The Brick Yard (15 page)

“It was Lucky,” Dray surmised.

“Yeah, I unlocked the door and helped him inside.” Jax shook his head. “He was really drunk and bleeding.” He took a deep breath, no doubt remembering the episode. “I wanted to call you, but he wouldn’t let me. He kept saying bad boys get what they deserve.” Tears filled his eyes. “I thought he was talking about me, but then he started going on about his mom and Brick and how Brick was going to die because he didn’t deserve anything good in his life.”

Dray pulled Jax into his arms, more for himself than to soothe the younger man. “It’ll be okay. Lucky’s having a hard time dealing with Brick’s cancer.” He pressed his cheek against the side of Jax’s head. He wondered who’d given Lucky the beating. More importantly, why had Lucky allowed it.

Jax pushed against Dray’s chest. “I can’t breathe.”

Shit.
Dray hadn’t realized how tight his hold had become. He released Jax. “Why don’t you run down to Mac’s and get something to eat while I see what I can do for Lucky.” He dug a few bills out of his pocket and handed them over.

“You don’t hafta…” Jax began.

“Take it.” Dray withdrew a twenty and handed that over as well. “Bring Lucky and me back one of Mac’s ham and cheese omelets and a double order of wheat toast.” He glanced at the storage room. “I’ll make a pot of coffee and try to sober Lucky up before you get back.”

Jax looked like he wanted to say something more, but turned toward the door. He simply nodded and walked away.

Dray went to Brick’s office to make coffee. He thought about Brick back at the apartment, and Lucky in the storage room. Knowing he couldn’t be in two different places at the same time, he pulled out his phone.

“Yeah?” Flint answered.

“It’s Dray. I need you to swing by the apartment and stay with Brick for a few hours.” He carried the coffee pot to the locker room.

“Of course. What’s up?”

Dray wasn’t sure how much to tell Flint, but he decided Flint had a right to know about Brick’s condition. “I took him to the emergency room last night. It’s not good. I’m going to call hospice today and see what can be done to make him more comfortable.”

“Shit.” Flint sighed. “Fuck!”

Yeah, Dray knew exactly how Flint felt. He rinsed and filled the pot while Flint continued to digest the information. “Anyway,” he began when Flint took a break from cussing. “I need you to go over there while I deal with a situation here at the gym.”

“What’s up at the gym?” Flint asked.

Dray scraped his teeth across his bottom lip. Although Flint had a right to know what was going on with Lucky, he hated to betray Lucky’s trust. “Lucky’s not dealing with Brick’s condition very well,” he settled on. He realized he hadn’t even asked Lucky how the matches the previous night had turned out. “When does he fight again?”

“Tomorrow,” Flint replied. “That crazy sonofabitch knocked out both opponents in the first round last night.”

From what he’d seen of Lucky’s face, Dray wasn’t certain Lucky would be able to continue in the tournament. He’d keep the information to himself until he’d had a chance to assess Lucky’s condition. Pouring the water in the machine, he set the coffee to brew. “You’ll need to swing by and get a key.”

“Yeah, no problem. I’m on my way out the door now.”

“Thanks.” After hanging up, Dray shoved the phone back into his pocket as he held a cup under the dripping brew. The moment the cup was full, he did a quick switch with the pot. Coffee in hand, he went to the storage room.

Taking the chair beside Lucky’s bed, Dray set the cup on the small table. He reached out and brushed his fingertips over the worst of the bruises on Lucky’s face. The skin was swollen, scraped and an intense shade of purple. “Lucky?” As much as he hated to wake the sleeping man, he had to make sure Lucky didn’t need to go to the hospital. The beating he’d taken had been bad.

Lucky groaned and rolled away from Dray.

“Lucky?” Dray tried again. “I need you to wake up and look at me.”

“No,” Lucky finally answered, pulling the blanket over his head.

“I brought you a cup of coffee.” Dray struggled with what to say. “Who did that to you, and why the hell did ya let ’em?”

When Lucky didn’t reply, Dray growled his frustration. The noise that erupted from Dray’s throat did what words couldn’t. Lucky rolled to his back and lowered the blanket. “I’m fine. Sore and hung-over, but I’ll live.” He seemed to realize what he’d said and closed his eyes. “Fuck. I can’t believe it’s happening.” He opened his eyes and stared at Dray. “I don’t want to continue the tournament. With training and the fights, I’ll be so busy, I won’t have time to be with Brick.”

