Cut Wide Open
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I pulled my shirt overhead and handed it to Knuckles. “You taping up?” he asked taking a pull on his Budweiser.
“Not tonight.”
Dimitri laughed. His laugh was more like a cackle that men stopped to see what would follow. “Gentleman, bloodhounds, scoundrels alike. Tonight, I have a fighter for you that hasn't been in this ring for a very long time, but I can promise you, he’s every bit as lethal as the last time he was here. Who will fight him?” He paused and looked around the room, “You?” he asked stopping at a man who fought often, a man I’d fought in the past.
“Not tonight,” the man shook his head.
“I’ll take a piece of him,” A large man that had to be at least six-five said, stepping out of the shadows. This was all choreographed. Dimitri knew exactly who I was fighting. He did it for the crowd. “Bull, so nice of you to step up.” Dimitri’s man started taking bets as I eyed Bull. We stood in the circle on the floor. The last fighters, long gone.
One of Dimitri’s men took bets. I was smaller than Bull. The crowd was familiar with him, not me. He was clearly favorited. Bring it on.
This wasn't a professional match where a ref would stop us after so many minutes. Nope, this was the type of fight that you didn't walk away from easily. Rules were for pansies. We didn't kill each other, at least not intentionally, other than that, everything goes.
Bull was tall, broad shoulders, with a scar ran down his chest like he’d been split open before. His stance wasn't necessarily of a fighter and the way he circled me, I realized he most likely won based on size and force. He took up more space in the ring than me, but not by much. He was only a few inches taller than me. His arms were bigger, but that didn’t mean much. He was the first to strike. It was intentional on my part. I liked to know right upfront what my opponent brought. When his right hook connected, it was a fucking force. He hit like a truck.
I let him get two more hits in. Truth was, I wanted the pain. I felt like I deserved it. Every time he struck me, the crowd went wilder. They thought he was going to be their big payoff. They thought fucking wrong.
Bull moved to hit me in the ribs. I ducked, swept my leg out, and a split second later, I took the legs out from under their mighty Bull. The room took on a murmur instead of a roar. I could’ve jumped on Bull and ended the fight. I didn’t. I let him get up so that I could knock him down again. The second time he was a bit more prepared for it, so I changed tactics and hit him with a quick throat punch before knocking him down again. I could see he was beginning to get pissed.
While down, he lunged for my legs. I kicked and he grabbed my ankle. Using my other leg, I kneed the big fucker in his face. His head lulled to the side, and then all too soon, I let my rage out. I beat the motherfucker until they were pulling me off and raising my arms. I was declared the victor as more grumbles from the crowd ignited, because between me and McGuiness, tonight they were losing their wallets.
Dimitri clapped me on the back with a smile. “Thank you, I knew you’d win that one,” he said to me, then raised my arm, “Ladies and gentleman, one of the best fighter’s you will ever see, Gunner the hitman!” I gave a quick shake of my head because that name was stupid.
Fifteen minutes later, I was tilting back a beer , letting that ice cold Budweiser hit the back of my throat. Knuckles laughed beside me, “Never saw you quite like that.”
Donnie shook his head, “You got it all out?”
I looked at my already bruising fist. “Don’t know if I’ll ever get it all out.”
Knuckles sobered and sat up straighter.
Dimitri walked up with a small scowl on his face. “Thirty-five G’s on the first fight, and your fight? Holy shit, man. What the fuck?” Alright, so we bet pretty fucking heavy.
I eyed him up and down, deciding an ally wouldn't be a bad thing. “I’ll tell you what. You pay me my payout for the kid, and I’ll let my fight go provided I get a marker.”
Dimitri rubbed his chin and thought on this for a moment, then smiled, reached out his hand to shake mine, and said, “Deal.”
