SO COLD
THE MEN WERE ROWDY, BOISTEROUS AND LOUDMOUTHED. Jeers and sharp comebacks were flung about the room, they taunted each other about fucking each other's mammas, and forcing their members into each other's mouths. Bets were placed on how long a person would fare against another, and who would win the fight. This was a repeated occurrence. The sound of a heavy fist against a nose or a kick to the chest was met with cheers and yells of delight. Mouths were numbed with gin, and beer bottles clinked together. Currently Irvin was up against Doriano. The Italian was taller, stronger and his build was bigger and he had the upper hand; after repeated punches, he slammed the heel of his foot into Irvin's face, and Irvin crashed back against the floor, the force of the hit broke his nose, and he bled messily.
The men and women exploded into roars, there were disappointed noises from those who wagered he'd last longer, and demands from others. "Is he staying down?" There was a thirty-second rule; if the fighter didn't get to his/her feet, then a winner would be declared. Money would be exchanged and the loser would be ridiculed.
I slid my ass off the leather-padded stool, and placed my hands under Irvin's armpits, hoisting him up. He felt like dead weight. "You good?" I grabbed his chin, frowning slightly. "Hey."
His chestnut brown eyes were unfocussed, and his lip was puffy, he wiped his nose with his sleeve, smearing the blood across his cheek. He smiled sloppily, hand on my shoulder for support. "I'm alright," he assured, almost falling on his face when I let go of him. I grabbed him quickly, and he held out his hands, shaking his head like a wet dog, reassuring confidently. "I can walk, I'm fine."
"Twenty three seconds," James announced to the room, "the boy is back in. Give him a minute to gather his head, Dorito. He looks like he's going to pass out." The statement was met with contemptuous scoffs and hoots. People wanted a fight, goddamnit, the only way to get a break was to be knocked out or to accept defeat.
"This isn't the fucking playground, bitch," Oscar yelled in outrage, slapping Irvin on the back and almost flinging him across the room from the sheer strength of his hands. He was a six-foot-something man, the sides of his head was shaved, revealing faded tattoos inked on his skull. He was a fan of wearing tight t-shirts to show off his muscular physique. No one made fun of him or dared to call him a 'gay pansy sonfabitch' like they'd did when the pizza delivery guy's jeans were a little too tight for their liking. He was aggressive, and he roared his favourite catchphrase like he was declaring war. His face was strained, veins prominent, spit flying out of his mouth. "Be a man, bitch! BE A MAN!"
I put a glass of whiskey to Irvin's mouth, encouraging him to drink, put some fire into his belly and then I took his face in my hands, urging him to listen. "You're smaller, agile, dance like Mohammed Ali in the ring, duck and drop and don't let him hit you. Waste his energy and then fight dirty. Attack from behind. You got it?"
He nodded, pulled his stained t-shirt over his head and used it as a towel, cleaning his nose and then tossing it at Doriano's face. The fight was back on. The energy in the room was electric, thrumming, manic almost.
Doriano grinned viciously, coin-black gaze glittering. "You should've stayed down, faggot," he circled Irvin, predatory, cocky and confident. His chest gleamed with sweat and he revelled in the calls of support for him.
I reached for my glass of gin and swallowed the last large mouthful, my mouth was feeling pleasurably numb already, and my chest was warm. My glass clunked against the counter top. My fingers grazed against the cold bottle when it was plucked out of my reach. I turned to Cole, grim mouth lowered slightly, questioning. "What are you doing?"
"You've had enough," he passed the bottle to Art who took a swig from it and then set it between her thighs, her bright smoky eyes fixed on the fight, Cole continued. "Remember the two glass limit?"
I rolled my eyes skyward, irritable. "I regret asking you to be my mother. I won't get drunk, I promise. What's one more drink?"
Doriano swung his fist, Irvin folded his spine over backwards, surprising the room, and then rammed forward, arms around Doriano's waist, slamming him into the wall.
