They came to the gate and shook hands. José almost laughed when White tried to give him the evil eye. He wanted to say, You don’t scare me, punkass, but the time for that was later. Now it was time to fight.
The cage gate slammed shut, and it was do-or-die time. After sparring a little, they got down to business, and that’s when José noticed something: White was favoring his left shoulder ever so slightly. It wouldn’t be noticeable to most people, but it was a blinding red light to José. He let White hit him twice; that would get him in close, lull him into a false sense of security. White tried a roundhouse kick, which José deflected easily; that would send him back to using his upper body, which was exactly what José wanted. José decided to do something bold; he reached out and slapped White with an open hand, just like a parent would slap a smart-mouthed child. José could tell that it had the desired effect when White glared at him and growled, “I’m gonna kill you, spic!” Then José turned the screw: He smiled at White. A look of deep-seated fury passed over the bigger man’s face, and he came after José like a wrecking ball.
José let him get so close that he could see the veins in White’s eyes, and then he struck, grabbing the bigger man’s left arm and twisting hard. Then the unexpected happened – José heard a snapping sound, like a branch being twisted in a violent storm, and White’s face contorted in agony. He went down with a thud, screaming in pain. If he got free now, he’d be more than dangerous; he’d be a killer. José continued to torque his arm, leaned down to him, and whispered, “You stay down and I’ll turn loose.” Instead, White growled again, and José gave the arm another little twist. As the pain doubled, then tripled, White’s eyes rolled back in his head and he was gone, passed out cold.
The house was coming apart, the screaming so loud that it overpowered the sound system. Jorge came to the gate and opened it, and José walked out to cheering and shouting the likes of which he’d never heard. White’s team had headed into the cage to carry him out, and Jorge and José walked back through the double doors and down to his warm-up area.
“Mi dios, that was awesome!” Jorge yelled. “You took him down so fast that he didn’t know what hit him!”
“Is he okay?” José asked, the raging lion gone and the kid from Englewood on Chicago’s south side back in the house. “I hope he’s going to be okay.”
Jorge’s eyes went wide. “What the hell, man? Why do you even care?”
“Because. Because I never thought something like that would happen.” José shook his head sadly. “That’s just not who I am.” My madre and padre didn’t work themselves nearly to death to see me be a total asshole, he thought.
“He wouldn’t have hesitated to kill you if he got the chance,” Jorge reminded him. “Shake it off.”
But José wasn’t wired that way. He went down the hall to White’s camp and knocked on the door. White’s manager came out into the hall. “What the hell do you want? Gloating?” the man asked.
“No, man, I came to check on him. Will he be okay?”
White’s manager stared at him in disbelief. “Seriously? Are you for real?”
“Yeah, man. I just wanted to check on him.”
The man’s face softened. “Yeah, I think he’ll probably have to have surgery, but he’ll be okay. But I doubt he’ll ever be able to fight again.” He was surprised at the look of pain that flitted across José’s face. “I’ll be sure to tell him you asked, okay?”
“Thanks. I appreciate it. I wish him the best,” José turned to walk back down the hallway to his area. Photos were taken, autographs signed, and it was time to go home.
Two days later, José went to the hospital to check on White. When he got to the hospital room, two men blocked his way in. “Where the hell you think you goin’, spic?” one of them asked José.
“I wanted to talk to White. I’m . . .” José started.
“We know who you are,” the man spat. “You really wanna go in there?”
“Yeah, I do. I’d like to tell him how sorry I am for what happened.”
The men laughed. “Sure, go on in.” One of them held the door and José walked in.
A hush fell over the room. Everyone moved away from the bed, and when White saw José, he couldn’t believe his eyes. “What the hell you doin’ here?” White yelled. “You think I can’t get outta this bed and kick yo ass? You crazy?”
“I just wanted to see how you were, tell you that I’m sorry for what happened. I know all’s fair in fighting, but I hate hurting anyone.” José’s voice was steady and clear. “Is there anything I can do for you? Need anything?”
White was seething. “Are you serious? Getcho damn wetback ass outta here. I never wanna see yo punkass again, motherfucker. You hear me?”
José turned to leave, and he heard White say, “I’m gonna get outta this bed and when I do, I’m gonna hunt yo spic ass down and kill you.” José just kept walking.
When he got out into the hall, one of the men watching the door grabbed his arm. José drew back to defend himself, but the man yelled, “Hey! Hey! Don’t hit me! I just wanted to tell you that I heard you in there, and that was classy, man. Very classy.” The other man nodded in agreement. “Don’t worry about Devon. When he cools off, it’ll be okay. He’s just pissed and in pain. Hey, congratulations on your win and good luck, okay?” The man extended his hand.
“Thanks.” José took the man’s hand and shook it. Then he walked down the hall and out the door.
That’s it, he thought. No more fights. I don’t want to hurt anyone like that ever again.
March 2011
“I can’t do this anymore,” the stocky blond said. “I can’t support us both, and you just can’t seem to find anything that’s permanent or steady. And this relationship isn’t going where I’d hoped it would either. I think we need to see other people.”
