So, the giant man with all the tattoos was not as friendly as he looked. Idris learned that one the hard way as he got smacked to the ground with a vicious backhand. And then another.

“Stay down!” some dipshit yelled from the crowd.

They all wanted him to stay down. Get the shit beat out of him. Lose this fight. But they didn’t know that Idris Prodigo didn’t lose fights. He ruled fights. Like a king on a throne.

Idris chose his moment, waited for his strong, but clunky, opponent to shuffle closer. He struck like lighting from the ground, one of his boots snapping his opponent’s leg at the knee.

The tattooed giant crumbled like a redwood faced with a lumberjack. The huge man clutched his knee and groaned, but Idris didn’t show any mercy. Standing over the giant man, Idris rose and struck again.

He watched in a sick fascination as his opponent’s eye rolled back in unconscious sleep.              

“And the winner is… Dragon!” screeched a balding, wiry man into a microphone. He attempted to shuffle over, lift Idris’s hand into the air like a champion, but Idris shook away from him easily.

He wasn’t interested in the pageantry. He didn’t care about the trappings that came with winning these underground fights. He didn’t care about the bragging rights or the women or even the pride.

All he cared about was the winnings.

Idris strode over to the bookie in the corner, tugging a T-shirt over his sweaty body as he went, covering up the tattoo on his back of a mighty, outstretched dragon.

“Pretty fat count tonight, Dragon.” The bookie handed over a thick wad of bills. Idris thumbed through it, making sure the count was right. He nodded but didn’t say anything to the man.

“You been winning a lot recently,” the bookie said, grinning with his yellow teeth.

Great, now people were starting to notice. Take count of how much money he was putting away. That was a perfect way for a guy to get jacked. Or for a guy’s mom to get jacked. Idris shoved down the shiver that crept up his spine as he thought about his mother, alone in her little apartment in town. Turning back toward the bookie, Idris bared his teeth. A little color left the man’s face and he quickly turned away.

Good. He needed to use his clout to scare people away from him here and there. Tucking the roll of money in his pocket, Idris quickly made his way out of the dirty basement. He hated it there. Hated what he had to do just to make an extra buck. He couldn’t wait to take huge gulps of the crisp night air. Best part about living in the Rocky Mountains.

“Where you goin’, Dragon?” A high pitched voice called out to him from the shadows of the parking lot.

Idris swallowed back his temper. He was not in the mood for this tonight. For her. But he knew Nicole wouldn’t leave him alone until he responded to her. It had been that way for years.

“Work,” he snapped at her, barely letting his eyes flicker over her skin-tight clothes, her bleached blonde hair.

“At midnight? What kind of job you working?” A thin stream of smoke blew out of her mouth and Idris moved quickly around her. She got in his way again.

“You know, I wouldn’t think a man who wins as often as you would have to work so hard for the money.” She looked up at him with what she obviously thought were seductive eyes. “I would think you had money to burn.”

Idris placed his hands on her shoulders and he watched her eyes flare with a moment of excitement. But he only used his hands to move her firmly away from his car and her eyes dulled.

“Good night, Nicole.” Idris got in his car and pulled away before she could say anything else. He really was going to be late for work. And if he was late it didn’t just mean docked pay. It could mean somebody would get hurt. It could mean that she would get hurt. Idris put the pedal to the metal, racing across town.

He just had to make sure she was safe. That nobody was messing with her. He pulled into the parking lot at work and yanked off his sweaty T-shirt. He quickly replaced it with a crisp black one that accentuated the size of his muscles, the breadth of his chest. It was something that made his job a lot easier. If he looked scary.

Idris breezed through the side door and was relieved to see he still had five minutes to spare before he had to take his post. He cut through the club and made a quick stop at the bar. He reached across and greeted his friend, Carter, the bartender.

“You win?” Carter asked, opening bottles for some patrons and sliding them down the bar.

Idris nodded, letting a small smile cross his face.

“My man,” Carter grinned. “You want something?”

“Just water.” Idris never drank on the job. He had to be sharp. Clear. On the lookout for danger.

Carter grabbed a bottle of water for him and Idris unscrewed the cap, put his back to the bar, and surveyed the clientele tonight. He let the cool water soothe his throat as he looked out at all the men. Some of them were rowdy and drunk, here to celebrate something. Some of them were just lonely and horny, never taking their eyes off the stage.

He followed their eyes to the stage and there she was. The one who pulled at him. Tugged at him. Made him crazy. She wore a pink thong bikini under a splash of golden light. She slowly gyrated to the throbbing base of the music.

Men called out to her but she didn’t lose her concentration. Stretching her strong arms up over her head, she slid seductively down the pole.

Idris swallowed hard and turned his eyes away. He slapped the water back on the counter as he glanced at the clock on the wall.

“Time to clock in,” he told Carter, giving the bar a quick double tap.

And turning, he walked toward the edge of the stage, relieving the other bouncer whose shift was over. Idris crossed his arms over his chest, glared out at the crowd of men, and guarded his girl.

 

 

The End