Nicholas

 

Flesh slapping. The stomping of the men’s feet on the ground. A low, chanting howl, circling round and round and then rising upwards like a bird of prey. The heat seemed to grow hotter in response, pressing down on me with a dense weight. I kept my breathing slow. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Clear the head. Focus.

 

The monster across from me was even bigger up close. His muscles ballooned outward in huge sweeping contours. The look on his face was unmistakable. He wanted to maim and kill. Nothing else mattered to him.

 

The cacophonous howling turned into a steady, rhythmic grunt, a primal pattern. Grunt, stomp, grunt, stomp, grunt, stomp, over and over again. I inhaled again and let it recede to the background. Focus, Nico, I cautioned myself. I couldn’t let myself trip over the first hurdle. There had to be a way to win.

 

Before a clear strategy presented itself, the man charged. He took two heavy steps to cross the ten-yard diameter of the circle and unloaded a powerful right hook. I ducked out of the way and slid to my left out of danger as it whistled overhead.

 

The giant turned, gathered himself, and lurched forward again. This time, a left-handed uppercut flew towards my jaw. I leaped backwards and it, too, missed. He growled in anger as I skittered away once more.

 

The crowd booed and hissed as I moved back to the edge of the circle. “Fight back, you pussy!” someone yelled. A man reached out and shoved me forward. The push took me by surprise. I fell in the direction of the charging fighter as he unleashed a right jab. I tried to spin out of the way, but I couldn’t avoid getting clipped in the temple by one massive knuckle.

 

Pain and stars erupted across my vision. I staggered away, desperately trying to clear my head. I had just enough time to see the man rear back and throw a fist into my gut. The air whooshed from my lungs instantly as I crumpled to the floor.

 

I choked and gasped as I tried to breathe, but my bruised lungs simply wouldn’t cooperate. The man immediately squatted over me, one knee on either side of my torso, pinning down my arms at the elbow. He cocked a fist above his head and swatted me across the jaw.

 

His fist collided with my face like a runaway train. I blacked out for the briefest of seconds before coming back to consciousness when the second punch landed on the opposite cheek. Blood pooled in my mouth, thick and acrid. The pain wrapped around me, searing every nerve ending.

 

I thought back to laying in the alley at eight years old as the drug dealer pummeled me with his feet and fists. The pain back then had been severe. His steel-toed boots had driven into my ribs over and over again, leaving a dark crescent everywhere his blows had landed.

 

And when he’d gone, I remembered thinking I was going to die. I had jumped from a window and run away from a safe home just for this? I almost wanted to laugh when I recalled the one thought I’d had. Fuck. That was the only word for this sensation, the awful realization that I’d made a horrible fucking mistake and it was going to cost me my life. Back then, I’d felt the same way. I was going to die.

 

I should have died. And I would have, if it weren’t for Smalls. That twitchy motherfucker. What a crazy guy. Who picked up a street urchin from his deathbed in the gutters of Chicago and brought him back to life? Who in their right mind did that? I couldn’t say I would have done the same. But I was grateful for everything Smalls had done for me. I’d be damned if I was going to let all that go to waste.

 

The giant on top of me was lining up for another punch. He was too fucking strong. Another blow would end me. But I wasn’t going to give him that chance. I used the only thing I had at my disposal: my hard fuckin’ head.

 

Shooting my neck forward with as much strength as I could find in my battered body, I drove my forehead into the bridge of the man’s nose. It took him by surprise and he shifted his weight back for a moment. I took full advantage, slithering my arms out from beneath his knees and slamming a jab right between his eyes. He fell back onto his ass.

 

I immediately rolled forward and speared into him. Now I was on top. My head was one massive, throbbing ache, but I couldn’t stop. I had to end this now. I raised a fist overhead like he had done and brought it thundering down into his nose. The bone and cartilage gave way immediately. I did it again, knocking aside the hands he raised to try to ward me off and smashing deep into the same spot. I almost had him. One more hit would do it.

 

But he was too strong and too fast. He threw me off him before I could land another strike. I flew backwards as he started to struggle to his feet. If he got up, I’d never get him on the ground again. I wouldn’t win this war of attrition, trading punches back and forth until one of us fell. I needed a different strategy.

 

Before he could rise all the way, I coiled up and sprang forward one more time. Instead of arrowing straight towards him, though, I aimed just to the side. My right arm slid around his neck as my legs shot through behind the man’s torso. I grabbed my right wrist with my left hand and squeezed as tight as I possibly could. My forearm began to cut off his supply of oxygen.

