Homeless Heart

Chapter 4

Phin

Shortly after I started at Duke's, I was cleaning up the bar and heard a disturbance from the corner of the room. A guy my size was manhandling a young woman much smaller than him. Seeing this woman being touched against her will brought on flashes of my beatings. These memories were powerful, and before I could stop myself, I was over the bar and on the guy's back in a flash.

"Let her go now!" I yelled at him. Before he could move, I pulled him back and hit him in the face. His head snapped back, and I saw the first sight of blood coming out of his nose. Before I could hit him again, Duke's big hand dragged me back.

"Kid, go upstairs, now!" he commanded me. I was in a daze, unable to think, so I followed his orders.

I sat on my bed, looking down at my hands as they trembled, unsure what would have happened had Duke not pulled me off. Unsure how long I sat there, Duke finally came in and sat next to me. His hulking frame made my bed creak.

"Kid, what the fuck?"

Scrubbing my face, I said, "I don't know what happened, something snapped." I was still trembling, and I felt like I wanted to cry. "His hands were on her, and it was just a trigger, man. Reminded me of my father and I couldn't stop myself; the rage just took over." I looked up from my hands to gaze at Duke, hoping he wouldn't kick me out, or worse, that I had disappointed him.

"Kid, you can't do that again. Luckily, that meathead had it coming, so I got rid of him. You can't work downstairs with that short a fuse. Tomorrow, you and I are going to the gym, and we’ll get some of that anger out."

"Sure." I was so relieved he wasn't gonna kick me out or beat my ass that I took in a big breath.

"Be ready! Seven a.m."

"You got it, boss."

"Now, get your shit together and come back down to help me close up. I've got a bar full of hipsters yelping about their favorite shitty dive bar. You've got to tell me what the fuck a YELP is!" He got up to leave, and we both chuckled at his continued lack of computer knowledge.

"On my way, old man, just give me a second." Standing up, I felt a little lighter, sensing that some of the anger I had hoarded inside myself would have a healthy outlet for release. Given my background, I never wanted to resort to violence to anyone. Looking down at my bruised knuckles, I realized my hand fucking hurt like a bitch. First thing, I needed to get some ice to stop the swelling. As I made my way back to the bar, I wondered what Duke had in store for me tomorrow, but I smiled knowing my sore hand would be the least of my aching body parts.

The next morning, I came down into the bar which still smelled of disinfectant from the night before when I cleaned it. Savoring that smell, I surveyed my work and realized the pride I took in this place now. Duke was sitting on a stool drinking a glass of water in what looked like his workout gear, an ancient tight black Jack Daniels T-shirt and long black sweatpants. Moving slowly, he heaved his considerable frame off the stool and faced me with a grin.

"You ready for me to kick your ass, kid?"

"Give it your best shot, old man!" If I'd have known what he had planned, I would have been a little humbler in my brag.

Duke and I had worked out before, so I wasn't shocked when we showed up at his old gym that we’d been to in the past. What surprised me was when he stood in front of the boxing ring. He lifted his chin and asked, "Kid, you ready to work on some of your anger issues?"

"Sure. I thought we’d lift some weights." I swallowed hard, not sure I believed that answer. I'd been so good at keeping my anger tamped down, so I was more than a little scared to even consider unleashing it. I couldn't hurt Duke, who meant so much to me.

"Nope." He popped the P. Shit!

We stood in the middle of the ring, and I looked at him for an indication of what he expected of me. His face gave nothing away. He threw me a pair of gloves that had been sitting on the floor of the ring.

"Put these on, kid, and then take your best shot at me."

"I am not hitting you."

"You will fucking hit me and more than once. Don't worry; I can take it, Tinker Bell."

"Okay, fine, no mercy, old man."

Putting on the gloves, I proceeded to hit Duke everywhere. At first, he took it easy on me, but his taunts kept unleashing my anger and fury on him. He never flinched or made a noise; he stood there and took it. Every punch was me screaming at my father. My arms and hands ached as my body started to give out. When I had enough, I collapsed into him, holding on to him, trying to hold myself up.

"Feel better?"

I pulled away from him and wiped the tears from my eyes, pretending it was sweat.

"Shit! I am sorry, man." Duke looked fine; I couldn't see any blood or bruises.

"Kid, it's nothing. Once a week we will get in this ring, and we will work out that anger. Next time, I will hit back."

"Fuck, man, not sure I can do that to you again." We both laughed, knowing that Duke would pound me into the ground. I moved slowly out of the ring, already worried that I'd be unable to walk tomorrow. His laugh, which was more like a grumble, had become a comfort to me.

"Don't worry, I won't be as easy on you next time, kid."

Shit, that was a promise, not a threat.