Emerson's Fury : L.B. Pavlov (13 page)

I had a lot on my mind with Blane DiAmico getting out of jail in a few weeks, and so this was a good distraction. It gave Carlos and I time to talk about our security plan while we drove to the fight club. When we arrived, I was shocked by how many cars were in the parking lot. This was a much bigger function than I had realized. We paid to enter, and once inside we searched for Cross. I asked the first somewhat sober-looking person I saw about him, and he knew who Cross was. He informed us that he had just fought J. P. and that he had lasted longer than anyone ever had. It went to a decision because Cross had lasted all three rounds, but they gave the win to J. P. I just stared, unaware of who J. P. was, but according to this gentleman, he was quite a legend and so was Cross now, apparently.

He pointed us in the direction of the dressing rooms. He warned me that Cross had taken quite a beating. I felt a little bit anxious about what we might walk into. When we got near the rooms, two security guards were stationed there, blocking the way down the hall. I said that I was Cross’s uncle, and they let us through. One guard led us down the hallway.

“Your nephew is a tough son of a bitch. I’ve never seen someone take a beating like that and keep standing,” the big security guard said as he walked us to the room.

Carlos and I looked at each other, aware that we might have to deal with an injured kid. The guard opened the door, and I saw Cross lying on a table. His nose, his mouth, and his hands were bleeding. His face was already bruising and discoloring, swollen and covered in smeared blood from someone’s attempt to clean him up. His hands were ripped and torn open as well, and there was a man standing over him who was attempting to assess his injuries. Cross looked over as the door opened, and when we entered, he looked stunned to see us. One of his eyes was severely swollen, and I winced at the sight of him. I had played professional football most of my life, and I had never seen someone beaten to this extent. Carlos and I both rushed over to him with concern.

“You OK, buddy?” I asked, not knowing if I should even touch him.

“I’m OK,” he moaned, and you could hear the pain in his voice. There was a woman standing next to the table, and I could only guess she was Shari, his mother.

She was staring at Carlos and me, and then she turned to Cross. “You did good, baby. I told you that you could make a ton of cash doing this. They should bring your money in soon,” she said excitedly, and I could immediately see why Emerson despised this woman. Her lack of concern for her own child was evident.

“Hmmmmm.” Cross mumbled something that I could not make out as a word. He had closed his eyes, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. The guy who was cleaning him up gave me a look, and I could tell that he felt sorry about how beaten up Cross was. Cross’s mother did not show the least bit of concern for Cross or his discomfort.

Suddenly the door opened, and a large man came into the room. Shari rushed over to him, and I heard the man say quietly, “We bumped it to thirty-five hundred dollars ’cause he gave us such a good fight,” and he handed the money to Shari.

I saw her count out a stack of the cash and shove it in her pocket. Then she rushed over to Cross and whispered, “Baby, you made the money you needed for Grandpa. Good job, Cross. I have to get going, but I think these men here can take care of you.” She said the last part coldly as she shoved what was left of the money in his coat pocket that was lying on the chair. Then she looked up at Carlos and me and smiled. I was appalled that she would leave him like this and that she would take the money from him.

The man cleaning him up turned to us. “I think this is the best that I can do. Most of these just need some time to heal,” he said consolingly.

“OK, we can take it from here. Thank you for taking care of him,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Mr. Hollingsworth. I’m a huge fan,” he said kindly.

Carlos laughed when he walked out. “Even at a fight club they recognize you, huh?” he said as he continued to laugh.

I turned to Cross, who was lying still with his eyes closed. “Can you hear me, buddy?” I asked. He opened his eyes and started to sit up. Carlos and I helped him up. He was in a lot of pain, and I would definitely be taking him home to our house tonight. He couldn’t be left alone like this.

“I’m good, sir,” he said politely.

“I think you’re anything but good, son,” Carlos said, and I chuckled.

“Let me get your shirt, and we will try to pull it over your head.” I walked over to the chair, and I took the money out of his pocket and counted it. There was $1,500; she had taken $2,000 for herself. I was shocked. She didn’t even
leave him half. I decided to replace the money when we got to the house, and he would never know that she took it. This kid deserved a break, and I was in a position to give him one. No one would ever need to know. I had an emergency stash of cash at the house, and so I could take care of this for him.

