A Fighting Chance (39 page)

I’m seething, my heart on the verge of punching right through my chest, but I force myself to stay calm.
Ding.
The bell ends the round and we both ignore it. I hear Drew calling my name and behind Carlos, Ramón’s eyes go wide as he moves closer. I whittle my thoughts until this cage, this fight,
and Carlos are the only things in the world that exist.

“Come on, crocodile,” I say with a cold smile, gesturing at him with just one hand.
A glint of determination flashes in Carlos’s eyes as he wipes his lips on his glove. He slowly reveals his sharp-toothed smile, his teeth red with blood.

Then he crosses the canvas.

I block two jabs but miss the knee that pounds into my groin.
Motherfucker.
He slugs me as many times as he can as I fall to my knees, and then follows up with a roundhouse kick to the side of my head. I collapse forward, landing hard on my chin, and nearly sever my tongue with my own teeth. His mammoth shadow shifts, and I hear him plant his feet on either side of me. With my ears ringing and my muscles feeling like they’re trying to escape my body, I crawl forward on my stomach. It’s futile, I know, especially because Carlos
lets
me make it halfway before he drags me back by the legs.

He steps on my weaker shoulder, twisting and driving his foot against it.
Flipping me to my back, he gets down on the floor right next to my head and vises my neck in the crook of his elbow, in a headlock. Tingles spear through my temples as the pressure in my head mounts.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic,
I tell myself, trying to override my body’s automatic responses to pain and oxygen deprivation.

He
squeezes tighter, pointing a menacing smile at me. “Beg me,
culero
,” Carlos whispers. “Beg me like Miguel.” Drops of blood trickle off his face and splash onto mine. “Beg me and the end will come quick.”

“Please,” I croak.

“Qué?” he says, letting all the wickedness in him shine through a grin. “Please
what
?”

“Please…fuck off.” I link my fingers,
slam my palms against his face, and push his head backward. I roll out from under him, pressing all my weight on his head, and leave him on his back. I’m drained but I pounce, straddling him without wasting time.

Ignoring my dizziness, I punch like my fists are sledgehammers,
until I’m worn down to one arm when my shoulder gives out, until Carlos’s ability to defend himself crumbles. His legs slide out behind me, and both his arms flop out to either side. He’s conscious but too weak to do anything but lie where he is. There is no will or mind to fight anymore.

When I stand, I am covered in our blood, and it’s the unholiest of baptisms. The crowd is
in a frenzy, defying the laws of sound around us. It reminds me of the night I fought Kerr—the night I fed their hunger. But I don’t circle the cage or relish it. I shut it all out, and I only look for Drew. I wink at her and she blows me a kiss. All the times before, knowing how I could break a man nearly destroyed me, but tonight feels different. They are free to love the monster. I’m learning more about the man. And the woman out there loves him.

Carlos is still where I dropped him,
twitching from his injuries. I’m relieved it’s over but I can’t savor this win. Not really. I understand him now more than ever. As disturbing as they are, these fights are a salve to the parts of his soul his demons have ripped out, and I can sympathize. Maybe even empathize.

But he still killed our friend.
He would’ve killed me.

I walk to him and he tries to stretch his swollen eyes wider but can’t, so he tips his head up, tracking my every move, still very much a predator. The crowd is chanting
, “Finish him,” in Spanish. Actually, I’m not sure of the direct translation, but they always seem to start screaming it when someone is incapacitated but conscious in the cage. Carlos looks away from me for a moment. He’s listening to them. His fists clench weakly and his jaw tenses. But he relaxes, and he sinks back down against the canvas as their betrayal settles in. As his
defeat
settles in. Like me, he’s probably starting to realize that their love is not only superficial but also fickle as hell. If Carlos and I agree on anything right now, it’s
Fuck them.

When I lean down over him, he
bares his teeth at me, and they are stained a darker red than before. Carlos’s frail bravado crumbles quickly, intense fear—that surprises me—springing out from beneath. He lifts his chin and angles his head back because he’s still having trouble seeing me with his swollen eyes. “Do it…end it,” he urges, and it’s not a demand; it’s a plea.

“Nope.” I’m still fighting
my
demons. But none of them are Carlos. I did what I came to do here. “I’m not you. For a long time, I thought I was. Maybe I
was
or a long time ago I could’ve been. But I’m not now. And I don’t have to be. For anybody. I’m sorry your family was killed and that you ended up with this life,” I say. The crowd boos when I move away from him. I am still the victor, though. In ways they will never understand.

Tonight, I pulled myself back.

****

Drew howls with laughter and jerks her feet out of my lap after I tickle her soles. The people at the adjacent table give her a condemning look. After she apologizes to them, she folds her
People
magazine and swats me with it. “You’re not gonna let me read in peace, are you?” A grin breaks through her scowl. I love how much she’s been smiling lately. And I have been doing everything possible to keep it that way.

“Nope.” I shake my head. “Come sit on my lap…” I say, reaching for her leg.

“Sandrine will be here in a sec. Be good.” She scoots her chair out of my reach.

“Be good, huh? I’m gonna make you
beg
for it later…when I’m being
good
,” I tease. I gesture at one of the vendors selling
aguas frescas
in the park, and he pushes his cart our way. It’s great to just be outside enjoying the day like everyone else. A group of children is on the grass showing off their cartwheels to each other. Two older men are chatting on a bench while they feed a cluster of birds. People are roaming trails that unfurl in every direction. Sandrine could not have picked a more beautiful place for us to meet—it’s heavily wooded, probably the most trees I’ve seen anywhere in Mexico City, and there’s a huge manmade lake in the distance with people out boating. Maybe I’m just appreciating everything more. I’m so relaxed I even took two weeks off since the fight so that Drew and I can really connect without fighting being in the forefront.

