Jaded Rage

ONE

Marcus Andrews stared down the alley at the six hulking guys stomping his direction, wishing he’d taken some self-defense classes.

Or at least knew how to flick on the mace canister hanging from the end of his keychain.

Yes, he carried mace. Despite his name being Greek for Warlike, Marcus was anything but. A wimp to the core. In shape because he played some basketball, but tall and lanky didn’t do much good against bulk and brawn.

Served Marcus right for getting cornered like this for taking the back exit out of the sub shop alone. Working to keep his heart from spewing out his mouth, he glanced around. Same as every Thursday night when he closed the shop. Neighboring brick walls so tall the night swallowed them. To his right, a puke-smelling, green garbage dumpster.

He dropped the trash bag to the asphalt, silently cursing himself for shutting the store door before checking the alley. At the rate those guys were closing in, no way Marcus would get the door unlocked and opened before they got to him.

“So, you’re the ass-hat who hit on my girl last weekend.” The leader of this defunct gang of rejects strutted into the ring of light emitting from the single bulb perched above the back door to Bud’s Subs.

“Sorry?” Marcus stepped backward, filing through his racing mind to figure out who these goons were and what the oaf was talking about. “I—I’ve got a girl. I—”

“One’s not enough for you?” Now clearly in the light, Marcus recognized the jerk. Jason Smart, which he was not, from the Sage High basketball team. Marcus’s team had kicked the crap out of theirs last weekend in the sectional finals.

The party after the win was wild. But not so wild Marcus didn’t remember Jason’s girlfriend, Rosa, coming on to him. Not the other way around.

“Don’t deny it, eh?” Jason clenched his fists. Muscles rippled along his arms and pressed against his already tight shirtsleeves. He could give The Rock a run for his money bench-pressing. Football defensive tackle was Jason’s specialty. He merely dabbled in basketball and track to stay in shape.

And that massive shape was about to pummel Marcus’s face into oblivion.

“No. I—well—she came on to me—”

Jason growled.

Actually growled.

Marcus put his hands up in surrender. Sweat trickled between his shoulder blades. “Look, man. She was wasted. Didn’t know what she was doing, I’m sure.” Jason was dumb as a box of rocks and didn’t know his girl slept with every guy willing to risk Jason’s hammer fists. “And like I said, I have a girl. I’d never cheat.”

Marcus and Victoria had been together nearly two years. Hot item. No way would he risk that. Or Jason’s wrath.

“Yeah, right.” Jason tromped forward. Marcus matched Jason’s six-foot-five height, but Jason had at least a hundred pounds of bulky muscle on him.

I’m so getting into the weight room.

“Hit ‘em Jay.” One of Jason’s sidekicks pumped his fist in the air. Marcus didn’t spend much time trying to see who it was. He was too worried about Jason’s nostrils flaring and jaw twitching enough to send his muscles quaking all the way down his neck.

Oh yeah. This is gonna to hurt.

“Go. Go,” another guy said.

The poignant stench of booze stung Marcus’s nose. Drunk on a school night. These guys were looking for trouble.

Marcus had some ups. Could he run fast enough to use the dumpster as a step and navigate the ten-foot wall behind it?

Then he’d be branded a chicken-shit.

He could live with that. He kicked the garbage bag toward the giant and bolted. Five steps later, he grabbed the rail around the dumpster and jumped. He swung his foot up and landed on the top.

This might work.

A hand shackled his ankle. Marcus lurched forward. His cheek clashed with the top hinge of the rusty, slim-covered trash can. White spots burst into the corners of his vision, and his skull throbbed.

“We got ourselves a runner, boys.”

Self-preservation, or stupidity, kicked in, because Marcus kicked his leg out and his heel landed squarely on Jason’s jaw.

He even heard a crack.

Through the stars flickering in Marcus’s vision, he saw Jason shake his head. A string of curses echoed off the brick walls surrounding them.