Bounty (33 page)

J
oel got
to Rock House just before 9 A.M. full of energy. He was glad he had slept for hours before Amber had come home, or he'd probably be a zombie today.

After their fight, he had headed over to Neutron's, the bar that Randy, the underground fight club organizer, usually frequented. When he had been fighting and winning, most of their nights would end at Neutron's where they would party until the wee hours of the morning. The only reason he came along was because Randy would always be buying, flush with the night's take from all of the bets. Joel could score some food and a couple of beers without having to dip into his own savings, and even when he had to fight the next day it was never until after dark, giving him plenty of time to rest.

Things hadn't changed, and Randy had been there celebrating with a few young fighters who Joel didn't recognize. Randy was happy to see Joel, and even happier when he told him he wanted to fight again. News about Joel's tournament at Golden Dragon had reached the promoter and he thought it would help spur some gambling on the man who had come so close to fighting Carlos Alvarez. Apparently Carlos had become a big deal around town as well, as he was slated to fight in a televised event for Titan, which was rumored to often be used as a farm league for some of the bigger players like the UFC, Strikeforce or PrideFC.

Randy told Joel that he could set up a fight for that very night, and Joel had jumped at the chance to earn some money again. He was also excited about being able to release some of his temper. Rock House would help with that as well, but it was far more satisfying to feel his bare knuckles slam into flesh than the bounce of the rubber gloves he had to wear during practice. He left soon after speaking with Randy and was able to get in almost three more hours of sleep, meaning he was rested and ready to go for training.

The other guys were already there and had started their warm-up by the time Joel met them at their corner of the mat.

"Got somewhere more important to be, Slater?" Blake asked as soon as the new fighter joined them.

"I thought we started at nine," he replied.

"We don't just do the bare minimum here, Slater. That might be what you're used to, but it doesn't fly at Rock House."

"Hey, why don't you go fuck yourself?" Joel shot back. He was in no mood for dealing with Blake being an asshole again.

Blake stopped what he was doing and walked forward, pressing his chest up against Joel. "You want to repeat that, you freeloading rookie?"

"Sure, why don't-"

"Guys, guys, come on," Chris said, wedging his hands between the two men and pushing them apart. "You know how Shawn feels about getting into personal fights. You want to get kicked out?"

Blake sneered at Joel and lifted his chin before turning on his heel. "Keep your mouth in line, Slater. Your training gear only protects your vitals."

Joel snorted at the veiled threat, opening his mouth to reply, but a warning glare from Chris made him swallow his retort. He was right. Blake wasn't worth getting kicked out. They could settle their differences when they were sparring.

Despite the fact that he had more distracting him today than he had yesterday, Joel was able to focus his anger and emotions into his session. Even still, when it came time to spar, he made sure to step up to Blake immediately to show the bigger man that he wasn't intimidated.

He could feel the eyes of the other fighters on them as they faced off, only half paying attention to their own matches.

As soon as they started, Blake lunged forward, just as he had last time. Joel hadn't forgotten that opener or the man's surprising speed, though, so he was ready. He moved quickly out of the way, throwing his elbow and catching Blake on the back as he passed. The big man turned back around to face him before Joel could do any other damage.

They began to circle now, with Blake more wary about his approach. All of a sudden, he threw a kick towards Joel's midsection which he barely dodged, but then followed it up with a quick jab that snapped his head back. Blake moved forward, trying to catch Joel before he had a chance to recover but Joel was ready, throwing his own right handed punch.

It was too slow, and Blake grabbed his extended arm with his left and pulled Joel off balance as he swung his other arm over Joel's shoulder, connecting both together into a kimura. His right leg hooked behind Joel and he tripped him as both men fell to the ground. Joel knew he was in trouble as Blake started to move the trapped arm sideways towards Joel's back. The pain of the arm lock was excruciating, but Joel resisted tapping out and instead put all of his energy into yanking his leg out from under Blake's in one explosive movement. As soon as it was free, he rolled forward, releasing his arm from the submission and dragging it out from under the bigger man.

He leapt on top of Blake, swinging his body around and into a full mount position, reversing the fortunes of the two men by giving himself the advantage now. From that position, he started to unleash his fists against the other man's helmeted head. In a typical fight, this would be pretty effective in quickly incapacitating an opponent, but between the gloves and the helmet he knew he wasn't really doing any real damage.

Blake then jerked his hips up, throwing Joel forward as his opponent slid out and brought his legs up, wrapping them around Joel who refused to be thrown off. Their positions had changed again and Blake was now in full guard. The two men spent the rest of the session in a stalemate until time was called by Kingston who was sitting out and watching.

