Two Weeks (27 page)

She takes my arm and we stroll out of the building together. We always drink at a low-key place called the Oasis, one that's only a few blocks away.

The same place I took Dan last week where I...
I catch myself quickly.

We go inside and take a seat in the huge booth near some of the friendlier fighters I know. I introduce Ally to some of the guys and then get a round of beers for the table. I'm happy to see that she genuinely seems to be enjoying herself around these testosterone junkies. We all goof around and chat until Todd finally shows up about an hour later, his face totally haggard.

"What's up, Todd?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing. Just packed an entire amateur MMA event into a trailer. I need a drink, bad." He sneaks over to the bar and comes back with a beer. Within seconds, he's seamlessly joined our conversation.

At one point during the night, Goliath comes over and shakes my hand, congratulating me on the victory. His face looks less swollen than it did after the match. Ally's expression of shock is
priceless
.

"Great job out there tonight, Jackson. Thought I had you."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing," she says sharply. "Don't you want to kick his ass or something?" Everyone laughs, including me.

"We actually get along, unlike certain other people here," I say, gesturing toward Vince and his crew. "This is Mike, by the way." Mike shakes Ally's hand.

"Is Vince still giving you a hard time?" Todd asks after a big gulp of beer. "I don't know why I even let him stay in the league. I should just boot him out and end this bullshit. He's a nutjob."

"No," I say. "He'll feed off that. He already thinks I’m a cheater."

"Well, you say the word and it's done. I promise you that."

I nod and return to my beer.

"I like these guys," Ally whispers in my ear.

"Well, good. I'm glad that any Ivy Leaguer like you is enjoying her time with a bunch of burly men that willingly beat each other up every week."

She starts laughing and her cheeks flush red. It's insanely cute. "I never thought I'd be here, but I am—and I actually like it." She puts her hand over my own under the table and her fingers seem to fit between mine perfectly. The sensation—imagined or real—drives me crazy.

Ally has a couple more drinks, but I restrain myself so that I can drive. And I'm still enjoying the adrenaline rush from before. I'm actually happy that I decided to come out tonight because the vibe is great.

Finally, around midnight, we decide to call it quits and say goodbye to everyone at the table. Most of them will be here until the bar closes, but not me. I feel frazzled and I'm ready to get home.

And Ally's got her hands all over me under the table and I know I won't be able to resist her much longer. I think that's the biggest problem, actually.

"I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick," she says.

"Okay. I'll meet you outside."

I step out of the bar and into the cool night, walking around the building toward the parking lot. It's reasonably cool, the perfect summer temperature, one that feels comfortable without a jacket. After so much heat in the bar, it's a nice change.

There's a group of guys standing by the edge of the building smoking and passing around a bottle of whiskey, but I'm not sure who they are.

And then one of them shouts.

"How's her pussy,
Juggernaut
? Tight enough for you?" I know that voice—Vince. That fucking creep.

I feel the rage boiling inside of me. It's not that he's actually saying anything substantial, because it's clearly just a callow attempt to piss me off. I don't like that he knows about Ally at all—and I especially don't want
her
to hear this idiocy.

He's probably been staring at her the whole night, undressing her with his eyes, and definitely not stopping once she's undressed.

Ugh.

He's also drunk. His words are slurred as hell. I realize how volatile this situation is. I'm like one of those guys sent in to defuse a bomb, and there's a rainbow of colored wires in front of me.

And I don't know where to start.

"Vince, knock it off. You've got no right to talk like that."

He's surrounded by his posse, a posse I'm not sure how he assembled since his attitude is so rotten and toxic. Maybe these are old friends of his. Only one of them looks familiar.

"Did I strike a nerve or something? Don't want me talking about your
girl
?" He snickers and I really want to punch his lights out. And it would be easy too. Much easier than keeping my cool.

I stand my ground, but I don't say anything. I just stare back, hoping that Ally doesn't come out of the bar right now.

