My Number One: Kasha & Knox (6 page)

“Bitch!” the guy spat out, spraying saliva up into the air and onto my shirt.

“The only bitch I see is your short ass,” I fed him, not even moving to pat off the spit. There was absolutely nothing that this punk was capable of doing to knock me off my game. The dude was too hype, too overeager, and too emotional. Those traits would have anyone behaving in an irrational way, and in this case, get his ass beat.

“You ready for me?” Erika’s man roared. I refused to imagine that a random guy would go through all this trouble. The guy was a sight—a short, stocky goon with an ugly mug. He forced toughness, phony intimidation. He stretched out his neck, then expanded an arm to display a thick tattoo of a snake trailing from one end to the other. I shook my head over the insignificant move.

The guy lunged for me. His fists tightened at his sides until, within a matter of seconds, he stood a mere two inches away. At this exact moment, a right body punch connected with my lower abdomen. I stumbled backwards and braced on the Camaro. There wasn’t enough time to build back up before another punch flew by my jaw. I felt the breeze more than the blow because of how I’d positioned myself on the metal; in the same spot I’d just taken this guy’s infatuation, Erika. And the entire time, the jackass kept grunting and pulling for air as he jabbed for me.

“All this over what?” I taunted as the bastard tipped a tight fist against my chin. Taking a few punches was part of the game. I wasn’t the type that ever planned for a fight or drama—never did, but somehow I got sucked into things like this. But that was supposed to be a life of the past.

“I’m gonna—”

WHAM!

I landed a fist dead in the guy’s mouth before he could get another word out. Not an assault, not a flurry. Just one calculated thump in his mouth. I was anything but a street fighter, at least not at this stage of my life. Sure I had done all types of shit when I was younger, but after a certain point in life, that bull had to come to an end. I tried to shake off the memories of a life that seemed to exist within another man. The person I was might’ve been far removed from the man I’d become.

WHAM!

This trip down memory lane afforded my opponent the chance to get a quick one in and knock me on my ass.

“Get up and fight, you bastard!” the man’s gruff voice demanded. He paced from one leg to the other, resembling an Italian Mike Tyson in his heyday.

“Tony!” Erika called out, finally exiting her end of the car. “Please, you’re gonna kill him.”

“You get over there. I’ll deal with you later.” Tony paused to look her way.

“I’m not yours to deal with, not anymore.” Her pleading died down as she neared him. Bloody spots surrounded her shoulders and the side of her face. Her clothes had become raggedy and torn. She was now barefoot. Certainly not what I’d expected when I’d spotted her over on the other side of the bar.

Tony shifted his entire body, closing the distance between them. “All this after us?”

“Us? More than six months ago,” she meekly pointed out.

“So you come out to a random club and turn a trick with some asshole?” Tony’s hollow voice rang out into the night, drawing attention from over on the opposite side of the street, well beyond the parking lot and all. But after he lashed out on Erika, he shifted back to me. “And you, you bastard, that’s how you treat a lady?”

I cleared his throat, contemplating a response. I didn’t want to insult the girl, especially since I could still feel the remnants of her lips gliding up and down my piece. As much as I found it hard to remain calm and just reason through things, especially after looking at the damage the bastard had done to the Camaro. Sure I had his girl, or ex-girl or whatever the hell, but it was a consensual thing between adults. “I didn’t force myself on her. She gave it up willingly.”

This time I miscalculated Tony’s attempt at a jab to the gut, and I doubled over.

“Get up, asshole,” Tony touted, pacing sideways while ejecting air with each breath. He grunted and griped, believing that he was that important, that threatening. Tony felt his strength, like a wrestler at the top of his game.

I hadn’t been prepared for a fight, but knew I needed to attack this head on and settle it for good. The only problem was that I wasn’t a bad boy like this guy. The punk was walking around with a short guy’s complex. Hadn’t been “bad” like that in quite some time. Not anymore. It just didn’t seem like anyone else had gotten the memo.

Standing straight, I unfastened two more buttons of my shirt. I then moved swiftly into Tony’s space. But didn’t stop there. My opponent drew his fists behind his head, aiming for my jaw. That’s all the midget bastard could manage, since I dwarfed him. I had to give props where it was due. Tony had landed some punches, and for other opponents the guy might’ve been a potential threat. Taking a quick second to exhale all apprehension, I grew tired of playing around.