Dray swallowed around the thick lump of emotion lodged in his throat. He nodded in understanding. “You want me to call Bruno?”

“You don’t need to. I told him last night,” Lucky admitted. “As I suspected, he didn’t take the news well.”

Dray automatically curled his hands into fists as he got to his feet. “Bruno’s thugs did that to you?” The thought of Lucky being beaten by the five no-necked giants that guarded Bruno sent Dray into a tailspin. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

“No.” Lucky started to shake his head but winced and settled back down. “This happened later.”

“How?” Dray was starting to lose patience.

“Doesn’t matter now.” Lucky placed his palm on his forehead before slowly sitting up. “Fuck.” He blinked several times. “I could use that coffee and about twenty aspirin.”

Dray left the room and quickly retrieved a bottle of pain relievers and the first-aid kit from Brick’s office. He was torn between backing off and getting more answers. Even if he didn’t question Lucky further on who’d hurt him, there was one answer he had to have. Dray returned to the storage room. He sat on the edge of the mattress beside Lucky and held out the bottle. “Why’d you come here instead of home to me?”

Lucky scowled. “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be with you.” He reached for his coffee. After taking more aspirin than was necessary, his gaze flitted around the room. “This is my safe place. Always has been.” He lifted the cup to his lips, looking contemplative. Lowering his coffee, he stared at Dray. “I didn’t come to you last night because I knew you’d try to make me feel better, and I didn’t want to feel better. I’ve got a lot of bad shit in my head right now, and I don’t wanna do or say something that’ll make you think less of me.”

Dray eased the cup out of Lucky’s hand and took a drink before setting it aside. “I’ve told you before, there’s nothing you can tell me that’ll make me think less of you. I understand you have demons—we all do—and I’m not going to guilt you into sharing them with me, but I need you to know that monsters are only scary until you turn on the light.”

Lucky’s eyebrows drew together. He was obviously thinking about what Dray had said. “Thanks,” he mumbled. “Maybe someday.”

Dray opened the first-aid kit. “You need some butterfly bandages on those cuts, and we’ll have to think of something to tell Brick.”

* * * *

“Damn,” Brick wheezed when Lucky stepped into the apartment. “I thought Flint said you won both fights?”

“I did.” Lucky sat on the couch across from Brick’s recliner. He nodded an acknowledgment at Flint, who was sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. “Flint did a good job.”

“Yeah? So why the hell do you look like you’ve been run over?” Brick asked before a coughing fit overtook him.

Lucky winced at the wet-sound as his gaze slid to the oxygen tank half-hidden behind Brick’s chair. “One of the bastards fought dirty.” He hoped Brick believed him. No way could he tell Brick what had really happened. “Does he need that?” He looked at Flint and pointed to the tank.

“He’s got the mask tucked beside him. He’ll use it if he needs to bad enough,” Flint explained.

Brick lifted a trashcan and spit into its depths. “I’m fine,” he growled when he caught Lucky staring at him. “Now let’s talk about your face.”

“I’m fine.” Although Lucky would rather have told Brick the news in private, he knew he’d have to eventually discuss it with Flint anyway. “I’ve decided not to go on with the tournament. I don’t like the way it’s being run. Bruno’s got featherweights matched up against heavyweights.” It wasn’t the truth, of course, but telling Brick he was going to quit because he wanted to spend more time with him wouldn’t have gone over well.

“But you’ve got a real chance at winning,” Brick argued.

“I also have a real shot at getting seriously hurt,” Lucky countered. “I think I’d rather take a few weeks off. I’ll get back into the regulated fights once you’re better.”

Brick’s eyes filled with tears. “You know I’m not going to get better, son, don’t you?”

Throat tight, Lucky couldn’t believe Brick had called him son. He glanced at Flint to find he and Brick weren’t the only ones in the room trying to swallow tears. “We’ll see,” he finally replied. “In the meantime, Dray and I’ll take turns sitting with you and running the gym.”

“I can help, too,” Flint cut in. “With Jax there to clean up, one person can handle the actual running of the place.”

“Thanks.” Lucky would have to look into the financial stability of the gym. Brick had owned the place since the late sixties, so he was pretty sure it had been paid off, but he needed to know what the profit margin was. He’d like to start paying Jax a better salary so the kid could get an apartment or save for college if he decided to go. He sat back on the couch. There were so many things he needed to think about without allowing the ghosts from his past to interfere.

