Chapter 10 – Tyler
I’m sitting in my truck staring at the old rusted sign above the run down warehouse: Gourmet Meats.
Yeah, right. Nothing gourmet about this place, and it certainly hasn’t sold meat in years, if it ever did. The only meat going in and out of this place is mine and the other son of a bitch I’ll be squaring up against tonight. That and the crowd of screaming men and gangsters that will be watching.
Of course it won’t be much of a square off. We already know how this is going to go.
Down in the third.
I hear Nicky’s Cockney accent swimming through my mind as I mentally prepare. On any other night I’d be getting myself pumped up to pummel whoever I was up against. I’m usually the favorite, and that’s why Nicky came to me. The odds on me are probably astronomical, and he’ll make a fortune betting against me. It’s gotten harder and harder to find someone willing to fight me lately. I’m known for my right hand, which has a reputation for knocking out even the biggest of men. A jaw’s a jaw my father used to say. Doesn’t matter how big the guy is, he’s still got a jaw, and that’s where you hit him.
The place is already packed. I can see a few stragglers trickling in, but I know once I get in there it’ll be thick with bodies, all pumped up on drugs and alcohol, ready to watch two guys pound each other to a pulp.
I got into the fights after the accident. I quit going to regular training for my organized MMA career. I was just too depressed. Eventually I knew I had to do something. The tattoo shop just doesn’t bring in enough money, and the first time my mom needed money I knew I had to do something. My trainer wouldn’t have me back, and getting back into the legitimate scene would take too long. So the underground it was.
I did well from the get go. Most of the guys don’t have the training I have, and I became a big name in the scene pretty quickly. Some of the other gangsters, Nicky’s small time competition, offered to back me, but I never work well with a boss trying to tell me what to do. I’m a bit of a loner, especially now. So I turned them all down and managed myself. Probably made more money that way too.
And now, tonight, I’m going to be taking my first dive ever.
Nothing left to do but to do it, I think as I push open the driver’s side door. The familiar squeal of the metal hinges echoes through the parking lot as I step onto the wet pavement. I slam the door, take in a deep breath of the night air and make my way to the warehouse.
There’s a door around the back being guarded by two guys trying their best to look like late night bums just having a smoke. They recognize me immediately.
“Ty,” one of them says respectfully, blowing smoke through his lips.
“Ready to kick some ass?” the other asks, almost rhetorically. All I can do is nod as they move aside and open the door for me. They probably have bets on me. Why wouldn’t they? I’m a huge favorite tonight. The other guy must be out of his mind even going up against me. He’s probably a young gun looking to make a name for himself by knocking out one of the vets. I almost feel bad letting those guys down out there. They don’t make much, and if they put a lot down on me tonight they’re going to take a pretty big hit.
The thick door slams shut behind me, sealing me in the darkness of the back hallway, lit by bare light bulbs hanging every six feet from the chipped plaster ceiling. I stride down the all too familiar cement floor to the grimy bathroom that doubles as a locker room.
I take a seat at my usual bench. Normally I’d be getting all fired up right now, strutting around, pounding my chest, rubbing my hands against my knuckles. But not tonight. Tonight I’m contemplating my situation, trying to think of a way out of this. But my mom needs care. I need the money, and I am already committed to Nicky.
Nothing left to it but to do it.
It’s then that I hear three sets of footsteps in the hall. There’s no question who it is.
“All right, boyo?” I hear Nicky say as he steps into the room. I don’t look up. I just keep my eyes on what is probably a spot of old blood on the floor at my feet. “Ready to get this party started?”
I take a minute to answer, running my tongue across my teeth, clenching and unclenching my fists.
“Ay,” Don chimes in. “The man asked you a question.”
“Shut up,” I growl.
“What did you say to me?” Don says, stepping forward. Finally, I look up. I can see he’s pretty pissed. I stand and remind him that I’m not someone he should be fucking with.
“You heard me, you little shit. This is between me and your boss, not me and you. Now shut the fuck up before I knock your front teeth out and flush them down the toilet.”
Don looks to Nicky for support, but Nicky’s laughing softly to himself. For reasons I can’t explain, Nicky likes me, even though he is constantly reminding me that he’s top dog. Vinnie’s chuckling as well, one hand over his mouth. Don’s lowest on the totem pole here, and I can see his rage threatening to boil over. But he backs off. He knows I can follow through on my threats.
“Don’t you worry, Don,” Nicky says. “Ty ain’t gonna do nothin’ is he?”
He steps closer to me, looking me up and down like I’m his prized pony getting ready for the races.
