A Fighting Chance (37 page)

Kerr’s fight is on a farm in
Huimanguillo, in a wooden bullpen. Electric lanterns are mounted all around it and the only other light is coming from the moon. There are people everywhere, and the land is expansive, too. The area is so rural we were on a dirt road for miles, passing streets without names, and house after house without a mailbox or number, trying to find the place.

I
pull Drew between my body and the pen, under the guise of just wanting to hold her, but really I’m in worried, protective boyfriend mode. I don’t like the vibe I get out here. “Look, there’s Kerr…” she whispers as he enters. He’s cut with muscle, tatted up, and still carrying that air of arrogance…well, the one I put a stop to for a while. He bounces on his toes and pounds quick jabs into the air. I heard he kept fighting after I quit and earned his reputation back. And if Kerr is still Kerr, he’s not just fighting one guy tonight, so we’ll get a chance to see him beat up on a few as practice before the real deal starts.

He slows down when we make eye contact
, and I lift my chin in respect. He returns the gesture but can’t conceal the look of suspicion beneath it. Within a few minutes, Kerr’s first opponent walks into the pen. It’s an easy knockout. I don’t even think he breaks a sweat. I smirk; someone has stolen my old style.

“What do you think?” I ask Drew as I nuzzle her ear.

“He looks good. I think we should go big. But not too big that we look like robbery bait.” I agree. She and I go to place the bet with the bookie, and I notice his rifle lying across his lap. Two other armed, stoic men stand on either side of him. We place a bulk of our money on Kerr’s next few matches.

He moves through all his fights easily, in a row, including the “main event.” It’s another American, a hyper type with bad teeth and ashen skin, probably from rampant drug use. When his last fight is over Drew and I do our best to stay calm, because Kerr has earned us our biggest take of any single
night while we’ve been gambling.

“Chance
…hey, wait up,” Kerr calls out to me, jogging behind us as Drew and I head for the bookie table.

“Great fight tonight,”
the other American he fought says, walking by.

“Thanks, man
.” Kerr then pauses to speak fluent Spanish to a woman who approaches him. She slings her arms around his neck and he grabs two handfuls of her ass. Drew and I share glances of awkward amusement while they tongue-fuck for a good five minutes. He walks over with the woman, their hands intertwined. His look says there are no hard feelings from five years ago but I apologize anyway. The conversation is smooth after that. I tell him what I’ve been up to with college, and he explains how he ended up in Mexico. He moved here after dropping out of high school to get on the fighting circuit, but things didn’t pan out quite like he hoped. He did odd jobs for years all around Mexico City, fighting here and there, but he only ever made it into two Cull fights. He was too busy drowning himself in pussy and booze to really train. Then he found out about the fights in the rural areas. Now he lives here with his girlfriend, Marisol.

“Why the fuck are
you
in Mexico? Watching a fight here in
Huimanguillo
of all places?” He pronounces it in a perfect accent, and I hear how much we’ve been butchering the word.

“You don’t even want to know
, but it involves fighting…”

He goes quiet for a moment, shifting a pointed gaze between Drew and me.
“Wait…are you
El Americano?
” he whispers. He snaps his fingers. “I should’ve put two and two together. Someone I know who goes to fights in Mexico City was saying a new fighter—a black guy who talked in a Southern accent like me—was kicking ass all over the place. Almost made me try to make a comeback over there, by trying to beat you. Crazy. I thought you retired, Glory’s Own?”

I nod. “I did. It’s a long story. But now I gotta deal with some shit with Cocodrilo…” I’m not sure why I trust him with this information, but I feel like Kerr and I fell into the same trappings of this world, and I wish he had gotten out like I did.

“You’re fighting him?” Kerr swallows down hard, and a shadow of fear shades his eyes for a beat. “Man, I hate that motherfucker.” He pushes his hair off his ear and Drew gasps. A jagged chunk of cartilage is gone. “He did this a few years ago when I got into the cage with him. Went Mike Tyson on my shit. Beat my ass, too. I still can’t see very well out of one eye. He’s fucking crazy. How are you going to handle
that
? Don’t think I don’t notice the way you’re moving that arm…it’s weak.”