Brick slowly got to his feet. “I’m gonna go lay down for a while.”

Lucky started to get up to help Brick, but a quick, subtle shake of Flint’s head told him to stay where he was. He waited for Brick to disappear into his room and shut the door before turning to Flint. “What?”

“He doesn’t want help. Believe me. I got my ass chewed earlier for offering to get him a glass of that vitamin supplement shit the doctor said he should drink.” Flint rubbed his palms back and forth over his knees. “What’s the real reason you’re dropping the tournament? Is it Brick—or whoever did that to your face?”

“Brick,” Lucky confirmed. “I don’t doubt I could win, but at what cost?” He shook his head. “I’d rather spend the time with that old fucker in the next room. There’ll be other tournaments.”

“So what’s the real story on your face?” Flint asked.

Lucky shook his head. “Just a fight.”

Flint stretched his arms over his head and yawned. “You gonna be here long? I think I’ll run over to the gym and give Dray a break.”

Lucky was dead on his feet. “Yeah. I’ll stretch out here on the couch and try to get some more sleep.”

Flint stood and mussed Lucky’s hair. “Call me if you need anything, even if it’s just to talk.”

“Sure.” Lucky had known Flint for years, but the two of them had never been close. Still, looking up at the brown-haired man, Lucky felt something stir in his chest. Maybe by the end of the whole shitty ordeal, he could count Flint as a friend. It felt good, especially since his friends seemed to be dropping like flies recently.

* * * *

Dray pushed a small cart up and down the aisles of the drug store as he waited for one of Brick’s prescriptions, which was bullshit. No way would it take them thirty minutes to fill the fucking thing. He knew pharmacy techs prolonged the wait just to make customers do exactly what he was doing.

He stopped the cart in front of a display of toys and grinned. Unable to resist, he grabbed the colorful box and put it in his cart among the other crap he didn’t really need, except the chocolate covered cherries. Those he needed.

“Refill for Tony Brick is ready,” a voice said over the speakers.

Dray made his way to the back of the store, stopping only to put a giant plastic container of peppermint puff ball thingies into his cart.

The cashier at the pharmacy desk stared down her nose at Dray’s cart of shit. “You’ll have to pay for that up front.”

Dray rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He handed the woman money for the high blood pressure medicine, one of Brick’s routine medications.

The clerk glanced at his cart again. “You have kids?”

Dray looked at his haul. “No,” he replied sheepishly. He understood why she thought that, but almost everything in his cart was meant to make Lucky smile. He accepted his change and shoved the small white pharmacy bag into his coat pocket before pushing his merchandise to the front counter to wait in yet another line.

By the time he’d left the store and picked up dinner, it was almost eight o’clock. He could’ve made the trip much quicker if he hadn’t been so picky about his pizza. The small pizzeria was outside the neighborhood, but well worth driving the extra few miles. Unlike most people in Chicago, Dray didn’t care for deep dish pizza. Nope. He liked thin-crusted brick-oven baked pizza. He wasn’t sure which Lucky preferred, but hopefully Lucky would be so hungry he wouldn’t care.

Dray let himself into Lucky’s apartment. He turned on the light and set the pizza and beer on the coffee table before going back down to the truck for the other goodies he’d purchased at the drug store. He stashed the sacks next to the shelf that held the television. Pulling out his phone, he texted Lucky.

Hey. Is Brick in bed?

Yeah. Just a few minutes ago. Where R U?

Dray grinned.

Downstairs.

I’ll find Gatsby and be down.

Dray set his phone on the counter and put the twelve-pack of beer in the refrigerator. He was in the process of plating the pizza when the door opened. Lucky came into the apartment, looking worn out, bruised and without his furry friend. “Where’s Gatsby?”

Lucky dropped his keys onto the coffee table. “She’s curled up beside Brick.” He sighed. “Do animals know when people are sick?”

“Sure. I think they smell it or something.” Dray carried the plates into the living room. “Want a beer?”

Lucky made a face and shook his head. “Water’s fine for me.” He toed his shoes off and set them inside the bedroom while Dray retrieved a bottle of water and a beer from the fridge. “When I went into Brick’s room to look for Gatsby, Brick had his oxygen mask on.”