I watch Cook return to his corner, looking like a lame dog that’s being taken out to pasture. I hate when they force the obviously better opponent to lose. It makes me wonder what Cook did to deserve this, or maybe in this industry it all just comes down to who you know.
Alex leans closer. I wish I was smoking, just so I could blow the smoke in his face, but I am out at the moment.
“What do you know about the Lombardis?”
I sneer before regaining a foot of space between him and I. “I know enough about the stories, but they’re ghosts now. What do they have to do with any of this?” I snap.
His smile turns feline as he beckons me closer to whisper into my ear. I hear the third round commence, just as he ardently reveals everything my girl has to do with the Murrays, and the Lombardis. He also proudly discloses how he found out from his cousin Craig, who just so happened to have gone to high school with her mother, Terri. Craig, apparently rejected by Terri, was bitter. Knew she chose Charles over him. When Cindel applied to work at the store Craig managed, he was able to make the connections. The roar of the crowd becomes distant; the ring announcer sounds as if he’s underwater. How can this possibly be true?
Kelly lands the final hit that knocks out the boxer who should be the titleholder. I guess that’s how life goes. No matter how big and bad you may think you are, there will always be someone who has your balls within their grasp. Alex, for being as blind as he seemed, figured out my game without even trying. Perhaps I misjudged what he’s capable of. If he’s right, I have valuable intel which could prove to be useful, if I find myself facing down the barrel of a gun.
“Consider this an early Christmas gift,” he teases, just as two of Murray's notorious thugs walk by. Each guy has more height and muscle than him and I put together. Alex standsramrod straight, looking out toward the concluded fight with a smug grin. “Be sure to handle that bet for me. Oh—do say hi to Cindel as well.”
Fuck… I need to look into this shit myself to validate his claim.
After the warehouse is void of drunken fans and irate gamblers, who lost a small fortune, one of the Murray’s lackeys strides up to me. This guy was a little more doughy than the other, but I liked him better. He was kinda fun to play cards with and had jokes for days. Though, I’m not a dumb fuck, I would never want to be caught in a ring with him. I’ve seen him train and worse; I’ve seen what he’s capable of when someone did the Murrays dirty.
“Brodi!” He bellows, lopping the toothpick in his mouth from one corner to the other.
I rise from my seat at a small table, having just finished counting out the night’s winnings, before stuffing the bills into a green zippered pouch. “Garron.” I hold out the money for him to take, just like he’s collected so many times before. “Ten thousand tonight,” I declare.
“For this big of a fight?! Damn. Boss isn’t going to be too happy.”
I shove my hands deep into my front pockets, feeling the small roll of bills I've taken for myself. “Word on the street is the fight was rigged.”
He opens up the pouch while chewing on the wooden stick. “Word on the street, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at me after flipping through the money. I nod, so fucking thankful I’m dealing with him as opposed to his less friendly accomplice. He shrugs, taking my word for it. Then turns toward the hallways where the safe resides. I’ve never seen it, nor would I dare enter that damn room. That’s Eamon’s office.
My phone buzzes and I look down to find a message from my girl.
Cindel: Hey, I know you’re at work, but could you maybe come over and watch a movie with me?
I let out a lengthy sigh and set down the phone to rub my fingers into my eyes. I know why she wants me to come over. She’s sad. It’s close to the anniversary of her brother’s death. I’m fucking terrible at this shit. It wasn’t so bad at first, mostly because we spent a lot of our time fucking, but as time went on and the fire didn’t burn quite as hot, she wanted to talk more. Started sharing her desire to build a future on trust or some shit. She was actually a little freakier than I thought, even got jewelry for her snatch. We experimented a bit, but I couldn’t really get on the same page as her. I’m a simple kind of guy and I know what I like. This past Thanksgiving, she invited me to the Catskills to meet her parents. Rather than suck it up and go, like any good boyfriend would, I made up an excuse. “Sorry, babe. They have me stuck at work that whole holiday weekend.” In actuality, I was at work, just buried deep inside a bombshell blond, with double D’s. I never claimed to be a good man, but I seemed to make her happy. Now that I know how special she is, I have no intention of giving her up.
I look up to the opened ceiling. Squiggles of light float around the exposed ductwork, from rubbing my sockets too hard. Phone in hand, I write out a response for my needy girlfriend.
Brodi: Hey sunshine! I’m feeling kind of lousy all of a sudden. Think I may be coming downwith something. When I’m better, I promise to go with you to feed the ducks.
Not waiting for a response, I shove the phone into the inner liner of my jacket, and leave. Between the fight, Alex’s news, and the misappropriation of the house’s winnings, I’m too wired to sleep. After watching someone get unjustly fucked into fifty shades of black and blue, I was heading to Cha-Cha’s where I planned to cum down Destiny’s throat.
CHAPTER
ONE
CINDEL
Idon’t want to be here. Not today. It’s been exactly six months since Brodi disappeared. I’d rather be back in my apartment, buried in blankets with a bag of candy corn, nibbling away, one color at a time.
The bar is warmer than the outside autumn air, allowing me to part with my frayed sweater. Underneath I wear a form fitting top with a plunging neckline, and lace that covers me just enough. I upcycle a lot of my clothes and this one always brings in good tips. It’s early enough in the evening that older couples, as well as after-work gatherings, were just finishing up. This meant the younger, rowdy crowd would be filling up the space in no time. They were the ones that generously tipped.
Tonight, I am stationed behind the counter. Patrons line the bar trying desperately to get my attention. Naturally, the more eager you appear, the longer I make you wait. Women also took priority in my book. They never called me “baby” or insisted I smile when I’m just trying to do my damn job. A tablet sat on the bar for customers to place their drink orders. Although, I wishedthe ones that were too impatient to communicate with me used it.
I’ve been here half a year, so The Black Sheep’s regulars know me. I like when they make sure, I can see their faces. It’s even better when customers position themselves to the right of the bar, which has better lighting.
From what I understand, March is the busiest time here. People flock to Southie’s prevalent Irish area, visiting local pubs and bars to celebrate. I’ve seen the lines for myself, snaking past the deli shop around the corner. That week my usual tips doubled. On St. Patrick's Day, I hit an all-time record: most money earned in one day. Didn’t even have to snap a single picture of my feet! Now we’re back to business as usual. Fall is here, the weather is brisker by the day, and the tavern is filled with familiar faces. Occasionally, we’ll have a Salem enthusiast passing through, but I’ve learned not to expect any fat tips from tourists.
I move with ease mixing cocktails, tilting bottles at just the right angle to add flare, all while serving with a smile. This isn’t my first time in the food service industry. In fact, it’s probably my eighth or ninth, with a few odd jobs mixed in. I had a brief position at a pet store when I was fresh out of college. I’ve also worked at a drugstore and as a waitress where I acquired my bartending license, before they closed from increasing rent prices.
The worst job was when I accepted a position as a receptionist at a hotel. I pretty much answered phones the whole time. After making countless booking errors, the last straw was when I reserved a room for an important client under the name ‘I buff.’Well… I was let go, to put it lightly. Shia LaBeouf showed up for his suite, only to be informed, he had no such reservation. Can I just say, he’s not quite as likeable without Bumblebee by his side.
