Page 59 of Rematch
“Oh, so him disrespecting you is ‘stupid shit’?”
“I didn’t ask you to defend me.”
“You don’t have to. I’m always gonna defend and protect you - no matter what.”
“And I thank you for that, but I just…I hoped you’d have grown past the petty fights by now. I hoped you finally learned how to walk away.”
“‘Walking away’ isn’t an option. Not for me.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do,” he said, his voice grave. “The last time I did, Jordan died.”
My brows pinched together. “What?”
He kept his eyes glued to the floor. “That drive-by… We weren’t caught between it. I was the target.”
“What?” I repeated, appalled by what I was hearing.
His chest rose and fell as he ran back the incident in his head. “The night before, we were walking home and, uh, one of my opponents stepped to me. He was still salty about losing and was pissed that I beat his ass again when he stepped to me in the street. I wasn’t in the mood to fight with him for a third time, so I told him to fuck off and turned my back on him. He ran with some hard guys, and I guess I made him look soft. He didn’t like that, so the next night he decided to take another shot at me -literally.”
“Oh my god,” I murmured as the picture played in my mind. Jordan, with his camera around his neck, and Max, with his duffel bag over his shoulders, conversing without a care in theworld. Their faces falling from laughter to fear as the car pulled up beside them.
“After Jordan died, I…I was so fucked up mentally and emotionally. Those bullets weren’t meant for him. I was the one who should’ve been buried in the ground - not him.”
“Max,” I murmured, slipping my hand over his cheek. “Don’t say that.”
“But, it’s true. He was one of the best people I knew. He didn’t deserve to die. I remember I was so angry…” He trailed off as the memory glazed over his eyes. “I made a lot of decisions that I regret: not cooperating with the police, pushing you away, going to the underground fight rings to get revenge.”
My eyes widened. “You went where?”
“There’s an underground fight ring in the city. My father’s organization runs the meets. The night you came home, the night we got into that fight, was the first time I went. I heard through the grapevine that the shooter liked to participate in them, so I gave him the rematch he’d been asking for.”
The cold shift in his tone sent a shiver down my spine.
“His buddies weren’t too happy about me damn near beating the life out of him, so they tried their chances to get in the ring with me too. I fucked all of them up too. Needless to say my dad was impressed and scooped me up while my logic was still gone. I’ve been working for him since then - fighting, collecting debts, cleaning money, and now running the rings myself.”
“There isn’t any way you can get out? I mean, you don’t want to be a part of this…do you?”
“Of course not, but it’s in my blood, Audrey. There is no way out.”
The truth lingered for a few moments, weighing heavy on our minds. As much as I wanted to deny it, Max was right. No matter how far Max tried to run, his father, or his shadow, always caught up to him.
Solemnity hovered over us as I finished cleaning and bandaging his knuckles. The cool touch of the ice pack tamed the swelling on his eye, and it didn’t look as bad as it did when he arrived. I put a bandage over the area to prevent further irritation.
He rose from my bed after I was done. “Thanks,” he whispered as he took a step towards the window.
I grabbed his hand before he could take another. “No,” I murmured, pulling him back. “You’re not driving again. Not at this time of night. You need ibuprofen and rest.”
His brows came together as I tugged him back down onto the bed. He watched me shuffle to the other side of the room and flip through one of my drawers. Some of his clothes were still buried at the bottom. I found a pair of pajama pants and tossed them at him.
“Put those on,” I commanded. “I’ll grab the medicine and some water.”
I didn’t look back as I rushed out the door again. I didn’t like the look on his face, twisted up with confusion - as if he wasn’t expecting for me to care for him. Despite everything that’s happened, he was still my best friend. I was always going to take care of him.
Max’s back was the first thing I saw when I walked back into the room. His muscles there flexed as he finished pulling his shirt over his head. Purple bruises bloomed like flowers across his brown skin. If I could, I’d pick every last one of them, absolving him of any pain.
Dragging my eyes away, I approached him and shoved the pills and water bottle into his hands. I waited until he’d taken the ibuprofen to turn off my lamp, take my glasses off and climb back into bed. I lay on the opposite end of the bed, giving Max plenty of space to stretch out, and curled up on my side.
