She shook her head defiantly. So I continued.
“Rick keeps putting me up against people. Some of them start coming in from out of town, and people are betting big money and Rick, he’s taking his cut from the bookies. ‘Course,Idon’t see much ofit, but I’m doing okay. And Rick’s always telling me, ‘You’re my boy. You’re the best at this. You were made to do this.’But then Rick starts wanting me to do stuff outside the ring. He wants me to accompany him around town.”
“Like a bodyguard?”
I shook my head bitterly. “Like a feckin’ dog. A weapon he can use to scare people. I don’t want to do it but I’m young and naive...I tell myself it’s not so bad. I mean, I’m just there for show. I’m not going todoanything. And it works, for a while. People who owe him money pay up. People invading his turf get the hell out. Everyone’s happy—except me. And Rick keeps telling me, ‘You’re my attack dog. You growl when I tell you to growl. Just a big, dumb, snapping hound.’And I start to believe him.”
I swallowed slowly. “But then, one day, it stops working. Some storeowner owes Rick money and won’t pay. So he has me smash their store.” I gave Sylvie a sickly grin. “You know how good I am at smashing stuff. And as I’m tearing up the place, I’m telling myself it’s okay because it’s only stuff—it’s not people. And Rick’s still telling me how good I am at this shit, how it’s a good job he’s here to make use of me, because no one else would want a stupid thug like me. And I guess I start to believe that, too.”
Sylvie had gone pale. I’d known all along that this would happen. I’d known that, once she found out what I really was, her whole view of me would change. But I was too deep into this to stop now.
“Then, a few weeks later, some guy disrespects Rick. So Rick tells me to break his arm.” I stared at the wall, unable to meet her eyes. “And the crazy thing is, as I’m feeling the bones snap, I’m telling myselfit’s only an arm. He’ll recover.As if that makes it okay.” And Rick keeps telling me, ‘This is all you’re good for—beating seven shades of shit out of people.’I took a deep breath. “And so it went on. Each week, I’d pummel some guy in the ring. The other days, I’d beat up whoever Rick told me to. Eventually, it all sort of blended together. I’d fight and then I’d come home and wash the blood off and go find some woman to fuck to help me forget. Rick’s happy and I’m making money. But when I look in the mirror, I don’t even recognize myself.”
I felt suddenly very tired. I slumped against the dumpster and slid down it until I was sitting on the soaked ground. Sylvie suddenly knelt and threw her arms around me. She didn’t say anything. She just held me. I think she sensed that the worst was still to come.
“This is where you think I saw the light,” I said bitterly. “This is where you think I had a revelation and turned around and stuck it to Rick.” I shook my head. “But that’s not what happened.” I took a deep breath. “See, Rick had a problem. I was at my peak—every fight, I was getting better. I started getting calls from people who thought I could make it on the proper circuit. Rick figured it was only a matter of weeks until someone stole me away. So he came up with a plan.”
“He put me up against this guy called Travere. Eric Travere. I’d fought him before a few times—a Frenchman, living in New York. Pretty good—a brawler, like me, but with a better reach. Killer left hook. But normally, I could have taken him. He could dish it out, but he couldn’t take it. A few good hits, maybe a couple of rounds, and he’d go down.”
Sylvie took my hand, and I realized I’ve made fists. I tried to force myself to relax, but I couldn’t.
“I get in the ring and, right away, I know something’s wrong. There’s a look in Eric’s eyes, like he’s going to winno matter what.We go for it and he starts slamming that left hook into me. I hit him a few times and he staggers, but he stays on his feet. Second round comes and it’s the same thing. I’m hitting him but he’s just not going down. Third round and the crowd are going nuts—they’ve never seen anyone last this long against me. And Rick, he’s there in that side room, grinning away and Iknowsomething’s wrong.”