Being one to think ahead, I deflected a blow by reaching in the opposite direction. My inches provided a slight advantage, plus the fact that I was thinner. Not skinny, just more slender and able to manipulate the setting better than this guy. And before I knew it, I managed to sidestep the bastard’s charge. I slammed an elbow into the upper portion of Tony’s back, just below the neck and in the middle of the shoulder bone. Every inch of muscle, along with my 200-pound frame, went into the assault. Tony didn’t just stumble, he flew into a nearby truck that had been parked across from the Camaro. He was instantly winded, coughing and gasping for air.

Erika screamed before racing in the opposite direction, only to cower behind another vehicle. Then out of nowhere another guy appeared, about equal size and length, racing like a bull. This guy’s boots created loud thuds as he pounded the parking lot pavement. The entire sprint consisted of him trash talking, even though he couldn’t finish a full sentence. I had already assessed one opponent and wasn’t mentally prepared for another. Not yet.

The new guy’s brick-like body drew down on me. Rather than try to shut down the bum’s effect, he stood directly in the path, bracing for the inevitable. He bulldozed into me. We crashed into a nearby sports car. But I quickly leapt up from under the bearish grip. From the corner of my eyes, I could see Tony’s attempt to bum rush. Catching the overeager bastard off guard, I waited to the point where I was but a few footsteps away. Not only did I have the advantage of height, I carried a knack for cruelty. Perhaps something I’d buried along with the memories of my troubled childhood.

The second man’s shadow blanketed the space, so there was no discretion. I sensed him nearing and swung around, crushing down with a solid jab to the fiend. “Know who you’re fucking with!” I screamed out as my fist landed in the bastard’s jaw.

Though breathless and scattered, neither of the men gave up.

“There’s two of us, asshole.”

“We’re gonna murder your ass!”

I wasn’t one to be thrown by idle threats. There was a point in life, when I’d barely reached my teenaged years, when I’d observed street brawls and near death battles. Hell, I’d done my part at screwing things up. For a time I wanted nothing more than to be caught up in this lifestyle. But that was in the past. Moreover, my break-out years had provided just enough knowledge, just enough bravery. It helped shape the cruelty. But I eventually came to live a normal life once again. Unfortunately, however, from time to time, the guy that had been left behind needed to reappear when no one gave a shit about respect, making a decent living, and doing what was right.

From one to the other, I unleashed an onslaught of fury onto the men. Beyond the jabs, kicks and even full on body slams, I forgot about the calm man I’d created. Instead, I found myself sneaking back into the dark past, revisiting the beast of a caged man. Though I’d relocated to lower, slower Delaware, my mind reverted to desperate measures in the fight for my life. I blacked out.

~

~

I attempted to shift loose by rolling from one side to the next as they fought to secure me on the ground. The policemen were like flies, with the exception of their guns and sticks. “What the hell are you doing?” I asked, considering that the words were huskier since my chest shoved onto the concrete. Each of the cops had taken a region of my body. They didn’t appear to be too concerned with causing a scene, even though the two thugs were allowed to sit on the ground and have a conversation with law enforcement. And they ’weren’t even sitting. They were pressed against various tires; slouched to be exactly. Faces that were once tough and manipulative were now soaked in blood. Swollen eyes, nose bridges lumped up, and God knows what other unseen damage existed.

As Erika prepared to give a statement, she looked on with a glossy gaze as the cops cuffed and moved me off the other men. Next the medics tried to dress the scratches she’d sustained from the shattered glass. I watched her from the corners of my eyes, suddenly wondering if she had been passing judgment. Reality sank back in as I turned away to catch a glimpse of Tony. Our eyes connected. But Erika was the root of this drama. The jackass had made a fool of himself, for the sake of a chick that didn’t want him. Now, she wouldn’t take her eyes off me. She pulled to me, as much as the cops would allow. Tony was shredded, yet she pitied me.

“Dude slaughtered them,” one of the cops commented to his buddy as they secured me in the back seat of the cruiser. By the time they’d arrived, the only way to settle me down had been with a Taser.

“Sir . . . sir, we’re gonna need you to cooperate with us, otherwise we’ll be forced to use even greater force,” one of the officers with a squeaky voice had warned.

I now remembered the fight, their attacks . . . My own defense before I’d blacked out. But that much damage? My mind ran on Rory. This was the type of excitement that he thrived off, so quite like himself, he could easily have taken them on.

