Sons of Mayhem 3: The Full Force

by Pink, Nikki

  At the top we found ourselves on a kind of catwalk, and ahead I could see where we were going. There was a suite of what looked like portable offices, but raised far up from the ground on crisscrossed metal supports. I could see they had floor to ceiling windows and a commanding view over the ring. The offices had been almost invisible when we were on the ground as the bright spotlights and floodlights were mounted along the bottom of the offices, blinding anyone looking up in their direction.

  Glancing across the cavernous space of the warehouse I saw there were three more similar 'offices', and a series of catwalks connecting them.

  When we reached the door one of the big shaven headed men thumped on it a couple of times and then turned the handle and pushed it open.

  "In you go," he said to us.

  Lonnie turned around and offered me a hand. With a nod of his head to the men who'd led us, he squeezed my hand reassuringly and led us inside.

  "Good evening. Mathew, is it?" The Asian man who greeted us was sitting in a leather recliner, feet propped up on an ottoman. He gestured at a two seat leather sofa and indicated for us to sit down. It was a comfortable looking room and I could tell it was a kind of VIP box, set up so its occupants could comfortably observe the fight below.

  "Most people call me Lonnie, now."

  "I'm Ava," I told him even though he hadn't asked.

  “Mark Choi. This is my little,” he paused, hands waving around to indicate everything, “my little fight club, as it were.” He had an accent that seemed half Chinese and half British. Perhaps he was from Hong Kong, I thought. “Please have a seat.”

  Lonnie led me over to the sofa and we sat down. To my left I could see down to the ring where the two men had begun to fight. The crowd downstairs was now packed around all four sides of the ring, no longer milling around. From my brief look the fight looked vicious. I winced as one of the men whipped an elbow through the air and caught the other one on the chin. I saw blood begin to flow and, feeling queasy turned back to focus on the room we were in.

  "You've come here for Simon, I take it?"

  "We were hoping to run into him," said Lonnie with nonchalance, as if we'd just been passing through the neighborhood and decided to pop in for a quick underground brawl.

  "He's up next," said Choi.

  "Can we go and see him?" I asked

  Choi shook his head. "After. We don't want him getting distracted before the fight. A lot of people are quite excited to watch him, you know. He was on the news this evening. The media are quite excited about his mysterious disappearance."

  Lonnie sighed. "We were hoping to offer some encouragement," he lied.

  "He's already got a cheerleader."

  "Lily?" I blurted out.

  "Young red headed girl? A bit out of it? Yeah, that's her."

  A bit out of it. What the hell was that? "Can I see her?"

  "After the fight. Let him do his thing, then you can go and see them. That's why you're up here. We'd been warned you might try and dissuade Si from fighting. We thought it might be best for all concerned if you watched from up here instead."

  Lonnie tapped his chin thoughtfully. "So why have you got him fighting anyway? He's going to get his arse kicked, you know."

  Choi laughed. "Maybe he is. Maybe he isn't. Care to wager?"

  "No thanks. I'm not going to bet against my friend. And I’m certainly not gonna waste my moolah betting on him to win. "

  Choi let out a laugh. "Fair enough. Can I offer you both a drink?"

  I began to relax a little. My blood pressure had gone almost through the roof when we'd been escorted away by the four heavies, but this Choi guy didn't seem to be too bad. As long as he let us see Si and Lily after the fight it'd be okay. Just knowing where she was and that she was safe was enough for now. I was almost even getting used to the idea of her being with Si, distasteful as that idea was.

  "A cold beer will do me fine. Ava?" Lonnie asked.

  I shrugged. "Yeah, a beer would be good."

  "Three beers, if you please!" yelled Choi from his seat, and within a couple of seconds a head had popped around the door. "Right away. Anything else, sir?"

  Choi waved a dismissive hand and the shaven head disappeared as quickly as it arrived, its owner rushing off to fulfill his request.

