Page 5 of Risky Fight

Damon is breathing. I shake him trying to wake him up knowing I’ll never move him on my own, he’s a big fella. I’m not sure what sort of mess they’re in so if I call the cops I might make this worse. What the fuck am I supposed to do? “Damon, wake up. Jesus, H, fucking Christ, what have you got into?” I poke him and he groans, so he’s not dead-dead, just completely battered to hell.

“Wha—wha—what?” He comes to, bewildered and very concussed. “Lou, Lou-lou. Why you here?” he asks me then whines like a stuck pig when he tries to move and starts to feel pain. “Fuck me, it hurts to breathe.” He grinds his teeth together.

“What the fuck happened? Where is Malcolm? I can’t get hold of him either.”

“We owe some money, they came to remind us.” He brushes it off as I cut the tape that holds him to the chair. “It’s nothing, but we better go check on him.”

“You’re not exactly fit to be galivanting about, you look like they kicked the shit out of you,” I say, shaking my head. These boys will never stop gambling, they’ll die as fish food for not paying a bookie. “I’ll go check on Malcolm, you clean up and maybe see if the Doc can check you over. I am sure something in there is broken.” I gesture to his whole entire beat-up body. “You two fucking idiots are going to get killed, I swear to God.” I’ve gone from concerned, to mildly annoyed, to angry. They are fucking ridiculous man-babies who will just never grow up. “When are you going to stop this crap, Damon?”

“Lou,” he grunts, “we are grown-ups, we know what we are doing.” I roll my eyes so hard my head hurts.

“When I am identifying your bodies, I will remember you know what you’re doing. Damon, it’s the fucking mob. They don’t play nice when you owe them and don’t pay up.” I know a bit about the mob, from work and back when Roark was here. There’s no good men in the mob, if you owe — you pay — somehow. Money or body parts, or your life.

“I have it handled,” he lies through the few teeth he has left. “You don’t have to worry your pretty head.”

“Fuck off, Damon,” I flip him the bird, “I am the only one that does worry. You two wankers are useless.” I’m so tired of the same vicious circle. “I’ll go check on Malcolm, then I am going to work. Because fuck this mess, I’m not cleaning it.” Growing up with a house full of men, I know they’ll expect someone else to tidy this up.

“Where was Malcolm?” I ask him as he examines his injuries in the small bathroom mirror. Those broken ribs are going to hurt for a while, he better not laugh, breathe, cough or sneeze.

“He was at his place. Hey, you look like you got smacked too.” He notices my shiner now, and I shrug. I wasn’t beat down by a debt collector, I caused the fight that got me this lovely badge of honor on my face.

“There was a fight at the pub,” I say, and he raises a brow like I am telling porkies. “Okay, I started a fight at the pub, and Will came and dragged me out of there.” He will tattle to them today anyway, so I can’t lie.

“Louise,” he starts, and I hold up my hand.

“Save it, I am going to see who looks worse. You or my other idiot brother. Then I am going to work. Whatever shit you are in I suggest you find a shovel and start digging out of it.” Now that I know he’s not dead, and that he’s just in trouble, I leave and go check on Malcom. Who, hopefully, just lost his damn phone and isn’t as beat up as Damon.

***

“Sorry I am late,” I poke my head into the manager’s office at the gym, “I had a situation with my brothers.” Callum looks up at my face with wide eyes, like I must be lying.

“They look way worse than I do, promise,” I answer his look, “Damon says it was debt collectors, I shouldn’t worry, right?” I trust Callum, and he knows my family and the ins and outs of the mob. I’m no fool, I know this place is a front for all their illegal dealings.

“You shouldn’t let their shit worry you,” he says, “they’re grown ass men. They can handle their business, I’m sure. Will said you got into a tussle at the pub last night?” Snitch, I should smack him and the barkeep.

“Some guy grabbed my ass and couldn’t understand that ‘no’ is a full sentence. He’ll not do it again.” I’m not sorry at all, I’d kick him in the nuts again if he touched me. “What have you got for me today?” I ask. I have missed all the early fitness classes already.

“Just man the front desk today, it’s quieter than usual. I have to go out this afternoon, so you can cover for me then.” I give him a smile, and head down the steps to the front desk, a day sitting still might be what I need. My head has started to bang with a hangover headache and the punch I took has decided now’s the time to make itself known.

***

It’s already past four, and I am still at the desk, in charge of the music selection for the day which has earned me a few boo’s but I think I am a wicked cool DJ. I dance along while I tidy up the paperwork and organize the weekly class schedule on the whiteboard.

“Hey, Lou,” I turn around to see Will come in the front doors, looking all fresh as a daisy; he is rather fucking hot. “How you feeling?” he asks me, before leaning over the counter to kiss me hello.

“I’m fine, my brothers look way worse than I do.” Idiots, I still can’t believe Damon scared me like he did this morning. “You know you don’t have to come rescue me, I can take care of myself,” I say in softer tone than when I was in fight mode last night, “I don’t like being told what to do.”

“I know that,” he says, “but, Lou, I am worried your brothers are in some serious shit this time. You need to be careful where you go and who is around. This time isn’t silly buggers, they are in deep.” Will wouldn’t say anything about it if he wasn’t worried, he knows how to mind his business. “I worry about you, Lou. I love you.”

I shouldn’t hate it, but I do. Every time he says he loves me I cringe on the inside. “You don’t have to worry,” I tell him again, “and I know you love me.” I hate saying ‘I love you, too’, it’s so fake. Will kisses me again before he goes to change into his workout clothes. I don’t mind that I’ll get to sit here and watch him get all hot and sweaty, he’s really sexy when he’s working out.

Will is what most girls would call perfect, but somehow I just can’t settle with him. I want excitement, not the normalcy he brings to the fight. I’m not excited when I see him, just slightly turned on by his looks. I should just let him go, but being alone sucks ass and I like sex too much to be alone. The last of the regular evening crowd drip in through the doors, and I jump up to sit on the counter so I have a view of the sparring ring where Will is dancing around with one of the guys from his office.

It’s like fight club only cheesier, they come box with him to try and be cool — no one in an accounting firm is cool. They’re boring, number crunchers who wear grey suits and have dinner parties for fun. I’m certain they are all married with two point two five children, a golden retriever and sensible electric car. I’d probably honk during sex with one of the lemmings from his company, but his family made him to go left and have a real career.

The thought alone makes me cackle to myself. At seven, I hop off the counter to lock the front door so no one else can come in before I go change my shoes to get my own workout in for the day. My knuckles are tender so I will not be pounding the bags or sparring, but I can get in a decent cardio workout.

The treadmill is facing the mats where some of the BJJ guys are grappling on the floor, it’s feral and such a violation of personal space. Watching them is pervy, but I can’t help myself.

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