Torn - Part Two (The Torn Series) (7 page)

Though if we weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend then what the hell were we? I wanted her to be exclusive and I was certain she expected the same, even if just for the short-term. But we hadn’t really spoken about it.
Later. Or never.
I hated titles, anyway.

“Oh,” she said, “I suppose I should have guessed. You two look so similar.”

He winked.
Motherfucker.
“Did he tell you about our match?”

“No.” She turned to me. “You guys are gonna fight? Is that the big fight you’ve been talking about?”

“Aha,” Tony said before I could get a word in. “So you
have
talked about me.” He looked between us. “Sort of.”

I wanted to get out of there so bad, my feet itched. “Yes, that’s the fight I’ve mentioned. No, I haven’t talked about you. You self-absorbed piece of shit.”

Riley sat up straighter with alarm, but Tony sat back and chuckled. “Hit a sore spot, did I?” He gestured at me with his fork as he spoke to Riley. “He’s got his panties in a twist because I’m gonna beat him. Always have and always will. Poor sucker keeps coming back for more.” He shook his head. “I’d skip watching this fight, sweetheart, he ain’t gonna be so pretty when I’m through with him.”

She looked between us. “So why do this?” she asked. “If you’re so intent on kicking each other’s asses. Why hang out and pretend like you’re gonna play nice and then just snipe at each other? Why not just save it all for the ring?”

“Good question,” I said, “He’s the one who keeps showing up.”

“Aww, maybe it’s because he actually does care,” she teased, “He wants to be a proper big brother after all.”

Tony’s face changed - it morphed from his usual shitty smirk into something darker. “Listen, bitch, you keep your nose out of it, what’s between us is our fucking business.”

That was it. I saw
red.
I would have upended the table if it wasn’t bolted to the floor. Instead I half-stood, leaned across with a clatter, and grabbed Tony by the collar of his t-shirt. “Outside, you piece of shit,” I snarled, shaking him once and releasing him. I slid out of the booth and rushed for the exit, keyed up and ready to hit anyone who got in my way.

I pivoted once I reached the sidewalk and shoved him back hard as he tried to bull into me. “You don’t talk to my fucking girl like that,” I snarled.

“Then you better reign in that mouth of hers,” he snarled back.

“You sound just like our old man when you say that,” I smirked.

It was his turn to see red. I’d said it knowing it would set him off more than anything else I could throw at him. Sure enough, he came at me again, this time ramming his shoulder into my chest and hurling me back against the side of a parked SUV. He crushed me against it and punched me once in the side, the angle too awkward to do much harm. I brought an arm up and landed an elbow on his shoulder, then a punch on the side of his head. I didn’t have enough room to swing, couldn’t hit as hard as I would have liked. The vehicle’s alarm was sounding and people were shouting at us but I couldn’t hear a goddamn thing. I brought my knee up behind his and twisted, moving him off me just enough to get the upper hand. I landed a kick on the same knee with my other foot and he stumbled and nearly went down.

“Cops are on their way, shitheads!” someone shouted from the diner.

Tony landed one last glancing punch on my jaw before pushing himself away and taking off, not running but not quite walking. “This ain’t over,” he growled over his shoulder before shoving through the small crowd that had gathered to watch.

No sign of Riley. I wiped away the blood that was trickling from my busted lip and started walking in the other direction. I slammed a fist against the SUV as I went, leaving a dent that the owner certainly hadn’t deserved. Riley knew where I lived; she could catch up if she still wanted anything to do with me after that shameful display.

But I wouldn’t have blamed her if she didn’t want to see me again.

CHAPTER 7

Riley texted me about twenty minutes after the fight. I stood outside my building, smoking a cigarette and wondering if she was going to come by or if she’d taken off running. “Are you okay? Where are you?” the message asked.

“Home. I’m fine. Come back.” My fingers shook as I hit send. It was one thing to watch a fight in a ring, in a somewhat controlled environment. It was quite another to have your breakfast companions take swings at each other over the scrambled eggs.

I didn’t know where she’d ducked off to, but I spotted her shuffling down the sidewalk just a couple minutes later. I put out the cigarette - she’d never said it but I knew that she didn’t like the smoke. “Hey,” she said when she reached me, hands in her pockets, standing just a little further apart than I liked.

“Hey.”

“I’m sorry,” she blurted, taking another step back, “I shouldn’t have said that to your brother. I could tell things were tense between you, I shouldn’t have said anything at all.”

“Bullshit. You should be able to say whatever the fuck you want, this was his fault. Come here.” I reached for her but she dodged me. I flinched; was she
afraid
of me? I’d fucked up worse than I’d thought.

She paced in front of me. “I paid the waitress but she kicked me out anyway. Said to tell you that you’re not allowed back. They called the cops, Mallet. I left before they showed up.”

“I’m sorry,” I said with a grimace, “I lost it. I always lose it where he’s concerned.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But I would never hurt you. You know that, right?”

She finally stopped pacing and sighed. “I know.”

“Come back inside.”

She stared down at her shoes. “I should go. I have some errands before work.”

“Then just come here.” She gave me a long, pained look before she finally came forward and let me wrap my arms around her. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” I said, holding her tight and burying my face in her hair.

“I know.” She pulled away and wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I’ve got to go. We’ll talk later, okay?”

“Yeah. Later.”

I watched her leave and felt like the biggest piece of shit on the planet.

