The Brick Yard (5 page)

Lucky found another metal folding chair in the corner of the room and carried it over to the table. “Need some help studying?”

Jax shook his head. “That’s okay. I know you’re busy training and stuff.”

“I’m not busy at the moment, so you should take advantage of it.” Lucky smiled in an attempt to put Jax at ease. “Now, slide the book over, and if you get an A on this test, I’ll teach you how to land an uppercut that’ll knock an opponent on his ass.”

Jax’s big green eyes rounded. “Really?”

Lucky shrugged. He’d planned to discuss Jax’s father and living situation with the kid but decided at the last minute to get to know the younger man first. “Sure.”

For the next several hours the two of them studied, only taking breaks long enough to fold towels. Lucky glanced at the clock on the back wall. “It’s almost eleven.” He stretched his arms over his head. “I think you got this.”

Jax nodded and started to stuff his books into his backpack. “I appreciate your help.”

Lucky got to his feet and pushed the chair in. “Are you going to head home or would you rather crash in Brick’s office?”

Jax pursed his lips in thought. “Would Brick allow that?”

“Sure.” Lucky made a split second decision. “Actually, I’m planning to get my own place, so once I’m out, you can always stay in the storage room if you’re too tired to go home after work. It’s not perfect, but it’s comfortable.”

Jax’s expression changed. “Brick told you, didn’t he?”

Lucky shook his head. He wouldn’t lie to the kid, but he wouldn’t give Dray up either. “There’s a reason I moved into that storage room in the first place. You’re not the only one who’s been afraid to go home at night.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Jax mumbled, shouldering his pack.

“I can respect that, but if you change your mind, I’m here.” Lucky picked up a stack of towels and waited for Jax to do the same. “And, for the record, I suck at math, so I can’t help you there.”

* * * *

After a sleepless night, Lucky knocked on Brick’s office door. “You got a minute?”

“Yeah,” Brick answered.

Lucky opened the door and stepped inside. Elbows propped on the desk, Brick ran his fingers through what was left of his white hair. “What the fuck do you want? You should be training,” Brick growled.

Lucky closed the door behind him. He was used to Brick’s moods after so many years, but the man in front of him wasn’t himself. “You feeling okay?”

Brick dropped his hands to the desk in exasperation. “Is there a reason you interrupted me?”

“I thought I’d let you know that I’m going out this morning to look for an apartment.” Lucky sank onto the sofa, noticing the neatly folded blanket lying across the arm. “You should’ve kicked me out years ago.”

“Why would I do that? I figured you’d leave when you were ready,” Brick answered before a coughing fit hit him.

Lucky waited for Brick to regain control of his breathing before continuing. “You should’ve told me Jax needed a place to crash. Just like you should’ve told me about Leon.”

Brick’s gaze narrowed. “Did Dray open his fuckin’ mouth?”

“Yeah, and in the process of telling me what you should have, he opened my eyes. I’ve been acting like a selfish bastard, and you let me.” Lucky fucking hated the idea of moving out of his safe place, but he was an adult with enough money to get his own apartment. Jax wasn’t as fortunate. Lucky got to his feet. “Anyway, I just wanted to let you know.”

Brick growled under his breath, a sure sign he was frustrated as hell. “There’s a one-bedroom apartment in my building for rent. I’ll talk to the manager on your behalf if you’re interested.”

Lucky nodded. Brick’s place was only two blocks from the gym. It was an older building with character and a small plot of grass in the courtyard for all residents to share. He’d never been able to look out a window and see grass. “Okay. Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”

Brick coughed again. “Fine. Now get your lazy ass out there and train. The Hammer isn’t gonna lay down for you in the cage just because you’ve had a fucking epiphany about your life.”

With a shake of his head, Lucky left the office. Brick was too goddamned stubborn for his own good. There was no fucking way the old man had bronchitis. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much Lucky could do about it other than watch Brick and make sure he took care of himself.

He motioned for Hector, one of his sparring partners, before climbing into the ring. “Let’s go,” he said, knowing the only way he’d feel better was to fight.

