Granite Grit (Fighting's in the Blood #1) (10 page)

  Knowing I was more intelligent than this cunt, I had to find a way to use that intelligence, pick the right time. After two minutes of carnage, he let an overhand right fly through the air, like a sledgehammer. It smacked into my forehead, careering me backwards. Seething, I cursed to myself and bit down on my gum-shield. Things didn’t go too well for Warsaw after that. I slipped onto the back foot, took a few seconds to get rid of my agitation and think clearly, as he cruised forward with the same look of over-eager rage in his eye.

  Waiting for the right haymaker to come again, like your alarm-clock after hitting the snooze button or a song on repeat, you knew what was coming. I went on the back foot and analysed his footwork.

  There it was, the haymaker, rolling under with it, splattering a left-hook across the jaw and right hand into the flat of his face.

  His legs weakened, I knew I had him. Walking forward to meet him again, using my boxing brain to finish the job. Feinting a left-hook with a small step forward, made him flinch and lean back.

  Taking another half step forward, propelling my right hand into the hub of his nose, I felt it shatter and crumble.

  The blood splattered.

  Gushing everywhere, Warsaw fell to the canvas on both knees. The referee jumped in, started to count.

  “1! 2! 3! 4!” The Pole stood, pushed the referee out the way, growled in annoyance, blood flooding out, and came for more.

  Unfortunately for him, I was dead right. As predictable as he was stubborn.

  “Finish him, Joe! Fuckin’ finish him!” Tim yelled out from under the bottom rope.

  Warsaw ran towards me in utter disgust at himself, because touching the canvas was a blow to his pride, his nose shattered, red gore flowing down his thick neck.

  Pissed off to say the least, I used his anger against him. Standing still as you like, waiting for him to enter my range and throw the same right hand haymaker.

  Rolling under his wild right hand with my eyes closed, slipping out to my left, countering with my right hand, planting it on the square of his face. The momentum of his charging frame landing into my fist, was catastrophic.

  His legs buckled, he collapsed onto the blood-stained canvas like a toppling building. The ref pushed me to the side, placing Warsaw into the recovery position, avoiding his once intact, caved in nose.

  There and then, I honestly couldn’t tell you if he was alive or dead.

Chapter 19

The Buzz:

    He lay unconscious in the middle of the ring. I felt no sympathy towards him, or what used to be his nose, or any interest in seeing him stand.

  Standing, a lone soul in my corner, my hands by my side, taking in the crowd’s roar as they cheered my victory. Now I could hear them in their full voice.

  The tension and nerves sank from me as the Pole hit the floor. Proud as never before, body bursting with endorphins, blood soaring through my veins like a victorious gladiator standing in the middle of the Coliseum. Bruised, but still on his feet.

  The audience roaring with satisfaction, pleased at the one-round battle they just witnessed. Racing through me was pure ecstasy, and if the feeling could be sold, I’d be a millionaire before the end of the week.

  “I told you, Joe! I told you! You’re made for this! Good job, lad.” Tim came into the ring, digging his fingernails into my shoulders, looking proudly into my face. I was quite speechless for the moment, relieved the job was done.  

              “Let’s get out o’ here, back to the changing-room before this mob turns into a riot.”

              To be honest, I didn’t want to leave. Standing in the ring victorious, my foe dormant on the floor,made me feel alive
.
The crowd still leaping over each other, throwing beer everywhere, added to my excitement.

Tim led me out between the ropes into the jubilant crowd, instantly mobbed by people tugging my arms and tapping me on the head. Feeding me praise and trying to shake my hand, I did my best to barge my way through to the changing room. It all felt a bit claustrophobic.

  In the commotion, I lost Tim but continued on untiI I reached the room at the back, finding Tim already there.

            Mike and Bull awaited, sitting on the two chairs, looking keen to praise and stood as I entered the room.

  “That was quick, mate.” Bull said raising his brows with welcomed praise.

  “Cheers, Bull. Quicker the better, don’t get paid for overtime.”

  “You gave the crowd their money's worth there.” Mike said.  Both the guys offered their hand, and I said I hoped that would be the last time I’d have to.

  Their new-found respect for me, giving me an extra kick. People knew who I was now and I’d given them a fight to talk about, a fight to remember.

  Mike, Bull and Tim talked about the fight as I took a seat, started to relax and let my head catch up with my body. Taking my gloves and wraps off, downing a bottle of water. I felt satisfied and happy I would be taking the £400 home to May.

  May! As soon as she crept back into my head, I had to check if my face was marked. I rustled for my phone from my jeans pocket that lay on the floor and brought up the camera screen. My forehead and face ached from the hard blows and to my amazement, I was unmarked. A huge sigh of relief.