Blake's legs loosened and Joel rolled out. As he did, he heard the other man grunt. "Better."

Joel didn't spar with Blake again for the rest of the day, instead spending most of his time working on submissions with Chris. By the time he left, it was time for dinner and he headed back to the shelter. With luck, he could get a quick meal there and then take a nap before his fight tonight. He had suggested the submission work to Chris today on purpose, knowing that working on arm bars and leg locks wouldn't leave him quite as exhausted as he had been last night after training, and it had worked. But he still wanted to rest so that he came to the fight ready to win.

"
H
i Nana
," Amber said as she opened the door to her grandmother's room. She had knocked but there was no answer. The elderly woman was sitting on a blue, Victorian style chair in the corner and looking out of the window to the courtyard of the home. There were some people out there, walking and talking. A little girl was laughing as she clung to the fingers of what was probably her grandfather.

Amber's grandmother turned, a look of confusion on her face as her brow furrowed. Some days she recognized her granddaughter and some days she didn't.

"Judy! How are you dear!" Today, it seemed as though she thought Amber was her mother again. It was easier to just play along than to try to explain it. Previous attempts had just left her heartbroken when she couldn't get through to her.

"I'm fine. Do you have your hearing aid in?"

"Oh, yes dear, it's right here." Nana reached over to the table beside her chair and picked up the small piece of plastic, bringing it up to her head and fastening it on her ear.

"It's good to see you," Amber said, once her grandmother could hear her properly.

"You, too, dear. Is Robert with you?" Robert was Amber's uncle, or had been, until he had died of cancer last year. It was another conversation she wasn't up for having yet again. "No, he couldn't make it."

Nana looked disappointed, but Amber had seen what she would look like when she found out he had died for the 100th time, and a little disappointment was much better. "Of course," the old woman said. "He's probably busy with the little ones."

The little ones were older than Amber now, but she just nodded.

"How have you been feeling?" she asked.

"Not bad," her grandmother responded. She always said the same thing. Nana didn't like to complain. She did look good, though. Amber was happy to see that this home was taking care of her, she still felt guilty at having to put her here.

"I wish I could have helped you more," she said, walking over and sitting down on the little bench next to her. Nana's hand was on the arm rest of her chair, so Amber reached over and placed hers on top, giving her grandmother a little squeeze.

"Of course, dear." She said that whenever she wasn't sure what the other person was talking about. It had started out when she was first diagnosed and trying to hide her deterioration from the family, but once it had taken hold the habit just stuck. These days, that phrase often made up the majority of their conversations.

"Are you still with that man, what's his name? Stanley?" Nana was stuck far in the past this time, Amber wasn't even aware of a Stanley in her dating history. But it was likely that Nana had latched on to the fact that Amber looked so young and her disease addled brain had placed her back 40 years or so, to when her own mother was young and dating. Amber smiled, recognizing the opportunity.

"No, I've met someone new. His name is Joel."

"Oh, that's nice dear. Does he treat you well?"

"Usually," she nodded. "But we're fighting at the moment."

"Oh, that's too bad. Well, you know when your father and I would fight, I would find that if I just apologized, that would usually fix things right up. Even if it was him that was in the wrong, which was most of the time." Her grandmother gave her a conspiratorial smile that Amber hadn't seen in a long time and she grinned back.

"It's a bit more complicated than that, I'm afraid. He left, I don't even know where he is."

"Hmph. Well, you know, if he's fool enough to leave a girl like you and not come back, then he's too big a fool for you."

Amber smiled. There was truth to that. She had only really known Joel for a couple of weeks, and as Simon had pointed out, she didn't even really 
know
 him. Why was she so smitten with him, anyway?

Her grandmother started to cough and Amber stood up, grabbing a tissue and holding it in front of her mouth. "Thank you, dear," Nana said.

"Nana, have you been eating?" Amber asked, noticing a tray of uneaten food on the dresser at the other end of the room.

"Of course, dear," she said. Amber frowned, unsure what that meant. Nana would often forget to eat when she had been taking care of her, and it got to the point where she would have to literally sometimes put the food right in her mouth to get her to remember that she was hungry. But once she could get her to put something in her mouth, it usually sparked her appetite.

She bent down and picked up the bag she had brought. "I brought you some things," Amber said, opening it up. Inside were mostly just an assortment of pictures, but there were also a few chocolates that her grandmother had always been fond of but rarely indulged in. She opened one up and gave it to her.