I pulled his shirt over his head, and he moaned. “Cross, I’m going to take you back to our house. You need to stay with us tonight,” I said as we lifted him off the table. We placed his arms around our necks and helped him out of the room. I carried his coat because I didn’t think he could handle anything else on his beaten-up body.

“Is that OK with Emerson? She’s not happy with me right now,” he said, moans escaping between words.

“Who do you think sent us here?” I said, laughing.

“Thank you, sir,” Cross was the most polite kid I had ever met. He had a sleeve of tattoos, played football, and fought at a fight club. You would expect him to be really cocky and tough. Cross was anything but. He was humble and polite. He was always grateful, and I respected him.

“It’s not a problem at all,” I said as we assisted him out to the car. Getting him in the car was not easy because it seemed every muscle in his body was painful. We laid him down in the back seat and drove back to the house as quickly as possible. When we pulled in the driveway, Charlotte, Emerson, and Finn came rushing out. It was late, but they clearly were not able to sleep with all that was going on. We lifted him out of the car, and they all three gasped at the sight of him.

“Oh my gosh! Is he OK?” Charlotte wailed.

Emerson broke down and started crying, and even Finn couldn’t crack a joke right then. We got Cross inside the house and into the guest bedroom. We laid him down on the bed, and I told Finn to go get him some aspirin and a bottle of water. Emerson was sitting on the bed stroking his hair. She kept telling him how sorry she was. Charlotte was checking the bandages and making sure that the wounds had been cleaned. I walked Carlos to the door, where we agreed to meet in the morning to discuss some more security plans, and I thanked him for coming. Once Carlos was gone, I picked up Cross’s jacket and brought it into my bedroom. I opened the safe took out $3,000, and added it to the $1,500. He didn’t know how much he had been paid, and I figured his mom would never bring it up because she didn’t want him to know that she took most of it. I would let him think that he had made $4,500, and maybe he could get a break for once. I carried the coat back into the room and set it on the chair.

“Emerson, it’s late. You have school and a race tomorrow. You need to get to bed. Finn…bed. Now,” I said, suddenly feeling how exhausted I was.

Charlotte came over and rubbed my shoulders and kissed my cheek. She appreciated that I had gone to get Cross, and I was glad that I had as well.

Emerson threw a blanket on the floor and grabbed a pillow. “Dad, I promise I will sleep down here. Please let me stay with him. What if he throws up or something in the middle of the night and needs help? I promise nothing will happen. Look at him, he’s harmless,” she pleaded.

I chuckled. I was too tired to argue, and I didn’t doubt for a moment that the sleeping arrangement was absolutely safe. Cross could barely move. It was actually a good idea that he not be alone. “OK. Stay on the floor,” I said firmly.

“I promise,” she replied with relief.

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c h a p t e r    t e n

I slept on the floor next to Cross’s bed the entire night. I had my arm stretched out and held his hand most of the night. I kept getting up to check on him. I would gently kiss his forehead and give him a sip of water. He moaned every time he tried to move, and he was clearly in a lot of pain. My heart broke every time I looked at him.

When I woke up in the morning, I felt like I hadn’t slept yet. I had probably only slept about two hours the entire night. I knew that my parents would insist on me going to school, and I really didn’t have a choice because I had a race. I couldn’t race if I didn’t go to school. I jumped up to see if Cross was awake. I stared at him in his sleep, and I felt a pit in my stomach when I looked at all of his bruises and cuts.

His eyes opened, and he tried to smile. “Good morning,” he said sweetly.

“Good morning. How do you feel?” I asked as I sat on the edge of the bed and gently brushed his hair off his face.

“I think I’m OK,” he said, trying to sit up. He winced when he moved, but he forced himself into a sitting position.

“I have to go to school today, but you can stay here and rest.” I said, and he closed his eyes as I continued to stroke his face gently.

“Thanks for taking care of me last night, Emerson. I know that I put you through a lot, and I’m very sorry for that,” he said, and I could see how remorseful he felt by the look on his face.

