Stories (2011) (110 page)

He snapped at the air with his fists and feet, and the fan
moved, and the smell of the fish was strong, and through the open window came
the noise of drunks along the dock.

His body became coated with sweat, and, pausing only long
enough to remove his drenched shirt, he moved into new forms, and finally he
lay down on the bed to try and sleep again, and he was almost there, when there
was a knock on his door.

He went to the door, said through it: "Who is it?"

"MargoPeak."

Richard opened the door. She stood beneath the hall light,
which was low down and close to her head. The bugs circling below the light
were like a weird halo for her, a halo of little winged demons. She wore a
short summer dress that showed her tan legs to advantage and revealed the tops
of her breasts. Her face looked rough. Both eyes were blacked and there was a
cut on her upper lip and her cheeks had bruises the color and size of ripe
plums.

"May I come in?" she asked.

"Yes." He let her in and turned on the bare bulb
that grew out of a tall floor lamp in the corner.

"Could we do without that?" she said. "I
don’t feel all that presentable."

"Peak?" he asked, turning off the light.

She sat on the edge of the bed, bounced it once, as if to
test the springs. The moonlight came through the window and settled down on her
like something heavy. "He hit me some."

Richard leaned against the wall. "Over the fish?"

"That. And you. You embarrassed him in front of me and
Captain Jones by cutting the line on the fish. He felt belittled. For a moment
he lost power over me. I might have been better off you’d stayed out of it and
let me land the fish."

"Sorry. All things considered, you shouldn’t be here.
Why are you here?"

"You didn’t work out like he wanted you to."

"I don’t get it."

"He wants to fight you."

"Well, I got that much. I figured that’s why Jones got
me on the boat. Peak had plans for a match. He knows about me, I know that
much. He knew my last name."

"He admires your skill. He has videos of your fights.
It excites him you killed a man in the ring. He wants to fight a man who’s
killed a man. He thought he could antagonize you into something."

"A boat’s no place to fight."

"He doesn’t care where he fights. Actually, he wanted
to get you mad enough to agree to come to his island. He has a little island
not far out. Owns the whole thing."

"He thinks he can take me?"

"He wants to find out... Yes, he thinks he can."

"Tell him I think he can, too. I’ll mail him one of my
trophies when I get home."

"He wants it his way."

"He’s out of luck."

"He sent me here. He wanted you to see what he’d done
to me. He wanted me to tell you, if you don’t come to the island, he’ll do it
again. He told me to tell you that he can be a master of misery. If not to you,
then to me."

"That’s your problem. Don’t go back. You go back,
you’re a fool."

"He’s got a lot of money."

"I’m not impressed with his money, or you. You’re a
fool, Margo."

"It’s all I’ve got, Richard. He’s not nearly as bad as
my family was. He at least gives me money, attention. Being an attractive
trophy is better than being your father’s plaything, if you know what I mean.
Hugo got me off drugs. I’m not turning tricks anymore. He did that."

"Just so he’d have a healthy punching bag. A
good-looking trophy. 'Course, he’s not treating you so good right now, is he?
Listen, Margo, it’s your life. Turn it around, you don’t like it. Don’t come to
me like it’s my fault you’re getting your ass kicked."

"I could leave a man like Peak, I had another man to go
to."

"You sound like you’re shopping for cars. You see what
kind of money I got. You’d leave Peak for this? You want a dump like this? A
shared toilet?"

"You could do better. You’ve got the skill. The name.
You’ve got the looks to get into movies. Martial arts guys can make lots of
money. Look at Chuck Norris. Christ, you actually killed somebody. The media
would eat that up. You’re the real McCoy."

"You know, you and Peak deserve each other. Why don’t
you just paint bull’s-eyes on yourself, give Peak spots to go for next time he
gets pissed."

"He knows the spots already."

"Sorry, Margo, but good-bye."

He opened the door. Margo stood and studied him. She moved
through the doorway and into the hall and turned to face him. Once again the
bugs made a halo above her head. "He wants you to come out to his island.
He’ll have Captain Jones bring you. Jones is taking me back now, but he’ll be
back for you. It’s a short trip where you need to go. Hugo told me to give you
this."