I clench my teeth, feeling defensive, but mostly worried that he can pick up on the presence of my injury. “It’ll be fine. I’ve got some time.”

“You interested in a sparring partner?” he asks with hopeful enthusiasm. He seems so down on his luck. Kerr could be doing so much more, even if it’s in illegal fighting. He’s talented.

“Hell yeah.” I smile. “You got a number?” While I get it from him, Drew goes to collect our winnings. When she returns, the four of us leave the farm for the dark road where Drew and I are parked. Kerr points in the opposite direction, to where they live, and I hold out my hand for a shake before we part ways. “I’ll tell my friend about you. She set up most of my fights. She could get you back in…
in
.”

“Thanks, man…” he says. We wave good-bye and Drew takes my hand. It’s peaceful out here—nothing but the glow of a starlit sky above us—but the quiet and
the lack of people makes it unsettling. Maybe we were in Mexico City too long, but I miss the noise of a congested place. I don’t like that I can hear my shoes scraping over the gravel.

Suddenly,
Drew’s hand breaks free from mine as a violent grasp seizes my neck from behind. My vision blurs on the right side from a hit, sparks of color veiling my sight.
Shit.
The pain builds from a buzzing to a throbbing burn. Then liquid warmth drips down the side of my face. Drew screams but I can’t see where she is to get to her.

“Run! Find a house!” I yell as adrenaline spreads through me.

“Shut up, bitch, and don’t move,” a gruff male voice barks at her. “Don’t fucking move…or I will shoot you.” As my eyes clear, I finally find Drew. She’s twenty feet ahead of me. In the middle of us is the American guy Kerr fought tonight, the one who congratulated him. “Both of you shut the fuck up and do as I say.”

He’s jumpy, his irritation is skyrocketing from its already high intensity, and he’s clutching a gun, which he’s swinging between the two of us. He pivots around me and
jabs it into my ribs. I feel momentary relief that it’s not pointed at Drew anymore, but my mind quickly descends to a dark place. Icy dread chews on my insides.
No. No. No. Fuck. Subduing the male first.
I suppress my urge to threaten him because pissing him off when he’s this heated is how things will go from bad to worse.

“Don’t hurt her
…” I say calmly, staring at Drew. She’s petrified but she’s putting on a strong face of courage now.
Good girl.
Very reluctantly, I add, “We have money.”

“I know you fucking have money,” he says in an agitated growl, like we’re grating his nerves because he has to rob us. “Which one of you has it? Is it you?” The gun swivels back to Drew.

“Don’t fucking point that at her.”

“Am I gonna have to
search you
, pretty girl?” Consumed with stinging rage, I grab for him.

“No, no, no, no, Jess!” Drew says in a panic
, before I have a chance to grasp him, holding her hands up. The man retrains his weapon on me.

“Okay…all right, dude.” I raise my hands, too.
My protective instinct is making me reckless, and I know I would throw myself in front of a bullet for her without question, but I
really
wasn’t making a play for the gun. If Drew weren’t out here, I’d take my chances, but I can’t risk her getting hit by accident, or getting myself killed and leaving her on her own. I just need his attention back on me. “You win…you win…”

He
kicks my legs out from under me, and I land hard on my back with a scream out in pain. From above, he aims the gun right between my eyes. I don’t speak another word, even though so many
Motherfucker, I will kill you’s
are waiting on my tongue. I’ll let him feel like a king if it means he keeps that gun off Drew.

“Don’t be a hero, dude; they always die in real life.”
Then keep that fucking gun off my girl.

“Jesse, pleas
e—”

“Hey, sweetheart, are you gonna focus on your boyfriend…or the guy with a gun
pointed at his face? Tell me which one of you has the money you won tonight.”