“I know you are,” I said, and he grasped my hand. I looked at his hand, and it was all bruised and swollen. I felt awful for him.

“I can’t believe you have to go to school. How are you going to race? You’re going to be exhausted,” he said with concern in his voice.

“I’ll be OK. What are you going to do?” I asked, as I assessed the wounds on his hands.

“Well, I think I’ll miss school today because there is no sense in getting asked by a million people what happened. I need to go by the hospital so that I can check on my grandfather and pay his bill. I don’t even know how much they paid me last night. I was pretty out of it after the fight. Thank God your dad and your uncle came. I don’t know what I would have done if they hadn’t been there. Do you mind handing me my coat? I’m guessing the money is in my coat pocket,” he said eagerly.

I jumped up, grabbed his coat, reached in the pocket, and pulled out a big stack of cash. I handed it to him, and he looked shocked. We counted it out, and he was beyond thrilled that he had made $4,500 for one fight.

“I can’t believe they paid me that much. And I can’t believe my mom did take half of it,” he said, laughing. I could see the relief on his face. He had made the money he needed to help his grandfather and then some.

“I’m happy for you. But I still don’t think it was worth it. Look at yourself. I don’t like that you’re hurt,” I said, pulling the pillows up behind him.

“You look awfully cute in your pajamas. I’ve never seen you in the morning. You are just as beautiful when you wake up,” he said tenderly as he gently ran his hand across my cheek. I felt my heart melt.

“Thank you. I’m sure I’m a mess. Can you get up and eat breakfast, or do you want me to bring it in to you?” I asked, figuring that he probably never had dinner last night.

“I can get up. That was really nice of your parents to let me stay here. I can’t believe they let you sleep in here,” he said with a laugh.

“Well, I gave my word that I would stay on the floor,” I said and laughed along with him.

“Regardless, your parents are pretty cool, huh?” he said, gazing into my eyes with his perfect blue ones.

“They are. We had a little fight yesterday, so I feel bad now because then they went and brought you back to me,” I said shamefully.

“What was the fight about?” he inquired.

“Well, remember I told you about those guys who had taken my mom when she was pregnant with Indy?” I said, twisting my fingers nervously.

He grasped my hand. “Of course I do,” he said, lifting my chin to so my eyes met his.

“One of those guys is getting out on parole in a couple of weeks. My dad is stressed out, I can tell. He had all these police officers over here yesterday to go over a security plan. My mom is acting as if the guy is no threat, and we should all just ignore it. I was already upset about you fighting, and her denial sent me over the edge,” I explained, feeling guilty for getting mad at my mom for being so trusting and kind by nature.

“I think that’s a good way to be. Keep in mind that I have a mother whom I hardly know, and when I do see her she acts as if the sky is falling and it’s everyone’s problem. I could use a good dose of positive perspectives,” he teased.

“I know. My mom is so sweet. She’s pure and kind, and she thinks all people are good. And when she doesn’t like a situation, she will just act like it isn’t happening. I can’t do that. I wish that I was more like my mom because I can’t ignore
anything
!” I said dramatically, falling back on the bed and laughing.

“That’s what I love about you. You speak your mind, and you’re always honest,” he said proudly, stroking my hair. “And your mom is a peacekeeper, and she just wants everyone to be happy. And that’s admirable too,” he added sincerely.

“Are you in a lot of pain?” I asked when I saw him flinch as he tried to get up.

“No, it’s not too bad. Especially because when I woke up I saw you,” he said, grasping my hand, and I felt my heart race just from the way he looked at me.

“It was nice waking up and seeing you too,” I said, feeling my face turn red.

He smiled and grasped my hand as we walked out to the kitchen.

Finn’s jaw dropped. “Dude! You look worse this morning than you did last night! Please tell me the other guy looks worse than you!” he said, laughing.

“I’m guessing the other guy looks absolutely fine this morning,” Cross said humbly.

“Man, you are a mess. Are you OK? Did you break anything?” Finn pushed.

“Stop talking, Finn. You’re being so rude,” I said, making my annoyance obvious.

“I’m sorry. You know I love you, brother. But you are a mess,” Finn said, laughing some more.