Jersey Six(8)

“Yup.” Jersey sprinted through a hundred sit-ups as Judd held her feet.

To keep Chris from getting killed for being at Marley’s without the willingness to step in the ring, Jersey told everyone that he used to box—truth—but he had to quit after he was badly burned in a fire. The PTSD ruined his marriage, and he ended up losing his job too. Truth? No one knew, not even Chris and Jersey. But it seemed like a solid story.

Chris possessed a patchy memory at best, a crazy man’s chattering about voices, and a Jekyll and Hyde personality. But Jersey let him stay because they shared a bond. That, and Chris agreed to do the shit work like cleaning and keeping an eye on George so Jersey could spend more time in the ring training for fights she’d never see, goals she’d never reach, and a future that most likely included jail time.

Everyone who hung out at Marley’s ended up doing time, and most were repeat offenders. Crime sort of rubbed off in that place.

“Ya fucking him?” Judd smirked. “He sleeps with ya, yeah? Does his wiener look like the rest of him?”

“I’m not going to say. If you want to know about his wiener, you’ll have to ask him out like a real gentleman. You’ll have to buy him dinner and give him some sort of intelligent conversation. Chris is smart.”

“Smart? Like he don’t says ain’t?” Judd coughed a laugh.

When she reached her hundredth sit-up, Jersey collapsed, resting her arm across her sweaty forehead. “Yeah. Smarter than all of us put together. When he’s not bat-shit crazy, he’s smart. Uses big words. I think he might even use them correctly.” Dena drilled Jersey on proper grammar. Six months wasn’t long enough to amass a large vocabulary, but it was long enough to get rid of ain’t and gonna.

“Ain’t gonna ain’t going to college.”

Judd laughed, standing and offering his hand to Jersey.

She took it, letting him pull her up.

“So if ya ain’t letting him get you off, then why ya letting him hang out here?”

“He does the shit work. And he’s helping me with something.” She started to wrap her hands, ready to kick Judd’s ass in the ring.

“Helping ya what? You two gonna make weird porn videos in the back room?”

Jersey let Chris stay for several reasons, but revenge sat at the top of that list. Eventually, he’d remember more details about his friend. They would find him. And they would kill him.

An eye for an eye.

“Might be the only way to keep the gym open.” She winked.

Judd frowned as Derek, one of the older guys, tied his gloves for him. “Ya heard?”

She nodded. “Marley’s is closing. Developers want to make this part of town safer, which means we’re getting kicked out. Yeah, I heard.” Jersey slid between the ropes and tapped her gloves together twice. “Ding. Ding.” She smiled with her black mouth guard puffing out her lips.

Judd threw the first punch. Predictable.

Jersey bobbed to the right and returned with a quick one-two combination, knocking Judd off balance. Before he could recover, she pummeled him until he landed face down on the mat.

Ten seconds lapsed.

Jersey kicked his foot. “Dead?”

Judd grumbled.

Nope. Alive.

She sighed. “Chris is going to find me a worthy opponent. Your size just makes you slow. It means when you fall, it takes longer for you to get up. And I don’t want to kill you, so it’s not as much fun.”

Judd lifted his bloodied face, stretching the cords of muscle in his thick neck. “Ya wanna kill someone?”

Jersey turned her back to him, tugging off her gloves. “I want revenge.”





CHAPTER FIVE





“Where are you going?” Chris looked up from his book.

Jersey had to give him credit. He read absolutely anything he could get his hands on. “Self-help book?” She squinted at the title, not able to see it very well.

Chris flopped back on the mat, using Jersey’s blanket—their blanket—as a pillow. “Yeah. It’s missing the first few chapters.” He tilted it to show her the mangled book. “But they put all the valuable stuff at the end anyway. Figured since we’re going to be on the street soon, we might as well figure out something now.”

“We?” Jersey released her hair from its ponytail. “Does this mean you’re looking to help me?”

He shrugged, keeping his gaze on the book, hiding most of his face. “Maybe. Or at least I’ll let you borrow the book when I’m done.”

“I hate reading.” She scraped a handful of change from the bottom of her bag and shoved it into the front pouch of her hoodie.

“Aw, that just means you haven’t found the right book.”

“No.” She sauntered away from him. “Just means I hate reading.”

“You didn’t say where you’re going!” Chris called.

“Out.” Jersey pushed open the front door, squinting against the midday sun but welcoming the hum of cars and buses instead of the bitching. Ever since George posted the closing announcement for the gym, whining, bitching, and idle threats filled the stagnant gym atmosphere as if it was her fault wealthy developers decided to invade their part of town.

With nowhere to go and no means to get there even if she did, Jersey made her usual stroll around the block to clear her head and absorb some sun, even if it was freezing outside. The coins in her pocket meant she’d get a meal that day. The Underdog hot dog stand managed to stay open year-round, a fixture in that part of Newark for over a decade. While the demolition in Jersey’s neighborhood brought a boost in business with hungry construction workers, she wondered if the rundown food truck would last once the trash got taken out.