“Please, Braden, don’t do this!” José pleaded. “We’re good together, you know we are!” José felt like his whole world was cracking apart. He’d worked so hard to find a job and just hadn’t had any luck. And now Braden was breaking up with him? That just wasn’t fair. It wasn’t his fault that the economy was down, and it wasn’t like they were hurting; Braden made good money, and José supplemented it when he could find work.
Then something flitted through his mind. “Have you met someone?” José whispered, not really wanting to know.
Braden looked away. “Yeah. I have. And I still care about you, but I don’t love you and I’m not in love with you.”
José’s heart sank. Well, that was it. Relationship over. “Fine. I’ll be out by tomorrow.” Where the hell will I go?, he thought. He’d call Vivica; maybe she knew someone who needed a roommate. But he didn’t have a job, so how could he make rent?
He packed all of his stuff and put it in his van. I wish I’d taken better care of this van; I might have to live in it, he thought, looking at the dust and rust.
A call to Vivica took care of his housing dilemma. “I don’t have anybody in my extra bedroom. Come on over and crash until you can find something. Don’t worry about rent; we can take it out in trade!” she laughed. Until José met Braden, he and Viv had been sleeping together on a regular basis. She was pretty and fun, a great fuck buddy, and she didn’t want a commitment. He’d never expected to fall for Braden, but when he fell, he really fell. He and Viv had continued to talk frequently, but they’d stopped being each other’s booty calls. Looked like that was about to change.
Once he’d settled in at Viv’s, he set out to really look for a job, but it wasn’t easy. Unemployment was high and everyone was looking for work, and most of them had more experience, training, or education than he did. Cage fighting didn’t translate too well in the work world either. He’d just about given up when his mother called; his cousin Diego was in town for a visit and was hoping to see him.
When he got to his mom’s house, the party was in full swing. He walked in to see relatives he hadn’t laid eyes on in years. It had been fifteen years s
ince he’d seen Diego, and José had trouble picking him out of the crowd, but finally found him near the beer tub. They exchanged a bro hug.
“So, I hear you’re the big name in cage fighting now!” Diego shouted over the noise. “That’s great! I’m surprised I haven’t seen your name on the schedule for the federation. When’s your next fight?”
“No more fighting,” José told him. When Diego realized what he’d said, he grabbed José by the arm and dragged him outside.
“Whaddya mean, no more fighting? You’re the champ!”
“Yeah, and I hurt somebody real bad. I’m done, man. That’s not my style.”
Diego stood for a moment with a strange look on his face. “Man, I can’t believe that. What are you going to do now?”
“I have no idea. I can’t find a job. It’s brutal out there, and I don’t really have any skills. I had some money from the win, but it’s been a year and I’ve pretty much gone through that. I don’t even have any prospects, and I don’t have any income. I lost my place, and I’m living with a friend. Times are hard, man.”
Diego smiled. “Do you want a job?”
“More than just about anything.” Well, except for Braden, José thought, but that was never going to happen.
“The guy I work for would love to get his hands on you. But you’d have to move to Louisville.”
“Hell, I’ve got no reason to stay here. What exactly does he do?” José asked.
“He’s an attorney and I work for him as a paralegal, but he’s started a security company and he’s looking for people who can handle themselves, if you know what I mean. You interested?”
“Hell yeah! Could I stay with you until . . .
“Of course,” Diego smiled again. “That’s what family’s for, mi primo!”
“What do I do?”
“I’ll talk to him when I get back, and I’ll give you a call,” Diego promised.
“I appreciate this, man. I really do.”
“Hang in there, cuz. I think he’ll jump to get you.”
Two weeks later, Steve McCoy called José and talked to him over the phone. The next day, he and his van full of belongings were headed to Louisville.
MOLLY
June 2002
“Where’s your dad?” Molly was tired of chauffeuring both boys around. Even though she was glad to have them home from college for the summer, Freddie insisted that their cars be parked unless they had jobs and money for gas. Problem was, he never seemed to be around when they wanted or needed to go somewhere, even when he wasn’t at work, and Molly wound up taking them everywhere. And she was tired of it.
“I dunno,” Todd, their twenty year old, mumbled through a mouthful of potato chips. “Last time I saw him he was in the yard.”
“I saw him going next door,” Jeff, the nineteen year old, told her. “I don’t know what he was doing, but he was headed that way.”
That same sick feeling came over Molly again. She’d thought it was her imagination, but now she wasn’t so sure. Ever since the Morgans next door had hired that sixteen-year-old babysitter, Felicity, Molly’s husband of almost thirty years was nowhere to be found. Molly didn’t want to think that Freddie was sniffing around an underage girl, but it seemed odd to her that he was always turning that direction.
“Okay, get your stuff. Now where am I going?” she asked the boys. They were just about to tell her when Freddie walked in the back door.
“Where are you guys going?” Freddie picked up an apple from the fruit basket on the counter and bit into it.
Just as she started to answer him, Molly noticed something that made her pulse slam in her temples. “Could you please go and wait in the car for me?” She wasn’t asking; she was telling them. Both boys skulked out the door and let it close behind them. When she was sure they were out of earshot, she turned on Freddie with well-deserved vengeance.