“They came at us . . . Knox did what he had to do to defend me,” Erika shouted at the cops.

“Do we need to take you in too, ma’am?” One of the officers stood directly in front of her. His elbows stuck out as his fingers slid through the belt loops.

“I’m not causing any problems, it’s just that he didn’t start this. That one—” she paused to spread her left hand for Tony, then continued on “—knocked in the side of his car. I mean look at what he made happen to me.”

“So what’s he to you?”

Erika closed her eyes; squeezed them tightly before biting at the inside portion of her lips. I watched and listened with little connection. She wasn’t my concern beyond what had taken place. Can’t say that I wasn’t curious. Hell, any guy would be.

“He’s my ex,” Erika confessed. I felt the heaviness of her stare.

“All this is over you. So maybe I need to take
you
in . . .”

“For moving on with my life?” Erika chose just then to step closer to where I had been seated on the concrete ground. She had taken off her shoes, and kept yanking at different spots of clothing to shield herself. The blood had already dried up, though the marks still stood out.

I forced himself to tune out the useless back and forth between the two. There was no sense in arguing with law enforcement. They were gonna do whatever the hell they felt was needed to be done, whether you, as a normal citizen, agreed with their decisions or not. So I readied my mind to be taken in by these guys.

~

~

Rory was waiting when I exited the station early the next morning. He was still dressed in the same clothes from the night before—khakis and a cotton button-down that had been rolled up at the sleeves. There was a hint of a smirk extending from Rory’s lips as his eyes glistened. The day was hot, as usual for midsummer. The sun was ruthless, as it should’ve been. Rory squinted at me, then extended his arms. About two seconds later, he flexed his arms back down before letting them hang at his sides.

“Let’s go,” I slapped my palms together before addressing Rory, and without making further eye contact. After having spent more than six hours at the station, I was ready to not only get the hell away from there, I was longing for the seclusion of Delaware. I’d thought about Kasha, and whether or not she’d ever know about what had taken place. How could I justify giving her a half-assed story? To mention the fight would open the door for questions about what had led to the fight.

I took off walking and mulling over the thoughts. Although Rory had been shooting questions nonstop, our surroundings had been too loud for any to register until he got closer. Revisiting last night was the last thing on my mind.

“It’s like that?” Rory called out above the crowd, though he’d fallen into stride with me.

I shrugged.

From that we paced on in silence. Outside in the crisp summer air, one couldn’t help but contemplate those less dramatic stages of life—the ones where the bullshit faded away.

“Seriously, Knox, what happened?” Just that quickly, Rory yanked me from a peaceful place.

“With what?”

“Don’t be a dick. What’s up with that? The hell you think I’m talking about, bro? They just let you go, just like that,” he continued, snapping fingers. “Hear it told, you pulverized those bastards.”

I shrugged like before. A series of unspoken words dangled between us. No doubt Rory was there. Right. There. With. Me.

“You screwed up on your own. Don’t get pissed off with me.”

“Don’t,” I shouted out. My eyes remained straight ahead, while I continued along with wide strides. Several other walkers avoided me as others paused in anticipation. Not only had I claimed attention with my words, the sun embraced me. I was so damn pissed that I didn’t know how to control myself. This shit wasn’t supposed to happen to me. Rory maybe, but not me. Now here I was, by my own doing, at the center of drama. Each second only multiplied. I became the center of life, the heartbeat for all. The simple word I’d shot carried a level of pain that only Rory, Bash and I could understand.

For once, Rory didn’t pressure me. With the exception of a brief nod, Rory fell in line behind me. Knox knew that he’d get hell for the outburst, but Rory knew better than to test him, especially with having just come out of the precinct.

“Where’s my Camaro?” I asked, picturing the jacked-up windows with glass laid all inside of my ride.

“They were gonna put it in the pound, but I got Rhys to take it.”

I waited for more because surely, Rory wouldn’t have some random guy up and take off with my car, right? When I didn’t hear anything more, I stopped walking. “Who the hell is Rhys?”

“He’s good people. His father owns a business in Manhattan—”

“And why in the hell does he have my ride?”

“Oh, seriously, were you planning to drive back to Delaware with a busted-up ride? I’m sorry, forgive me for looking out.” He shoved at my shoulder.

“If this guy is someone important, then how’d he end up with you for a friend?” I scratched at the side of my head. My friendships had purpose. I couldn’t think of anyone I associated with who were simply not good for a damn thing.