 

He choked, spluttering, and threw a few desperate fists behind him, aiming for my face. I ducked one and another caught me flush in the chin, but I didn’t let go. I was like a bulldog with his jaw locked. He was going to have to kill me if he wanted me off him.

 

The man flailed, heaving his bulk from side to side. Still, I kept the chokehold locked on strong. Around us, the men roared in approval. Pools of blood and sweat oozed around us as I held tight. I could feel the monster’s breath growing shallower. His heaving slowed until he could barely move. He collapsed forward, flipping me beneath him. Despite the massive weight crushing me, I held tight until I was sure he wasn’t moving any more. Only then did I let go and crawl out from beneath him.

 

I staggered to my feet and surveyed the crowd. They were like one creature with many heads, all bellowing in a testosterone-fueled rage. It was an almost religious fervor, but these people worshipped blood and violence. I had paid my penance. I had passed the test.

 

A pathway through the crowd opened like elevator doors to allow me through. I walked slowly. Pain radiated through my body. Bruno had not moved from where he stood when we first entered the room. I approached and stopped in front of him.

 

“Take me to the boss,” I said. My ribs throbbed. One might be broken, maybe two, but I ignored the pain. Bigger things were at stake.

 

He eyed me warily. He probably thought I would die in there. Maybe that had been his plan all along. It didn’t matter, though. I’d won, and I’d skin the motherfucker right here if he didn’t do what he’d promised.

 

“Now,” I added, “or you’ll regret it.” I didn’t need to say anything more.

 

“This way,” he said finally, beckoning for me to follow him. I picked up my shirt and shoes and limped slowly in the direction he’d gone.

 

# # #

 

The man on the other side of the table was immensely fat. He could barely squeeze his gut into the chair behind the desk. Gold rings glimmered on his sausage fingers.

 

I entered the room and shut the door behind me. Bruno stood off to the side, not coming in much farther. I looked at him, then turned to face the boss. “You’re Giovanni,” I said.

 

The man crossed his arms and looked at me. “Yeah, and who the fuck are you?” he spat.

 

“I’m Nicholas.”

 

“Why are you here, Nicholas?”

 

I shrugged. “I’m looking for work.”

 

Giovanni raised an eyebrow. “Do you know what we do around here?” he asked me. He looked vaguely interested, like a shark who’s already eaten but senses blood in the water and can’t help but investigate.

 

“I have some idea.”

 

He rapped his rings on the top of the desk. “Sit down, Nicholas,” he said.

 

“I’ll stand,” I replied.

 

His eyes flashed. “Fine, then. Suit yourself.”

 

We stared at each other for a moment. I knew he was testing me, sizing me up to see if he could spot any weaknesses. I didn’t move an inch.

 

“Let me ask you again,” Giovanni said, “do you know what we do here?”

 

“Whatever it takes.”

 

“Whatever what takes?”

 

“Whatever it takes to make money.”

 

Giovanni leaned back in his chair and nodded. “Exactly,” he said. “This is a money-making operation. If you do what you’re told and you do it well, there’s a limitless supply of cash for you. So tell me, Nicholas, what do you do well?”

 

I looked him dead in the eye and said with a straight face, “Everything.” I meant it.

 

He stared at me for another long, tense pause. Then he relaxed backwards, flicked out a small switchblade knife, and started cleaning underneath his fingernails. “Very well,” Giovanni said. “Let’s see how true that is. Bruno, come here.” He waved Bruno towards the desk. “Give Nicholas here your gun.”

 

Bruno balked. “What? Giovanni, I mean, why…?” He barely had the words out of his mouth before Giovanni had risen up, pinned him against the wall by his throat, and held the knife at the corner of his right eye.

 

“Did I tell you to ask questions?” he rumbled. “Huh? Did I?”

 

“No, no,” Bruno pleaded, “I’m sorry. Please forgive me.” He sniffled hard.

 

I did my best not to react to the sudden display of violence. I wondered how much of it was meant to intimidate me.

 

“That’s what I thought,” Giovanni said, suddenly snapping back into a languid calm. He sheathed the knife and held out his hand. Bruno took a small pistol from his belt and laid it in Giovanni’s open palm. Giovanni turned and tossed it to me. I caught it deftly.

 

“Here’s an address,” he said, taking a sticky note from his desk and holding it out to me. “You’re gonna be working security for a little event we’re having. Go there, ask for the boss, and do whatever he tells you to do. Any questions?” He raised an eyebrow.

 

I had just one. “Who’s the boss?” I wanted to be sure.

 

Giovanni smiled. “Cosimo Esposito.”