Would you look at that! Two whole new chapters! It's because I'm sweet like that...
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Chapter 6:
“You going to give yourself diabetes.” Ryan scolds me as I shove another spoon of bubble-gum flavoured ice-cream into my mouth.
I give him a tight lipped smile, my mouth too filled with the coloured goodness. And the fact that I have brain freeze makes it impossible for me to reply.
“Either you really enjoying that ice-cream or you’ve got brain freeze.” Ryan smirks, while chewing away at his red velvet waffles.
“Bof.” I mumble around my mouthful.
We are currently sitting in an ice-cream bar situated close to Mike’s apartment, celebrating my win. This is Ryan and mines tradition for the past few years. After every win, depending on which one of us was fighting, the other would buy ice-cream. Mike declares that he had to meet a few of his buddies for a late-night screening of a new sci-fi movie.
I hold my ice-cream glass against my cheek which is still stinging from my lapse in defence earlier in the night. My cheek has turned a lovely shade of blue-purple. But I guess in this case I could always use that line; “You should see the other guy”.
There are just eight male and female fighters left in the competition. The next round will be taking place next week Friday. Apparently this competition is being monitored by some big fishes and it needs to fit their schedule which means we have to wait a full week before our next fight. I wasn’t complaining. It gave me a chance to train, regain my strength and heal from any injuries. The best pro is hands down the fact that I have a lot more time to snoop around. Mike promises to show us the best places in the area to get any information about Mr Lucas Wesley.
“Your ice-creams melting.” Ryan’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I realize I’m staring into space while stirring my ice-cream around the glass.
I scoop some into my mouth, eating more like a human and less like an ape.
“Did you talk to your dad?” I ask Ryan, trying to keep the conversation from finding my problems.
“I’ll call him tomorrow,” he wipes his hands on his napkin, “what about you?”
I raise my eyebrows, “Well I would call him but he seemed rather occupied tonight, while he watched me fight and not knowing he was watching his daughter.” I joke, knowing he wasn’t talking about my father.
Ryan smiles before leaning forward and flicking my nose, “Smart-ass, you know I was talking about your mother.”
“I think she’ll be fine without me calling her. Besides I barely spoke to her when I was living with her, what makes you think I’ll be able to have a conversation with her over the phone.” I scoop the last bit of my ice-cream into my mouth before pushing my glass away.
Ryan shakes his head, “Maybe because you not looking at each other and now you might have a better understanding on why your mother argued with your father.”
I love Ryan, but sometimes the way he could always hit the nail on the head rattled me. He is so much more observant than me. He just seems to understand people as if it is what he did for a living. A world-class shrink in the making.
I know exactly what he’s getting at. Could I have been blind to my father’s true colours all this time? Seeing him as something I wished he was. Could he have been this serious, icy person with my mother which would undeniably lead to arguing and fights and eventually divorce?
But I saw the pictures! It was evidence that my father and mother used to be happy together. He was smiling in practically every picture and he had such a warmth about him that you couldn’t help but want to return his smile. My mother too, she looked so content in those pictures. What changed? Could this all really be because of me? Was my birth the turning point in my parent’s relationship?
“I can hear the clogs turning in that little head of yours.” Ryan leans forward to rest his hands on the table between us.
“Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” I ask softly, gazing at Ryan, willing him to tell me the truth.
Ryan shift in his seat, his face transforms from joking to serious, “Lea, this man means a lot to you. I can see it in your eyes. He left for reasons you don’t know and it’s only human to want, no to need to know why. The man you see now isn’t the same man you knew then, but neither are you the same girl you were all those years back. All I’m saying is that if this is what your heart wants then it is definitely the right thing. And before you jump to any conclusions about the man, remember that people don’t just change on their own, circumstances force people to change.”
I close my eyes, hanging my head, “This is one of those times when I realize that I would be completely and hopelessly lost without you in my life.”
I sigh as I feel Ryan’s palm cup my cheek, “This is one of those time when I realize that I would be absolutely nothing without YOU in my life.”