Knuckles and Donnie followed me out. We threw our legs over our bikes and started the ride back. Thoughts of my Charlie before she was broken, plagued me. No, that wasn’t quite right. She had always been kind of broken. I looked past how broken she used to be and saw it as her unique perfection. She was able to take her shit life, and still come out shining. I didn't want to see all of the pain she’d endured, when she was so young. It hurt to see something so beautiful, so damaged. So now, when she was really truly fucked, well now, it broke me too. I was used to being broken, I’d been in fucking pieces for so long. I just needed to keep a lid on my shit at least enough that I could carry Charlie’s weight. Coming here to fight might have helped with my rage, but the more I thought about leaving my family, the more fucked up I knew I was. That ring wasn't where I belonged, and my brothers knew it. I was just so caught up in my rage that I had to get it out the only way I knew how. I needed to trust in what they had to say to me, because it wasn't just me anymore.
Chapter Twenty Charlie
I blinked. The room was dark and I was cold. I didn’t have the same heat at my back that I was becoming accustomed too. I was alone, but something had woken me, and then I heard it. “Mom, don’t go. Momma, stay.”
“Shh, boy. It’s just a dream.”
His sobs followed and I couldn't lay here while my son fell apart. I shot out of bed, quickly tied the robe around me, and then left the room to find my son being consoled by one of Gunner’s friends. Gunner wasn't here and my sweet boy was being comforted by someone I didn't know.
I’d been beaten down before.
I’d been broken.
But it wasn't about me. My son needed me.
Acting on pure adrenaline, I took him from the tattooed biker and scooped him up in my arms. He was heavier, or I was weaker than I realized either way, I didn't care. I held him to me. I attempted to walk back to the room but my tattered body wouldn't let me. I plopped us down into the nearest recliner desperate to not drop him.
“Shh,” I purred. It was that simple sound that had my son look up at me and quiet his tumultuous mind. I couldn't think about anything, but Gun. I couldn't think about my trauma, or my body. I couldn't think about what I’d been through. I needed to get my shit together, because it wasn't just me. Gun needed me. He is what I held on to while I was in that hell. He is who I’d prayed to have in my arms again, and he is who needed me right now.
“Not tonight.”
Dimitri laughed. His laugh was more like a cackle that men stopped to see what would follow. “Gentleman, bloodhounds, scoundrels alike. Tonight, I have a fighter for you that hasn't been in this ring for a very long time, but I can promise you, he’s every bit as lethal as the last time he was here. Who will fight him?” He paused and looked around the room, “You?” he asked stopping at a man who fought often, a man I’d fought in the past.
“Not tonight,” the man shook his head.
“I’ll take a piece of him,” A large man that had to be at least six-five said, stepping out of the shadows. This was all choreographed. Dimitri knew exactly who I was fighting. He did it for the crowd. “Bull, so nice of you to step up.” Dimitri’s man started taking bets as I eyed Bull. We stood in the circle on the floor. The last fighters, long gone.
One of Dimitri’s men took bets. I was smaller than Bull. The crowd was familiar with him, not me. He was clearly favorited. Bring it on.
This wasn't a professional match where a ref would stop us after so many minutes. Nope, this was the type of fight that you didn't walk away from easily. Rules were for pansies. We didn't kill each other, at least not intentionally, other than that, everything goes.
Bull was tall, broad shoulders, with a scar ran down his chest like he’d been split open before. His stance wasn't necessarily of a fighter and the way he circled me, I realized he most likely won based on size and force. He took up more space in the ring than me, but not by much. He was only a few inches taller than me. His arms were bigger, but that didn’t mean much. He was the first to strike. It was intentional on my part. I liked to know right upfront what my opponent brought. When his right hook connected, it was a fucking force. He hit like a truck.
I let him get two more hits in. Truth was, I wanted the pain. I felt like I deserved it. Every time he struck me, the crowd went wilder. They thought he was going to be their big payoff. They thought fucking wrong.
