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The Aftermath by R.J. Prescott (16)

“Kier!” I shouted across the gym.

“What?” he called back.

“Come and rescue me from the American before I punch him in the face,” I answered him.

“You can punch me if you can catch me. But you can’t because you’re not fight-ready and you’re slow as shit.” Earnshaw danced around the ring like he was Muhammad Ali.

I’d been training since before dawn, I was dog tired, and getting fucking sick of making him look bad in front of my wife. I rolled my head around my shoulders and bounced a while to loosen up.

“You know the great thing about having lifelong friends who’d do anything for you,” I said quietly, so that only he could hear. “There’s always someone around to hold you down,” I told him without waiting for his answer. I looked behind him, and he followed my gaze, expecting to see my guys jump him. When he turned back after realizing that no one was there, I punched him in the face and knocked him out.

“Con, you’re gonna give that kid brain damage.”

“Danny, he left a good job in America to come and work for you and get in the ring with me. I think he was a little bit brain-damaged anyway.”

“Did you angry knock him out?” he asked me.

“I’m not mad. He was just annoying me,” I answered him truthfully.

“I’d give you a feckin’ bollocking but his constant yammering’s been getting’ on my feckin’ nerves for the last half an hour.”

“Is he all right?” Em asked me. She always got worried when one of us was knocked out. Well, one of them. I never got knocked out. I can’t imagine how ape shit she’d go if I was. I checked him over, not wanting her to worry. I knew he’d be okay. Already he was starting to come round.

“Can you please stop knocking me out?” he asked me as he pushed himself up to sit against the ropes.

“Can you please stop pushing my buttons in front of Em? As long as she’s here, motivation isn’t a problem. But you telling her I’m slow or that I’m not ready, it pisses me off but it upsets her. Makes her worry. I can’t have that.” I nodded in her direction as I spoke, and she gave me a small, nervous smile.

“I hear you,” he said as Em handed him a mug.

“Cup of tea,” she replied, as she climbed out of the ring.

“I don’t drink tea,” he whispered to me, and he got points from me for not offending her.

“If it’s going spare, I’ll take that,” Kieran told him as he climbed in the ring after Em.

“Don’t worry about it,” I told Earnshaw. “It’s sort of what Em does when someone needs comfort. She either drinks tea or makes it for someone else. We’ll break it to her that you only like coffee when you haven’t just been knocked out.” The three of us sat propped up against the ropes, Kieran drinking his tea, Earnshaw trying to focus his vision, and me waiting for Danny to come out of the office and bawl me out for taking a break.

“What the feckin’ hell is this?” I heard, and we all smiled. “Deaf, dumb, and blind, the three feckin’ stupid monkeys. You wanna sit round like a bunch of old ladies, fuck off down the Salvation Army cafe. They’re having tea and biscuits with the pensioners today. They invited me but I told them I couldn’t take all the excitement. Watching you three train is much more relaxing. It shouldn’t be. Now move!” he barked across the ring, and we jumped to attention.

Earnshaw got up too quick, got dizzy, and fell back down, which made Danny roll his eyes and walk toward the storage cupboard, muttering all the while about the travesty that was our generation. He came back with three skipping ropes and chucked them at us. Climbing out of the ring, I nudged Earnshaw. “Change out of your trainers and put some boxing shoes on. Danny keeps a couple of spare pairs in the cupboard.”

“I’ve got my own. I’ve just never used them for jumping rope before.”

“In this country, mate, it’s called skipping,” Kieran told him.

“Skipping is for little girls. Jumping rope is for fighters,” he replied.

“Well us ‘little girls’ are gonna kick your arse.”

“Con, maybe,” Earnshaw retorted, “but not you.”

”We’ll see,” said Kieran, grinning cockily. “Danny makes every fighter, from the juniors to us, skip for hours. It teaches you how to transfer weight from foot to foot quickly and builds solid muscle.”

“Why not focus on squats like most trainers do?” he asked curiously.

“Because squats ain’t nowhere near fast enough. You need hundreds of repetitions for hours to get the sort of muscle development I’m looking for. These boys ain’t been training like this for the last few months. They’ve been training like this since the day they first walked through the doors,” Kieran said, adding his opinion into the mix.

“But squats combined with circuits and running will give you that,” Earnshaw argued. Kieran and I smirked at each other. No one argued with Danny’s training schedule.

“Skipping is fast and constant. You don’t just need strength in a fight, you need speed and efficiency. There’s a technique to skipping that will teach you to jump and bounce for hours without getting tired. You need proof, then let’s give it a go. Both my boys will outlast you skipping any day of the week,” Kieran said.

“You’re on,” he agreed, and Danny laughed. Two hours later, Earnshaw was in the bathroom, puking his guts up, when Liam called Kieran’s phone.

“Shit, man, is that serious? What does it mean for the rest of the trial? No fucking way… Shit! Yeah, just get back here as soon as you can, okay. The shit’s gonna hit the fan, and I’m gonna need your help keeping it together.” By the end of the conversation, Kier had turned his back on us and was talking quietly into his phone.

“Okay, bye,” he said, disconnecting the call.

“Where’s Em?” he asked me, turning around.

“In the office making coffee. What’s going on?” He ignored me and jogged over to Danny.

“Go in the office with Em, turn the music up higher on the gym speakers, close the door, and keep her busy.” Danny looked at Kieran’s mobile and then at me.

“How long d’you need?”

“An hour,” he said. “Liam will be here by then. Either we’ll have it under control or we’ll get him out of here.”

My heart was beating nearly out of my chest with anxiety, trying to imagine what was going on that was so bad they’d separate me and Sunshine. Danny walked toward the office and shut the door behind him. Seconds later, the music went higher as Kieran had instructed.

