Chapter Thirty-Three
Brick
My routine the day of a big fight had been the same for years, and I had no intention of switching it up now.
It started with a little bit of superstition. The first time I ever fought off my brother was in high school. Usually, I would leave the house in the morning with only a Pop-Tart in my stomach. That morning, though, a thunderstorm had woken me early. Groggy and unable to get back to sleep, I had made myself a full meal with a couple of eggs, toast, and some slices of bacon. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it did me right. Later that day, when my brother started messing with me after school, I had actually managed to defend myself. It sounded silly, but I remember standing there in the field by the high school, blood dripping out of my split lip, and thinking to myself—It must have been that breakfast.
I still remembered that feeling when I got to fighting for money, and I indulged in the same breakfast every morning I had to step into the basement and prove my worth. As I got stronger and wiser, I added to the routine, too. There was the breakfast, a brisk jog, a round of stretching, and a little time flailing my arms against a punching bag, all of which needed to happen before the evening rolled around.
And a cold beer. I always had a cold beer about an hour before the fight. It took the edge off my nerves, and with my brain calmed down, I was better at remembering to fight smart instead of hard.
There was no way in hell I was skipping that routine the day of the fight in Seattle. For starters, if I were being honest with myself, I was scared. You’re not supposed to be scared before a fight. It meant you were intimidated and more likely to lose. But considering what I had heard about this match, I would have been a damn fool to not feel a touch of fear.
If getting my ass handed to me weren’t motivation enough, there was also the giant stack of money I would have to be accountable for if I lost. Money mattered, and not just because I didn’t have any.
But I knew my real motivation. As I swallowed down breakfast at the diner, and later, when I ran up the trail behind the motel, I knew what was actually at stake. If I won this brawl, I’d be able to call up Ezra and Irving and see them one more time. Hell, I might even be able to stick around Seattle after that. And seeing those guys again and following through on a commitment to them? That was scary.
It was fucking terrifying.
The fact that I wanted to see Ezra and Irving meant that I cared about them. Sure, I was thinking about the hot, sweaty, kinky fun we’d get up to. I knew that would keep us entertained for a good long while. But I was also thinking about the other parts of it. I was thinking about the conversations we had hiking up the trail and the way it felt to sleep in my armchair while they snoozed together on my bed. I was thinking about the way Ezra made me laugh and the fact that Irving somehow seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
I was thinking of the way they touched each other and how much I needed to feel that touch again.
And that was fucking scarier than any fight. I wasn’t a guy who needed anyone. I was a guy who took care of myself, and staying that way was how I planned to survive.
I was just getting to the part of my routine where I needed a punching bag when it all fell to shit. Keys in my hand to head to the truck, I was ready to take the drive into the city and to meet up with Lilith at her gym. I’d even loaded my boxes into the back of my truck again, just in case I needed to make a speedy escape from this part of the country.
But with the man who had tracked me down the other night leaning against my truck, smoking a cigarette and glaring in my direction, I realized I wasn’t going anywhere that quickly.
“You been watching me all week?” I asked gruffly. “Sounds boring.”
What I really wanted to know was whether he had seen Ezra and Irving come by, although his blank face indicated I wouldn’t be getting more information out of him.
He took a drag from his cigarette, exhaling the smoke slowly. “Mr. Frisk is disappointed that he won’t be seeing you fight again. He sends his sincerest regrets and says to let you know that you are one of his favorite animals.”
I winced, remembering how the people at the fight always used that word to describe me.Animal. I thought about baring my teeth in his direction, just to show him how this animal bites, but even with my fists clenching by my side, I knew that would be a horrible idea.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I asked. “You trying to mess with my head?”
The man chuckled, straightening the front of his gray suit. “I thought you might have been left in the dark.”
“Yeah, and I still am. So let me know what you’re jabbering on about, or I’ll warm up for the fight by using you as a punching bag.”
The man grinned, his eyes flashing at me like the ember on the cigarette. “You can imagine why that would be a bad idea,” he said, gesturing toward a black van a few parking spots away.
I shook my head, preferring not to think about whatever waited inside. “Then what’s the story? My opponent caught a cold? Frisk decide to drop his life of crime and open an orphanage?”
“Your debt has been paid,” the man said, taking one more puff from his cigarette and tossing the butt aside. “A kind benefactor has also added a substantial bonus payment to compensate for the loss of revenue and entertainment this evening. Mr. Frisk recognizes a financial windfall when it comes his way, and he accepts this offer, despite the personal disappointment at not seeing your beating in the pit.”
I ran my tongue across the back of my teeth, taking in what he said. “Someone paid you off? Who would do that?”
He ignored my question. “There are a few conditions attached. You will not be making an appearance back in Philadelphia, as your presence there would be a poor reminder of past mistakes. You will also never touch Mr. Frisk’s son again or speak to him for that matter. Mr. Frisk has put him in line for you. And if you do wish to return to your fighting career in a different city, we fully expect you to reach out to us first.” He paused, smiling to himself again. “We’ll have some of our best handlers on reserve.”
Yeah fucking right, I thought. If this were actually what it seemed to be, there was no way in high hell that I would raise my fists for cash again, no matter how much money got tossed my way. “Why should I believe you?” I asked. “How do I know you’re not messing with me?”
He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “We’re not in the business of lying, Brick, and we don’t need to trick people to get what we want. You’re just fortunate another fighter came across our radar last week. If a replacement hadn’t been available, I highly doubt Mr. Frisk would have accepted the offer he was given.”
I opened my mouth to ask more questions, but he turned on his heel immediately, taking long paces toward the black van. Before he arrived, the door slid open, and another man in a suit stepped out to let him in.
