Call Me Ghost ✔️

Chapter Five

Ghost drives us across town and parks in front of some bar I've never been to before, granted I haven't been to many. The sign above the door labels it The Scrap, and I notice the closed sign on the door is turned on.

This doesn't deter Ghost in the slightest. He walks us up to the entrance, selects a key from his key chain and unlocks the door with it. I peer at him with a confused frown as he props the door open and gestures for me to enter.

I linger for a moment to ask, "Do you own this place?"

He shakes his head, "No, but my friend does."

That answer satisfies my curiosity enough. I walk through the open door and he follows behind before allowing it to close after us.

We're enveloped in darkness and a slow panic begins to creep up my throat, but seconds later Ghost flips a switch and rows of lights are turned on, illuminating the entire room.

It appears to be just like any other bar, with a long counter in front of shelves of alcohol and tables to sit at, but past that is where it becomes more unique. A boxing ring sits raised up on a stage in the center of a large open area, with multiple rows of chairs encircling it on every side.

I turn to Ghost, speechless, and he smiles back at me and chuckles lightly, "You like it?"

I nod my head and look back at the ring. I've never seen a bar integrate something like this. They're always the same; drinks, tables and dance floors. But this place, it's something completely new.

"This is incredible." I utter, "So you have fights here? Like real fights?"

Ghost nods his head, a proud look on his face as he steps closer, "Yeah, and I actually fight back at these ones."

"Your friend owns this place?" I ask with disbelief.

"Yeah, well, he's always wanted to own a bar." Ghost explains, glancing my way with a smirk, "Adding the ring was my idea."

"That's amazing." I remark, stepping away to take a closer look at everything.

I run my hand along the mahogany bar, where black leather stools are lined down the length of it. Everything is dark and wooden, from the decor to the furniture, giving an old-fashioned, manly vibe to the place.

I can feel Ghost's eyes on me as I step around the bar to get a better look. There are rows of framed photographs hanging on the wall, all black and white, of various boxing matches. There are photos of fighters getting punched in the face, or raising their fists in victory after a win. The crowds are all standing and cheering excitedly in each one.

I notice one in particular, depicting a man with his back to the camera as his fist is drilled forward, connecting directly into his rivals face, which showers a spray of blood over the mat. It's brutal. My eyes travel over the tight muscles of his back and the dark hair that is matted down with sweat and I know exactly who it is instantly.

"That was a knockout." Ghost speaks from close behind me.

I spin around to see him leaning towards me on the other side of the bar, his forearms laying flat against the surface as he watches me curiously.

With a smile I step over to him, keeping the bar between us as I lean against the side opposite of him. "How long have you been boxing?" I ask, reaching out and playing with the toothpick holder beside me, just to keep my hands busy.

Ghost shrugs one shoulder, "Most my life." He replies, his gaze locked on me intently, "I was kind of an angry kid growing up and it helped me focus that energy into something more productive. That's what my mom would say, anyway."