Fireball (19 page)

‘This is awesome, man,' Jules shouted.

I looked around at the aggro guys and skanky girls, at the beer-soaked floor and sagging ceiling. It wasn't awesome. The Avalon was never awesome. But we kept hoping that if we said it enough, one day it might actually become awesome.

‘Yeah, it's sweet,' I said.

It was too loud in there to talk or joke around much – too loud to do anything but sit and drink, or stagger onto the patio to hack a few darts. We didn't always smoke. We were sort of casual smokers. As in, we'd smoke when we were drunk, or baked, or when we felt like it. And we smoked at the Avalon. Everybody did. It was pretty much a necessity.

After a few minutes Karen would start wiggling around in her chair, as if the music had wormed its way into her body.

‘Want to dance?'

Sooner or later she always asked that, and our answer was always the same.

‘No.'

She knew we hated dancing. We were all terrible dancers, especially Julian. He'd tried it, once, and these three guys had threatened to kick his ass. I think it must have traumatised him because he never tried again. Not in the Avalon, anyway.

Karen blew us a kiss. ‘Watch my stuff then, will you?'

We ordered another pitcher. This was all part of our little ritual. We would sit there, drinking our faces off and watching her dance. It was impossible not to watch her. She didn't wear a skirt and heels, like most of the dirties in that place. She wore sandals with dark jeans, frayed at the ankles. Super sexy. As soon as she got out there, people noticed her. That's the kind of dancer she was. She said that music was her favourite drug. Maybe that sounds lame but coming from her it didn't sound lame at all. She'd taken ballet as a kid and she still moved like a ballerina: light on her feet and totally confident.

‘That cocksucker better watch himself.'

‘Which cocksucker?'

‘That one.' Chris pointed him out to me. ‘Right there.'

‘Hey,' I said. ‘Isn't that what's his face? From West Van?'

Julian stood up to get a better look. ‘Yeah. That's Tim.'

Guys couldn't help hitting on her. It was like somebody had planted a poisonous flower in the middle of the Avalon and all the insects just found the temptation impossible to resist. She looked so lush and sweaty it was only natural to want to touch her. It was always the same. One guy would start circling, like a suicidal fly. He'd get closer and closer, until he was so close she couldn't ignore him any longer. Then he'd say something too stupid to imagine. That night he said, ‘Remember me, baby? You came to my party. Tim Williams.'

‘Yeah – whatever.'

‘Come on. Want to dance?'

‘Get lost.'

No matter what she said, they always heard ‘yes'. Tim was no different. He wrapped an arm around her waist and started grinding against her. Karen tried to slip away but he held on tight, like a horny little dog she couldn't shake loose. He didn't realise he'd fallen into a trap until Chris came up and tapped him on the shoulder. Chris had seven words for him – the usual seven words. He said them all at once without stopping, as if he'd been saving them for this moment ever since Tim had kicked us out of that stupid party.

‘Fuck you outside right now let's go.'

We waited for him in the parking lot.

Karen said, ‘You don't have to do this Chris. We can just leave.'

That was part of the routine, too. She'd try to convince him to walk away, and he'd ignore her. Chris had never walked away from a fight in his life. She knew that. She would have been as shocked as any of us if he'd actually listened to her for a change.

‘What's taking him so long?'

That was Julian. You could tell he was getting ready to wet the bed.

‘Maybe he pussied out,' I suggested.

Then the doors swung open. It was our guy, all right, but he wasn't alone. He had a bunch of his buddies with him. He walked out and they followed him one by one. They all looked just like him – this endless line of clones. Each of them wore dark slacks with a collared shirt. Even their haircuts were identical: short and spiked up with gel. That's the thing about the Avalon. Since it's right near the border of North and West Van, there's always dozens of beefcake mannequins hanging around, ready to team up on you.

Jules said, ‘Oh, crap.'

There were six of them, including Tim. Inside he'd been timid as a poodle, but now that they outnumbered us two to one he thought he was pretty hot shit.

He pointed at Chris. ‘That's the punk.'

Then he started over, swaggering and rolling his shoulders.

‘You're a dead man, you know that? I'm going to tear you a new asshole. I'm going to kick your goddamned head off in front of your whore girlfriend…'

He kept talking like that, coming closer. Chris didn't say anything. He waited until Tim was within range, then took a short step and hammered him in the face. Tim let out a strange noise – this sort of croaking noise – and dropped straight to the ground.

Then it was on.

The other five rushed him. Chris grabbed one guy and started to pound him, but a second came in from the side and tagged Chris with a right hook that split open his eyebrow. Blood started leaking down his face. It got in his eye, too. For a few seconds, he couldn't see shit. He stumbled around, getting hit again and again. They had him surrounded, like a pack of hyenas. That was the moment. Even Chris couldn't fight five guys on his own. Somebody had to help, and Jules wasn't about to do anything. Not a chance. That left me.

I said, ‘Fuck it.'

I ran in there and tried something super nuts. I pulled one of my kung fu moves – this flying sidekick. It wasn't much of a kick but my momentum knocked the guy over. Then I grabbed a second guy by the neck. I had no idea what I was doing. It was nuts. I just grabbed him and kind of hung on. Somebody else punched me three or four times in the ribs, from behind. After that I let go of the neck and started swinging wildly. A face would appear and I'd punch at it. Sometimes I connected, sometimes I didn't. All the faces looked the same to me and I just kept swinging away. Even Karen was in there, screaming at them.

‘Leave them alone – you bastards. You stupid bastards!'

At one point, I got nailed right on the jaw. It didn't really hurt,
but my legs went soft and I sort of sank to my knees. I thought we were finished. We would have been, too, if that bouncer hadn't showed up. Somebody must have tipped him off.