She reached into a loose pocket on her dress and brought out
a piece of folded paper, shoved it toward him. Richard took it but did not look
at it. He said, "I’m not coming."

"You don’t, he’ll take it out on me. He’ll treat me
rough. You see my face. You should see my breasts. Between my legs. He did
things there. He can do worse. He’s done worse. What have you got to lose? You
used to do it for a living. We could do all right together, you and me."

"We don’t even know each other."

"We could fix that. We could start knowing one another
now. We knew each other, you might not want to let me go."

She moved toward him and her arms went around his neck. He
reached out and held her waist. She felt solid, small, and warm.

Richard said, "I’ve said it. I say it again. You can
leave anytime you like."

"He’d have me followed to the ends of the earth."

"I’d rather run like a dog, than heel like one."

"You just don’t know," she said, pushing away from
him. "You don’t know anything."

"I know you’re still turning tricks, and Peak’s a kind
of pimp, and you’re not even aware of it."

"You don’t know a goddamn thing."

"All right. Good luck."

Margo didn’t move. She held her place with the bugs swarming
above her head. Richard stepped inside his room, and closed the door.

Richard lay on the bed with the note in his hand. He lay
that way for a full fifteen minutes. Finally, he rolled on his side and
unfolded the note and read it in the moonlight.

MR. YOUNG:

COME TO THE DOCK AND TAKE JONES’ BOAT BY MIDNIGHT. HE’LL BRING YOU OUT TO MY
ISLAND. WE’LL FIGHT. NO RULES. WE FIGHT, IT’S BEST FOR

MARGO. YOU WIN, I’LL GIVE YOU TEN THOUSAND DOLLARS. I’LL
GIVE YOU MARGO. I’LL GIVE YOU A RESTAURANT COUPON FOR FIVE DOLLARS OFF. YOU

DONT COME, MARGO WILL BE UNHAPPY. I’LL BE UNHAPPY AND THE
COUPON WILL EXPIRE. AND YOU’LL NEVER KNOW IF YOU COULD HAVE BEAT ME.

HUGOPEAK

Richard dropped the note on the floor, rolled onto his back.
It’s that
simple for Peak,
Richard thought.
He says come, and he thinks I’ll come.
He’s nuts. Margo
’s
nuts. She thinks I owe her something and I don’t even
know her. I don’t want to know her. She’s a gold digger. It’s not my problem
she hasn’t the strength to do what she should do. It’s not my fault he’ll kick
her head in. She's a grown woman and she has to make her own decisions. I’m no
hero. I’m not a knight on a white charger. I killed a man once by accident, by
not staying with the rules, and I’ll not fight another man without rules on
purpose. The goddamn sonofabitch must think he’s a James Bond villain. I won’t
have anything to do with him. I will never fight a man for sport again.

Richard lay in the dark and watched the fan. The shadows the
fan cast were growing thicker. Soon there would be no shadows at all, only
darkness, because the moonlight was fading behind clouds. A cool, wet wind came
through the open window. The smell of the fish market below was not as strong
now because the smell of the sea and the damp earth had replaced it. Richard
held his arm up so that he could see his watch. The luminous dial told him it
was just before ten o’clock. He closed his eyes and slept.

When he awoke, rain was blowing in through the window and
onto the bed. The rain felt good. He didn’t get up to shut the window. He
thought about HugoPeak, waiting. He looked at his watch. It was 11:35.

Peak would be starting to warm up now. Anticipating.
Actually thinking he might come. Peak would believe that because he would
consider Richard weak. He would think he was weak in that he wanted to protect
a woman who had no urge to protect herself. He would think Richard’s snipping
the fishing line was a sign of weakness. He wouldn’t think Richard had done it
to make things easier on Margo. He would think he did it as some sort of
spiteful attack, and that Richard really wanted to fight him. That was what
Peak would be thinking.

And Richard knew, deep down, Peak was not entirely wrong.

He thought:
If I were to go, I could make it to the boat
in ten minutes. It’s not that far. I could be there in ten minutes easy, I
walked fast. But I’m not going, so it doesn’t matter.

