Broken Lion (13 page)

I knew for a fact people got jumped in this parking lot all the time. One of my students at the dojo told me about their friend getting mugged here a few months ago. Worse, last year, the boyfriend of some woman who worked at the park snuck a gun in and shot himself in front of her while park patrons watched in horror. Lucky he hadn’t shot anyone except himself. Two years before that, there was a shooting outside one of the CityWalk nightclubs. Bad shit happened here often enough, no matter what people said.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out this was going to be somebody’s unlucky day. But it wasn’t going to be mine.

“Do I know you?” Curly asked, searching my face. Since it was dark, I wasn’t wearing my shades anymore and my Minions hat was in my back pocket.

“Not yet you don’t.”

“No, I know you. You Lion Maxwell.”

I couldn’t decide if him recognizing me was a good thing or bad.

“Who the fuck Lion Maxwell?” Baggy asked.

“He that WMAA fighter.”

WMAA, meaning the World Martial Arts Association. If they wanted my autograph, I would rather do that then get into a scuffle.

“You undefeated, ain’t you?” Curly said.

I didn’t like how he said it. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My name is Dan Smith.” It was the first name that came to mind.

“Nah. You Lion Maxwell. Only you ain’t gonna be undefeated after tonight. We gonna beat yo ass,”

The third guy, who had a bald head and a long biker beard and wore a sleeveless Harley Davidson T-shirt cracked his knuckles menacingly. Gothic letters tattooed on his knuckles spelled out
LOVE
and
HATE
. Together, this crew looked like a multicultural prison break. The only thing they were missing were the orange jumpsuits.

I had known animals like this. They thought they smelled blood. They all snarled the same tough guy smile. Next they would lick their chops like rabid wolves.

We all knew what happened when a wolf challenged a lion.

The great thing about crutches was that they were made of metal and they added another three feet to my reach. I whipped the first crutch hard against Baggy’s shin. I wanted him to forget about whatever he had in his pocket. Sure enough, he doubled over, grabbing at his shin. My other crutch punched Curly in the solar plexus. He folded around it like a meat pillow. I brought the first crutch up and around and sliced it across Baggy’s face, nearly tearing his nose off. Then I brought both around and hit Biker Beard high and low at nearly the same time, one to the side of his head and the other to his groin. His nervous system didn’t know what to do so he dropped to the cement. All of this literally took two seconds. I was a whirlwind of aluminum death.

Baggy still had some fight left in him. “Motherfucker done broke my nose!” Blood poured down his face and he covered it with one hand.

I was in full battle mode and went at him again with both crutches. If he had a gun, I didn’t want him getting to it. Good thing I had practiced crutch fighting at home for the last four weeks. Beat the shit out of a heavy bag until I tore it open. It was what you did when you spent your life immersed in the fighting arts. Everything had an application as a weapon if you knew what to do with it. I did.

I was so busy making sure Baggy was out of action, I never saw Curly’s boot coming for my ribs.

CRACK!!

Sharp pain speared my side.

He probably broke a rib. Or two. I’d thought he was down for the count. I was wrong. Fighting is always messy and unpredictable.

The surprise of Curly’s kick threw me off balance and I fell forward onto Baggy. I landed the side of my crutch in his throat and heard something crunch. His problem, not mine. His eyes popped out of his skull and he gagged.

More kicks from Curly rained down on my back. He was aiming for my head. His boot grazed across the top of my head, tearing skin from my scalp and nearly taking my ear off with it. This was too close for comfort. I rolled off Baggy, trying to get some distance. Any second, Biker Beard was going to get up and join Curly in the kicking spree.

This was getting out of hand really fast.

I wasn’t a superhero.

But I did have crutches. I whacked one right across Curly’s forearm. He wasn’t thinking about his arms because he was so busy kicking. He instantly regretted it and screamed, cradling his wrist against his chest.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” He danced in pain.

I tried to get to my feet, but my bad knee buckled and I went right back down and hit the cement hard. Lucky I had the knee brace. But it didn’t stop a nail gun from shooting a thousand nails into my knee from every direction. The crutches had me off balance and I pitched forward and rolled, throwing the crutches down in the process.

