Fight(20)

“Feel better?” I asked.

“Hardly,” she said. She then put her left foot forward and kicked at my foot. “Tell me your story, Tripp.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to know. You’re protecting me, which doesn’t make sense. You owe someone favors, which doesn’t seem like your style. And you’re going to fight someone from the Red Aces MC for the hell of it.”

“First off, there are no favors,” I said. “I’m supposed to be dead right now. But that’s a different story. You want to know about my life? I was forced to fight to survive.”

“Survive what?”

“Whatever guy that was done f*cking my mother.”

The room fell silent. I couldn’t believe I actually said that to Winter, but whatever. She wanted to know the story, then I’d give it to her.

“That’s how she survived. She’d f*ck anyone that could bring some food or throw her a few bucks. Trust me, it’s not a sob story though, she couldn’t get her life together. She had family and refused to talk to them. But me? I was always just there. And I became a punching bag around the age of ten. I’ll never forget it. This fat guy in the kitchen, digging through the fridge. Shirtless with a set of lips tattooed above his left nipple. He turned to me and smiled. ‘You wanna fight me, kid?’ he asked. I shook my head. The guy then made a fist and swung at me. He cracked me in the shoulder. It hurt. He walked away. I never saw that guy again. But my shoulder bruised for a week. Then it happened again with a different guy. He was bigger, stronger, and he smacked me in the face. For no damn reason. Then another beat me. Like I was his own kid or something. Another one pummeled me until I passed out. My mother then told me in a drunken state that I needed to swing back. One of our neighbors, a guy everyone called Mutt, had a punching bag in his living room. He was an old school boxer kind of guy. Won some fights and money, then lost it all to booze. But he knew what went on with my mother. He taught me how to fight. I’d sneak out of the apartment and go to his. He’d stand there with a bottle of vodka in one hand and scream at me. Yelling what punches to throw, how to throw them, how to set my feet for the most power. I had long arms but they were skinny. Mutt’s cousin owned a boxing gym and Mutt would take me there after school. I’d meet him there and I’d lift weights and box. I’d go until I puked or fell over. Then Mutt would toss me five bucks and tell me to get as much meat as I could with it.”

I paused and sipped my drink. Damn, it had been a while since I dusted off this little gem of history. I’ll never forget the way it all happened. Mutt’s missing front teeth. The yellow ring around his eyes. His dark skin. His boney figure. And his rough voice.

“Come on, motherf*cker, hit the bag. Don’t be a *.”

“One night after I was done, some guy took my five bucks. Snatched it right out of my hand. I didn’t eat that night. I was weak, tired, and everything hurt. My mother had some guy over and it only made things worse. I swore right then I would forever fight. The next day I got my five bucks from Mutt and I waited outside. The same damn guy came by and tried to take my money again. You know what I did?”

“You fought him and won?” Winter asked, looking hopeful, like there was some white knight at the end of this story.

“I broke his f*cking jaw,” I said. “And then beat him until he passed out. I took all his money.”

Silence again. I warned her who I was. A thug. Never did I pick a fight that wasn’t coming. But when I won, I took what I wanted.

“It was how I survived,” I said. “Fight, win. Fight, win. And when one of my mother’s f*ck buddies tried touching me, I broke his wrist. Another guy, I knocked two teeth out. Anyone who came near me got their ass beat. Right down to Mutt.”

“You beat up Mutt?”

I nodded. “He told me I was being an *. Told me I needed to control myself or I was going to end up in jail. We argued and he challenged me to a fight. So I fought him in the ring, with gloves, and I knocked him out. He came to and I kissed his forehead. I told him I loved him like the father I never had. Then I left for good. I was done. Out. Gone. I hit the streets and fought for survival. That’s how I met Aldo. He promised me a shot at something real. Like I could go pro. Get on a real circuit and earn. But that didn’t happen at all. I made Aldo too much money.”

“So why did you stay?”

I didn’t respond. I knew why. I just didn’t want to talk about it.

“You had to stay,” Winter whispered. “Just like being here. You have to be here. He’s got you, Tripp. Why?”

“I’m done talking,” I said. “You have the story. Back to you, darling. Think about who would take out Rocky and want to come after you.”

“There’s so many,” Winter said. “The MC is not friendly.”

“But why you?”

“Maybe someone thinks I know something I’m not supposed to.”

“Do you?”

Now it was Winter’s turn. She fell silent.

And there we sat, like a couple of fools, hiding from each other.

Finally, I said, “Whatever. As long as you’re alive, I don’t give a shit.”

“And if I get killed?” she asked.

“Like I said, I’m supposed to be dead. What the hell do I really care?”