Tap Out (5 page)

I nod.

“Good. I'll tell Ostrander.” He squares to me, his chest sticking out as far as Big O's fucking gut. “You'll be back on Monday.”

Funny, he doesn't say it like a question. “Yeah. I guess.”

“You guess or you will?”

Fucking shit, for a janitor he thinks he's a fucking bad-ass. “Like I've got a choice?”

“Always have a choice.”

Who is this douche, the fucking philosopher of janitors? “Then I guess we'll see.” I turn away, and if he was going to say anything, the bell cuts him off.

Rob and the rest are hanging at the front door. No one's got any food though. “There he is. Fucking Picasso.” Rob rolls out and slaps my back. “The fuck, man? Didn't know you were an artist?”

“How'd you hear?”

“Some dude got a text during bio. Started losing it. Then like eight other kids got the same. The guy next to me let me see his phone.”

“What was it?”

“Picture of your naked lady. Nice job. Bald pussy and all. What you get?”

I shake my head. We can't have the conversation we need to here. “Fucking cleaning duty.”

“You're a fucking janitor? No detention?”

Why is he surprised? Or did he already know? Shit, how connected is he with Big O? Is that how the big man knows all about me? I should have just lied. “Nah. Just sweeping.”

“Nice, so you can still come tonight.”

I wrinkle my forehead, trying to appear clueless.

“You know? Practice.” He takes his stance. Damn he's good at playing the part.

“Right, right. Yeah. Why not?”

He smiles and pulls a pamphlet out of his pocket and hands it to me. “I snagged one, just so you could check it out, you know, since you don't have a computer and all.”

I feel like cracking on him, making a joke how he's like those holy rollers passing out their shit, but I'm not sure if he knows what I know about what Big O's up to. Also, I'm drawn in by the team picture on the back. Rob is in the last row, all tall and goofy, but Dave's in the front, smiling like the devil.

“Jensen rolls with you?”

Rob looks down at the picture. “Yeah. Coach doesn't like him that much, but Dave's legal and can be on the cards. And he's fucking nuts.”

I swallow. I don't want to ask, but I have to. “You know he's Cameron's nephew?” I'm still looking at the picture, even though there's no reason I should. I feel Rob behind me shift and open his mouth, but then he closes it and crosses his arms over his chest. He gets it. I tuck the pamphlet into my back pocket. Maybe now he'll give me an out.

“The fuck does that matter? Maybe Cam will back off if he knows you're fighting.” Rob's words sound as hollow as I feel. He knows better. That's something Big O doesn't understand.

I turn and tell him about what happened with Jensen this morning. Rob listens and then looks me square in the eye. “Tone, you got no choice then. You gotta go. Can't be a pussy.”

I've been thinking the same thing, but being or not being a pussy isn't so black and white. I'm not so sure it's just something I can decide not to be. Kind of like being smart
the way I am. What has come of it? Nothing. Because someone else is always steering my life, and they don't give a fuck about what I want.

We pile off the bus and Amy and Charity light up. Char's eyes are bugged out. I forgot about how much of a mess she was and am surprised that she's still out of it. Amy exhales. “Just stay at my place.”

Charity takes a long drag. “Maybe.” She looks over at her house, and her eyes look just like I imagine my own do. I stare at the ground and Rob speaks.

“You need some help? Something you'd like us to do?” There's a long pause. I want Char to speak. She may be loud and obnoxious, but we've always had each other's back. Whatever's up, we'll be there for her.

Instead, Amy answers. “Not now.”

I get that too and nod. We walk away, and Rob jabs me in the kidney before darting out of reach. “See you around six?”

I ignore the pain. “Yeah. Six.”

He runs off before I have a chance to ask him about Big O. I'll get to it later. Fuck, I can't believe I'm going.

I head up the stairs and into my trailer. It's dark and cool, like a cave. Still filthy and reeking, though. I head directly to my room, take off my shoes, and lie on my bed. The pamphlet crinkles in my back pocket. No doubt Cameron will be back tonight, and maybe by then I'll have picked up a move or two. But Dave will be there, and then Cameron will know, and before I've really learned anything, he'll kick the shit out of me for trying. Story of my fucking life. I gotta get out. Before I'm stuck. But how?

R
ob told me we'd be barefoot at the gym, so I need to take care of my toenails. They're way too long and yellow. I head to the bathroom and rifle through the drawers and behind the mirror. Nothing. I go to my mom's room and stand at the threshold. I hate going in. There's clothes everywhere, dirty dishes on the nightstand, dresser, and floor. And it always smells like ass. But I step in and move around the shit on top of the dresser, then knock over a half-finished beer can but don't bother to clean it up. Not like she would.

Her nightstand's got only her alarm clock and a bottle of aspirin. I pop open the drawer, and there's a big ass nail file next to a lighter, but no clippers. I reach in and my fingers brush against something cold. I grab it and the file. It's a pipe. I run a finger through the center of the scoop, and it's sticky with residue. “The fuck?” I look around as if something in this room will we give me the answer.