This was a disaster.

I landed right next to Biker Beard. His face was inches from mine. His mustache was a gory red mess. Blood was smeared across his teeth. His eyes were sleepy, like he wasn’t sure where he was. He must have fallen on his face and knocked himself out.

I didn’t have time to think about it.

“See how you like the taste of crutches,
pendejo!
”

I rolled forward just in time to miss getting hit across the back of the head by Curly. He swung one crutch like a baseball bat. I felt the wind as it whirled past. Could’ve taken my head off. He brought the crutch down again like he was chopping wood. I rolled to the side and tried to hook his ankles with both my legs and trip him, but my knee twisted wrong, making the nails in my knee shoot up to my hip. The pain made me flail the takedown maneuver.

Curly jumped out of the way in time to keep his feet. He might have been right earlier when he’d said he was going to end my winning streak.

Headlights swept across me as a car drove toward us.

I hoped that was fucking security. They were supposed to be the ones to take care of thugs like this, not me. No blue lights came on. I guess it wasn’t security.

Curly turned to look, still holding my crutch like a weapon.

This was my chance. I reached across Biker Beard, who was still out, and grabbed my other crutch. I swung it at Curly’s Achilles’ tendon. His leg buckled and he went down on his ass. I scurried over to him on all fours and got my arms around his neck in a rear naked choke.

The whole time, the car headlights were pinned on us like spotlights. I didn’t know who it was. I hoped they were calling 911.

Curly was strong and fought against me. But I was stronger. Nothing wrong with my arms. It didn’t take long for him to lose blood flow to his brain. After way too long, he sagged in my arms, out cold.

I was heaving for air and hot as a blast furnace.

The entire fight had taken maybe a minute, two tops, but it felt like an hour.

“Oh my God! Are you okay?” Brigid ran out of the car and knelt beside me. “What did you do?” She sounded horrified.

“What did
I
do? What about them?”

“These men need emergency medical services.” She was checking Biker Beard’s pulse.

“Fuck these guys. We need to get the hell out of here.”

“I’m talking to 911 right now.” She held up her smart phone.

I snatched it from her hand and ended the call.

“What did you do that for?”

“I don’t want to deal with the cops. We need to vacate before they show up.”

“But 911 has my number. They know I called. I gave them my name.”

“Did you tell them my name?”

“No.”

“Then they don’t know it was me.”

“What does it matter?”

I glared at her, pissed even though she didn’t deserve it. “What matters is I’m a convicted felon with two strikes on my record. If I get locked up for this, I won’t be coming out for a long time.” I felt like a loser just saying it. Prison time was a badge of honor for some people, but not me. I was ashamed of it.

“Why would you get locked up? They attacked you!”

“You don’t know how the system works do you?” I hated talking about this.

“No, I…”

“Trust me, this looks bad.”

All three men were on the ground. Curly and Biker Beard were both out cold. Baggy was moaning in this wet gurgly way that had me worried about what I’d done to the hyoid bone in his throat. This was why throat punches were not allowed in the WMAA. You could easily kill someone. And I’d used my crutches, which were deadly weapons by anyone’s standards.

“What do you mean it looks bad? You’re on crutches. There were three of them. They started it.”

“Did you see them start it?”

“No. I was in the car circling around.”

“You prepared to lie on the witness stand?”

“Lie? I can’t lie.”

I smirked at her. “I need to get the hell out of here.” I wasn’t pissed at her but I didn’t have time to explain. I grabbed my crutches and stood up. I patted my pockets, making sure I had my keys, my phone, my wallet. Everything was there. Shit. My sunglasses had been hanging from my T-shirt collar. I looked around for them. Didn’t see them. I hoped my fingerprints weren’t on the lenses. They were already in the system, so if they were on the glasses, the cops would find me. I didn’t have time to search for them. I did find my Minions hat, which was on the ground next to Curly. I stuffed it in my back pocket.

“Okay, I’m out.” I started crutching toward the stairwell at the far end of the parking structure.

“Where are you going?” Brigid demanded.