  Lonnie was tapping his chin thoughtfully again as he looked out the window. I followed his gaze and immediately wished I hadn't. One of the fighters was staggering, blood pouring down his face, his hands hanging limply down by his waist instead of held up to guard. His opponent turned to face the crowd and raised his hands up in the air to make the crowd roar, who obliged him with a combined yell that easily filled the warehouse. The fighter turned around again from the audience and unleashed a massive roundhouse punch which tore through the air before landing on the weakened contestants cheek. His eyes seemed to go wide with shock as his face was compressed before he was lifted bodily off the ground for an instant. His whole body crumpled and in a second later he had landed in a tangled bloody heap on the floor.

  "Oh!" I said letting out an involuntary shriek. I'd never been seen anything like that it. I was glad I was sitting down already.

  Choi let out a deep laugh. Lonnie meanwhile continued to stare out the window, unphased by the violence below.

  Three foreign beers in cold bottles, condensation forming beads over the green glass bodies, were brought in by a smaller Asian man, whose short height was countered by an abnormally thick neck and broad shoulders. He offered a beer to Choi who took it without looking, then Lonnie who gave the man a polite nod, and then me. Ladies last, huh.

  "Mr. Choi, I was thinking..." started Lonnie.

  Choi gave an amused laugh as he watched the losing contestant dragged away before turning his eyes to Lonnie. "Yes?"

  "Could we perhaps buy Si out?"

  "You want me to cancel his fight?"

  It seemed like a reasonable idea to me. Although I had heard of massive purses in the world of official boxing, this underground stuff couldn't be worth much, could it?

  Lonnie nodded. "You and I both know he's going to get his arse kicked worse than that mess," Lonnie nodded to the fight that had just finished, "it seems like a waste of time, doesn't it?"

  Choi laughed and shook his head. "You couldn't afford it."

  Could he afford it? That was the question. And should he pay it anyway. I wondered whether the fight might not actually knock some sense into his erstwhile friend. Maybe Lily would be less enamored by him if she saw him get the shit roundly beaten out of him.

  "Ten thousand. Cash."

  I blinked. Wow. That was serious money to pull out on a whim.

  "Ten thousand, in cash?" asked Choi, to confirm.

  Lonnie nodded.

  Choi was silent for a moment before slowly shaking his head. I watched the man with concern, annoyed by his seeming lack of respect. He'd just been offered ten thousand dollars in cash and didn't seem to have much to say about it at all. Then he let out a chuckle.

  "Ten thousand? That's it? I'm afraid not. Maybe if you offered ten times that we could begin negotiations. But ten thousand? Hell no."

  Lonnie looked confused. "Wait, really? We're talking about the same guy right? Si the English muppet in a band?"

  "He may not seem important to you," Choi took a swig of beer and held it in his mouth a moment savoring the flavor before swallowing. "But to me, tonight, he's very valuable."

  Lonnie paced away from the window before taking a swig of beer himself and turning around again. I watched him, sharing his confusion at the value of this fighter.

  "But, why? Go to any boxing gym or, hell, any night club with bouncers in the country and you'll find a more competent fighter. Someone who could really kick some arse."

  Choi nodded. "Yep. But that's not my thing. You think guys like Si are the best fighters I could find? Hell no."

  "Then... what..."

  "You see those boxes over there," Choi waved an arm across the warehouse to the
other three boxes like this one, "each one of those is filled with millionaires. Asian businessmen. From Hong Kong, Taiwan, Singapore, China, Japan, Korea. Guys with real money. Down there," he waved at the crowd below, "those dumb fucks are just here for the atmosphere. Can't have a proper fight without a crowd of idiots cheering it on. But that's not where the money is. The money's up here in the rafters."

  "But why do they want Si?"

  Choi shook his head again. "They don't want Si, as such, but more the idea of him."

  "What does that mean?" I asked.

  "They like to gamble. But they don't just want to gamble on a bunch of street thugs and hoodlums who can't make it in professional boxing or the MMA or whatever. They want to see real people fighting."

  "What the hell are real people?" asked Lonnie.