“So, this girl?”

“Aw man—”

“I saw you step out of the bar with a broad. Next thing I hear you’re kicking some guy’s ass—actually two. Dudes come at you for two reason: their money and their chick.”

“I got locked up over this. And that damn girl.”

“You hit it?”

“I’m not you,” I teased.

“You’re damn right, and don’t ever forget it
.
” Rory taps my shoulder. “Why didn’t you let me know what was going on? They nearly trashed your ride.”

“Man, I don’t wanna hear anything else about that. But this Rhys, what kind of business are you in, Rory?” Sometimes I had to wonder if he honestly thought things through.

“I’m into the business of securing my future. My dad had everything in the world, but lost it like that.” He snapped two fingers together.

I walked off, pressing both palms on top of my head. After several seconds I walked back and continued, “Damn man, how old are you anyway? When does the bullshit end?”

“Look man, I don’t need to explain myself to you of all people. Nobody said
hey, let’s give Rory a chance at a better life so he doesn’t have to stumble upon it the way we did.
Nope. I’ve had to do what I needed to survive.”

“I’m only saying—”

“Hell no, you don’t get the chance to pass judgment on me. Your ass is a part of this too, Knox. The money, that shit won’t last, not dirty money. Some of us still gotta fight and do some grimy shit to survive.”

“I’m not trying to judge—”

“Then don’t, because my judgment is yours too!” Now it was Rory’s turn to walk off. His boots crashed onto the concrete stairway. He moved through the crowds in beast-like resolve, dodging professional men and women.

In hot pursuit, I eventually caught up as Rory reached the other sidewalk. “Fine! I don’t mean to judge you. C’mon, let’s talk. You can tell me about this whole business.” Though it wasn’t what I wanted, Rory was practically my brother. If there were dealings that could potentially affect him, we needed to have this discussion.

Rory’s brows smoothed out, moving from crinkles to a more normal pattern. He nodded.

A couple blocks up, we found a small diner and ordered cheesesteaks, fries and natural juices. Rory was adamant about having the seat facing the door. “Never know when I’ll run into someone I know.”

“I don’t know how you know half the people you do.” Which was an accurate observation on my part.

Rory balled up a few napkins, aimed and failed to connect with his target. The napkins landed just short of my nose. “Other than the money you put toward the houses, what have you done with your portion?” This was the second time he’d mentioned the money today. I blew it off the last time, but he seemed a bit too complacent now.

I leaned in and uttered in a low tone, “Now. We’re discussing that now . . . here . . . in public?”

“Why not? Bash hangs around most of the time, or one of the other guys are within earshot.” After only taking a single bite, Rory held up his hand while finishing off his mouthful. He then took a swish of juice and started back up, “We found that money more than five years ago—”

“Found? That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“Found. Stole. Wait, would you prefer borrowed?” Rory’s hand shot up in the air. This was typical for him. He had this persona of invincibility. Fine for him, but I knew better.

“I’m done with this topic.”

“Whatever, man! There’s like three people in here.”

“And I know you know better.”

Rory nodded before picking up the bread and thrusting it into his mouth. He chomped on the sandwich. I had to look away to keep from throwing up. This whole doom and gloom feeling came over me. Not a day went by where I didn’t think about the money. But I’d brush the thought out every time. I had multiplied my portion. There was a good enough sum building in stocks and all too. We hadn’t made the money dirty, we only took what wasn’t meant to be ours.

“Chill out, Knox.” Rory shoved chips between his lips. “This is my first meal for the day.” He moaned. “You’re not gonna eat your sandwich?”

“Dude, why
do
women go crazy over your disgusting ass?” I asked.

“Don’t hate on me, bro. I haven’t eaten much, worrying about your punk behind in jail.”

We snorted out, drawing attention from a young couple that just walked into the diner, followed by three men in business suits. The men only stared for about two seconds, but the women . . . several females gawked at us. Rory kicked my shin before using his chin to shift focus to our audience.

“Excuse me, Knox . . .” a sultry, familiar voice called out from the next booth over.

I slid around in my seat to see an overeager reminder of my night. I didn’t immediately remember her name, yet the visual of her being sprawled out on my car was enough.