* * * *

Lucky unlocked the door to his apartment before carrying the last box inside. He flipped on the light and grinned. The place had been fully furnished with clearance items from the local thrift store. He set the box down and sat on his twelve-dollar orange and gold floral sofa. It looked like hell, but it was comfortable, probably more so than the mattress he’d dug out of the dumpster behind the building.

He leaned forward and pulled the box over. Staring down at the contents, he willed himself to reach inside and start reliving the memories of his childhood that were wrapped in yellowed newspaper. When he’d cleaned out his mom’s apartment before she’d been sent away for distribution of a controlled substance—meth, of course—he’d packed up everything of value that she hadn’t already sold or pawned and had shoved it under his bed at the gym.

With a deep breath, he reached in and withdrew a framed picture of his Grandma Gunn. He looked into the heavy-set woman’s eyes and wondered what she was like. Did she think about him or even know that he existed? His mom had been a runaway. Lucky knew that much, but he didn’t know the circumstances behind her desire to flee with no money to the unkindness of a city the size of Chicago. Still, he couldn’t believe the smiling woman in the photograph had forced her daughter out of the house.

He stood and carried the picture across the room. He placed it on the rickety shelf that doubled as a TV stand before stepping back to eye it again. As a child, he’d made up stories about the woman in the photo, praying that she’d swoop in and take him away from the life he’d been forced to live. Of course, she’d never come, never would.

The sound of his ringing phone finally pulled him out of his thoughts. He pulled the cell out of his pocket and sighed. “Hey.”

“Brick told me you moved out of the gym,” Dray said.

“Yeah.” Lucky returned to the couch and stretched out as much as he could. “It feels weird,” he confessed.

“I bet.” Dray chuckled. “I remember the size of that storage room.”

So what did it say about him that he’d much rather be back in his old space? Lucky decided to steer the conversation away from his new place. “How’s the tattoo business?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve been working more than I want, but I don’t have anything else to do. I noticed you still don’t have ink. What happened to change your mind?”

“Nothing. I haven’t changed it. You just left before you could do it,” Lucky confessed. He’d even considered asking Dray to do it when he’d fought in Kansas City a year earlier, but according to Brick, Dray had refused to see them.

“There’re other artists in Chicago,” Dray pointed out.

“I know, but you promised me a discount.” Lucky hid behind the old agreement. “Maybe if I ever get another fight in Kansas City, you’ll actually see me, and you can do one then?”

Dray was quiet for several moments. “You know why I had to turn down Brick’s offer to see you fight when you were here, right?”

“Not really. Brick just said you weren’t ready to see us again.” Lucky scraped his teeth over his bottom lip. He didn’t tell Dray how much it had hurt. How the pain of being turned away by Dray had been worse than the day he’d tried to visit his own mother.

“It wasn’t that—not really.” Dray sighed. “If I’d shown up to that fight, I would’ve cast a shadow over your career. You’ve worked too damn hard for something like that to happen. The last thing you need is a photographer to snap a picture of you with the Fighting Fag.”

Lucky hated the nickname the fans had given Dray after the affair with Vince had come out. He wanted to tell Dray he didn’t give a fuck what the fans thought, but he couldn’t. Although he held them in contempt for the way they’d treated Dray, Lucky knew the only shot he had of rising above the life he’d grown up in was through fighting. Still, as long as he kept his dick away from what it really wanted, no one could ever accuse him of being gay.

“Unless someone took a picture of the two of us making out, I think my career would be safe,” Lucky replied.

Dray went quiet once more. “I’m not willing to take that chance… Not with you,” he added after several heartbeats.

“So forget the fight. What if I borrow a car and drive down? Would you still give me that discount on the tat?” Lucky held his breath, waiting for Dray’s answer.

Dray chuckled. “Maybe, but I’d suggest you wait for a break in your schedule. Depends on where you want the shamrock, but it’ll take up to six weeks to heal.”

Lucky couldn’t believe Dray had remembered. “I’m over the idea of the shamrock.”

“See, that’s why getting a tattoo at sixteen isn’t a good idea.”

“What about you? You have tattoos you wish you didn’t?” Lucky asked. He liked the lighter turn the conversation had taken.

“I did, but I’ve had most of them inked over,” Dray answered. “You haven’t seen me in a while. You may not recognize me anymore.”

Lucky seriously doubted that. “Why? Did you grow out your hair or something?”