“What the fuck is going on?” I asked. Sitting in front of the ring, he ran his hand down his face. The look of utter fucking devastation scared me.

“The judge ruled Em’s rape kit inadmissible as evidence.”

“I don’t understand, why?”

“The police officer who arrested Frank went to the hospital to check on Em. While he was there, he offered to transport the rape kit to the lab. He thought he was doing a good thing. Thought it would speed up the charges. Anyway, Frank’s solicitor claimed that his involvement after Frank’s arrest contaminated the rape kit. Judge ruled in his favor today. The jury won’t get to know the results of the kit. It’s Frank’s word against Em’s now.”

“Motherfucker,” I screamed and grabbed the nearest thing I could find. The stool splintered and fell apart as it crashed into the wall. This wasn’t anger…this was blind fucking rage. The motherfucker was gonna get away with it. Em deserved to have people know the results of that kit. It shouldn’t have to be his word against hers. The kit was supposed to convict him, and now it was all on Em’s testimony.

I stood with my hands behind my head as I tried to rein it in but it was no good. There was no rationality, just the blind, fucking inescapable urge to rip something apart. This would destroy Sunshine, and I couldn’t see that look on her face when she found out. I stared at the door of the office and was torn between embracing my rage and needing to protect her.

“Ring. Now,” Kieran demanded, and I followed his lead. Whipping his T-shirt over his head, he chucked it to the floor and gave me a right hook to the face. His fists weren’t wrapped, and his knuckles split on impact. It was all I needed to trip the switch. My own hands were wrapped, which meant I could go for hours before my hands gave out. Jab, jab, hook. Jab, jab uppercut. I pounded on him with no technique. No grace. Just anger and pain.

When I’d given him a pretty decent going-over, he dropped his guard and bounced around the ring returning what I’d delivered. His hits weren’t as heavy as mine but they still hurt. With every hit my anger drained away and Kier stopped punching as soon as I dropped to my knees.

“Shit, Kier, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Con. You’d do the same thing for me. God willing, you’ll never have to.”

“What am I going to do?” I asked him.

“There’s nothing you can do. Calm down, shower, and change, and we’ll sit down and tell her together,” said Kier.

“No,” I told them, swallowing hard. “She won’t want to talk to you about this. Just keep her company long enough for me to shower and I’ll break it to her myself. She has another counseling session tonight so we’ll go straight there after we leave. It might do her some good.”

Kier bent down and wrapped his arm around my neck, pulling my head down to rest on his shoulder. “It’s gonna be all right. I don’t know how things are going to go from here but I do know that everything will work itself out in the end.”

I showered and changed quickly while Liam sat with Em. I was fucking devastated about what I was about to do to Em. Everything was falling apart, including me, and I had no clue how to keep it all together. If there was a way of getting out of this dark hole without Em suffering even more, I couldn’t see it. As soon as I opened the door to the office, she knew that something was wrong.

“What’s happened?” she asked me softly. Looking around the room, I could see the devastation on the guy’s faces and the worried look on Danny’s. Saying nothing, I held out my hand to her, and she took it. I closed the door behind us, leaving Kier to tell Danny. Sitting up against the ropes seems to have been where I spent most of the day so that’s where I told her.

When it was done, she put her head in my lap, curled up into the fetal position, and sobbed. Her anguished cries racked her body, and I did nothing but hold her tight and stroke her hair. I didn’t tell her everything would be all right, or that Frank would get sent down. I’d only made one promise to her as she wept, I made another to myself. My promise to her was that he would never get to touch her ever again. My promise to myself was that justice would be served. Either in the courtroom or out of it. If he went down, I’d let it go. If he went free, vengeance would have its day.

*  *  *

It wasn’t a huge surprise to find the motley crew of both our sets of friends standing around in suits on the steep steps of the law courts.

“You look like the cast of Ocean’s Eleven,” I told them.

“I’m Brad Pitt,” Kieran called out.

“I’m George Clooney,” Liam said.

“I should be Brad Pitt,” Tommy grumbled.

“Nah, you’d be one of the stupid brothers,” Kieran told him.

“Do I get to be one?” Earnshaw asked.

“Depends,” Tommy answered. “Who d’you wanna be?”

“How ’bout Don Cheadle?” he said.

“You know you’re not black, don’t you?” Tommy asked him seriously.

“Don’t be racist,” Kieran told him.

“I’m not being fuckin’ racist. I’m just asking if he knows.” Kieran turned to me and Em. “You ever hear that saying, ‘sometimes I listen to you speak and I wonder who ties your shoelaces.’”

We all turned to Tommy, and Kieran winked as Em giggled.

*  *  *

For an hour, we stood on those steps shivering so Em felt like she could breathe. Even Danny sat out there with us.

Finally she turned to me. “You know much I love you,” she told me quietly.

“I know. Why?” I asked warily, knowing that I wouldn’t like the sound of what was coming next.

“I don’t want you to come in with me,” she told me.

“Why?” I asked through clenched teeth.

“It’s enough for me knowing that you’re on the other side of the door. It’s enough for me to get through this. But I can’t go through every detail of what happened, knowing that you’re listening. I’d try and make it sound better than it was because I don’t want to hurt you. And when I’m cross-examined, I’ll be worried about you losing your temper at the barrister. If I know that you’re just a door away, I can do what I need to, and I can do it honestly,” she explained.

“Emily O’Connell,” the clerk called out in a clear voice, and we all stood.

“I don’t fuckin’ like this, Em; you’re my wife. You shouldn’t have to face Frank alone. I should be with you.”

“You will be,” she said and kissed me.

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