Ride Steady(94)

“Beer or shot?” Rush called.

“Beer,” Joker muttered, looking at his phone.

He didn’t know why he took the call. He didn’t want to talk to the man, and he no longer had any reason to talk to him.

But in the end he was glad he did even if it was the beginning of an uncertain end.

It started with him putting the phone to his ear and saying, “No reason for you to call me.”

To which Monk replied, “Got my fighters, a basement full of bloodthirsty motherf*ckers, and bets taken on my main draw. A main draw whose ass is not here.”

“Told you when you texted me days ago, Monk, I’m out.”

He had told Monk that. He got Monk’s text about the next fight the day he decided to make his play with Carissa.

The money he made on fights was good. Good enough he had a whack and could buy a truck with cash without hardly making a dent in it.

But he also got paid a brother’s cut of Ride, which wouldn’t make him a millionaire, but it was substantial. He didn’t need to fight anymore.

Not to mention, any good fighter knew when to quit. Bare fists, if he was lucky, he might have a couple more years in him. But if he had a woman like Carissa in his life, he had no business taking those punches.

“You can’t just be out,” Monk replied as Joker stopped by his brothers at the bar.

“Fuck me. Apologies. Did we sign a contract and I forgot?” he asked.

“No, Joke, but you’re my main f*ckin’ draw. You can’t just pull out,” Monk returned.

That was a lie. Monk had two monsters who always fought after Joker. They played that crowd like the pros they were, total carnage.

And Joker never threw a fight, as Monk had asked him to do repeatedly so they could both cash in on it. This meant Joker was a sure thing. Since entering the circuit in Denver, he was undefeated.

So he was nowhere near Monk’s main draw. What he was was a fighter who people liked to watch, and bet on, and win, and Monk put up with that because they won on Joker, so they had money to bet on the monsters who came up after him, fights on which they could lose their cash.

“I can. Did. Done,” Joker replied.

“Fuck me. *.”

Joker felt his spine snap straight.

“Say again?” he whispered.

“All of you. Chaos pussies. And it’s not a surprise. Everyone is sayin’ it. Your leader and his lieutenants are so whipped by their bitches, been led around by their dicks so long, it’s a wonder they have any dicks left. You eat enough *, f*ck enough *, you become a *. That’s what’s happened to Chaos. Chaos is *.”

“All right,” Joker said slowly, feeling the vibe in the room shift as his brothers felt the anger coming off him in waves. “You’ve got five seconds to assure me that I didn’t just hear what I just heard.”

“You heard me,” Monk hissed. “I already took bets on you, motherf*cker. You leave me high and dry, that’s… just… *.”

Joker hung up on him and turned his attention to the men with him.

Rush, Hound, Roscoe, Boz.

“What the f*ck was that?” Roscoe asked.

Joker told them, finishing on, “Monk has three bouncers and a guy who looks after the money. They can f*ck a man up, individually and collectively. Knowin’ that, who feels like takin’ a ride?”

It didn’t surprise Joker that every man felt like mounting his bike.

And they all did.

*

It would seem Joker was going to give one last show to Monk and his bloodthirsty crew.

It just wasn’t the show Monk wanted.

Hound had two bouncers down before they were five feet into the room, clearing the way for Joker to make a direct line to Monk.

Rush took out the third bouncer.

Boz was holding back the money man with the point of his knife.

And Joker was bent over Monk, who’d long since lost his feet, holding him by the collar and pummeling his fist into the bloody, swelling flesh of his face.

Before Monk passed out, Joker stopped, yanked him to within an inch of his face and demanded, “Tell me again that Chaos is *.”

“J-Jo—”

Joker punched him again.

Monk made a moist noise that sounded like it came from his nose and throat.

He jerked him back and ordered, “Tell me again, motherf*cker. Say it. Chaos is *.”

Monk shook his head.