‘Hey – what the fuck's going on out here?'

He didn't really expect an answer. I mean, it was obvious what was going on. We were having an eight-man rumble in the parking lot. He just said that to announce his arrival. The next thing he did was take off his shirt. No joke. He took off his shirt and got right in there, throwing those very crisp and professional punches of his.

‘All right, boys. Break it up. Break it up.'

That was how he broke up fights: by kicking everybody's ass. Chris and I knew enough not to mess with him, but Tim's friends were clueless. They made the mistake of fighting back. That was when he really laid into them – tossing people around, busting out these crazy knee and elbow strikes. He even tried a body slam at one point. The guy was a monster. A ninja monster. With him on our side those clones didn't stand a chance.

They knew it, too.

‘Come on – screw this!'

‘These guys are fags, anyway.'

They backed away, leaving Tim where he'd fallen. The bouncer followed them halfway down the street, just to make sure they actually left. I didn't pay much attention to all that. I was watching Chris. He walked over to Tim, who was moaning and rolling around and cradling his jaw, which had gone all loose and weird. Chris calmly put a knee on his chest and started punching him in the face. His fist rose and fell like a piston and Tim screamed every time it landed. Luckily we were there to pull him away, or he might have killed him. I'm not exaggerating, either. That was another thing about Chris. It wasn't really his fault. He just couldn't help it. In a fight, once he got going, he didn't stop.

White hot rage. That's how he described it to me. When he fought, the whole world turned white like overexposed film. All he could see was the other guy, and all he wanted to do was hit him again and again and again, until there was nothing left. Even I was a little afraid of him when he got like that. In the car, after the Avalon, he was still furious that we'd put a stop to it.

‘You pussies. You shouldn't have pulled me off that cocksucker.'

‘It was done, man. He was finished.'

‘No he fucking wasn't.'

Jules said, ‘You want to go to jail or what?'

‘Fuck off, Jules. You didn't do shit.'

Julian couldn't argue. He'd stood there like a pylon while it all went down.

I said, ‘You showed him, man. Relax.'

He didn't relax, though. I could see him in the side mirror, sitting on the backseat with Karen. His whole body quivered with rage, ready to erupt. Streaks of blood had dried like warpaint all down his cheek. Karen leaned over. She kissed him on the neck and whispered something in his ear. He pushed her away but she came back, and the second time he didn't push her away.

‘He called you a whore.'

‘Shhhh. I don't care, Chris. It's okay, now.'

It was. She was the only one who could make it okay. He stopped trembling and his breathing slowed down. He was himself again. He caught me watching them in the mirror.

‘How does it feel, Razor?'

‘Huh?

‘Your first fight.' He grinned, showing bloody teeth. ‘I saw that kung fu bullshit.'

‘That was my insane crane attack.'

Everybody laughed, even Jules. Nobody really cared that he'd pussied out.

‘Let me see your knuckles.'

I turned around and held them up for Chris. They were bruised and swollen.

‘Feel good?'

‘Yeah, man. It does.'

Later, when I got home, I stood in front of my mirror. I had a shiner on my cheek and my lip was split. I took off my shirt and stared at myself. I didn't have much of a body. My muscles were just kind of soft and pale and shapeless. But I looked tough, all right.

Not as tough as Chris, but pretty damn tough.

32

In the week leading up to the riot, Chris got in a fight nearly every night. Karen was just too fucking hot. Insanely hot. That was the problem. Guys hit on her constantly, and Chris couldn't help how he reacted. She loved it, too. Like most girls, she pretended she didn't but underneath all that – where it counted – she couldn't get enough of it. She loved the fighting and she loved calming him down afterwards.

She also loved teasing him.

‘How many girlfriends have you had, Chris?'

Karen asked him that on the way back from Esplanade. She was driving us for a change. We'd all gone to see a movie – this movie about a bunch of scientists who create some super smart sharks. Then the sharks escape and eat the scientists. Totally lame.

Chris shrugged. ‘None, really.'

She knew he hadn't had any – she'd just wanted to hear him say it.

‘What about you two? Any girlfriends?'

Me and Jules looked at each other. We couldn't lie. Neither of us had ever had a real girlfriend. We were kind of losers, in that way. In a lot of ways, I guess.

‘Huh,' Karen said. ‘I bet you're all virgins, too. What a lucky girl I am. I get to chauffer around a carload of virgins.'

We didn't say anything. She had us right where she wanted us.

‘Don't worry, boys. It'll happen soon. And then everything will be different.'

When she said that, she was kind of smirking. Later I found out why. She'd decided it was about time her and Chris got around to doing it. He would never have made the first move, so she had to take matters into her own hands. When we got back to the Cove, she dropped off Julian at his house, then drove me to mine. Chris was supposed to get dropped off last.

‘Bye, Razor.'

‘Yeah – see you guys tomorrow.'

I shut the door and watched them pull away. Karen was driving her dad's Jeep – this sleek blue Cherokee that would probably cost most people their liver. Karen's parents trusted her completely. Her dad was a real estate agent and her mom was a nurse, and she was their little princess who made the honour roll and acted in all the school plays. She would ask if she could use the Jeep and her dad would say, ‘Princess is taking her carriage out tonight.'

If only they knew what went on in that carriage.

Instead of driving Chris home, she headed towards Parkgate. When he asked where they were going, she just said, ‘You'll see.' The way he explained it was pretty funny – as if she was kidnapping him. She drove straight to the lookout near the top of Mount Seymour. That was the same place he'd told her about the fireball, actually. It was totally deserted. Karen parked, yanked on the handbrake, and told him to get in the backseat.