"Why don't you fight me?" His friends step out of the way as he approaches me. "C'mon, give it your best shot, tough guy. Let's settle the score right now. Mano-a-mano."

Vince rapidly struts toward me and I'm nervous that he's about to go into full-blown attack mode. If he does—and they're as loyal to him as they look—I might be in big trouble. I won't have a choice but to physically defend myself.

He's wobbly as hell, far drunker than any man ought to be in a situation like this. I hear laughter coming from behind him. I drop my bag to the side and remain firm in my position.

"Don't do this, Vince. Just stop. I don't want any trouble."

My words don't slow him down.

"What, you don't think I can take you?" His inebriation has left him totally obsessed with this macho, competitive bullshit. He steps even closer to me.

Oh God, please don't come out now, Ally...

My heart pounds in my chest; I can almost hear it.

In the cage, it's totally different. Here, none of the rules apply. There is no referee, no crowd to witness the spectacle. I want to flee the situation, but all my hours of training leave my body biased toward actually disarming him so he can't hurt somebody else.

I can see his eyes, furious, odious eyes that ooze pure hatred. They glimmer as they reflect the moon and street lights. Other than our madness, the night is quite peaceful.

He shoves me hard, but I'm braced for it. My legs take most of the shock. "C'mon, you fucking pansy. Maybe I'll have to steal your girl and taste that sweet pussy of hers myself—while you watch."

The other guys cheer him and I hold my tongue. I know he's just drunk and belligerent, but I can't totally quell the disgust inside of me. He shoves me again and again, and I just take it.

"Enough, Vince. We're not going to fight right now. Just back off and I'll let this all go."

He tenses up. "
You're
not the one in charge, buddy." His face twists into a scowl and he sends a fist my way. I easily dodge it and his hand hits the brick wall, shaving flesh right off his hand like he ran it through a cheese grater.

"You fucking asshole!" he screams.

I consider running, but he's already on me, kicking and punching and doing everything possible to hurt me. My forearms and thighs take the brunt of the impacts. He's relentless, and as I try to back away, he jumps on me, wrapping his arms around my back, trying to pull me down.

I should have run.

As he's up there, I feel the sting of his hands as he repeatedly slaps my head. I grapple with him, trying to forcibly remove him and shove him to the ground. The guys behind us continue cheering.

"Kick his ass, Vince!"

I push him off, but he grabs my arm and brings me down with him. His one-hundred eighty plus pounds aren't something I can ignore, and he's like deadweight in this drunken state.

Please don't come out. Please don't come out.

I beg that Ally won't have to see this. I'm more focused on shielding her from the potential gore of street fighting than winning.

I land on my side next to him, hitting the ground hard and scraping my elbow on the pavement. He still won't let go, so I punch him in the nose, sending his head back against the ground. My attempts to be non-violent have failed and this is all I've got left. Drastic measures are required.

I pull away and rise to my feet. Somehow, he's right there with me. All I want to do is get away from this bullshit, yet everything he does serves only to perpetuate more violence.

"Stop, Vince. I don't want to have to—"

"Have to
what
?" he shouts, cutting me off. He pulls up his shirt to wipe the blood from his nose, leaving a huge crimson stain in the middle of it. The blood from his hand is blotted there too. "You motherfucker. You broke my fucking nose! I'm gonna kill you!"

"You wouldn't stop!" I scream. "I didn't have a choice."

It doesn't matter what I say because he's right on me again—and so is someone else. The others are joining in, just as I feared they would. I shove Vince forward and elbow the guy behind me with my arm.

Holy shit.
It's like I'm in an action movie, the hero that takes on twenty guys at once and beats them all to a pulp.

Well, I
hope
I can beat these guys to a pulp.

I back against the wall, ensuring that no one is behind me. All four of them crowd around my position, and when I realize that my defensive maneuver has left me trapped, I start to panic. Although I definitely put in the time to learn how to fight, this sort of encounter is still foreign to me. It's not just for fun, and yeah, he just said he was going to
kill me.