I smile, wrapping my fingers around his hand. The only person who could make me smile when the last thing on my mind is happiness. The only person I would ever trust with my life and love. The only person I owe my entire being to. And yet I couldn’t see him but as my best friend and companion.
“You sure this is the best place?” I whisper to Mike who is seated on my left.
“Positive.”
We’re sitting at a table in the supposedly information filled bar situated just a block away from the underground club. The place is boring to say the least. It’s like any usual bar you could enter in the United States. There are wooden tables and stools littered around the area. The main bar area is lined with solid, wooden bar stools. The lighting is dimmed down so as to belie the feeling of comfort and peace. The air is dry, filled with the smoke of cigarettes and the fumes of the alcohol being served by a middle-aged, round bellied man, standing behind the bar.
I gaze at the patrons of the place. There’s a surprisingly large crowd in tonight, even though it is Tuesday. The bar seems to be filled with all aged drinkers, some out after a hard day’s work, while others seem to be moulded into their stools. I gaze at the group of young men shouting and laughing at the pool table across the room. They seem to be college goers who decided to have a liquor-filled night out.
“Who exactly are we looking for?” Ryan askes gazing around the place.
Mike sips his beer before nudging his head towards the bar, “See that guy sitting at the end of the bar. His mouth working a mile a minute,” I nod my head as I spot a guy dressed in a plain blue shirt and jeans, he looks to be in his late twenties and seems to be enjoying the attention of a group of young men who are listening to his every word avidly, “his name is Dave and his our resident gossiper. You need to know anything about anyone, you ask Dave. He doesn’t seem too bright, but his information is mostly reliable.”
I look at Mike, “Mostly? Mike I need to be sure that what I hear from this guy I can trust.” Dave seems pretty ordinary to me, light brown hair which hangs over his forehead, a round face accompanied by a pudgy nose and a smile which some would call comforting.
“Don’t stress yourself, the guy knows what he’s talking about, you just need to take his story and tone it down a bit.”
I sigh, “He exaggerates?”
Mike smiles that lazy smile, “If that’s what you want to call it.”
Ryan chuckles, “Well then, should we haul his ass over here or make our way to him?”
“I got this.” Mike says, smiling at us before making his way towards Dave. The way he walks or rather glides, you would think the guy was a dancer.
“Hey did Mike ever take ballet classes?” I ask Ryan.
Ryan bursts out laughing catching the attention of few of the drinkers around us. He purses his lip to control his laughter.
“It’s the walk isn’t it?” he asks. I chuckle, nodding my head.
Ryan chuckles, shaking his head, “He does have a very smooth walk.”
“You never told me how you know him?”
Ryan looks down at his drink for a while, “Both of our moms were in the same hospital. They shared a room during their Chemo sessions,” I grab his hand, knowing how difficult he found it to talk about his mother and I feel like kicking myself for bringing up the subject, “we became friends after their first session. We understood the pain of the other so it felt good to be able to share it. But his mum passed away a week before mine and his dad had brought him to New York immediately. I made sure I found him and we kept in contact over the years. You think I’m strong, Mike had to come live with a man he never knew and was known to beat his mother.”
I gaze at Mike across the bar. He has that same cool smile on his face as he speaks to our informant. I’ve only stayed with him for a few days but it’s obvious that Mike is one of the most genuine friends a person can have. He’s soft spoken and kind. His smile is serene and could put you at ease, yet he has so much heart and the fact that he’s able to cope with his mother’s death and an unknown parent only adds to that fact.
“He’s a good guy.” I whisper, pondering on why the worse things always happened to the people with the biggest hearts.
“You the girl with the wicked arm hold.” I smile awkwardly at Dave, the gossiper. He’s looking at me with something akin to awe and I shift in my seat, feeling extremely uncomfortable.
“Your submission that night was insane! And the way you ran circles around her!” His voice has a boyish lilt to it as he gushes over my skills. Personally I think there were ten times better fights than mine.
“Uh, thanks.” I mutter.