"My, what a treat," she said, popping the candy into her mouth. Amber smiled. At least she was eating something. The way Amber figured it, at 80 years old you were entitled to dessert first.

"Now, tell me about this boy," her grandmother said, smiling at her.

Amber laughed, happy that Nana was so interactive today. "Well, let's see. He's very handsome..." she began.

S
he stayed long enough
to make sure that Nana ate her next meal and then Amber made her way to the bar for work. At the end of the night, she declined Simon's offer of a repeat of the previous nights festivities and raced home, anxious to see if Joel had returned again. Her heart felt heavy when she opened the door to an empty apartment.

He was obviously still upset. She felt sick to her stomach when she thought about some of the things he'd said, what he'd gone through. An abusive and alcoholic father, being kicked out by both parents and left with nothing and no one. No wonder he hadn't wanted to talk about his past. He was ashamed of it. But it made her sad to think that he felt that way. If only he had trusted her enough to confide in her, she could have told him it was nothing to be ashamed of, none of that was his fault.

But now it might be too late.

He taught me that no one can be trusted. That's one lesson I should have paid more attention to.

Joel's words echoed in Amber's head. Was he ever coming back?

As if in response, she could hear her grandmother's voice reply.

If he's fool enough to leave a girl like you and not come back, then he's too big a fool for you.

Maybe Nana was right.

J
oel decided
to walk to the fight. The night was cool, and he had time to kill after not being able to nap for very long. The shelter had been noisy tonight, and he had too much on his mind to relax.

His father was dead. That thought spun around his brain, confusing him with the range of emotions it dislodged with each revolution. He was happy. Elated even, that he would never have to see Darryl's twisted scowl again. But there was also a deep rooted tension within him, bubbling beneath the surface. A dark rage whose source eluded him.

When Amber had told him about it, he hadn't been surprised, especially to know he'd been driving drunk. Darryl had done that all the time, and it was more amazing that it had taken this long for it to catch up with him. But the next thing that had gone through his head was that his death was too quick. Too easy. For all the pain and suffering he had inflicted on him and his mother, he would have preferred to hear about how Darryl had suffered a bit first.

Growing up, Joel had often fantasized about being the cause of that suffering. When he'd first started taking secret martial art training at school, the original goal had been to be able to defend himself and his mother. As time went on and he showed an aptitude for it, he started to imagine really laying into his father. He'd have dreams where he would pound the older man's face until it was barely recognizable and then wake up, his heart pounding. Not out of terror or fear, but excitement.

But he never acted on it. His mother would always defend Darryl, and then when she didn't stop the man from kicking Joel out, he realized that she probably still loved him in some sick and twisted way. He'd grown up trying to protect her from that monster, loving her and often placing himself in danger to protect her. When she sided with her husband in sending Joel out on his own with absolutely nothing, it had broken his heart and steeled his resolve that he was on his own in this world and could never really trust anyone else. Eventually, he came to appreciate that he owed his parents nothing, and he resolved to keep his relationships with others just as simple. If you didn't owe anything to anyone, then they had no power over you. He could leave whenever he wanted with nothing holding him back.

When it comes time to stick your neck out emotionally, you run away scared.

He let out a deep breath, trying to release some of the tension he was feeling as he thought about those words. Amber's interpretation of the way he lived his life was accurate. He had no problem with physical pain, but he really was trying to shelter himself from feeling anything emotionally. With physical pain you could figure out the cause and heal it. You could often fight back. Emotional pain stayed with you.

Just get out!
 He could still hear his mother's voice, as if she were right there beside him.

Amber was right in another way, too. He was living in the shadow of his past, unable to get on with his life. She was offering him a lifeline, trying to pull him in from an ocean of loneliness and he was throwing it back, telling her to let him drown.

Sounds of a crowd pulled his attention back and he realized he'd already arrived at the fight. The little parking lot behind the abandoned warehouse where they were fighting tonight was packed, and he saw Randy smile as soon as he saw Joel pushing his way through.

Randy introduced the fighters to the crowd a few minutes later as Joel pulled off his shirt. His opponent was a lean young black man who seemed like he couldn't be much older than 20, if that. He looked fresh, his body untouched and undamaged. To Joel, that meant that he was either very good or very new to this. Given his age, he guessed the latter.

His name was Tyrell, and according to Randy's introduction this was only his second fight but he had won the first one very quickly. When Randy announced Joel, he made particular mention of how he had lost his last fight, and hadn't fought in a couple of weeks but was trying to make his comeback.

