to the park. Monday work.”
He chews on his lip considering my suggestions. “Okay, but be careful. I’ll make sure someone watches over you.”
It feels as if I might burst into tears at how out of my comfort zone this is.
“You won’t have anything to worry on and it will go as planned. But know this, if it doesn’t…” He rests his forehead against mine. “I love you both.”
◆◆◆
Once again, I don’t think Isaac slept last night and my sleep was fitful. I left soon after he did. The fight is tonight and my gut is all kinds of twisted. For him and for me.
I pick Hope up from Mom’s and fortunately she doesn’t mention Isaac, so I guess Hope said nothing to her. She gives me a hug before I leave and whispers, “Enjoy Disney. Wish we could come too.”
“Next time,” I tell her and rush off before the misting of my eyes turns into full on tears.
24
Isaac
Carlos is on edge. It’s Saturday night and time for the fight of my life. And his. I watch him pace the ten meter by ten meter dressing room. The stench of sweat from the last fighter’s defeat hangs ominously in the air.
Sitting on the masseuse bed, my legs dangle while Joe ties the laces of my calf-length boots. The tape around my hand feels too tight but then it’s a good thing if it makes me numb to the blows I will relentlessly deliver.
“Are you done yet?” Carlos snaps out, his venom directed at my trainer.
I don’t react although I should. If I’m not equipped correctly, tonight will not go as planned and if it doesn’t go as planned then we’re fucked.
Joe flicks his gaze up to Carlos before remembering his place, mumbling, “Sorry boss.”
I close my eyes, psyching myself for this most important fight. Although I can’t anticipate the moves my opponent will make, I need to believe he will react in the way I’ve played out in my head.
Eventually, Joe pushes off his knees and steps back, studying me from head to toe to make sure the preparations are complete. With a slight nod of my head, he retreats from the room and Carlos immediately leaps into my view.
“You got this Raul?”
He circles on the spot like a crazy dog chasing its tail. I can imagine how fast his heart is beating right now. It must be off the scale.
A thought smolders inside of me, of him laid in the back of an ambulance hooked to an ECG machine. No, wrong. It’s not what will happen. He has a destiny which must play out in the way I’ve agreed to.
“Just so we’re clear. And no sparks of bravado pop off in that little brain of yours.” With two fingers he motions to his skull, pumping them at the side of his head.
And, for a moment, I’m glad it’s his head he’s tapping in such a condescending manner. If he was a true boss, a true jefe, instead of a wannabe gangster shitting on more powerful men’s territories, then it would be my head he would be nudging.
But it’s where this would end, because I’d rip his fingers from his hand.
And Carlos is not stupid. Coked up maybe. But definitely not stupid.
Our little tête-à-tête is interrupted by a knock at the door. And it opens to a tall fedora-topped man. His cool, oversized-suit, and loose, white shirt—open one button more than is fashionable—gives him an air of confidence but of a time long gone.
This is where I see Carlos bend at the waist, get a boner, and lose his mind. All at the same time. I swear if the guy dropped his beige linen pants, Carlos would suck on those Mexican balls without question.
“Señor Ramirez, come in, meet our prize fighter. Raul.”
The fedora tips with flair and respect. Toward me.
I slip off the bench and shake his hand. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Carlos ready to jump in. I don’t know what he thinks I will do to the guy or what he would do about it, anyway.
“Good, good. Want a drink?” Carlos takes hold of Ramirez’s elbow and gently steers him back toward the door.
He glances over his shoulder at me and waggles his Cuban cigar. “Remember.” He taps his head again.
Cocksucker.
A few seconds later, Joe re-enters with an energy drink and a jar of grease. I take a careful sip on the plastic bottle while he greases my eyebrows and cheekbones.
“Ready?” he asks, without looking into my eyes. He holds out my silk robe, printed with my fighting name. I take it from him, slide it over my gloves and pull the hood up so the front hangs loose, leaving a hint of the muscles and tattoos my opponent is about to trifle with.
“Born ready,” I reply.
My two bodyguards stand opposite the door and file in at either side of me as I walk through the tunnel. We wait out of sight of the crowd and when the music pumps we stride in unison toward the cage.
I push back my shoulders and expand my chest. The crowd goes crazy, banging the sides of the tunnel like warriors would with shields.
The referee opens the door for me to climb into th
e cage. It’s as if the cage mesh is soundproofed because all I can hear now is the faltering breath of my opponent.
Good. It’s how I like my adversaries—shit scared to begin with.
The trainer takes off my robe and with a waggle, I loosen my neck and shoulders. Squatting, I kiss the floor and stretch out my arms. My opponent thinks I’m humble and subservient, and when I take my eyes off the mat, I see he’s taken the bait; a wry smirk on his lips at odds with the faltering fear in his eyes.
He’s confused now. And it’s exactly what I want him to be.
Calmly, I pace to my corner. Casually entering the combat when the marker is sounded.
The first two rounds play out exactly as expected. Everyone ecstatic the fight is going the way everyone’s puppets need it to.
Carlos even jumps on to his seat at the end of the round to call out my name. His actions amplified by Ulyana next to him, who looks decidedly bored. I brave a glance to the cool-looking Señor Ramirez who remains motionless, several seats away.
But it’s in round three when I start to enjoy the fight. Stomping on my opponent’s finger. He knows I’ve heard them crack but with gritty determination he carries on as if nothing has happened. Maybe he’s in on the betting fall too?
It hadn’t escaped my thoughts. This whole setup is as corrupt as they get. And, like a game of chess, it’s about who out-masters who.
But before I can let anybody do any more thinking, I jab out my elbow, the spider’s web hitting him exactly where I know he will now see stars. His eyes roll into his head and his knees visibly wobble. I walk off without looking back, hearing his skull rattle against the floor.
I latch onto Señor Ramirez and his mouth ticks up at the corner.
The referee counts my opponent out and his entourage rushes to the cage to rescue him. My trainer must have been listening in on the discussions between me and Carlos, because he looks as frightened as hell. He edges into the ring and wraps a towel around my neck before scooting off into the corner.
I wipe away the sweat on my forehead and toss the towel to the floor. My bodyguards rush to the ring and, as is customary, haul me onto their shoulders. I cry out my trademark roar. It’s only at this point I look down on Carlos. His mouth agape, his cigar smoldering away in his hand. Then, he realizes his reaction isn’t natural, so he claps and cheers with false joy.
Bad Ink Page 17