  "Not you. Not this girl," he waved at me, "not even me. They want people they know, or could know. They want to see a story in the news of a C list actor with a black eye and think 'I know how he got that.' They want to see a top banker's son with a broken arm in the society pages and know that when it says he fell of a horse playing polo it's a lie. They'd gambled on him in a fight. They want to see," and now Choi pointed down at the window as he spoke, "an up and coming rockstar with a drug problem fight to pay off his debts and then see on the news that he got in a fight with his own security guards," he said with a laugh and a nod at Lonnie.

  "So you've got, what, low-rate celebrities fighting?" asked Lonnie.

  Choi nodded. "Yep. That and some of these guys' relatives, business partners, children of their business partners, that kind of thing. Anything they can feel a connection too. Some amateur boxer from Brooklyn doesn't mean shit to them, they don't care. A business rival's nephew though? That's interesting. A guy who played a minor character in the Cosby Show? That's real. A washed-up Hong Kong action star? Perfect.”

  “So who was that fighting just now?”

  “Nobodies, unfortunately. Just a warmup act. Do you know how hard it is to get people like your man to fight? I’ll tell you: Very fucking hard. The supply just isn’t there. What I wouldn’t give for more D list celebs with coke habits they can’t afford.”

  “So he’s gotta fight?” asked Lonnie.

  Choi nodded.

  “Well, shit.” Lonnie looked at me. “Not much we can do. Let’s hope he doesn’t fuck up his hands.”

  I nodded at him and out the corner of my eye saw Choi wincing. It didn’t look like had high hopes for Si’s hands.

  “What was up with the goon squad on the way in?” I asked.

  “Just making sure you didn’t try anything dumb. As I said, this fight is worth a lot of money to me.”

  “So is there really no money in the regular underground fight scene?” asked Lonnie, a thoughtful look on his face.

  “Oh, don’t get me wrong. There’s money. But not for me. I make most of my scratch off these rich Asian businessmen, I wouldn’t know how to make money without those guys. It’d sure be a hell of a lot easier to find worthwhile fighters though.”

  I saw Lonnie nod thoughtfully and could see his mind whirring, as if he was planning something.

  “Look out. It’s your boy next.”

  I peered down again and felt butterflies in my stomach. There was Si, with Lily’s arm wrapped locked through his as they walked down a narrow aisle between the crowd toward the stage. I felt a surge of relief when I finally saw my wayward sister and young charge again. She really was here.

  But now it was showtime.

  33

  Si

  They might call me crazy, a moron, an idiot rock star with a drug problem. But they didn't know what it's like. They don't know what it's like to be me. No one does. No one knows what it's like to be anyone else. You can't see inside someone's mind, inside someone's heart, and see what they really like, the real person that they are inside.

  But I have my reasons for doing what I'm doing.

  Did you ever get completely sick of everything? Even though things seem to be going well, hell, better than well. Really going your way in fact. Ever just want to throw in the towel, say ‘fuck you’ to the world and disappear to Paris or Paraguay or Timbuktu or to Mars or to anywhere?

  It started about six months ago for me, when we first started to taste success. We’d half a dozen songs on the UK charts, and even made it to the US Billboard top 100. Shit, we've been played on the radio around the world. And then this chance to play in the States popped up. We met Chad through a friend of a friend of a friend who knew someone who knew someone. They said he was a bit of a sleazeball, but he could really help us make it big. The others were all about it, they wanted to see the big time, the limos, the drugs, the groupies. And I guess I just went along with it, even though I knew it wasn't what I really want to do.

  "Please welcome the British bad boy of rock, the Burmese Python, the one, the only, Simon Williams!"

  I push through the crowd, there are not many here, perhaps a hundred, maybe one fifty, but putting on any kind of performance - a gig, a fight - in front of anything more than two or three strangers is enough to get the adrenaline running. The feeling here is exactly the same as playing a gig, except I know I'll be coming out of this one a lot bloodier than usual.

  I'm led into the corner of the ring and for the first time I see my opponent. He's about ten years older than me, but he's bigger and stronger. I size him up and see he’s carrying a bit of extra weight, a bit of padding that will slow him down and tire him out. I would be faster than him, but would that be enough? I lick my lips nervously as I consider my chances.

