Asher (Inked Brotherhood 1)

“All right. Come back tomorrow evening. We talk then. If Marty’s not here, ask for Carl.”

And before I can speak again, the door slams closed.

Okay. That went well. Probably.

This last guy sounded wary. I hope he isn’t going to throw a wrench into my plans. This fight club is my only real chance to get out of the rut of my shitty life. My last hope.

I suddenly feel very tired and old. Too old for my eighteen years. I set my head against the cold wind and head back to Zane’s apartment.

***

Next morning, I borrow Zane’s running shoes and go for a jog to calm my nerves. I always run when I can. Helps order my thoughts and let out some of my anger.

Loping through the town, I pass the entrance of the fight club. Closed and quiet. Business is done late at night. I know fighters can make good money in such clubs, if they manage not to get killed or get a debilitating blow.

I can do this. I’ve been trained by one of the best, both in clean and dirty fighting. But I’m not naive. I know what I’m getting into: illegal shit, underground mafia, drugs and violence. You sell your soul for money, beat up people you don’t know, people who are there because they’re as desperate as you for some money, some ray of hope.

It all comes down to this, doesn’t it? Time and again. Hope.

As I run, I replay my time in Audrey’s apartment in my head—her gaze, her taste, her voice, her words. How warm I felt in her arms.

It doesn’t matter. I can’t see her again. I’d give anything to be with her, and that is the one person I shouldn’t be with. Not unless I want to drag her down with me.

So instead I run and run, eating

the distance, punching the air, letting out steam. The cold clears my head.

I need to pass by Dad’s. I have to grab some stuff—clothes, shoes, my papers, my cell phone. And I’m ready for him this time.

I run, a stitch in my side, all the way to the house I used to call home. My stomach twists as I approach the familiar porch and see the familiar peeling paint of the front door.

Slowing down, I come to a stop at the front steps. Bracing my hands on my knees, I bend over, panting. Getting into the house may prove tricky, as my keys stayed inside with my wallet and phone, but I have my ways. I wonder if Dad is home.

I walk around the house, trying to see inside. No movement. No sound. Maybe my luck has taken a turn for the better just this once and he’s out, drinking with his buddies.

There. Tyler’s bedroom window is my usual way in. I’ve sneaked inside that way before, when I forgot my key. There’s a trick with the latch and I carefully push the frame to the side and up, until I feel it give.

The window slides open and I pull myself up and into the house. It’s dark and dusty. The air has a musty smell I know well, but also a subtle stench I can’t place.

No matter. I’m not planning on investigating, or staying long enough to find out. I tiptoe into my room, grab a duffel bag and stuff it with my clothes and some books. I snag my shaving kit, toothbrush and toothpaste from the bathroom, and head to the front door. The smell hits me again and I wonder if a rat died in the pipes. A cleaning lady comes in once a week. She’ll take care of it. I’m not sticking around any longer than I have to.

I stop in the hallway. Wincing, I stare at a small pool of dried blood on the floor. Probably mine, where I fell. Christ.

My cell phone is there, cracked open. I hope to god I can put it back together. I also find my wallet, lying on the floor a few feet away.

My chest aches. My heart’s going into overdrive. I glance over my shoulder, fully expecting to see my dad standing there, fists raised to knock me out cold.

I’m so outta there.

Grabbing my stuff, I shove everything into the duffel and open the door. Wary, I look outside but see nobody. I step out and close the door quietly behind me.

Done.

I’m done with my dad and my life there. Time to turn a new leaf.

***

Night has fallen by the time I climb the stairs to Zane’s apartment, still jittery with nerves—from what happened at Audrey’s, then my visit to Dad’s house, and the thought I should get ready for The Bulldog tomorrow.