What if he has a knife?

"Knock it off, you guys! I didn't want any of this!" I shout frantically as they approach me. My heart is like a freight train. Now I
need
Ally to get out here. I need
help
. I can't believe that no one has entered or exited the bar since I stepped outside.

Is someone robbing the bar and holding everyone hostage
? Either no one is coming or going, or roughly no time has passed at all. One way or another, I feel dreadfully unlucky.

Fight or flight are my options, and given the fact that I'm severely outnumbered, flight is my only choice. I take a deep breath and charge right into the middle, toward the weak point between Vince and the guy next to him. It's the widest gap there is, and the best opportunity I've got to escape.

I turn my body to fit through the space, but someone grabs me from behind. And before I can turn to free myself, something hard and heavy hits me directly on the back of the head and shatters. The last thing I feel is liquid spilling across my head.

Everything fades to black.

***

Ally

T
he line for the bathroom isn't long, but it takes
forever
. My eyes vacillate between my cell phone and the door, trying to make sure I don't miss an opportunity to get in and get out quickly. However, after many minutes pass and I'm still exactly where I was when Jackson left, I start paying a lot more attention to the cell phone and less to the line.

I have no idea what's going on in there. I can only assume it has to do with
vomiting and passing out
, and the vomiting part makes me queasy. Or maybe there's sex going on there.

And if it's between vomiting or sex, I really hope it's sex.

The two girls in front of me appear just as perturbed as I am. The one at the front bangs on the door, and we're greeted by the infamous "Just a second!"

Jackson is probably pissed that I'm taking so long. Although I'm drunk, I'm definitely not
that
drunk, and I hope he doesn't just assume that I'm the one in the bathroom puking my guts out. I really don't want him to think that about me.

I go back to Angry Birds on my cell phone when suddenly the door flies open and a girl leaves abruptly. By the time I look up, I only see her back as she strolls by. Only one person, so most likely
not
sex.

The line finally moves—and it's only been like fifteen minutes.

The next time the door opens, it's the girl from the front of the line re-emerging. "Oh my God, it's fucking disgusting in there." She shakes her head in disgust and walks away. The girl in front turns and gives me an apprehensive
what-the-fuck-do-I-do-here
look and then finally goes inside. It's clear that she's just as terrified as I am.

I gulp. I don't know
what
went on in there, but if it's still that noxious, I don't know if I can handle it right now. I almost get dry heaves from just thinking about it.

There's one girl behind me, but she's on her cell phone too. I take a deep breath... and go into the men's room, promptly locking the door behind me.

Oddly enough, it's spotless. I'm impressed, although I don't spend any time admiring the place. I use the bathroom and get the hell out of there. As I leave, a tattooed guy in a denim jacket waiting at the door flashes me a creepy grin. I ignore him and head straight toward the front, trying to break through the droves of bar patrons. Jackson is probably seriously wondering what happened to me.

I also wonder why he didn't just send me a text—and why
I
didn't send
him
one. I mean, is he really so patient that he wouldn't ask any questions about my twenty minute bathroom trip? Something seems a little iffy. I shoot him a text immediately and then head out.

Me: Sorry, I got stuck in the line. I'm coming out now.

I wave to Todd as I leave, but I don't think he sees me. He appears to be having a rather serious conversation with one of the other fighters, motioning excitedly with his hands as usual.

Before I walk out, I do one final sweep with my eyes to make sure Jackson didn't come back inside to wait for me. I don't see him. I push open the door and step out, immediately greeted by the cool summer breeze. The air is so much more pleasant and clean out here.

"Jackson?" I call. I look left and right, but nothing. I start walking in the direction that we came from, but I hear what sounds like commotion and turn around.

Oh my God.

Near the other side of the parking lot is a group of people gathered around a body near the ground. Shit. Shit. Shit. That can't be Jackson down there, can it? He's so tough, so strong, so
bulletproof
. And he's a good guy. Why would anyone hurt him?