“It’s me . . . Erika . . .” she reintroduced herself as she stepped around the partition to stand at the edge of my seat. I’d seen so much of her that the casual business suit threw me off. Erika’s thick, chestnut waves were pulled into a tight bun. Even her makeup was tame, truly showcasing a natural beauty.

“You clean up nicely,” I teased. I’m not entirely sure how I should have felt toward her right then. Because of her, I’d gotten locked up. “Is your man here?”

“Aww man, c’mon. Tony is my past.” Erika’s pupils grew, her lower lip stuck out and her head tilted. Even a simple gray, summer blend skirt suit couldn’t break her out of seductress mode. “Can I join you?” she added, only then seeing Rory. “Oh hey.”

“Are you stalking my boy here?” Rory asked, licking his fingertips individually.

“Anyways, can I join you?” Erika bypassed. Rather than wait for an invitation, she slid into the blood-red seat next to me.

“I remember you,” Rory continued. He wasn’t the type to let someone’s discomfort get in the way of him being an asshole.

“Um, yeah, from last night. I thought we already confirmed that.” Erika’s pupils darted between Rory and me. I could have sworn I saw sweat drops at the tip of her nose.

“No, you were at that other spot a couple months ago.” Rory snapped his fingers. “Remember, Knox, the chick that spilled beer on you.”

I studied him, then dragged my focus over to her.

She pouted more than before. After loosening a strand of hair close to her crown, she twirled it between two fingers. “I recognized you last night.”

“So why didn’t you say something?”

“A girl can’t act shy?” Her breasts eased close to my chest. She did a sloppy job of trying to be slick. Yet I don’t think she cared. “Got some time for me?”

I wasn’t sure about her at this point, whether it was her being underhanded or just interested. “What are your plans for later?” I replied, wanting to see her vulnerable once more.

“My plans for later are . . .” Erika massaged my forearm while kneeling in the seat. She swooped in close to my ear and whispered a twenty-second tale, reminding me of what she could finish from when we were in the car. Once done, her lips just barely brushed against the side of my face. “Here’s my card. My personal cell number is on the back. Your move. I’ll be waiting.” She strolled off.

Her heels clicked on the faux tile floor. The door pulled, chimes clinking in response. I knew she’d walked out, although my face wasn’t in view. I stuck Erika’s card into my pocket. Although there was no reason to, my mind flashed on Kasha. Erika was no Kasha, but at least she showed interest in being more than just a friend.

~

Erika’s place wasn’t far from Arthur Avenue in The Bronx. With my Camaro out of commission, I hopped a yellow taxi. I left Rory at the hotel we had to rent for the weekend; he was in deep discussion with the oddball, Rhys. Bash had disappeared. We figured he must’ve hooked up with some chick. He always had some underhanded hook up. No one ever knew who he was banging, not so much as a glance. You’d think we hadn’t known each other for all this time.

As the cab rolled up to the curb, I searched out the address, paid the cabbie, slammed the door shut, and headed up Erika’s stairs. Before I could knock, she flung it open.

“Eager much?” I teased. She escorted me into the house. The air was crisp and fresh, while the design and layout were open, inviting. There wasn’t a whole lot of furniture to clutter up the rooms; and oak floors and bright golden fixtures made the place pop.

“I don’t entertain much—” Erika started by stretching out the explanation.

“So, a few hours ago, I met an incredibly sexual hottie. Two consenting adults, both horny as hell were unable to find their way inside of a Camaro. Absolutely nothing was wrong with the car, well, not when they first got there.” I let my introduction sink in. Erika’s chest quivered up and down. We crossed the other end to the foyer leading up a short hallway and past a stunning dining room. Don’t get me wrong. The place was just right. And for someone who renovated homes for a living, I could’ve admired it all damn day. But I didn’t care to prolong the inevitable.

Erika cleared her throat, and encouraged me to continue by bobbing her head.

“Well, this man and woman practically attacked one another. Can you believe it, right there in an open—secluded, but still open—parking lot? Dude got handed everything a man could want. He still can’t shake the image of the woman’s business spread across his hood.”

I tucked my fingers beneath a thick, red laced mini. It crumbled from the top and would’ve hit the floor, were it not for Erika’s wide hips and ample ass. As the clothes lingered, clinging with purpose, I spread my fingers wide. I gripped those same hips, the ones that women who craved that ideal Coca Cola shape would kill for. My hands were wide enough to span around her sides and reach her rump. I pushed the red material down further; Erika cooed in response.