And even more resolved to kick my brother’s ass in the ring. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I had in the diner but he shouldn’t have just showed up in the first place.
This was his fault
. Everything that was fucked up was his fault. I only needed to beat him once. He was just brute and a bully, and once would be enough to send him slinking off like a cowardly dog. If I knew anything about bullies, I knew that. It was time to end this shit.

○●○●○●○●○

Riley avoided me until their next show, and even then she was distant. And I had no clue how to fix it.

Unfortunately for me, Jen approached me first once their set was over, leaving the other two to pack away their gear. She wore an especially smug little smirk when she said, “Guess our girl can’t handle you.”

I rolled my eyes. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Your little fight?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow. “I would have jumped in and torn your brother’s hair out.” Riley must have told them what had happened. I didn’t see how it was their damn business, but those girls loved to run their mouths.

“I know you would have. That’s not a positive trait, Jen.”

She pouted a mocking pout. “You loved it before.” Fuck, was she trying to hit on me? I glanced back towards Robin and Riley.

“What about your guitar player?” I asked.

“That’s done.” She shrugged as if she didn’t care, then touched my sleeve. “So I’m available again.”

I pulled away, stepped back, tried to put distance between us. “No, Jen. Cut it out. I’m here to talk to Riley.”

She shrugged again. “Your loss.” She strode away and gave Riley a none-to-gentle shove in my direction.

I took Riley aside in a quieter corner - my ears were still ringing, and Jen continued sending dirty looks my way.

“Come home with me,” I said, mentally cursing myself for making it sound more like a question than a statement, “We’ll talk. I know you’re still upset.”

She sighed and said, “It’s not just that.” She leaned into me as she said it, which I took to be a good sign. At least she wasn’t physically frightened by my presence. Just remembering her dodging away from me still hurt. “Jen’s riding us pretty hard. The competition is next week.” She bit her lip and asked, “You’ll be there, right? Saturday?”

“Promise.”

“I got another job, too. A bar in my neighborhood, Picklebackers.”

I snorted at the name. “You quit Coconut Cup?”

She shook her head. “I’m doing both ‘til the new one gives me more hours. So.” She spread her arms. “I’m all over the place.”

I squeezed her closer. “You go on home and get some sleep then,” I said. I didn’t mean it. I was figuring she’d fight me on it, but she didn’t. She ghosted away not long after.

It was strange. It seemed like the whole incident had made up my mind in one regard - I wanted to be with her. There wasn’t any hesitation or doubt anymore.
Of course I want her now. It’s because she’s distancing herself. It’s because I can’t have her.

Not wanting to push her, I spent my time and energy on practice. Surly did the same. He had been able to track down Dee but he wasn’t willing to speak about it. All he would say was, “She doesn’t want me around.” I felt bad for the big guy. It had been back and forth for months between them and it was obviously getting to him. I just wished he wasn’t so closed off about the whole thing.

Not that I was much good for advice. I hardly had my own shit together.

So we practiced, the two of us. We practiced until our knuckles were bruised and our limbs numb with exhaustion. We worked out like it was our job - and it pretty much was. Surly still had his restaurant gig to bring in enough to cover food and rent. I kept doing odd jobs here and there - one of the bars where the girls had played hired me on as a part-time bouncer with a flexible schedule. I picked up some similar gigs with other local bands. It was nice to know that simply looking big and scary was enough to qualify one for work, dull as it was most nights. It paid the bills.

Finally one afternoon Lee approached us in the ring. Generally we just paid him our monthly gym dues and otherwise didn’t see him, but every once in a while he came to us with a fight offer. Sometimes it was for an exhibition type of fight - just to bring in an audience, get a guy some buzz, some notice, make a few videos to advertise the gym. Sometimes there was money involved - that was more “underground.” They were a little more dangerous.

That was the type of fight Lee offered us that afternoon - both of us, though not fighting each other. There would be four fights that night. Winners would get an “entertainment tip,” since legally we weren’t allowed to be paid for fighting.

Lee was the one who knew how to navigate it all. He pointed, we punched.

“What do you think?” I asked Surly in the locker room once we’d wrapped up. He looked as wilted as I felt. “So close to my fight with Tony…”

“Yeah,” he said, wiping his brow. We sat on the bench in front of our lockers, too worn out to get showered and changed just yet. “I know. I’ve got that thing….” He waved a limp hand in front of him, but I knew what he was referring to. He had an exhibition match coming up against a real pro - one whose promoter was looking for more fighters. The rest of the guys and I were all secretly jealous, but we were rooting for him just the same.

“I could use the cash,” I said. Bouncer money didn’t exactly have me eating steak at night, and I knew Surly was in the same boat.

Nevermind the fact that I just wanted to do it. Sparring with my friend wasn’t nearly as satisfying as going all-out in the ring against an opponent who wasn’t wearing protective gear, who I could really let loose on with fists and feet.

I saw my own thoughts echoed in the grim look on his face. “Fuck it,” he said, “I haven’t had a real fight in too long. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Break something.
I didn’t put words to that concern. Either of us could also get hit by a cab when we crossed the street. We couldn’t focus on the worst case scenarios. If we did we wouldn’t have been fighters in the first place.

“I agree,” I said, “I’ll let Lee know before we leave.”

CHAPTER 8

Our fights were taking place only two days before the Mistresses of Mayhem played in the Battle of the Bands competition out in Brooklyn. Even if I got my ass kicked I figured I’d be recovered enough to still run security for them. All I had to do was look scary anyway, maybe throw an elbow or two. A face full of bruises could only help me in that job.