He sat on the side of the bed and let the rain slice into
him. He got up and went around the bed and opened the closet and got out his
martial arts bag. He unzipped and opened it. The mouthpiece and safety gear
were there. He zipped it back up. He put it in the closet and closed the door. He
sat on the side of the bed. He picked the note up and read it again. He tore it
into little pieces and dropped the pieces on the floor, frightening a roach. He
tried not to think about anything, but he thought about Margo. The way her face
had looked, what she said Peak had done to her breasts, between her legs. He
remembered the eyes of that dying cat, and he remembered Margo’s eyes. The same
eyes, only she wasn’t dying as fast. She was going slowly, piece by piece,
committing suicide. He remembered the horror of killing the man in the ring,
and he remembered, in some hidden, primitive compartment of himself, the
pleasure. It was a scary thing inside of him; inside of humankind, especially
mankind, this thing about killing. This need. This desire. Maybe, he got home,
he’d go deer hunting this year. He hadn’t been in over ten years, but he might
go now. He might ought to go.

Richard got up and took off his clothes and rubbed his body
down with ICY-HOT and took six aspirin and downed them with a glass of water.
He put on a jockstrap and cup and loose workout pants and pulled a heavy
sweatshirt on. He put on his white tennis shoes without socks and laced them
tight. He got his bag out of the closet. He walked to the door and turned
around and looked at the room. It looked as if no one had ever lived here. He
looked at his watch. He had exactly ten minutes. He opened the door and went
out.

As he walked, the ICY-HOT began to heat up and work its way
into his muscles. The smell of it was strong in his nostrils. Another fifteen
minutes, and the aspirin would take effect, loosen his body further. The rain
came down hard as steel pellets and washed his hair into his face, but he kept
walking, and finally he began to run.

He ran fast until he came to the Anchor Inn Restaurant. He
slowed there and went around the corner, and there was Jones’ fishing boat. He
looked at his watch. He was right on time. He walked up to the fishing boat and
called out.

Jones appeared on the deck in rain hat and slicker. Water
ran off the hat and fell across his face like a beaded curtain. He helped
Richard aboard. Jones said, "It’s just that I needed the money. I owe on
the boat. I don’t pay on the boat, they’re gonna take it away from me."

"Everyone needs something," Richard said.
"Take me out, Jones, and listen up. After this, you better hope I go home
to Texas. I’m here, walking around, I see you on the dock, anywhere, you better
start running. Got me?"

Jones nodded.

"Take me out."

The wind picked up and so did the rain. Richard’s stomach began
to turn over. He tried to stay in the cabin, but he found that worse. He rushed
outside and puked over the side. Finally, he strapped himself into the fighting
chair and rode the boat like a carnival ride, taking great waves of water full
blast and watching lightning stitch the sky and dip down and touch the ocean in
spots, as if God were punishing it.

It wasn’t long before the lights of the boat showed land.
Jones moved them in slowly to the little island, finally came to a dock and
tied them up. When Richard went to get his bag out of the cabin, Jones came
down from the wheel and said, "Here, take this. You’ll need it for
strength, all that pukin’ you done."

It was a thick strip of jerky. "No thanks,"
Richard said.

"You don’t like me, and I don’t blame you. Take the
jerky though. You got to have some kind of energy."

"All right," Richard said, took it and ate. Jones
gave him a drink of water in a paper cup. When Richard was finished, he said,
"Water and jerky don’t change anything."

"I know," Jones said. "I’m going back to St.
Croix before it gets worse. I’d rather be docked there. I think it’s a little
better protected for boats."

"And how do I get back?"

"Good luck," Jones said.

"So that’s how it is? You’re all through?"

"Soon as you get off the boat." Jones stepped back
a step and produced a little .38 from somewhere under his shirt. "It’s
nothing personal. It’s just the money. Margo was pretty convincing too. Peak
likes her to be convincing. But it was the money did it. Margo was just a
fringe benefit. The money was enough."

"He really wants to fight to the death, doesn’t
he?"

"I don’t ask about much of what he wants. You got to
see it from my side, taking big shots out in boats all the time, getting by on
their tips. It costs to take out a charter, wear and tear on the boat. I’m
thinking about doing something else, going somewhere else. I might hire some
goon like me to take me out fishing. I might go somewhere where the biggest
pool of water around is in a glass."