  Another three bodies entered the room. One of them Mr Dean and the other two were the next trainer and fighter. Mr Dean shook my hand while the rest of the guys discussed that night’s events. “That was impressive boy, very impressive.” He removed his glasses.

  “Cheers, it was easier than expected.”

  “You made it look easy Joe, that’s why. I can see you’re a smart kid, by way you dealt with my boy, Warsaw.” His Fife accent was thick.

  “It takes more than muscle to win a fight, Mr Dean.”

  “That’s very true, kid. I hear you used to box?”

  “Aye, in Aberdeen years ago, my Dad used to train me.”

  “Your Dad, eh! He done a good job, then.”

  “I suppose he did, aye.”

  “Well, hope I see you again. I’ll keep in touch with Mike. Look forward to following your path.”

  “Sure, Mr Dean.” I had no interest in becoming anything back then.

  “Please….call me Steve, Joe.” He put his glasses back on.

  “Alright, Steve.” We shook hands and he coasted out the door. He seemed like a rational well-mannered man, but everyone knew around here, he was anything but nice. A gentleman, but a very treacherous one.

  “We need this room so we can get our man ready?” One of the two men said in a thick Dundee accent.

  “Aye, sure. We’ll get out your hair in a sec.” Tim answered.

  Tim started gathering the stuff we had lying around, while I began changing out of the joggers and wiping Warsaw’s blood off my chest, still not knowing if he was dead, but I think if he was toast, somebody would have said.

  “Let’s put this shit in the car.”

  Took a quick exit out to the car in the cold October night. There were a few people floating around outside. Probably grabbing some fresh air from the smoke-filled shed.

  Tim popped the boot of his car, threw his gear in, handed me a jacket, revealing a couple cases of beer.

  “Have a beer, you’ve earned it.” Tim said.

  “Cheers mate, fuckin’ need this!”

  “You deserve it, after that pay day.”

  “Aye, so where’s my cash, dickhead?”

  “See Bull. He’s the banker. Don’t worry, it's yours.”

  “Sound. By the way, if you’re drinking, how we getting up the road?”

  “We’re no’. We’re crashing in the car.” On such a high, I really didn’t give a shit. Figured out how the rest of the night was going to pan out. Lots of beer, a few bloody noses and a bad hangover the next day.

  “Joe, I’ll have to get the bookie before the next scrap starts. Coming?”

  “Nah, I’ll stay out here, drink my beer and cool down.”

  I couldn’t be arsed going back in, the drunken rabble was kicking off again. Stayed outside, drank my beer taking a moment to myself, thinking about May, Jess and Junior.  

  Done what I needed to do, won the fight, won the cash. HappyI’d be returning home without a mark on me. The noise escalated from inside the shed, curiosity got the better of me, so I headed inside with my pockets full of beer
.

Chapter 20

The Hangover And Ride Home:

  The next morning, waking in the back of Tim’s car, with the morning glare of light beaming into my eyes. I rubbed my hands through my hair. Tim sleeping in the passenger’s seat, still snoring. I realised I was rough as fuck. Head pounding my brain, living two seconds behind my sight, I could tell that day was going to be Hell. My mouth as dry as the Sahara.  

  I rummaged around amongst the empty beer bottles in the car looking for water, only to remember it was in the boot.

  I gulped a bottle down and reached for another. It tasted good. Kept a hold of the other one, because I knew I’d need it pretty soon.

  Taking a look around, there was nobody to be seen. No indication of what went on here last night except for the ground, strewn with alcohol cans and bottles. It was just past eight. The open space in front of the shed had turned to mud with overnight rain.

  I decided to take one last look inside the shed. The place was a tip, rubbish everywhere, a few bodies lying flat out on the concrete floor and one guy using a six-pack of beer as a pillow.

  The place reeked of stale beer and cigarettes, I turned and left. I didn’t need any more memories of what I had taken part in. Just beside the door, I heard footsteps approaching me, it looked like Warsaw. As he galloped towards me I thought, “Christ sake, he’s coming for a repeat of last night.” Stopping a few steps in front of me, he looked menacing.

  His right eye bulged like a golf ball. I doubt he could see out of it, his nose caved in like a smashed juice tin. He looked in a bad way. He stood for five seconds without speaking, just glowering at me with his good eye, eventually muttering something in Polish, shook my hand and walked away.

  I headed in the direction of the car, spotting Tim vomiting uncontrollably outside the passenger’s door. Watching him throwing up, set me off. I started spewing next to him. Tim finished before me.

  “What a pussy!”

  “Piss off, you went first!” I spat out between a couple more chucks.