“I do!” she says. She withdraws the cash from her pocket and waves it in the air. She
walks a few steps toward him, and it takes me so much effort to comply with his threat when every urge is pushing me to fight. The drive is like a balloon expanding in my throat.
He’s a fighter, too. God knows what he’s on. Your shoulder is fucked up. Only if he makes a move to hurt her.

“
Just bring it here, and don’t do anything I don’t fucking like. ‘Cause then you’ll spend the rest of the night picking pieces of your boyfriend’s skull out of all that pretty hair.” I hear her whimper a little at his words, but she collects herself and keeps moving, hand extended. My chest tenses as Drew gets closer, and if he tries one fucking thing…

But he snatches the money from her hand
and takes off. Once I’m on my feet, we move quickly, almost jogging. Temptation makes me turn and look back when we’re halfway to the car, but he’s long gone, and the two of us run to get inside. Neither of us buckles up until we’re on the highway and that’s when Drew finally breaks down in tears.

I don’t drive too far once urbanization sprouts up around us, and I choose an American hotel in Villahermosa. It’s not until I’m inside the room and locked in, that my pulse rate finally cruises back to normal. Drew and I both move to hug each other at the same time.

“I kept thinking about Miguel. Jesus, Jesse, is that what his final moments were like? Looking into Carlos’s eyes? I’m so glad you were there with me. He had to go through that alone!” she says in a teary voice. “He
died
. He died right there, and I couldn’t do anything. He died because of me! All because of me.”

We stand there, and I just let her bawl against me until she can’t cry anymore. “Go take a shower. Then come to bed and we can talk, okay?” I keep a close eye on her as she peels off her clothes and sets them on a chair, before she strolls off to the bathroom. There’s money on the floor. It fell from her pocket. Fifty dollars. Fifty fucking dollars. Drew managed to keep some during the robbery. We went there with four hundred and ended up tripling it. Dammit. But for better or worse, I’m too tired for my despair to really suck me into its pits. I’ve got all day tomorrow for that to happen.

I can hear Drew sniffling right before she turns the water on.
Poor baby girl.
I just want to give her a little slice of comfort, so I head to the vending machine down the hall and buy all the cookies on an entire row. When I get back to the room, I turn down the comforter on her side, and put the TV on.

I’m still so fucking
shaken up from when that guy had his gun to my head, but I can’t get the image of him pointing it at Drew out of my thoughts. The whole situation made me think of Miguel, too. He’s dead like we could’ve been tonight. None of this would’ve gone down if Carlos had just fought me without the sabotage. I direct my futile anger at him because I’d rather have rage than fear.
Fuck him.
Fucking piece of shit.

I go into the bathroom after Drew has been in there a while, and even though I heard the shower going earlier, she’s sitting in a bath now, just staring at the wall. She turns a weak smile to me, and
I decide to lighten my mood up for her. “I brought cookies.” I sit on the floor right next to the tub.

She takes a small bite of one.
“These are good. Thank you. I think I like the boy holding the cookies a lot better, though,” she says as I run my hand down her wet hair.

“You feeling better
, baby?”

“A little, but the last thing I need is more nightmares…”

“You’re having nightmares?” She nods and my heart sinks. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you tonight. Fight the guy, not fight the guy, I had no idea what to do…” Truthfully, in hindsight I’m ashamed that I didn’t do more. 

“You did plenty. We’re alive, aren’t we?” she assures me,
her soft, damp fingers touching my face. “But when I get out…can you just hold me, please?”

I scowl. “Don’t ever ask me that, Spark.
I will hold you all night, even if you look like a prune.” She exhales with a laugh as she rests her hands on the edge of the tub and puts her chin on them.

“I’ve been biting my tongue
and I never thought I would say this, but I miss the cartel fights.
The real ones.
We can’t keep gambling. We can’t do it again, not even one more time. Tonight was the wake-up call. The risks are too much. The worry is too much. We tried. I’m just not sure what we’re going to do…”