And have lots of sex, obviously.

“You really won’t come sit with me? Fine. I’ll sit on
your
lap then.” I jump out of my seat and plop down on her.

“Jesse!” She beats on my back, laughing.

“Yeah, I like it here better. How come we never do
this
? How come
you
never hold
me?
”

“I knew you two were
in love
. Good to see you finally figured it out, too,” Sandrine says as she walks up, shaking her head. Can’t deny it. You don’t expect to fall in love at seventeen, and to be even more in love at twenty-two.

Sandrine’s back in her usual attire today—black slacks and knifepoint stiletto heels. She raises her sunglasses to the top of her head and takes my empty seat as Drew and I switch places. “
The money’s already on its way to its destination.”

“Thank you,” Drew and I say in unison.

“No problem. I’ve been getting so many calls about you since the fight, but
El Americano
is going down in history with that last fight, right? You did beat the champ.”

“Almost. One or two more fights and
then
history. And now that we’ve gone through this together, I gotta say, Sandrine, I can’t figure out how you’re in so good with these cartel guys.”

“Emilio Estrada.”

“Estrada is your last name…” Drew says.

“That’s because he was my husband.” Sandrine gets the kind of dreamy look that I never expected to see on her. “
We were about you guys’ age when we met. I had been with the NGO for a year. I lived below his grandmother and one day, we ran into each other in the hallway when he came to visit and…that was that.
Head over heels.
We knew each other four months before we got married, and it turned out to be the best two years of my life. But he was a
lugartenientes—
a lieutenant
—
with the Tijuana Cartel, and the police ambushed a group of them in Veracruz. Just like that, it was all gone. He always said he’d make me two things: very happy and a widow. He did both, and it was worth it. Anyway, his associates are all still my family because of him, and I grew my own contacts over the years.

“
Look, no matter how hard this experience has been, let it bring you closer. With love, sometimes you get to have it forever, and sometimes you get two years, but at least you get it. Because not everybody does. Don’t take how lucky you are for granted. I can’t imagine the kind of sacrifice that landed you here, but I say reward yourself and indulge in this happiness.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out a pen and paper.

“What’s this for?” I ask.

“How much more do you need to finish this? Whatever it is you’re doing this for. Write it down.”

I do as she asks and slide the paper back to her. “Twenty-five.
I know it seems like a lot, but most of it will go to cover my goal amount. Then catch us both up on bills, and to survive on while we’re here, to get us back to Texas. I should be able to do that in one fight, right? Maybe get a little more?”

“Okay. Twenty-five is what I’ll give you. I’ll text you in a bit about how you want to divide it up. Just tell me how much you need wired out of Mexico
, and I’ll deliver the balance to you.” Sandrine folds the sheet and sticks it back in her bag.

“I can’t borrow that amount from you, Sandrine,” I say.

“It’s not a loan this time. It’s a gift. Don’t you dare look a gift horse in the mouth, either.” Suddenly, she’s out of her seat and wrapping her arms around the two of us. I’m not even sure how to handle it; her outward display of affection is startling.

“Thanks. Take care of Kerr, okay?” I request.

“Sure.” Standing, she slides her sunglasses back down over her eyes. “Now get the fuck out of Mexico.”

Drew and I are still stunned by Sandrine’s generosity when we head to the
tianguis
that’s in walking distance from our motel. It’s an open-air market that’s only here a few days a week, and Drew’s been really excited for it to open. We watched the merchants prepare all of yesterday and this morning, and now vendor stalls under bright tarps stretch down a closed-off street for close to two miles. There’s such an explosion of noise and movement and colors that it’s hard to focus on any one thing. Now, with the money Sandrine’s giving us, I plan to leave a lot earlier than before, but we still want a little more time to see the parts of the country that Miguel loved so much.

“Gracias,” I say to
a vendor as she hands me two empanadas. I reach back to give one to Drew and she’s gone, already down several stalls and negotiating with a woman over jewelry
.
She’s waving her arm at me, as if she’s been waiting to get my attention for a while.

“I thought you were hungry,” I say when
I approach her.

“Shopping will always beat out basic human needs, Jess.” She lifts her wrist, shaking
gold bangles next to my ear. “And aren’t these pretty?”

I sling my arm around her shoulders and kiss her temple. “Uh, sure, baby girl…” I’ve seen her wear a million bangles that look exactly like these.

“How much longer do you want to look around? ‘Cause there’s a
job
I’d like you to give me a
hand
with in our room.” Drew gasps and her jaw drops. “Is that surprise or are you volunteering other body parts?”

Drew snorts and giggles. “You’re lucky you’re so sexy…” She yanks me by the collar until my lips mash her smile.
She keeps the kiss brief then lowers her head to my chest and sighs. 

“
Um…what was that?”

“Do you ever think about Lydia, babe? ‘Cause it’s okay if you do…”

“Yeah. Of course, I do. It’s mostly me hoping she’s doing okay. You think about Buck?”

“Yeah…and I’ve been feeling guilty for being happy lately.”
There are traces of that guilt when she lifts her gaze to mine. “I’m grateful that you and I found our way back to each other, but I feel like we paved our path to
here
over all the havoc we wreaked
getting here
. We really hurt people we both care about…and Miguel. God. I still can’t believe he’s gone.” She pauses as tears well up. “He told me not to give up on you. Buck had asked me to marry him a few days before, and I hadn’t given him an answer yet. Miguel was actually encouraging me to go after you, anyway. We were sitting at the bar in a cantina he loved, and he was tearing up a napkin and saying, ‘He loves you, he loves you not,’ and we were so drunk, and laughing. We never finished getting through the napkin because Buck came over. But later Miguel told me it didn’t matter what the napkin said because he couldn’t imagine how you
couldn’t
love me.”