  We both started laughing, chuckling away with sick hanging down our chins and over our tops. We both took our jumpers off and wiped our chins. We looked at each other and started laughing again, hysterically, like a couple of stoned kids hanging out at Seaton Park.

  “I can’t go home stinking like this. I’ll need a shower.” I said. The smell of vomit mixed with stale booze from our breaths.

  “What time you need to be home?”

  “Any time after seven.”

  “We could go to mine. Dawn can wash your clothes and you can grab a shower, you’ll probably get fed as well.”

  “That’s a plan. Good of you to help me out.”

  “It’s the least I can do, after getting you into this.” Tim said.

  “Talking of that, where’s ma cash?”

  “Bull gave it to you last night, you no’ remember?”

  “No, do I fuck.” I rummaged through my pockets. Sure enough there it was, a pile of notes. I counted it. Five hundred. “There’s five here, instead o’ four.”

  “Bull and Mike decided to give you an extra ton.” Fucking hope it’s not that counterfeit paper.

  “Let’s get the fuck out of here before Mr Dean shows up. He usually does a bit of snooping the next day.”

  “Definitely, let’s get to fuck.”

  Speeding off down the dirt track road, we reeked of sick. The only thing I wanted to do was sleep and it wasn’t long before I nestled my head up against the window conking out, not waking up until fifteen minutes from Aberdeen. The snooze did me good. Feeling half-human again. All I needed was a good wash and clean clothes. Getting too old for this drinking carry on.

  “Alright, lad. Woken up at last.”

  “Jesus, I needed that.”

  “We’ll be at mine in a half hour, so you’ll get a shower.”

  “Sound, cheers for this.”

  “No problem. Say, just wondering, you ever hear from your Dad?”

  “No, I disowned the prick once Mom died. I looked for him for a couple of months, but couldn’t find the cunt.”

  “He used to carry quite a name for himself around here. Never lost a bout, as far as I know.”

  “I know fuck all about his past. Just know he was a vicious cunt. I’ll never forgive the fud for what he did. I’d love to catch up with him some day.”

  “Is that why you changed your last name?”

  “Aye, I didn’t want to be associated wi’ it.” Davie Rhodes.

  “You and your Mom had a hard life with him, eh?”

  “It wasn’t nice, mate. When he took me to boxing, I thought things would change, but it just went further downhill.”

  “He was always giving you a hard time in the gym, too. Made you tough, though?”

  “Aye, that’s true. One thing he taught me, was not to end up like him.”

  We got back to Tim's around one o’clock and I was finally able to get a shower which was refreshing and well needed, staying in it for twenty minutes. His bathroom was as luxurious as the rest of his pad.

  The room was marble-tiled all around in black, white and grey with the usual woman’s touch of bright yellows in candles and flowers. Finished up in the bathroom, stuck on spare clothes Tim handed me, and headed downstairs.

  “Joe, this is Dawn.”

  “Hi, nice to finally meet you.” I leaned into her plump body and gave her the customary kiss on the cheek.

  She had a kind face, a friendly attitude and sounded distinctly Irish.

  “Nice to meet you too, Joe. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “All good, I hope?”

  “Yes, almost.” She smiled. “Have a seat, relax, it will be a little time before your clothes are ready. There’s a Sunday roast cooking, you’ll get a good feed soon.”

  “Cheers, think I should come here more often.”

  Sitting down, I could start to relax while watching TV with Tim for the rest of the afternoon. The smell of the roast wafted through the house. Tim started to count his winnings from the night before, stacking it in piles of hundreds on the floor.

  “Holy fuck, mate. Is that what you made at the bookies?”

  “Aye, sure is. Five grand.”

  “Five grand?!  A nice little earner. Is any o’ that courtesy of me?”

  “Na, Joe. I never bet on you.”

  “So, does that mean you thought I was gonna lose?”

  “Na, it just didn’t seem right betting on you. Maybe will in the future though, after seeing what I saw last night.”

“Look, it’s a one-off. I have a family with a wife I love. It can’t happen again.”

  “That’s a shame, you could make a pile of cash in this game.”

  “I might as well tell you now, I’m not coming back to boxing either. Need to stay away from the scene. You’ll have to let Mike and Bull know.”

  “Fair enough, I understand. It ain’t for everyone.”

  He finished stacking his notes, disappearing out the room.

  Dinner was ready, we tucked into it around the kitchen table. The roast was amazing and just what a hungover body needed. Dawn was a great cook and I complimented her on it. She seemed like a loyal women and knew exactly what Tim did on the side. He was very open and chatted about it over dinner. Something I’d never be able to do in my house.

  By the time we finished eating, my clothes were dry. I said my goodbyes to Dawn and thanked her for the lovely meal.