I let the rain wash down my face for a moment, but it didn’t make me feel any cleaner. I swallowed, feeling the nausea rising in my throat. “Fourth round. The guy’s bleeding from his head and I’m pretty sure I’ve broken some ribs. I get him in a clinch and I scream at him over the crowd”—my voice broke and it took a second before I could continue—”’Go down, you moron! What the feck is the matter with you? Go down!’But he stays on his feet. Fifth round and he’s staggering—he just doesn’t have the energy to continue. So”—Iswallowed and looked down at my lap for a second, then back to Sylvie—”so he grabs a broken bottle—back then, Rick didn’t used to have anyone sweep up before a fight. And he runs at me and, before I know what’s happening, he shoves it into my neck—”
Sylvie clapped a hand over her mouth, going pale.
“The blood starts gushing between my fingers and he’s still stabbing and twisting and I know that any second, he’s going to cut the vein and then I’m dead. I try to get it out of his hand, but he’s hanging onto that bottle for dear life. And I can see it in his eyes: he’s going to finish me. He’sthatdesperate to win—he’s just going to go until I’m dead.” I swallowed. “So I grab his shirt and pull him off his feet and down to the ground, and I start punching his face, because it’s the only way I can see to make him stop, and his head’s bouncing off the concrete and, after four punches, he lets go of the bottle. And he’s dead.”
Sylvie sat there in shock for a moment. I knew what she was going to say: that it was self defense, that I had no choice.
“That’s not the end of the story,” I told her. The words were hard to get out, now, each one foul and bitter. “The crowd ran. I sat there against the wall with my hand on my neck, blood dripping out of me, just staring at the body. Eventually, Rick’s goons show up and get rid of it. I wad up a towel and manage to stop the bleeding and stumble off to a doctor I know—someone who does stuff off the books. She tells me the guy missed my jugular by a hair. Really, I need a plastic surgeon to fix all the damage, but I can’t go near a hospital or there’ll be questions. She does the best she can with sutures, but I’m pretty much a patchwork by the end of it and it heals badly.” I ran my hand over the thick, ugly scars. “Hence the mess.”
Sylvie nodded, tears in her eyes.
“Everything goes quiet for a few days. Some rumors go around that someone’s been killed and the cops sniff about, but no one’s talking. Rick’s pretty good at this stuff—no one ever finds Travere’s body so, eventually, the cops drop it. I’m still in shock, but I figure I’ve been lucky. And I figure that I had no choice. He was some crazy fighter who went too far.”
I took a deep breath. “Then I found out...he had a wife. And two kids. He was pretty much done with fighting, close to quitting until I came along and became the champ.” I shook my head. “See, Rick knew I was going to leave, sooner or later. So he needed to make as much money out of me as he could. He finds Travere—a guy who everyone knows I can beat. But he puts his own bet on—againstme. And he takes Travere’s little girl and tells him that he’ll never see her again unless he kills me in the pit. Travere didn’t want to kill me. He was just doing what he had to, to protect his family.”
“It’s not your fault,” Sylvie told me. “Rick used you. He set you up.”
I shook my head. “It should have been me who died. He had a wife and kids. I had feckin’ no one. He had a life, outside of fighting. I was just a thug.” I looked into her eyes. “Tell me the world wouldn’t be a better place if I’d bled out, and that guy had gone home to his family that night.”
Sylvie’s mouth moved a few times, but she couldn’t find the words.
“Afterwards, I guess Rick didn’t know what the feck to do. He must have been mad as hell at losing his money, but he also must have figured I’d want to kill him. So I stayed clear of him and he didn’t come after me. I thought about turning myself in to the cops. The only thing that stopped me was the family. Rick gave the kid back the same night—she wasn’t hurt or anything. But he knew where they lived. If I copped to the murder, Rick would go down as an accessory, and he’d kill the mother to stop her testifying about any of it.”
“So I quit. I got the first job I could, down at the docks, and moved into that shitty apartment, and decided I’d never fight again. But that didn’t fix anything. The first time I took the bandages off and saw my neck, I smashed the mirror. I realized what I’d become.” I turned to Sylvie. “It wasn’t just killing Travere in the ring. It was all the stuff I did for Rick. All those people I hurt. That’s all I’m good for, Sylvie—breaking stuff and causing pain. AndI don’t want that for you.”
I looked at her and I prayed. I prayed that I was wrong. I prayed that she’d say something to make it okay.
But she just stared at me in horror and I knew I’d been right all along. I was exactly the monster I thought I was.
I got up and walked away.
39
SYLVIE