“So Dave, since my girl here is fighting in this tournament and we’ve being hearing so much about this Lucas guy, we were wondering what all the fuss is.” Ryan speaks smoothly, not a single hitch. There is no way Dave could know about our agenda for being here. I mean, his nickname made it clear that no secrets should be deposited with him.
“He isn’t just some guy my friend,” he leans forward, his smile wide, “this dude started up his underground organisation almost ten years ago. Before he came in, fights were taking place all over the place. There was no system, no rules, no proper tournaments. It was chaos and people were at times too afraid to go watch fights because a brawl always broke out between spectators. Mr Wesley comes in, starts off small, brings in other fighters and starts setting up a nice place. Now what people love about the guy is his need to play by the rules. Honourable as fuck! People you didn’t know had any morals respect the dude.”
Well that cleared some of it up. So I guess after leaving us, Mr Wesley came to New York to start a new life. Well it was nice to know that he had some good ethics. However, none of this told me anything about his personal life. However, I’m not even sure our man Dave here would know much about his non-public endeavours.
“He did this all on his own?” Ryan asks sceptically. It was a lot for one person to do.
Dave shrugs, “Eh, some say he had some financial assistance from some big dogs. Otherwise he likes to fly solo, well that’s apart from his kid.”
I freeze, staring at Dave in shock. What the fuck?
“Kid?” I choke out.
Dave carries on sipping his beer, unaware of my emotional trauma, “Yup, his name’s Tyler. Scary mother-fucker. His being with Wesley since he got here. By his side every day. Some say it’s his son, but personally I think his just got some connection.”
I’m struggling, I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Who on earth was this guy? How can he know my father for so many years? Could he be the reason why my father left us, because he had another son from some other woman? Did he have to choose between us and decided on the son.
“What makes you say that?” Ryan is frowning, gazing intently at Dave, who carries on nonchalantly sipping away at his drink.
“Well the dude looks nothing like Wesley. I mean they both tall and built, but this guy is sharp looking, hard jaw, dark eyes. Wesley is all refined, square jaw, crooked nose, light eyes. Get what I’m saying,” I nod my head in understanding, but it didn’t mean that I totally believe him. For one thing, my mother and I barely resemble each other, yet we share the same blood.
“How old is this Tyler exactly?” I swallow the lump which is growing agonizingly quick in my throat.
Dave offers that same silly shrug, “Eh, not sure, maybe in his early twenties. Now that’s a guy you don’t want to have on your bad side. Dude has anger problems, and a right hook to go with it. Girls love him, guys fear him.”
My mind is trying to shift through memories of my father and the people he associated with. Considering the fact that I was pretty young when he left is making it extremely difficult for me to find anything. My father only had a handful of friends that I remember. We saw two of them quite regularly when I was young. I could recall an Uncle Brett. He always called me ‘Sweetheart’ and never failed to bring me a present every time he came to visit. He was a huge man but I always pictured him as a teddy bear.
Then there was Uncle Sam. I freeze. Could it be? Uncle Sam had a son. He was a few years older than me. We were inseparable when we were kids. He had promised to marry me. Ty.
I hadn’t seen the little boy who captured my heart for more than thirteen years. He had been my only childhood friend. I can’t remember much about him, only that he had hair the colour of sand.
Could it really be him?
“Love what’s up?” I turn towards Ryan whose concerned gaze is boring into mine.
“I’ll tell you later.” I whisper back, giving him a small smile.
He nods but keep his gaze trained on my face.
“Hey guys, it was nice chatting but my peeps are here,” he gazes at a group of middle-aged men walking into the bar, “good luck on your next fight.” I murmur thanks as he scuttles over to his posy. I still have about a hundred questions but I’m sure Dave wouldn’t be able to answer 99 of them.
All the information I got today was that my father moved to New York after leaving and opened up his now very successful underground MMA organisation. The people love him and all his honour. And my childhood buddy could possibly be my father’s borrowed son, or I could possibly have an older brother I never knew about.
Looks promising.