"One more drink will lead to another and then you'll start to hate yourself again and turn to drinking out of hopelessness. You really want to go back to the January cycle? It's already bad enough that you broke your sobriety, now you drink at every chance you get. You're falling into the same pattern as before. Maybe it should be two drinks a week rather than every few days."
Irvin fisted Dorito's hair between clenched fists, bringing his face down on his raised knee. Gamblers were leaning forward in their seats with baited breath, intently paying attention, concerned at the tables turning. James encouraged Irvin on, acting as a commentator. "Is the bags of chips really going to be beaten by an eighteen year old? Stay tuned, folks."
"Fine," I threw in the towel, giving up, "you should take me to AA meetings since you want to act like my father so much, Cole." Spite crawled out of my throat like hairy, fat tarantulas, and spilled out of my mouth like grey sludge.
He turned his undivided attention on me, a heavy brow slanted in mild irritation and disapproval. He watched me quietly for a while and then said. "Maybe you should go see your uncle, it's been what, eight days since you left? It might do you some good."
"I'd rather not," I didn't face him, fingers restless, drumming on the counter top, feeling my temper rise, and my patience for polite conversation running thin. "That house is suffocating. The rooms are reminders of my grandma. There's no escape from the misery that chokes you as soon as you walk in. It's hellish. Isiah blames me too, he doesn't say it but it's obvious, it's a natural response, and I would feel the same if I were in his position. No, it's better if I leave Seth and him alone right now. Until it's done."
"It's been three weeks since the funeral, you've spent two of them in police stations, giving your statement and going over questions and the last week drinking and ranting about the things you're going to do to your father. This isn't a healthy way to cope with the death–"
"Shut up, Cole," I interrupted sharply. "I don't need you to nag me and grow white hairs. I'm not an addict. And I'm coping perfectly fine."
"You're depressed and stuck in a slump, you need to get out and enjoy the fresh air. Take a trip with Irvin and get out of the country."
"I'd rather not. Can we drop this?"
"If I were to leave the bottle with you, would you take a sip?"
"I'd down the motherfucking thing, I'd deep-throat the bottle."
He pulled a face.
"I'm kidding," I grinned and took his hand. "Just...give me time. I'll even stop the two-glass limit and go cold turkey again if it makes you happy and stops you berating me every ten seconds." I thought about the idea, and then grimaced. "I regret saying that. But fuck, I'll do it."
"That motherfucker is gone!" Oscar thundered. Doriano had been knocked out by a vicious punch to the temple, he was now slumped on the floor, a leg awkwardly folded under him. Irvin was declared winner, and Oscar wrapped an arm around his neck, voicing his amazement at high volume. "This skinny bitch took out Dorito! Can you believe it? Give this motherfucker a drink."
Trevor hunkered down beside Doriano, checking his pulse and pulling back an eyelid and scrutinising him. James called out. "Back off, Trevor. We know he's not dead."
"I can stitch up his cuts," Trevor offered, a dark gleam to his sadistic and eager gaze. He took hold off Dorito's ankles, attempting to drag him. "I'll be back."
"You'd probably slice open his chest and dissect him. Let go off him, Trevor." James warned.
Trevor shoved Art away when she tried to get in his way. "You little creep," she hissed, bounding back, and about to attack him when he kicked her in the privates. She exhaled sharply, mouth an 'o' shape, in pain. "Son of a ..."
Cole asked his cousin to step in. Giant stood to his feet, cross-eyed, threatening and three times the size of Trevor. "I will beat your fucking ass, drop him."
"You all suck," Trevor shot his evil eye around the room, slinking to a corner like a sullen child.
"You good?" James asked Art.
She peeked in her jeans, inspected herself. "I can't tell if its period blood or if he's made me bleed. It hurts like a bitch though. That was a powerhouse kick."
"I'll check," the newest accessory to the gang was a pimply faced kid called Jack. He was smirking smugly, full of himself. He wore glasses, and he had an allergy problem and took every opportunity to get close to Art. The admired woman didn't appreciate his heart-eyes, and made no secret of her dislike for him.