Bull moved to hit me in the ribs. I ducked, swept my leg out, and a split second later, I took the legs out from under their mighty Bull. The room took on a murmur instead of a roar. I could’ve jumped on Bull and ended the fight. I didn’t. I let him get up so that I could knock him down again. The second time he was a bit more prepared for it, so I changed tactics and hit him with a quick throat punch before knocking him down again. I could see he was beginning to get pissed.
While down, he lunged for my legs. I kicked and he grabbed my ankle. Using my other leg, I kneed the big fucker in his face. His head lulled to the side, and then all too soon, I let my rage out. I beat the motherfucker until they were pulling me off and raising my arms. I was declared the victor as more grumbles from the crowd ignited, because between me and McGuiness, tonight they were losing their wallets.
Dimitri clapped me on the back with a smile. “Thank you, I knew you’d win that one,” he said to me, then raised my arm, “Ladies and gentleman, one of the best fighter’s you will ever see, Gunner the hitman!” I gave a quick shake of my head because that name was stupid.
Fifteen minutes later, I was tilting back a beer , letting that ice cold Budweiser hit the back of my throat. Knuckles laughed beside me, “Never saw you quite like that.”
Donnie shook his head, “You got it all out?”
I looked at my already bruising fist. “Don’t know if I’ll ever get it all out.”
Knuckles sobered and sat up straighter.
Dimitri walked up with a small scowl on his face. “Thirty-five G’s on the first fight, and your fight? Holy shit, man. What the fuck?” Alright, so we bet pretty fucking heavy.
I eyed him up and down, deciding an ally wouldn't be a bad thing. “I’ll tell you what. You pay me my payout for the kid, and I’ll let my fight go provided I get a marker.”
Dimitri rubbed his chin and thought on this for a moment, then smiled, reached out his hand to shake mine, and said, “Deal.”
Knuckles and Donnie followed me out. We threw our legs over our bikes and started the ride back. Thoughts of my Charlie before she was broken, plagued me. No, that wasn’t quite right. She had always been kind of broken. I looked past how broken she used to be and saw it as her unique perfection. She was able to take her shit life, and still come out shining. I didn't want to see all of the pain she’d endured, when she was so young. It hurt to see something so beautiful, so damaged. So now, when she was really truly fucked, well now, it broke me too. I was used to being broken, I’d been in fucking pieces for so long. I just needed to keep a lid on my shit at least enough that I could carry Charlie’s weight. Coming here to fight might have helped with my rage, but the more I thought about leaving my family, the more fucked up I knew I was. That ring wasn't where I belonged, and my brothers knew it. I was just so caught up in my rage that I had to get it out the only way I knew how. I needed to trust in what they had to say to me, because it wasn't just me anymore.
Chapter Twenty Charlie
I blinked. The room was dark and I was cold. I didn’t have the same heat at my back that I was becoming accustomed too. I was alone, but something had woken me, and then I heard it. “Mom, don’t go. Momma, stay.”
“Shh, boy. It’s just a dream.”
His sobs followed and I couldn't lay here while my son fell apart. I shot out of bed, quickly tied the robe around me, and then left the room to find my son being consoled by one of Gunner’s friends. Gunner wasn't here and my sweet boy was being comforted by someone I didn't know.
I’d been beaten down before.
I’d been broken.
But it wasn't about me. My son needed me.
Acting on pure adrenaline, I took him from the tattooed biker and scooped him up in my arms. He was heavier, or I was weaker than I realized either way, I didn't care. I held him to me. I attempted to walk back to the room but my tattered body wouldn't let me. I plopped us down into the nearest recliner desperate to not drop him.
“Shh,” I purred. It was that simple sound that had my son look up at me and quiet his tumultuous mind. I couldn't think about anything, but Gun. I couldn't think about my trauma, or my body. I couldn't think about what I’d been through. I needed to get my shit together, because it wasn't just me. Gun needed me. He is what I held on to while I was in that hell. He is who I’d prayed to have in my arms again, and he is who needed me right now.