“You know, if you’re going to screw the next-door-neighbor’s babysitter, you could at least hide the fact from our kids,” she spat at him.
His look of astonishment didn’t fool her for one minute. “How can you say something like that to me?” he cried. “What would make you think a thing like that?”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe because they saw you sneaking over there. And, oh, yeah, there’s the fact that your damn shirt is on wrong-side out!” she screamed at him.
Freddie’s face turned bright red, and he took his shirt off and turned it right-side out. That was when she saw them – love bites. “My god, don’t you have any shame?” she shrieked and headed out the door.
When Freddie looked down to see what had finally given him away, he felt faint. There was no denying what the marks were, or where he’d gotten them. But Felicity was so cute, and her breasts were so big and perky, and she was so hot and tight, and . . . he felt a stirring below his waist just thinking about her. Problem was, if Molly gave him away, he could go to jail for having sex with a minor. And just how would Freddie Walters explain that? The legal system was the least of his worries; two of his brothers would knock the bejesus out of him, and the other two would do the same if they lived there in Louisville.
As Molly drove the boys to friends’ houses, she stewed. She was screwed; the only place she’d worked since the kids were born was the boutique Freddie had bought there in town and given to her to run. Unfortunately, she was pretty sure if she left him she wouldn’t get the boutique. Then she’d have no job. And she had no other way to make herself a living. She could ask her brothers-in-law, Bart and Tony, if either of their businesses had an opening, but it would be weird to work for her husband’s family if she was divorcing him.
Divorce. That was the first time Molly had really given it a thought. Sure, things between them hadn’t been perfect, but they’d had a pretty good run. They had four kids, four good kids, with the oldest two, the girls, grown and out of the house, and the two boys almost in the same situation. Regardless what he was dipping his wick into, the kids loved their dad. Problem was, she did too. But she knew she couldn’t compete with a piece of high-school-aged ass. She and Freddie had been together since she was seventeen, married at eighteen, and she really didn’t know anything else but being his wife. What would she do?
She’d stick it out, that’s what she’d do. Eventually he’d tire of being with a kid and he’d come back to be with her. She wouldn’t make it easy on him. If he wanted out, he’d have to come right out and ask.
November 2012
Molly pulled the pins and elastic out of her long, dark hair, then took off her dress and threw it across the chair. Freddie was undressing and getting ready for bed too. It had been a long day. She’d always found Thanksgiving to be a tiresome, thankless holiday, especially for the women in the family.
“I still can’t believe the announcement my brother made today. That was a shock.”
“Looks like the big family Christmas is going to be quite the celebration.” Molly hated the Walters family gatherings. Everybody was always so happy, except for her. If they had any idea what Freddie was up to, they wouldn’t be quite so happy, now would they?, she thought, fuming. “That’s all anybody wanted to talk about today, how wonderful it would be and how happy they are. Blah, blah, blah,” she added, sarcasm dripping from her voice.
“No, do you want to know what everyone was really talking about today? They were talking about what a bitch you were. Are. Will be – forever. Why do you have to be such a bitch?”
“Why do you have to be such a pedophile?” she slung back at him.
“Oh, shut up. I’m tired of your barbs, tired of trying to please you, tired of being made to feel like I’m not doing enough. Don’t I give you everything you want or need?”
Molly mocked him with a sarcastic grin. “Yeah, everything except a stable relationship.”
“What’s not stable about it? I mean, we have a good life. We have a home, cars, money, good kids, and you can’t say I’ve ever denied you in bed.”
“And your kiddi
e girlfriend, don’t forget her,” Molly sniped.
“She’s not a kid. She’s twenty-six,” Freddie shot back.
“Verbage. She was a kid when you first started screwing her!” Molly climbed into bed. “And since she’s working with you, I assume you’re still screwing her?”
“Oh, come on, Molly, let’s not talk about that. I want something from you, and I want to give you something too,” Freddie offered, sliding into bed and slipping his hand up Molly’s leg to the juncture of her thighs. She didn’t tell him not to touch her, and within minutes the deed was in full swing. Her thinking was that if she gave him whatever he wanted, maybe he would leave Felicity alone and recommit to her. But who was she kidding? It had been going on too long, with no end in sight.
When they were finished, Molly lay staring at the ceiling. She had finally decided to let her anger go for the night and get to sleep when Freddie announced, out of the blue, “Molly, I want a divorce.”
It took all she had not to lean over and choke him to death. They’d just had sex, and he’d asked her for a divorce. Talk about poor timing, or maybe he was just more of a bastard than she’d already thought; now, on top of everything else, she felt like a whore. A tear welled in the corner of her eye, but she was determined that he’d never see her cry, especially over him.
“I’m going to hire myself a really good attorney.” It wasn’t like she hadn’t seen it coming, just hadn’t seen it coming in the last ten minutes. She’d already been thinking about an attorney, just in case. It looked like “just in case” had finally come around.
“I’m not going to fight you over stuff. I’ll give you whatever you want, but Felicity and I want to be together.” Freddie rolled over with his back to her. “Do you know what you want? I mean, of our property and such?”
“Yeah,” Molly answered, “I want the boutique. I’ve built it into what it is, and I at least deserve that.”