“Or something. The hair’s the same, short as I can get it without shaving my head, but I’m showing a lot less skin these days. The ink’s fairly solid from my collarbone to my ankles.”

“Even your cock?” Lucky bit the inside of his cheek.
Fuck.
Why the hell did I ask that?

Dray laughed. “Hell no. I’m not that bad. I just meant full sleeves, chest, stomach and legs.”

Lucky tried to imagine Dray’s muscular body covered in tattoos. His cock stirred, liking the idea very much. His desire to flirt with Dray got the better of him. “I’d like to see that.”

Dray made a choking noise.

“Sorry,” Lucky mumbled. “I’m not very good at this.”

“At what?”

“Flirting.” Thank god, they were on the phone and not in the same room.

“You don’t need to flirt to get my attention. Which’s another reason I’ve stayed away.” Dray made another noise, this one sounding more disgusted than the last. “Shit. I can’t believe I just told you that.”

Lucky’s cock went rock hard. “Are you saying you’re attracted to me?”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re not in the position to do anything about it.”

Lucky nodded, even though Dray couldn’t see him. “I’ve never forgotten the advice you gave me that day before you left. I’ve shut out the side of me that wants what it can’t have.”

“And how’s that going for you?” Dray asked, his tone lighter.

“Bearable, I guess. Fucking’s fucking. It doesn’t matter who I’m with if I can’t have what I want.”

“Trust me, Lucky, fucking Vince wasn’t worth what I gave up.”

“Yeah, that’s what I keep telling myself whenever I think…” Lucky snapped his mouth shut. He’d almost confessed to thinking of Dray. “What about in KC? Have you found someone?”

“I’ve found a lot of someones, but like you said…fucking’s fucking. No way in hell I’ll ever trust someone again, so my cock’s the only thing I’m willing to share.”

Neither of them spoke for several moments. Lucky closed his eyes and listened to Dray breathe, imagining the two of them lying next to each other.

“I should let you go. I just wanted to see if you got moved into your new place okay,” Dray said, ruining the moment.

“I’m in. That’s about all I can say,” Lucky replied. “By the way, the Indianapolis fight will be shown live online if you want to watch.”

“I do,” Dray answered immediately. “Remember to stand your ground in the cage. Own the fight from the moment you step inside.”

“I will.” Lucky felt warm at Dray’s concern. “Night.” He hung up the phone and clutched it in his hand as he stared up at the freshly-painted ceiling. In that moment, he felt happier than he’d ever been. It didn’t make sense, and he knew it would pass, but it had been the first real conversation he’d had where he could be himself. Did Dray have any idea what it had meant to him?

He closed his eyes and let the feeling wash over him. He’d promised himself that once his career was over, he’d allow himself to be honest with those around him, but in the last few weeks, he’d gotten the distinct impression that those closest to him already knew his secret. What the hell did he do with that? Continue to pretend?

* * * *

Lucky had just finished changing into his street clothes when Jax came into the locker room. “Hey,” he greeted.

Jax settled the stack of towels onto the shelf. “You got a minute?”

“Sure.” Lucky finished tying his shoes. “What’s up?” he asked when Jax didn’t continue.

“Not here.” Jax glanced at the handful of men in the room. “Laundry room?”

“Okay.” Lucky stood and grabbed the small backpack he’d picked up the previous day. It was the first time in his life he’d had to carry clothes to and from the gym, and he didn’t like it at all. He entered the laundry room, expecting to help Jax with homework, but the expression on Jax’s face told him something was wrong. Lucky wondered if Jax’s dad had gone after him again. “Jax?”

Jax reached into one of the cupboards and pulled out a stained towel. “I found this in Brick’s office. I went in there to empty the trash and the corner of this was sticking out of his bottom desk drawer.”

Lucky took it from Jax and stared at it. There were spots covering both sides of the towel in varying shades between bright red and the dark, brownish red of old blood. It was obvious upon inspection that Brick had been coughing up blood for days, maybe weeks.

“What do you think it means?” Jax asked.

Lucky took a calming breath. “I don’t know, but I’m damn sure gonna find out.” He started to turn but stopped and glanced at Jax. “Thank you for showing me this.”