“Ma still ain’t fucking with me. I’m still sneaking around to see Leek. Ain’t that some shit,” I mumbled.
Memories of that tragic fucking night came flooding like it didn’t want me to forget.
The small arena had been cleared out.
Gerald “Giant” Kirkland had won another fight.
“Pa, the way you had him on the ropes, I knew he wasn’t coming back from that.”
“I can tell you, son, that wasn’t an easy one. Easy Jones is a tough contender, but yeah, we took home another win,” Pops responded, hand over my shoulder as we exited the arena.
There were small groups of people gathered outside. All congratulating him on his win per usual. We made it to the alley where the car was when someone else stopped. I was always proud of the Pops always got after a win.
“Pa, we gotta get home. I’m already late. Ma’s going to be mad.”
He glanced down over me, rocking a smirk.
Pops was 6’4, large build, bald head and face with a stubbled beard. His expressions were already mean. You’d think he was the meanest person in the world, but if he knew you, it’s different. The outside world got a sterner version of dad. He was tough on me because I was the oldest, but we also had a great relationship. I wanted to be like him when I grew up.
Hands even bigger, he had a mean punch. I’ve seen him knock some of the best out.
Just as we broke through the small crowd, heading to our car down the side street of the arena, I heard footsteps creeping over the puddles of water from the rain earlier that night.
I turned around before Pa. He was loading his bag in the trunk.
“Hey, Giant,” the man said, coming closer.
“Yeah, man, it’s late,” Pops replied, but the man approached anyway.
Pops recognized him and put me behind him.
I couldn’t make out the face. The streetlight glared him out. He was almost tall as Pop and fatter.
“Get in the car, son,” dad instructed, not looking away from the guy.
“We’re both getting in the car,” I retorted. “Or I’m standing right here.”
“You might wanna listen to your father, Courtland.”
My stomach knotted. He knew me, but I didn’t know him.
“Pa, you know him?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Pops said sharply. “Get in the car, son.”
“I see he’s hardheaded like you,” the man scoffed. “You’re giving him instructions and he’s disobeying you, just like you did tonight.”
The air went still as they shared an exchange.
“Don’t let him talk to you like that, Pa,” I said.
The guy smirked.
“You should’ve done what your father said, but that’s okay, this a lesson you’ll never forget.”
He charged at us, and my dad protected me, taking the man down. I yelled out while jumping around them as they tussled. The ruffling sounds of the puddles of water splattered under their feet, bodies crashing into the side of the car from Pa throwing him around like a ragdoll.
The crowd rushed around the corner to see what was going on.
