Cash nodded. He looked at Smith, locked the SUV with his remote, and scowled. “Come on, fuckhead.” He entered the warehouse without looking back.
Smith had had enough. “Who are you calling a fuckhead, asshole?” He followed Cash inside and stopped. The place looked deserted but for the small boxing ring off to the side, highlighted by long florescent lights overhead. Around the place, small cocktail tables gave the place a club feel, and a lot of paper stubs littered the ground.
“Let’s go. You and me.” Cash was putting on headgear and taping his hands. Then he took out a small plastic mouthguard from a sealed baggie by the equipment rack before fitting his hands into boxing gloves.
“Seriously? I’ll hurt you. Then Jordan will be mad at me.” And Reid and Evan and Aunt Jane… Or had the sweet older woman been faking the whole time at her house? Had she been the one to warn Erin off?
“Let’s go,” Cash said, muffled through the mouthguard. “Your piss-poor attitude is on my last nerve.”
“Yeah? So’s your sense of superiority,” Smith sneered. “You no-neck motherfucker.”
“Oh, words hurt. Boo hoo.” Cash smirked at him.
Smith put the headgear on but didn’t bother with tape. He put to use the mouthguard and gloves though.
Then he stepped into the ring and let loose his fury.
He wasn’t too proud to say he’d beaten the shit out of Cash. But then, Cash hadn’t hit him back much. He’d been blocking a lot, but the guy could have pounded Smith and hadn’t.
Sometime later, Smith and Cash lay on their backs on the mat, panting as they tried to catch their breath.
Cash spit the mouthguard out into his glove. “You done yet?”
Smith did the same. “Maybe.” To his surprise, he felt somewhat better. The rage had passed. Now he just felt grief. He took off the headgear and gloves and closed his eyes.
So, he wasn’t prepared when Cash slugged him in the stomach. As he rolled to his side and wheezed, he heard Cash sigh. “Yeah, cheap shot. Whatever. I let you pound on me for fifteen minutes. You have some anger issue, bro.”
“Fuck…off,” Smith said in between painful breaths.Shit, that hurt.
“So, Erin dumped you. Life goes on. Man up. Just tell her you’re sorry.”
He leaned up on an arm and glowered. “Sorry for what?” he rasped. “I have no idea what I did. She just won’t talk to me, says she wants to go home.” His eyes watered, and he blamed the punch. At least she had a home to go back to. Without her, he had nothing.
“That’s it?” Cash scratched his head. “Huh. Jordan told me you were being all pissy and bugging her about Erin.”
“Bugging her?” Smith snorted. “I asked her one goddamn question about what happened Saturday night.”
“And she had no clue. She told me Erin was happy and in love with you. Etcetera, etcetera.”
“Yeah, sure.” He wished. “And it’s not just her.” He hadn’t meant to talk about it, but keeping everything to himself no longer helped. Instead he felt burdened, needing to share with his brothers. And that just sucked, because who knew how long they’d want him around.
“What else is there?”
“Never mind.”
“No, tell me. You don’t think I’ll care? Is that it? Well, idiot, I care, okay? You’re like a less mature, rougher sketch of me. And I feel sorry for you.”
“Fuck. Off.” Smith had no trouble saying that.
“What I mean is, when I lose it, Reid helps me. And man, I used to lose it all the time. How do you think I knew about this place? Ritter once took me here where I fought for fun. And, well, for money. But don’t tell Reid. They closed the place down over a year ago… Anyway, that’s not important. What’s the deal? I got nothing but time, hero, so talk.”
Smith rolled to sit up and rubbed his tender stomach. “You really want to know?”
“I just said so, didn’t I?” Cash barked.
And Smith saw himself in a few years, older, more sarcastic, and hopefully less angry. “Margaret Ramsey is blackmailing me.”
Cash’s eyes widened. “Okay,thatI hadn’t expected.”
