Page 52 of Love Bleeds Red
“What are you?”
As if I’m some fucking alternate species of human.
I’ve heard it all. Ignorant questions they’d say in passing… like it was no big deal.
“You adopted or something?”
“So, like… what are you exactly? Like, what do we call you?”
And then there were the cruel ones that came as I got older. Comments I don’t even want to replay in my mind. It was hard enough having a father who didn’t give a shit that I was alive without bringing our racial differences into it. What James said was fucking disgusting and I’m glad he’s knocked on his ass.
Tank’s voice booms that I’m the winner before calling the names of the next two fighters. Cruz rushes to my side, patting me on the shoulder.
“Fucking brilliant! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look that angry, and that’s counting the time Abel dribbled piss on your bike.”
He hands me my shirt, which I use to wipe my face before shrugging it on. I don’t look behind me, if James doesn’t get back up, I don’t give a shit. I’m headed for one person—Knapp.
“Lee?” Cruz asks. “Did ya hear me?”
“Huh?” I ask, finally registering that he’s been asking me a question.
He steps in front of me, and peers into my eyes. “Maybe we should get you to a doc. Get checked out.”
“No, I’m fine.” I step around him. “Just need to finish up here and get home.”
I’m sure he thinks I have a concussion, but really, I’m just processing. Maybe there’s aslightconcussion too, but I’ll live.
“If you’re sure?” I nod again. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go collect. Meet you out front?”
“You can head home,” I tell him. As much as I like Cruz, I don’t have it in me to carry a conversation at this point. I clap him on the shoulder, thanking him for setting this up, and head straight to a smirking Knapp.
“Have to say, I wasn’t sure about you, but you won me a lot of money tonight. Had my doubts when I saw who you were fighting, but you proved me wrong.”
I wipe a drip of blood from my nose with the back of my hand and square my shoulders. “Great. I need hardware, you need payment. Let’s do business.”
His eyes narrow and my stomach drops for a second, but then he chuckles, gesturing to the guy next to him. “I like this one.”
I force a laugh. It sounds unnatural but anything to get this over with.
Knapp leans in, speaking low. “Tomorrow. 10:00 PM. Clancy’s Garage, 23 Millwall Road. Park around back, knock three times on the rear door.”
“I’ll be there,” I say. As I pull away, his hand grasps my shoulder, holding me in place.
“Bring cash. And come alone.” His thick hand releases me and he’s already onto betting on the next round.
With our agreement settled, I stop by Tank to say goodbye, collecting my meager winnings. She tries to strike up a conversation, judging from the rare look of concern on her face, probably about James, but I cut her off.
I need air. I need a stiff drink. And most of all, I need to ice my head.
I waketo the sound of voices drifting upstairs from the kitchen. Either someone’s trying to split my head with an ax or I’m paying for my choices last night. Uppercuts and copious amounts of whiskey don’t mix.
I groan and sit up slowly, cataloguing the damage—split lip, bruised ribs, and what feels like a mild concussion. It’ll be worth it after I get what I need tonight.
Sunlight streams in through a crack in the drapes, somehow aiming directly at my eyes like laser beams. I groan, shielding my eyes with my hand. “Bloody fuckin?—”
Mum stops laughing and I hear a male voice responding. A familiar male voice—posh accent, entitled drawl.
James.
