When he sits, he still doesn’t make eye contact. A chill goes through me. The last person who sat in that chair got their brains blown out. Coincidence? Probably not. We’ve signed Brawler’s death warrant.
Johnny squeezes my thigh, and I turn my attention to K again. From the back of the room, an elderly woman moves forward with a platter of fruit that she sets in the middle of the table. K’s gaze flicks from me to the platter, so I immediately reach out and grab a banana. A few of the other men around the table also take an offering. I force a few bites down because I don’t want to seem ungrateful even though I’m almost positive I’ll probably throw all this back up as soon as I leave here. I just hope I can wait that long.
“So, The Ring. As everyone else is aware, the Crew took a beating financially over the last several weeks. The fights stopped, as well as Candy’s. Those two were our moneymakers, and although the other businesses are great supplemental income for the organization,” he says, glancing toward the other guys in the room, “...it’s not enough to sustain us. We need to get the fights back up ASAP. I want Kyla headlining. The fight has to be good. Draw in the biggest crowds. I want that place packed and the audience begging for more.” He turns his gaze to Brawler. “Who’s your best fighter besides Kyla?”
“Limone and Kyla are our top fighters.”
K cocks his head. “Limone? She’s a chick, right? I’m talking best fighter. Male, female, transvestite. I don’t give a fuck. I want the best fighter opposite Kyla in The Ring.”
Brawler swallows, but Johnny speaks up. “Brawler,” he says. “Brawler’s the best fighter we have.”
“Excellent,” K says. “Set that fight up.” He laughs as if he’s told the funniest joke in the world.
My stomach bottoms out. Fight Brawler? This can’t be happening. I can’t fight Brawler. The idea is ludicrous.
K taps his chin. “Hmm. I think the fight should be one of your initiation tasks, Brawler.” He nods as if he’s enjoying this moment too much. “Yes, I like this. Your first initiation task is to beat our little Uppercut Princess.”
I grip the side of the table as the world tilts on its axis. Again. Twice within the span of fifteen minutes. I have to fight Brawler. Injured. Not only that. He has to beat me because he’s recruiting into the Crew.
“Maybe we should pick a different match up,” Johnny offers. Realization dawns on his face. His father has just signed me up for a trip to the hospital. He knows recruits will do anything to complete their tasks.
K zeroes his gaze in on his son. The challenge written there is enough to bring anyone to their knees. “I thought you had every confidence in the world in Kyla. Didn’t she beat Roza’s guy for us? Didn’t she—?”
“I do,” Johnny snaps. He tries to regain his composure and fails. “But she’s injured.”
“The Crew can’t wait for injuries, Johnny. You know how important it is for us to get the businesses up and running again.”
“I know,” Johnny says through gritted teeth. I slip my hand underneath the table and grip his thigh. It’s my turn to warn him. We can’t piss off K right now. He’ll hurt Johnny, and he might even take his defiance out on me. I couldn’t care less about that fact. I can hold my own, but Johnny cares. He wouldn’t forgive himself if his father hurt me because of him. Hell, I’m sensing this is what this is. He wants me to get taken down a peg or two. “I just thought we could give her another week,” Johnny says, calming to the point where he can speak with confidence. “Have Brawler fight someone else as the headliner since he’s not injured. Maybe even tease an upcoming huge fight. What will bring the crowd back if our two best fighters have already fought?”
“That’s Brawler’s problem, not mine,” K says dismissively, though the tick in his jaw commandeers my attention. He doesn’t like Johnny disagreeing with him. “He knows what’s at stake, and he’s never had a problem filling the fights before. Do you want to change your vote on Brawler?” He finishes with a defiant smirk as if he’s caught his son looking like an asshole.
“No,” Johnny says simply, the matching tick in his jaw too much to overlook.
The tension between the two is palpable and raw. A few of the businessmen shift in their seats, no doubt feeling it too. K has probably killed people for lesser infractions...like my parents.
The reminder is a kick to the gut. I lean on Johnny and run my hands over his thigh. He’s just worried about me, but he needn’t be. I’ll do what I have to. For all of them.
But Johnny won’t understand the turmoil raking my body when I square up in front of Brawler. To fight to win. To hurt someone I care about.
Sparring is a different scenario. We never punch, kick or swing at each other with the intent to do real damage. This time, we’ll have to.
I move my gaze away from the clusterfuck that is K and Johnny’s relationship and peek at Brawler. He’ll have to fight me to win, even though it will kill him, too. If he doesn’t win, he doesn’t get into the Crew.
I don’t give a fuck about that, but he does. He never would’ve put himself in this position if he didn’t think joining the Crew was the right course to take.
I bet he never imagined this would happen though.
For the first time, he glances over at me and our gazes connect. The turquoise in his eyes swirl like fall leaves. His jaw tightens, hard as granite. As is mine. To outsiders, it probably looks as if we’re sizing each other up or staring one another down in preparation for the fight.
They have no idea the opposite thoughts plaguing us. How can I hurt this person? How can I hit them with the intent to do damage when all I want to do is hold them to me and keep them safe?
I don’t know how this is going to play out, but I know that the first time my knuckles connect with Brawler’s skin for real, I’ll lose a piece of myself.
That’s what the Heights takes from you. Your humanity. I see it in Johnny all the time. Little by little, piece-by-piece, it takes the part of you that makes you human. It either rips it from you completely or twists it into something you don’t recognize.
Hurting Brawler will do all this and more to me.
K wants a good fight, and he’ll get one. I just hope that afterward, Brawler and I can soothe one another. Forgive one another. Move on from this shit thing that’s just happened.
Because more than anything, I need us to.
“It’s settled then,” Big Daddy K says, his voice ringing with finality. “Brawler and Kyla fight Friday.”
18
This can’t be happening.
As Big Daddy K’s guests leave, I stay by Johnny. I track Brawler as he and Oscar walk out side-by-side. The upcoming conversation I’ll have with him won’t be fun. I’m angry. I’m hurt. I’m worried about everything happening at once.
Big Daddy K sees everyone out until the four of us are left over, me, Johnny, Mag, and the douche himself. Johnny threads his fingers through mine. He whispers, “You should go.”
I grind down on my teeth. There are a lot of things I need to be doing right now, but this is just as important as the others. Besides, K said he needed to speak with me. Unless that was just a dick measuring contest. A way to see if I’d stick it out in the room.