Page 5 of Unlucky You

I still had the things she kept for me after I was locked up, so I wasn’t completely destitute, but my priorities changed. The only thing I really cared about was being a father to my son, which meant supporting him financially. I also wanted to make sure my mom was good. I was grateful she’d stepped up. I prayedevery day, thankful that my son had her in his life because she was all he had.

I was home now, so he had me too. I simply needed to get some things situated so I could be the father he deserved.

I lookedat the folded paper and checked the address once more. There was nothing printed on the building but according to the GPS on my phone I was at the right location. I called the number listed and leaned back, staring at the abandoned building.

“Who’s this?” a male voice answered, sounding annoyed.

“My name is Grand. Travis gave me this number and address. Said I could reach out to you to make some quick money.”

“You here?”

“Yeah, just pulled up.”

The line went silent.

“What type of shit is this?” I murmured.

Whoever the guy was hung up. I was seconds from leaving when I noticed the metal door to the abandoned building swing open and a guy who had me by about six inches and another fifty, possibly sixty, pounds stepped into the sunlight. He narrowed his eyes on my windshield then waved me over.

I wasn’t sure if I trusted any of this shit, but at the moment, I needed money. I was a convicted felon. Manslaughter was still murder in the eyes of most; so there weren’t going to be endless offers from people wanting to employ me. I had to use what I could. I snatched up my phone, stepped out of my Charger,which I was grateful my mother had held onto, and crossed the empty parking lot, stopping a few feet shy of the guy waiting.

“Travis let me know you would be coming by. No discussion about what we do here on the phone. Only in person and if anyone comes around looking for you, bringing shit to my establishment, then you’ve got problems. The kind most people don’t like having, understood?”

My jaw clenched in aggravation but this had to work.

“Yeah.”

Internally, my response was fuck you and whatever you think you can do to me doesn’t matter. The worst had already been done, but again, I needed the money so I played along for now.

“Follow me. We can talk inside.”

The dimly-lit building wasn’t appealing. Not even when we took the stairs to the basement level where there was an open space with cinderblock walls, concrete floors, and three massive, metal rolling doors. This space used to be some sort of loading area. There were metal chairs scattered about, lining one of the walls, and a dry erase board that had to be about eight feet long affixed to a wall. Names were scribbled in a list, six total. Each one crossed out with one circled.Crash.

“He’s the guy to beat,” sounded from beside me. I nodded but didn’t respond about the fighter. Whoever Crash was would be beat.

“How does this work?” I questioned.

“Simple, you fight, you win. You win, you keep fighting. Last man standing at the end of the night gets the pot.”

“You only get paid if you beat everyone?”

“You get paid for the fights you win, just not as much. Five hundred per fight for you until you make a name for yourself.”

“You mean until you know whether or not you can make money off me.”

“I take all the risk. This shit is not sanctioned but you know that. Cops show up, I have to pay to make them forget what they saw.”

“They show up often?”

Last thing I needed was to get caught up with underground fighting. The courts would drag my ass right back to prison and throw away the key, considering my charges.

“I pay enough to keep them away but that doesn’t always work. If they show, I pay to make sure no one leaves in cuffs, which is why you don’t get as much per fight when you’re new. Essentially, you’re paying insurance.”

“You offering medical help to your fighters?” I knew what he meant by insurance. Just wanted him to say it out loud. Insurance that I didn’t go to jail.

“No, I’m ensuring you don’t end up behind bars again. Travis filled me in on your background. Fighting will be an issue for you.”

I glared in irritation at Travis speaking on me and this guy bringing it up and he added, “If you’re good, you make money. If you make money, I raise your payout.”

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