Takedown Teague (Caged 1)

As soon as I made eye contact, she usually looked away, but this time, she held my gaze for about three seconds.

“You should fuck her,” Krazy Katie said.

“Um…what?” I had to have heard her wrong.

“You should take off your clothes, and put your penis in her vagina,” Krazy Katie said. Her voice was rushed, and all the words strung together. “You should ejaculate in her, and then she’ll get pregnant, and you’ll have a little girl. You can love them, and then you won’t be so sad. It feels good, too.”

“What the fuck are you talking about, you crazy bitch?” I asked. I didn’t think I had ever heard her say more than a couple of words to me, and to have her suddenly start spewing shit about fucking and babies—it was too much.

Apparently, it was too much for Krazy Katie, too, because she curled up in the corner of the fire escape and didn’t say another word. That suited me just fine—I didn’t need her saying that shit. Tria was in school, for Christ’s sake—the last thing she needed was someone poking her fish and getting her pregnant.

I tossed the butt over the side and glared at Krazy Katie as I headed to my window.

“Don’t you say any shit like that to Tria,” I warned, as if it would make any difference. “She doesn’t need to hear any of your fucking lunatic ranting, you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, of course.

I went back inside, shoved a few things into my gym bag, and shoved any thoughts of Krazy Katie’s fucked up speech out of my head. I needed to get to the gym as early as possible. I hadn’t gone at all yesterday, and I wasn’t supposed to work out too much on fight days.

Part of my deal with Dordy included a membership to a pretty decent gym near downtown. I had to ride the bus to get there, but it only cost a dollar each way, and I only went twice a week. If money was tight for some reason, I’d walk it, but I would be pretty wiped out before I got home.

As soon as I arrived, I went straight for the squat rack. I started with my legs, back, and triceps. I went a whole circuit three times before heading to a bench to work out my core. Once that was done, I headed back to the weight benches to do some shoulders and biceps.

I knew most of the guys there, and we shot the shit as we lifted and boasted about how many reps we could do or how much so-and-so lifted last week. It was typical bullshit but mildly entertaining as well. I was laughing at the mental image described by of one of the guys who had tried one of those exercise ball classes and rolled over onto his ass in front of a room full of chicks, which was when Yolanda came in. She was already glaring at me, and I rolled my eyes as she approached and kept my focus on the weights in my hands.

“So you want to explain why you blew me off yesterday?” Yolanda asked.

“I had shit to do,” I replied. I continued to alternate hands—lifting each weight up to my chest and then back down to my hip again—and didn’t look at her.

“What kind of shit?’’ Yolanda pressed.

“I was helping my neighbor move,” I said nonchalantly.

Yolanda laughed.

“Since when are you such a do-gooder?”

I just shrugged and continued with the weights.

“What neighbor?” she asked.

I took in a long breath and blew it out my nose. I had the distinct feeling there was no getting out of this conversation with her, so I decided to just spit it out.

“Tria.”

More laughter.

“So, was it a tearful goodbye when the damsel in distress moved out?”

Glancing over at her, I narrowed my eyes a little.

“No,” I replied. I set the weights down and moved over to the mat on the floor for crunches. “She didn’t leave the building, just switched apartments.”

“Why would she do that?”

“She lost her job,” I told her. “She couldn’t afford that place on her own anymore. This shit really isn’t any of your business, you know.”

“What did you do?” Yolanda continued to question me. “Move her in with the nutcase that lives next to you?”