Page 4 of Southie
Hundreds of people packed the old warehouse on fight night. They placed both small and large bets on the fights, and Chaney pocketed most of the money for himself.
However, when it came to the upkeep of this place, he skimped and patched. It was a damn shame too because a lot of the fighters, including myself, loved what we did. If he classed up the place some, the fights would draw larger crowds which meant more money for everyone.
We made Chaney a lot of money despite the conditions of this place and his thieving ass wouldn’t even give us a comfortable place to work.
Douglas’s deep laughter echoed down the narrow dark hall. This shit wasn’t funny, though.
I flipped him off again although I doubted he saw the gesture down the unlit corridor.
I despised Chaney Moreno with a passion. He was the current manager and organizer of the underground MMA circuit in Boston.
Other than my parents, there was no one I hated more than him. The fat slime ball was a thief and had skimmed off my earnings from the beginning. He didn’t think I knew, but I did. Charlie, Chaney’s girlfriend, told me one night after a fight that he always took more than his cut from every fighter. For the information, she thought I’d fuck her or let her give me head, so there was no doubt she’d told me the truth.
Chaney stealing from me was one reason I hadn’t saved enough money to leave Southie. If I could get away with it, I’d bash the bastard’s head in and leave his ass to rot in some alley. The only thing stopping me was fighting on the circuit. It was the only way to make any good money, and from what I’d heard around the neighborhood, he was under Paddy O’Connor’s protection.
It made sense Paddy controlled the fight scene around here. He controlled every illegal operation in New England. If that were true, I didn’t need to be on Paddy’s radar any more than what I already was with my Pops’ debt. Therefore, like everything else in my fucked-up life, I sucked it up and dealt with it.
But Chaney’s time would come.
Someway, somehow, I’d get rid of him.
I tapped on the old wooden door and received a grunt in response.
“Shit,” I mumbled.
Heat crept over my body, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. Rage engulfed me. I already knew what awaited me on the other side. It pissed me off, but I needed the money.
I inhaled and exhaled the building’s stale, musty air to push down the anger that ripped through me. I knew what was coming and my reaction would always be the same.
After pushing the old rickety wooden door open, I grimaced.
The greaseball was an exhibitionist, and trashy ass Charlie had harbored a crush on me ever since she was young and would do anything to get my attention. Because of her little crush, anytime I was on the card to fight, she’d convince Chaney to get me in this stuffy ass, rundown office to watch her suck his dick, hoping I’d join in.
I’d rather gouge my eyes out than see this shit or get anywhere near these nasty fucks.
“What do you want?” My words came out harsh. Harsher than they should’ve since he was the boss.
I endured these two every time I was here, and I had reached the end of my rope of being subjected to it. All I wanted was to fight, make my money, and leave Southie for good. All they wanted to do was interfere with my plans.
As usual, Chaney sat on his dingy, stained, creamed colored couch instead of behind his desk. I cringed at the thought of what all those brown and red stains littering the broken-down couch could be. The tramp was on her knees between his fat, hairy legs. His short stubby fingers were wrapped in her long, ginger-colored hair as she moved her head up and down on his dick, staring up at me with lust, instead of him.
“Is that any way to talk to your boss?” Chaney grunted out.
When I sat down, I took in a deep breath. Right then, I wished I hadn’t. The stench of sweat, sex, and shit burned the insides of my nostrils. It took everything in me to remain seated.
I gritted my teeth together to keep from flipping the fuck out. I was sure my jaw would hurt tomorrow, or I would chip a tooth from the grinding.
Chaney was right; he was the boss, and I needed to get myself under control. It would be crazy to bite the hand that fed me. I needed Chaney much more than he needed me, and he’d use it against me. That was why he had no problem putting me through this every week and stealing my money.
I was by far the best fighter on the circuit and pulled in the largest purse on any night, but Chaney could replace me with any fighter looking to make a name for himself. Fighting was my only ticket out of Southie, so I needed to remain focused on that, regardless of what Chaney said or did.
I leaned back in the metal folding chair, arms folded over my chest and eyes fixed on the countless water-stained tiles in a ceiling that looked like it would cave in at any minute. Their eyes on me made my skin crawl. If she’d just focus on the head she was giving Chaney, and he’d focus on what she was doing, I could get the hell out of here.
Charlene Murphy, who everyone called Charlie, was a pretty girl from the neighborhood. She was petite, maybe five foot two with alabaster skin the color of snow and a light dusting of freckles that covered most of it.
Charlie was a ring girl before she became Chaney’s girl. Or his whore. I wasn’t sure of her status in their relationship. Seth, her older brother, and I attended grade school together when they moved into the neighborhood.
Unlike Charlie, Seth got out of South Boston. He joined the military straight out of high school. He tried to get me to enlist with him but going to war and killing people was something I’d never wanted to do.