“Don’t forget who you’re working for,” Vinnie says from behind him. Nicky gets even closer. I can smell the cigar smoke on his wool overcoat, and can see the tiniest of mustard stains on his white silk shirt.
“Oh, Ty’s a good boy. He ain’t forgettin’ nothing,” Nicky says with a lick of his lips. I want to grimace when he grins and I get a look at those yellow chunks of bone in his mouth that he calls teeth. I feel a tightness growing in my chest, and it’s taking everything I have not to lose it.
“Now, what’d we agree on again, Ty?” Nicky says. He’s trying to goad me. Remind me he owns me. Let me know once again that he’s the boss.
“I go down in the third,” I say flatly, not breaking eye contact with him.
“That’s right. Now that’s not hard is it? You’ll be a good boy and do what you know is best,” he says, and with a chuckle, pats me on the head and turns around. Everything in me wants to blast him in the back of the neck, knock out his two boys and drag him outside and toss him into the river.
But I don’t do that. I just stand there, my whole body shaking, as the three gangsters walk out the door.
“All right, guys. You all know the rules. Let’s keep it as clean as possible,” Calvin the referee jokes. We all know basically anything goes in these things. I’m staring at my opponent across the ring from me in the center of the warehouse. The crowd is thick tonight, and the whole place is hazy with cigar smoke. Men are laughing and cheering already, excited, having placed their bets and ready to ride out the rush of the event.
I was right. He’s young. Probably about twenty-two, and very wiry. He’ll try to be fast and catch me off guard. He thinks I’m old and he’ll try to take advantage of that. If this was any other night, I’d have his ass on the ground before the middle of the first round. Kid probably hasn’t been hit by anyone with a real fist before in his life. He’s still got a baby face to. Nice skin. No scars.
The bell dings and we go at it. Just like I suspected, he comes in quick, fists flying like he thinks he’s Bruce Lee. I dodge them easily. He’s predictable. He swings a right hook and I duck and give him a right in the ribs, which actually knocks him back. He buckles over but regains his composure pretty quickly. Yeah, this kid’s a wuss. I had an opening right there to end the fight. This is killing me.
I bob and weave for most of the round. He lands a few jabs that just glance off my cheeks, and a few body shots that feel like they came from a pissed off middle schooler.
The second round goes about the same, but I almost fuck things up when I hit him with a jab. I fight southpaw, right foot forward even though I’m a righty. You twist your hips right and step into it and your jab can become a knock out blow. Not many guys know that and they try to knock you out with the big back hand haymakers. The boy came in and it was just reflex. I twisted my hips and fired out and hit him right in the jaw. He went down, and I actually thought it was over. The crowd went nuts. I looked over at Nicky, and I couldn’t believe what I saw.
He was pissed, and he was actually showing it. Nicky never shows emotion. Even when he’s ready to fuck somebody up, he’s always stony or laughing to himself. But when I looked at him there, with the young boy on the mat, he was pissed.
He must have a lot riding on this, I thought.
Now I’m back in my corner and the kid’s on his feet. He’s shaky. Anyone with any sense could see that the fight is mine. I stay in my corner for a second and look over at Nicky. He’s glaring at me, telling me with his eyes that I better not fuck this up. Don looks like he wants to kill me, and Vinnie is just smiling. He’s laughing at me. To him this is all a big game. He works for Nicky and lives vicariously through him, loving every second of him making me his bitch.
I can’t help but wonder how much Nicky has riding on this game tonight. He’ll have the bookies in his pocket too if they don’t have enough cash to deliver. I look back at my opponent, still shaky on his feet, but still the same look of determination on his face.
He still thinks he can do this.
He thinks I’m old and weak.
And Nicky thinks I’m someone he can walk all over.
And that’s when I make my decision.
I step out into the ring and the kid comes at me swinging. He’s too fucked up to strategize anymore. If he’d ever had any coaching he would be pacing himself, but he’s young, eager and stupid, and he’s out for blood.
I duck his haymaker and the follow up jab. I step back, circling so I can get Nicky in my field of vision. The boy swings and I duck and fire back, putting the full force of my legs into the blow.
My knuckles connect with his chin, and I hear a sickening crack. I broke his jaw.
The boy’s eyes roll back and he topples over and slams down on the mat.
Knockout blow.
Nicky looks like someone just called him a cock sucker in front of his parents.
How about that, dickhead? I think.
I look at him, look down at the boy, then back at Nicky and shrug.
Fuck that. No one owns me.