Randy then told everyone that the fight would begin in 15 minutes and betting was now open. He walked around, collecting wagers as one of his employees helped by recording each one for later payouts.

Joel watched Tyrell. The young man was bouncing around, full of nervous energy. Whenever he caught Joel's eye, he would try to stare him down. Joel remembered acting similarly when he was just getting started.

"Joel?"

He turned and saw a thin bald man beckon him from the sidelines. He looked familiar but he couldn't quite place him. He still had a few minutes before the fight so he walked over.

"Glad to see you're healed up after the tournament at Golden Dragon," the man said. "I was looking forward to your fight with Carlos, a lot of people were disappointed that it didn't happen."

"No one more than me," Joel said. He must have recognized this guy from the crowd that night.

"You think you could have taken him?"

"I think he was lucky we didn't get to find out," Joel said. He still regretted not being able to slam his fists into the big Hispanic's face a few times. Even if Joel lost the match in the end, that would have at least left him satisfied.

The bald man just nodded, his lips pursed as if imagining how the fight would have gone. "Well, good luck tonight."

Joel thanked him and returned to the center just as Randy was announcing that the match was about to begin. He wasn't thrilled about being recognized, but he figured it was unlikely anyone from Rock House would be here. Shawn spoke out against these types of fights enough that most of the fighters would stay clear of them. They'd have almost as much to lose by admitting they were here as Joel would.

The match started and Tyrell rushed Joel immediately, his nervous energy propelling him like a ball of fire to start the match. Joel sidestepped easily and swung his fist around to crash into the black man's midsection. He felt the bones of his hand pound against Tyrell's ribs with a satisfying thunk as adrenaline started to course through him.

Tyrell winced and spun around, throwing out a back hand as he spun that Joel easily blocked. He countered by lowering his body and delivering yet another shot to the same place. This time, Tyrell doubled over and stepped back. Joel let him, even though he knew he could have seized on the opportunity to leap forward and finish the match quickly. He was enjoying this too much, though. Both hits had sent a thrill of bloodlust up through his body, and he was beginning to imagine that Tyrell was really Darryl.

The other fighter recovered and moved forward, much slower this time, watching his opponent and keeping his fists near his face and his elbows by his ribs. The men circled, and Tyrell threw a few jabs. Joel danced away from them, thinking about how angry that made his father the first few times he had done the same to him.

Stop bouncing around like a pansy, boy,
 his father had said. 
Come and fight me like a man
. His father hadn't seen the irony of that statement, as he threw his fists at the twelve-year-old.

Tyrell threw a wider punch this time, taking a shot at connecting with Joel's chin. This time, Joel stepped forward, letting the man's long arm swing around his head instead and now that he was close enough, Joel slammed the top of his head forward into the other man's nose. He heard a crunch just before he felt the spray of blood rain down across his shoulder. Tyrell fell back with a cry, his hands reaching up to grab his broken nose.

Joel wasted no more time. He turned on his heel and delivered a crushing side kick into Tyrell's torso, doubling the man over as he sank to his knees. His hands dropped to his stomach now as a puddle of blood began to instantly form below his down turned head.

Joel stood over him, waiting with his fist raised. As expected, Tyrell looked up to see what Joel was planning next. As soon as his head lifted, Joel's fisted came crashing down into it.

This is for you, Darryl.

The other man's limp body fell over onto his side and the crowd around Joel erupted in cheers. He hadn't even remembered they were there, he'd been so consumed with the hatred he had been unleashing. Was this how his father felt whenever he'd had too much to drink and wanted to flex his muscle against his family? The thought of that made Joel feel sick.

Randy ran up to Joel, raising one of his arms as the audience continued to hoot and holler at the brutality of the matchup. "You've won a lot of fans tonight," Randy yelled in his ear. "We need to schedule another fight as soon as possible to ride this momentum."

Joel nodded dully as he stared down at Tyrell's body. No one was making a move to see if he was okay, but he could tell he was breathing at least. His nose was a mess, and blood was still dripping down his cheek and onto the concrete below.

"Tonight was a big score," Randy was continuing. "I knew you'd win, that's why I tried to make the match sound like he was the favorite." He nodded at the black man who was now starting to stir. "Moved a lot of bets his way, which means more money for us. Close to $400 should be coming to you."

Joel nodded again. This was a means to an end, but it couldn't keep going on forever. He'd do what he had to do until he could figure something else out. For now, that money meant something important, and he wasn't going to waste the opportunity to make a change. It was time to stop drowning.