Cole whacked him on the back of his head. "Show some respect, bitch."
Jack grumbled. "It was a joke."
"I'm sure Doriano will find it funny when he regains consciousness," Art shot him a dirty glance, "who invited this spotty fucker? He's a low-life dealer. Why is he here?"
Jack was upset.
Irvin dropped onto the stool next to me, holding a bag of frozen peas to his black-eye, he grinned a bloody smile at me. "How do I look?"
"Like you made out with a block of concrete," I lowered my voice, leaning into him. "Are Dorito and Art going out? They act like a couple."
"He doesn't use a condom when he fucks her," Irvin took a swig of someone else's beer. "At least that's what people are saying. He hasn't said a word and I think while she wants to put a label on things, she won't until she gets the thumbs up from him."
"What does a condom have to do with anything?"
"No condom means they're serious. It's an act of ownership, if he's having sex with her without a condom then he's claiming her. It sends a message to everyone else to back off. If he's mad and goes after Jack, then it's pretty obvious that they've gotten together."
"Oh," I thought about it silently, frowning and then turned to face Cole and stared at him in disbelief.
He noticed my stare, rubbed a hand through his beard absentmindedly. "What's wrong?"
Just as I opened my mouth, my name was shouted out by multiple people. I was told it was my turn to fight. "You can't hide in your corner forever. You need to mark your territory, show you're able to be more than just a pretty face. Any one of these women could challenge you, take you out of the game and steal your man." Oscar taunted.
"Like hell they will," I glowered, threatened coldly. "Touch Cole and I'll break your goddamn face."
"The kitty has claws," Oscar laughed delightfully. "Who wants to go up against her?"
"He's teasing you," Cole nudged me. "You sure you want to fight?"
"Yeah," I stood up, "I did taekwondo for years and joined a boxing class this year. I – oh my god. He's going to kill me. I'm the weakest, you can't pit me against Giant."
"Place your bets, ladies and wankers," Oscar winked at me. "I'll put a grand on two minutes and I'm being hopeful."
"You're a smelly dick," I said, unamused.
"Match me with Oscar for a minute and a half." Cole leaned across to talk to Art who was scribbling in a small book.
"Wow, thanks for the confidence boost, Cole. I can always count on you."
"I believe in you, sweetheart," he kissed my cheek. "Go easy, Giant. But be wary of the time. I'll share my winnings with you."
An idea came to me and I put forth, "If I last longer than both your times, I win the money. How about that?"
"Deal," Cole agreed. "I'll eat you out, too."
Irvin pulled me to the side. "He's a fat man, don't bother striking him. It won't hurt and he won't chase you if you run. He'll just wait."
I waited for him to continue, when he didn't I prodded. "So what's your advice? What do I do?"
"Hell if I know," he shrugged. "Try not to die, I guess? Good luck."
"Are you ready, Shay?" James raised his voice from across the room, clad in a black sweatshirt and jeans, his ankles crossed, a table of empty beer bottles next to him. "Put five feet between the two of you. Quieten down, everyone."
"I should call the ambulance," Oscar's green gaze met mine, lips quirked up slightly. "Just in case."
"You should beat his ass once you're done with mine," I instructed Giant. "He deserves it. Rip his wiener and then stuff it into his mouth."
"Fight!" James rung the bell.
I didn't move. Giant stood still. Ten seconds went by and then Oscar said. "What the fuck are they doing? Staring each other to death?"
Giant faltered, "I can't hit her. I feel bad. She's an ant. I'll stomp on her."
A slow-spreading grin made its way on my face. "Thanks–!"
"That being said, it's easy money to make," he lunged at me, I darted back, yelling in surprise. Irvin shouted out encouragement.
"Oh, come on, Giant." I groaned. "Please don't raise those meaty hooks at me."
Irvin winced. "Is she trying to die?"