“Away from here.” My first thought was the Metro. I could take the subway anyplace else and have someone pick me up. But I didn’t want her knowing that if she talked to the cops.

“Get in the car already,” she hollered.

“No. 911 knows who you are. They can track your phone.”

“I’ll turn it off.”

“That won’t work. You need to take the battery out.”

“I don’t think you can.”

“Then throw away your phone.”

“I can’t do that. I need it if the hospital calls.”

“I need to go.” I swung toward the stairwell as fast as I could. I felt like a piece of shit for dragging her into this. The simple solution was to make sure I left her out of it.

The sound of her car door slamming echoed against the cement. She drove up behind me, the headlights cutting across me and casting a long jittery shadow out in front of me. Her car crawled up beside me and she rolled her window down.

“This is ridiculous, Lion. It wasn’t your fault.”

“That doesn’t matter, Brigid. Self defense means you stop after subduing your opponent, not when you finish beating the fuck out of them with an aluminum pipe.”

“Let me help you.”

“Throw your phone out.” I didn’t need a kiss, a hug, and a cookie. I needed an escape plan.

“I can’t.”

“I know,” I grunted. This was insane and stupid all at the same time. Dan stared at me from the backseat where he sat behind Brigid. Had he seen me beating on those guys? I hoped not. Unlike martial arts class, real fighting was ugly.

“You’re bleeding.”

“I’m sure I am.” I couldn’t tell what was sweat dripping down my head and what was blood. I didn’t have time to check with my hands holding the crutches.

“This is crazy. Let me drive you someplace.”

My mind was spinning a thousand miles an hour. If I went to prison, who would take care of Aslan, Tigger, and Guenhwyvar? Then there were all the people who depended on me, my business partners who looked to me to call the shots and cut their paychecks every month. My absence would create unnecessary stress and extra work for everyone involved. It might even cost some of them their jobs. Not to mention it would make me look bad in the media, which meant I might lose some or all of my sports endorsements. And nobody wanted to send their kids to a karate chain owned by a three strikes felon sitting in prison. Well, not in some neighborhoods. The original school in East LA would probably get more membership signups because of it. But that was no way to think.

“Please, Lion. Let me help you.”

“What did you tell the cops?”

“I told the police that three men attacked my friend here in the parking lot.”

“Did you tell them where in the parking lot?”

“I said somewhere in Jurassic Parking.”

“Did you say which floor?”

“They didn’t ask.”

“It’s gonna take them a few minutes to find those thugs back there. I think we have time. Gimme a ride down to Cahuenga. Then you take off. Understand?”

“Oh—okay. Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I could probably get an Uber car down on Cahuenga faster than anyone I knew could come pick me up. She stopped the car and I stuffed my crutches into the passenger footwell and climbed in.

Everyone was silent while we drove.

I felt like an idiot for dragging them into this. I also felt blood dripping down my cheek.

Brigid lifted the lid on the center console and handed me a box of tissues. “For your cut.”

“Thanks. You okay back there, Dan the Man?”

“Did you beat those guys up?” His voice was small and afraid.

“What did you see?” I was really worried about him. The way things turned out had been pretty gruesome. He didn’t need to see that.

“I saw you with your arms around that guy’s neck before he fell asleep, and two other guys lying on the ground.” Fell asleep. That sounded so much better than the reality. I wasn’t going to correct him.

“Did you see anything else?” I gave Brigid a concerned look. She gave me the same one, only on her it looked a bit disgusted. With me.

“No,” Dan muttered.

“Good. Dan my man, I need you to understand that fighting is never a good way to solve anything. I only did what I did because you and your mom were in danger. Do you understand?”

“I think so.” He didn’t sound too sure. “Are the police going to take you to jail?” he asked.

“I hope not.” Man, what kind of a role model was I? The worst kind, that’s what.

Brigid gave me another long look. She looked about as disappointed in me as I was in myself.

What was I going to say to her after this? Nothing that made any difference, that was for sure.

Because I had just fucked up.

Big time.

So much for our nearly perfect day.

After this, I was pretty sure Brigid would demote me from “just friends” to “just stay out of my son’s life, you violent felon.”