1. When To Fight

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I shake my arms and shoulders out as I bounce around the ring. I smile sinisterly at my opponent because I can't wait to royally fuck this dude up. I can't wait to cash in on this easy win. This dude looks like an easy hitting fuck if there ever was one. No way he was even getting a shot in on me.

Yeah fuckin' right. It's not happening, buddy.

The ref says what he has to say and I don't listen to a fucking word coming out of his mouth because I can't wait to take out all my pent-up anger on this guy. Not that he'll even last for all of that, but I digress. He signals it's time to fight and I work my fists meticulously. Jab, cross, hook and let's just finish this combo with an uppercut to the dome. He drops to the ground without a fight.

So much for that... Fuck, what was that? All of ten seconds?

The ref holds up my hand and cheering erupts all around me. They're screaming my name, "Seth, Seth, Seth" and I fucking love the sound. I barely even got to beat the holy hell out of this man but hey, at least I got to make a bit of green out of it. I take in all the cheering, the applause, all of it before I make my way out of the room.

I grab my gym bag once I make it to the shitty bricked-in back room and change my clothes. It smells like fucking sweat and blood back here. I toss the bag over my shoulder once I'm done just wanting to get the fuck out of this place. But before I can leave this shit hole I have to walk down to Ralphie's office to collect my money.

I take a few steps down the dimly lit hallway before knocking on his door a few times. "Come in."  I open the door and I swear the overwhelming smell of his fat ass crack is even worse then the sweat and blood. "You're one hell of a fighter, kid" he grunts out as he tosses the wad of cash at me. "They always pay big money to see you fight. So, next time, give them more to watch. Dance with the guy before you knock him out or they're going to stop paying the big bucks. You understand?"

"I understand." I also just want to get the fuck away from you and your horrid stench. How women sleep with this man I will never know.

"Good, now get the fuck out of here." I nod at him. Don't mind if I do...

I snatch the money off the table, stuff it in my bag and leave. "Hey there, handsome."  I hear a sultry voice call to me once I close his door but I ignore it.  A couple more women try to stop me on my way out but I don't have time to fuck around with fans at the moment. I was all set with those types of women anyway, they never really attracted me. I mean, yeah, I can knock a guy out but if that's the only reason you want to ride my cock then I'm all set. 

Well, I'm all set with them most of the time.

As if she'd heard the mental conversation I was having with myself I hear her call my name the moment I exit the building.  I close my eyes and let out a hearty exhale because I don't have time to deal my ex. Well, I do, but I just don't want to. I really don't want to. "Hey, Sarah."  I cock my head to the right to see her leaning against the brick building. She's smoking a cigarette with one high heel propped against the wall.  Her long bleached hair sits just above her hips against the fabric of the shimmery red mini dress she's wearing.

"How yah been, Seth?" How she manages to form words around a mouth full of smoke and make it look so sexy at the same time manages to make my dick twitch in my pants.

"Fine." It's all I manage to say because starting up a conversation with her will end badly. She's great in bed but she's also psychotic, so there's that to consider. Better safe than sorry where your dicks concerned. She's the type that will go full Lorena Bobbitt on you.

"Plans for the night?" And there it is. She wants to fuck. You know, if I'm completely honest, I do too but there's a pretty large possibility that shit will end in a bang in more ways then one. If I'm completely honest, yet again, I don't want to have to replace the windows on my truck again.

"Yup, big plans. So, uh, gotta go." I don't say anything else before I jump in my truck like my life depends on it. Side note, it probably does.

I drive back to the ritzy building where I live and after I park I take a look in the mirror. "Shit." My hair is an absolute inky fucking mess on the top of my head but I try to tame it to look somewhat presentable. "Fuck it." It's no use even trying he's going to know regardless. I grab my bag out of the passenger seat then make my way inside.

The minute I open up the door to our loft my dad looks up at me from the leather couch in the middle of the room. He looks pissed off. Yup, he knows. How does he always fucking know?

"I thought we agreed you'd stop with this fighting shit," he grits out as he stands to his full height, which is also my same height. I look exactly like him.  In thirty years I will look just like that. Well, not exactly, considering I have two sleeves of tattoos and he only has one.

"Hey, what can I say? I'm good at it."  He gives me an icy glare, one that I've learned I shouldn't argue with. But hey, what the hell? Right?  "Well, Dad, if you didn't want me fighting you should've never taught me how to do it."

He clenches his jaw at me like he does every time he's pissed off. "I taught you how to fight so you could defend yourself. You know, so you could fight back if anyone tries to put their hands on you. Not so you could exploit yourself and put yourself in harm's way." The look on his face is actually pretty frightening but I pretend I don't notice.

I shrug in nonchalance, "no one even gets the chance to put their hands on me." I'm too quick.

"Your mother wouldn't want you to be doing this. If she were still here you know how she'd feel about it."

"How do you think she'd feel about that?" I point to the drink in his hands. That was a low blow and I know it. He looks down angrily at the tumbler filled with amber-colored liquid. "Fuck, Dad, I'm sorry." I drop my gym bag down and start to walk over to him.

He tosses the rest of the liquid back, "thank you for the reminder, kid" before he throws the glass across the room, shattering it against the wall there. He turns away from me before I can say or do anything else. He stalks off into his study and slams the door so hard I'm surprised it doesn't fall off the hinges.

"Shit," I mutter to myself because there is no one who can brood like my father can. "Fuck." I just hope he doesn't get completely lost in his self-loathing tonight, but my fucking mouth probably just sealed the deal on that one.

When my mother was alive he was a happier man. He had a few quirks but he has always been a great dad. After she passed away, two years ago, I saw an entirely different side of my father. I had never seen a man so broken in my life. It was just written all over his face and in everything that he did. It was a straight six months of him completely loathing everything before he started coming back to life.

I stare at the door to his study and feel like shit. He's been a great dad. He's always made sure I've had whatever I needed. He'd always taken care of mom and me. When mom was alive she had told me a little about his childhood whenever he would slip-up. Then he was always so hard on himself afterward because he hated the man he'd become. So, right now, I really feel like a complete dick.

"Dad?" I knock on the large wooden door in front of me. I call out again to him but I get no answer again. I open up the door to see him sitting behind his desk, head in hands. "Dad?"

He looks up at me brokenly, "I'm sorry, son. I just miss her so much."

"I know you do. I miss mom too." 




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A/N:

There's the first chapter of book 2! I know I probably just shattered a lot of hearts. Whoops?

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