  Six months ago when I first realized the depths of my dissatisfaction I started to try and change things. I started working out. Going to a gym, a Muay Thai gym. It wasn’t Lethwei, but it was as close as you were going to get in Croydon, South london. I didn't tell anyone else. Except her, of course. I didn't want anyone else to know what I was up to. I needed a separate life, away from the band. At first it was just something to get my mind off things, but then I realized it was part of what I was looking for. While I hadn't known him, I knew my grandfather had been a fighter. I'd heard the stories of his bare knuckle fights in Rangoon, of his lightning speed and cunning feints that led to a string of victories.

  When I began to train I felt like my destiny had been calling me all along and now finally I was starting to listen. Learning to kick, learning to punch, hours with the heavy bags - that was what I had been craving. Shit, now that I think about it, hadn’t I even talked about it years ago back when Matt was in the band? Back before I was even the official bassist? I’m sure I mentioned it when we used to sit around drunk and stoned talking about the future. They laughed, I think, I don’t really remember.

  It was about two months after I first started training that I heard about this place, this fight scene. At first my training had no goal, it was just a release. But when I heard about this event I knew I had to be a part of it.

  I knew our mini-tour in the USA would be the only chance I'd get in the foreseeable future to try this. If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that when you see an opportunity, snatch it. Don't think it will come back around again, that you can delay, you can just wait a little while and it'll be back. It won’t. Every time you see an opportunity you have to treat it as if it's the only one you'll ever get, reach out with both hands, grab it, hold it tight against you, and run with it.

  I traded the cocaine, weed and whiskey for sweat, tears, steroids and amphetamines. Some people say that's cheating, but shit, I didn't have long to train. I wasted most of my adult life in a haze of smoke, coke, booze and blues. I'd done so many drugs a few more couldn't hurt, right? And they helped. For two, three, four hours every day I'd slip away from the band and go to the gym. Usually at night, when the others were all getting fucked up anyway. If I came back bruised, bleeding or shaky they just thought I’d ended up somewhere I shouldn’t. They didn’t have a clue. Not a fucking clue.

  I remembered a couple of mon
ths ago when Neal had taken me aside, and asked if everything was alright. He said I’d lost weight (I hadn’t, I’d just lost fat and gained muscle) and was doing too many drugs. I laughed and assured him I was okay but didn’t let on what I was really up to. It was strange that as I was becoming the healthiest I’d ever been in my adult life people started to think that I was actually on the verge of a drug overdose or breakdown. Maybe they were projecting onto me what they really knew to be happening with them.

  I look over at Lily and give her a nervous grin. She smiles back at me, a warm affection for me showing in her eyes. No one understands our relationship, at least not yet. They will though. They’ll have to

  I am motioned to the center of the ring, where the referee waits. I turn to Lily and give her a peck on the lips before putting in my mouth guard and pulling on my gloves. Me and my opponent, a washed up eighties tough guy actor follow the referee’s direction and make our way over. He gives me a nod as we lock eyes, getting our first proper look at each other. I nod back, suddenly feeling very small. The crowd seems larger than before.

  The referee shouts some rules though neither of us is paying attention. At least I’m not. I’m too busy sizing my opponent up and down, looking for his strengths and weaknesses. Unlike when professionals fight there's not much information for us about our opponents available beforehand. From his posture I can tell that he is right handed, a vital piece of information, early on, but I can’t tell much more, at least not yet.

  There is a ding as the bell rings signaling the beginning of the fight. This is it. It's time to rock and roll. My body, slick with sweat and oil, feels light but strong, fast and dangerous as I eye my opponent. We both stand there with our arms up in the guard position. He feints toward me but I recognize it for what it is. I stay stock-still, not wasting any unnecessary energy and give him a grin, having not fallen for his ruse. That seems to annoy him and he comes for me again, but this time it isn't a feint. I dodge to the left and give him a little jab with my right hand, striking him solidly on his cheek as I skip out of the way of his own attack.