Chapter 21

Back to the Same Old Same:

    “Cheers for the lift, mate.”

  “No problem. You sure you’re not coming back to Kilgours?”

  “Definitely not. I’ll keep in touch, though. We can grab a beer some night?”

  “Aye, sounds a plan.”

  At that, I left the car, Kilgours and Tim behind.

  Approaching the door, I realised I’d have to make up more stories about this security job, and quickly at that.

  “Hi, am home!” I shouted, as soon as the door shut behind me.

  Little Junior ran through to me clinging onto his Ironman and Spiderman toys. Jess must have been in bed.

  “Hi, Daddy! You’re home!”

  “Sure am, kid.” I ruffled his sparse hair, then put my arm around his shoulder, fortunate and proud to be a father. “Where’s your mum?” I asked him.

  “Mummy’s watching TV.”

  May stood up and greeted me with a kiss and a big hug. Happy to be back in her arms. “How did the job go?”

  “Really easy money, babe.” I replied, trying to put on the most confident face I could muster.

  “And look at the wages, an extra hundred.”

  The cash pulled out my pocket in fifties. Her eyes sparkled and her face lit up, which I hadn’t seen in the past few months.

  “What’s the extra hundred for?”

  “There was a few no-shows, so they paid us extra. No trouble either, a hand-out really. I’ll use most of the 500 quid for the fuel bill, you can have the rest for a little shop.”

  “I’ll put it aside for the mortgage, Joe. We’re three months behind. What we going to do about that?”

  “Look, something will come up, I’m bound to get a job soon.” Tried to reassure her, but I had no idea where the cash would appear from. The stress was getting to her. Most of the £500 cash was to keep the power on. “Just have to do the best with what we have at the moment.”

  “This is no good, Joe. We need money. What if we ask my parents?”

  “What, take money from your Father? No fuckin’ way. I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ve had a rough weekend May, I want to relax.”

  “What if I run a little bath for the both of us?”

  “Mmm, someone’s missed me this weekend, ’en.”

 
We lay in the bath together almost an hour. Relaxing in each other’s company was brilliant,
after spending the previous night with a bunch of maniacs.

  Getting up at 7.30 the next morning, a hell of a lot fresher than the previous day, I slipped back into the usual routine. Getting the kids up, making breakfast, the school run and home to wake May.

  I realised how much I’d missed my family over the weekend. I promised myself to do everything I could to find work and keep our heads above water. I wanted my kids to have everything, unlike my past. They didn't deserve the pain I had to endure, and I would do everything in my power to protect them.

  That morning, I paid the £315 fuel bill, then headed down to the estate agents with £185, the rest of the blood-money to pay into the mortgage.

  “Sir, are you aware of the outstanding balance on our account?” Like I could forget.

  “Yes, course I am, do you think I like you reminding me every time I come in here?”

  “I’m sorry, sir. But, it is my duty to see that your account is kept up to date.” What the fuck did she want me to do or say? £1500 in the red, what the fuck were we going to do?

  Quickly as I could, I left, not able to face the thought of our mounting debt, week by week, month by month. I couldn’t give her what I didn’t have.

  Back to the same old problem, no cash. May would use her whole pay-cheque for the mortgage this week. Twenty-seven quid left in my bank account. Least the kids would get fed.

  On the way home, I picked up the local paper. Nothing in there for me. All jobs you needed qualifications for. I had none, except fighting, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere.

Frustrated, I got up and headed to the Jobcentre and searched on their computer system. A few jobs in Aberdeen, thought I’d try them. I would find something where the bus would commute to. There were four jobs taking my eye.

  A slaughter-house trainee butcher, a yard-labourer, but you needed a fork-lift licence, a green-keeper at a golf course in Aberdeen, and a dispatch storeman in Inverurie. I applied for all jobs using the email service at the Jobcentre.

  Spending so much time down there, I was on a first-name basis with the staff, my CV saved onto the desktop of their computer.

  Once back at home, I went through the usual afternoon routine, cleaning, picking kids up and laundry.

  Fucking sick of it, this was no way to live as the man of the house. I didn’t mind doing it, but repeating the process day after day with nothing to show financially, was mentally draining me.

  Another week passed before hearing back from the yard-labourer job, telling me they’d employed somebody with a fork-lift licence and my application had been unsuccessful. Just the usual disappointment.

  I still hadn’t heard back from the other three, but wasn’t expecting anything positive coming from them. The reminder for the council-tax bill had arrived, but couldn't be paid, yet again. The phone had been cut off, that meant the kids had no internet for their games.

  Benefit day was approaching, so at least I’d get some cash. Yet again another trip down the dole office to convince them I was actively looking for employment.