Page 3 of Risky Fight

My brothers will shit their knickers, Will would probably leave me, but it might scratch this restless itch I can’t get rid of. I can’t explain what I have been feeling. No one would understand it, but it’s like I am trapped in a life I hate. There was a time here I had massive dreams, and they got crushed. Now I am too afraid to dream or want anything more than what I have, because I don’t ever want to feel the bitter sting of disappointment again.

Best to just be satisfied with my mediocre chaotic life than be disappointed by the promise of more.

The bath has turned tepid, and my knuckles are swollen and sore when I drag myself out, dry off and flop onto the bed without even opening the covers. It’s too fucking hot for a duvet anyway. My phone buzzes with a text message — it’s either Will or one of my brothers. No one else texts me. I roll my eyes and chose to willfully ignore it, nothing they say will help me sleep. I’d rather get all their mad in the morning after I have slept, I’m tired as fuck.

The buzzes keep coming and I roll over so I can’t see the screen light flash, close my eyes and think about the feeling I got when that car drove by. I need to be more vigilant, this isn’t exactly the suburbs and my family are less than upstanding members of society.

I should get a gun, is my last thought before I doze off.

***

The sound of my alarm assaults me, and I groan, wanting it to stop. My hand is throbbing too much to turn the fucking thing off and my head has a five-piece mariachi band playing inside it. My hangover might kill me if I don’t silence the hell that is my phone alarm. “Fuck.” I wince in pain as I clumsily slide a finger across the screen to terminate the noise.

I should get up and run, but there’s not a fuck that is happening today, so I pull the covers over my head and pretend it’s not morning. A few extra z’s will fix the wreckage I have left my poor body in. I’m getting too old for weeknight shenanigans, it’s not worth feeling like death in the morning.

“Lou!” The sound of my name and a pounding on my door wakes me up a second time. Fuck my life. I just wanted to sleep in. “Lou, open up.” It’s mybestfriend, my only girl-friend, and my cousin, Rory. Her and her rich-ass Russian husband are here for a few weeks this summer, God only knows why, when they could be anywhere.

“Ugh.” I wipe the muck out my eyes, stretch and pull a t-shirt and a pair of knickers on to open the door. “What?” I say my voice groggy with sleep, and I know I look like hell threw me up after a bout of indigestion.

“Jesus, you look like shit on toast.” Never one to mince words, she’s real peach, is Rory. “Will told Callum you got into a brawl last night.” I step aside allowing her in, only because she comes bearing breakfast and coffee for my hangover.

“Will is a snitch,” I snarl, still not happy about him coming to get me, “and you should see the other guy.” I gloat. “Jackass won’t touch me again.” Rory rolls her eyes, hands me the food and coffee before sitting down on my sofa like she lives here.

“I came to make sure you’re alive, and let you know we’re going to be gone in few days.” That was fast, but she really has no good reason to stay here anymore. “Alek has business with his cousin in London, so we’re going there for a while.”

“Sounds like fun,” I mock with a grin. She married a mafia boss, we all know that’s what he is, “you know you should take me with you.” I wink and she giggles. Rory probably would, but I’d never leave, this shit-hole is home.

“You know you are welcome to visit us, anytime.” It’s tempting given the state of my life right now.

“I get seasick, and you live on a boat. Um, no thanks. I will pass,” I say smiling, but my face hurts when I do so I stop. “When you have a house upon dry land I’ll come see you.” I just have to look at a boat and I turn green.”

“Are you okay, Lou?” she asks me, this time softly, like she is really worried about me. “Really?”

I’m not okay, I haven’t been okay in a long time. The thing is I can’t explain it without sounding like I need a straitjacket and sneakers with no laces.

“I’m fine,” I lie, I always lie. It’s easier than the truth, “I just had a bad night that’s all.” She isn’t buying it, I can tell by her frown.

“Lou, you’re a terrible liar. Please don’t start playing poker or you’ll lose all your money.” I laugh, and she shakes her head. “Your face says this wasn’t just a bar fight. What’s up?”

“I thought I saw him,” I say to her, because she is one of the few who understands what happened, “last night, I was so drunk that I thought I saw Roark drive past me. Twice.” I might need that snug white jacket after all. “I know it’s stupid, he’s not here. I Goggled it, but it felt like he was watching me, and I swear it looked like him. I was shit-faced and took a shot to the head, so it’s probably just that.” I shake it off, even though my gut says something was off with that car.

“Lou,” Rory sighs, “he’s never coming back for you. You have a good thing with Will, don’t fuck it up. The fighting has to stop, and the drinking. It’s the middle of the week.” Somehow when she says it, I get less angry than when Will or my brothers tell me the same thing.

“I know,” I admit “I am going to look for a job once this calms down.” I point to my very fucked up face. “Try something new, move forward.” Her eyes light up when I say that and I know everyone is waiting for me to grow the fuck up. I have been stuck for five years so it’s about time.

“I think that’s a really good idea,” she says, but how do I let go of the only thing that still connects me to him? This means moving on, no going back. And I realize just how hard I have hung onto the false hope that he’s come back one day. Rory is right — he’s never coming back. “I can help if you want?” she offers but I know this is a step I have to take on my own terms, by myself.

“Nah,” I shake my head, “I’ve got this.”

We eat breakfast, and it somewhat cures my hangover, then Rory helps me fix my face as best she can before I get dressed to go into the gym. I’m late but the fact Callum sent her to check on me means I know I’m not going to be in shit over it. The people around me are worried, they know I am circling the drain and they’re all too afraid to tell me. I’m not stupid, I know I’m spiraling out of control and something massive needs to change.

Chapter2 - Roark

If I have to be honest I don’t know what the fucking hell I am doing back here — I could have fixed things. But somehow running away was easier than facing it all. Here at least I have family who will understand, in The States I would have been judged and cancelled by the social media vampires. I knew a shit storm was brewing, I could sense it. After my last loss, the tides were turning on me. Five years is a long ass career for a pro fighter and the young’uns, they’re hungry to toss us out and make names for themselves — it was me once so I understand it.

It wasn’t the best plan to get on a flight and run, I should have explained myself. Disappearing seemed a way better option. I saw online yesterday my agent spun some bullshit about me taking some summer vacation time to prep for the next big fight. There will be no next big fight for me. I have to get my priorities straight.

The whole city has this heaviness about it, I thought I had escaped the trap that was being stuck here for my entire life. Now I am living in a state of permanentdéjà vu, only my old man and a select few trusted family members know I am here. I do not need the press following me, not yet. There is more at stake than just me now, and I need to be careful who knows what, and when. Nolan, my son, came into my life in a whirlwind of chaos, but I’ll not have this life be chaotic.