Fight(5)

I didn’t feel confident.

I had some stranger coming to protect me?

Just what I needed.

Someone else barging into the mess that was my life.





5.


(Tripp)



My apartment was shitty and small, but it had one amazing thing. The ocean wasn’t too far away. I had my bed in the corner of my bedroom - the only bedroom - and when I opened the window I could hear the beach. I couldn’t see it though. The view to see the beach came from the roof. But sitting in the corner of my room, window open, I listened. The distance slushing of the waves. The call of the seagulls. A crazy feeling that right there was the end of it all. The open sea. Some kind of wild freedom and unknown world.

I looked at my hands. They were swollen as hell. The back of my head still hurt to touch and I was probably concussed. I didn’t give a shit though. My job didn’t come with health insurance. You either suffered or died.

When I woke up in the circle, I figured Aldo would be standing there, waiting to shoot me. But he was gone. Long f*cking gone. And so was Endo’s body. I was left with three guys, two of whom didn’t speak English. They gave me a couple shots to numb my head and face and patched me up. They then gave me a baggie of pills to take for pain and drove my ass home.

That was three nights ago.

I was down to the bare essentials in the fridge. Three eggs, four slices of bread, a couple frozen burgers in the freezer, and a six pack of lager. With my appetite, that would last me about two hours.

I knew they were coming for me. It was only a matter of time.

Aldo wasn’t a nice guy. He wasn’t made to be a nice guy. He wasn’t fair either. He was straight to the point. If you won your fight and won him money, he liked you enough not to kill you. If you lost your fight, you ate a bullet. That was it. I had no purpose in the world. I wasn’t meant to do anything but what Aldo needed. I used the cash to pay for the shitty apartment, food, clothes, and booze. I had a little speedster car that I had paid for with cash after a really good fight a couple years ago.

My life was simple and everything was underground.

My apartment was on the top floor of the building. Under me were nothing but low life drug dealers and addicts. The place got raided on a weekly basis. I got to know the police that would bust in for two reasons. One - they were used to coming in to check on my place, just doing their job. Two - some of them would come to the fights and bet on me.

What a f*cked up world.

There wasn’t a knock at the door but rather a thundering bang. Someone with a fist, punching it.

They’re here.

I moved from the bed and grabbed my leather jacket. I strutted through the apartment and looked around. It’d be the last time I’d see the place.

I opened the door and two of Aldo’s thugs were there.

“Let’s go,” one said.

“Yeah,” I said.

We went out back to a black car.

I had the backseat to myself as the two thugs took the front.

I figured we were going out to an open dessert. That’s where Aldo liked to do it. He’d take someone out to the middle of nowhere and kill them. Then bury them.

How did he not get caught?

Between him and the guys above him, they f*cking owned everything. Buildings, land, people, power.

I was shocked when the car took a turn and we got closer to the beach. The ride was still another twenty minutes, passing by all the commercial stuff for the beach. We were going up into the hills, near the cliffs. That’s where the expensive beach houses were.

That’s where Aldo’s beach house was.

I couldn’t believe that’s where we stopped.

The two thugs pointed the direction for me where to go. I pictured me getting to the door and then having bullets rip through my back and kill me.

It didn’t happen.

I found Aldo standing outside, in a full suit. Sweat collected at his black hairline as he turned and looked at me.

It was just me and him.

The air was comfortable, breezy, the water down the cliff crashing into the rocks. The sight was serene. Way too beautiful for the darkness that was my life.

“You look like shit,” Aldo said.

“I feel it. How’s Endo?”

“Coma. The bullet was close to hitting his heart. Whoever pulled the trigger must have been nervous. They hesitated just enough for Endo to move.”

“Is he going to make it?”

“Don’t know yet. Doesn’t look good.”

“Jesus Christ, Aldo. I am…”

“Save it,” Aldo said, lifting a hand. “You yelled for him. That made him move. That saved him, for now.”

I nodded. “Any idea who did it?”

“That’s my business. Not yours.”

“Of course.” I looked around. So this was it. Not wanting to be a f*cking * and take this like a man, I put my arms out. “Do it.”

“What the f*ck are you doing?” Aldo asked.

“I lost the fight. I know what happens next.”

Aldo grinned. “You cost me a good paycheck, Tripp.”

“I shouldn’t have been distracted.”

“It was my son who was shot. I’ve been replaying it over and over for days. I could have squeezed the books and had the fight again, but that would have caused problems. There’s a lot of unhappy people with the outcome. But we have the reason.”