Giant swiped at me, and I ducked, side-stepping. He followed me, his fist heading towards my face and I shot back, accidentally colliding with Oscar. He grabbed my forearms quickly, holding me to his chest. "She's slippery," he held me in place as I pleaded with him. Giant approached.
"I'm going to stab you while you're asleep, Oscar, let go, bitch," I cursed, elbowing him forcefully. He dropped me just as Giant raised his hand. My knees collapsed under me, I shot through Giant's legs, scrambling forward on the floor. I rushed to stand, asking James, my voice somewhat breathless. "Can I use a weapon?"
James shot Giant a questioning look. Giant nodded, "I have no problem with it."
"Thanks," I said appreciatively to the big guy and then requested. "Get me a gun, Irvin."
"No guns!" James laughed loudly. "Grab a chair, Shay. Make it interesting."
I held the chair by the back, raising it above my head and throwing it at Giant. He let it hit his chest and then gave me an irascible glower. I apologised. "Oh, man. I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It slipped out of my hand."
He backhanded me, and I flew back and landed on my ass. I thought I was seeing stars. I put a hand to my mouth, drawing away blood. My jaw thrummed with pain. Irvin exclaimed in anger. "You bastard! I'll beat your–"
Giant raised an eyebrow in his direction.
Irvin held up his hands quickly. "I'm kidding, big guy. I wouldn't – it was a joke. I don't want to fight you. You should glare at Shay, not me."
"Can I have a time out?" I requested, picking myself up. "I'll come back in ten days."
Giant's heavy fist moved my way, I winced, screwing up my expression, waiting for the hit. Nothing happened. Peeling one eye open, I saw Giant shaking his head, sighing through his nose. "She's not going to fight back, what's the point? I give up."
"You're forfeiting?" James asked, surprised. "Huh. Guess the winner is Shay. Congratulations, kid."
I beamed even as disgruntled looks were thrown my way. "It's not my fault you lost your bets. You should've had faith in me. Hold on. Since I lasted almost six minutes, you two owe me a grand each. Cough up."
Irvin high-fived me. "I knew you'd win."
Cole tugged me towards him, an arm around my waist, checking my bleeding lip. I said to Irvin. "I'm sharing my winnings with you, we should grab a burger."
"And some ice for your lip," Cole turned my cheek so I faced him, his mouth quirked up slightly, humoured. "You pranced about more than you fought. What happened to the years of taekwondo?"
"It was forgotten about once I saw I was fighting Giant." I twisted my hip around and called out to him. "We're still friends, right?"
"Of course," he had a woman on his lap, a beer in his hand, and he smiled at me briefly and warmly before turning his attention back to her.
I reached for a glass of gin, and then remembered my promise to Cole. I dropped my arm, angled towards Cole once more. "Can we go back to yours? You owe me something else."
"Do I?" he smiled wickedly, lips skimming against my own. He kissed me and I pulled back.
"That stings."
"I can kiss your other lips instead."
"I need to first rush to the toilet, I'll be back." I promised.
He murmured lowly, arching an eyebrow, hands squeezing my ass. "Instead of making the drive home, we can go to the bathroom."
"James would murder both of us," I stepped away. "Give me a couple of minutes."
"Sure," his focus was now on Irvin and they spoke of last night's episode of The Walking Dead.
I went out into the quiet hallway, passed the closed doorways and reached the downstairs toilets. I did my business, flushed the toilet and washed my hands. I unlocked the door and found Oscar walking in my direction. "Hey. Thanks for betting against me." My words were playful. I made to move past him and he stepped in front of me, an easy-going smile on his face. I glanced at him in curiosity, raking his features, wondering what he was thinking. "What's up?"
"I wonder if you feel the same way," he said hoarsely, his voice lowered. His chest brushed against mine, and he inclined his head. He was intense.
"Whoa, buddy," I jerked away, stunned, my eyes wide. I was befuddled. "Uh... Why would you try to kiss me? I'm dating Cole." I was cringing. I didn't know what to do.
"He doesn't need to know," Oscar put his hands on my hips, yanking me towards him. "This will be between us."
***