Fuck, is this hers or Cam's? Either way, I need to know what's been cooked. I use the file to move around the rest of the shit in the drawer but don't find a bag, so I sit on the bed. It sags.

This isn't the first time. Two years ago she detoxed for a month. She needed to. Started getting the sores from picking.
Least she didn't get the mouth, because she'd never be able to work again. No one tips a toothless waitress. She told the CPS people that I was with my dad. Gave 'em some bullshit number. I hid out whenever they came around. One of the women she worked with hooked me up with food. It was like I was some embarrassing pet.

Fuck this. I'll kick her ass before I go through that again. Wonder when she started back up? There's no money, and no one around here slings meth . . . except . . . motherfucker. Charity's dad. I toss the pipe back in the drawer, slam it, and head to the bathroom. I hover over the toilet, but nothing comes.

I sit on the floor with my back to the tub. What the fuck am I gonna do? I can't have her fucking nodding off with Cameron in the house. I'm sure he's the one paying, and he'll be back, like all the rest, and he'll be able to do whatever he wants. Like all the rest. I punch the cabinet in front of me and a flat echo returns. I pinch my head between my knees and close my eyes, breathe slow, and enjoy the sensation around my temples.

I can't remember during which boyfriend it was when I found this position, but it's the only good thing any one of them's given me. He was the first one that hit her for hours. I was used to a few slaps and a punch, but this one liked to torture her, and I was too scared to tell him to stop, could only focus on drowning out the sound. The pillow over my head worked at first, but if she screamed, I still heard it. She screamed more often and that's when I tried my knees. Breathing adds a constant noise, and the sensation soothes me. Like now. I think I'm okay. I release my head and open my eyes. My feet come into focus, the nails stretched over my toes. I see myself, from above, crouched like a rat in its
cage. I'm holding the file just as hard as I'm trying to hold on to my emotions. I take a deep breath, grab my foot, and start chiseling away.

Rob rolls up, and I open the door before he can knock. “I'm ready.” I step out and he looks surprised, but turns and we head down the steps.

“All right. You look good to go.”

I am. After I took care of my toenails I found a jar of peanut butter and a roll and made a sandwich. I threw on my cleanest gear and left my mom a note. Told her I was out. That's all. Don't need to provide all the details. Not if Cam might have a chance to read them. Not if she's gonna be passed out.

We hit the main road and turn toward town. I have no clue where the gym is, but Rob leads the way and is light on his feet, bouncing every so often. “So, I'll basically be paired up with you. Show you the ropes. It's Friday so we're working on takedowns from the clinch.”

I nod like I understand.

“We're not punching or kicking, just working on getting to the ground fight, gaining leverage.”

Beyond the fights Cameron watches, I've seen some of this shit on TV. Liddell, Penn, Lesnar. I think I know what he means, the slow part where they roll around, looking like they're trying to fuck each other. This is gonna suck balls.

Rob draws up to me. “Fuck, you got a cup?”

I screw up my face. He cracks his knuckles off his junk. There's a hollow plastic sound. That kind of cup. I shake my head.

“Don't worry, I'll watch out, but you need one.”

The way my life's headed, I need full body armor.

We come into downtown. There's a gas station and library and church, but I don't see a gym. Never have. There's a fitness something or other a few miles out, but that's all douche bags on treadmills and shit. Rob seems to read my mind. “It's right over there.”

I follow to where he's pointing. “The burger hut?”

“No man. Next to it.”

I look, but all I see are cars in the parking lot.

“Come on.”

We dart across the street, past the restaurant, and to a small section of the larger building. I've never noticed a door here. It's glass and has EAST COAST BOXING AND MMA stenciled in thick black letters. The bottoms are red, like they're bleeding. Inside, guys sit on the floor, stretching. My throat tightens, but I have to ask Rob before we go in. “So how long you and Big O have this planned?”

Rob whips around. “What are you talking 'bout?”

He seems genuine, but I still don't know. “Come on. Enough with the bullshit. Big O told me about what Coach Dan has in store for you. What did you say to the big man to get me on board?”

Rob drops away from the door and gets real close to me. “Tone, what the fuck are you talking about?” His jaw sets, and his eyes don't leave mine.

Fuck, I've known Rob long enough. I know this cluelessness. He doesn't know. “Shit. I thought . . . Fuck, I'm an asshole.”

Rob stares and waits.

I shake my head at myself for doubting him and explain what Big O said to me.

Rob looks out in the distance for a moment but then back to me. “Big O and Coach have talked some about me being a trainer or some shit, but nothing serious. I had no idea he wanted you here and that he's all looking into your shit at home.” He turns away. “Fuck, man, if you don't wanna do this, don't. It's fine. I had no idea about Big O and Coach. I just thought you'd like it, and it would help.”

“Help with what?” I ask even though I don't need to.

“You know.” He looks me dead in the eye again.

I'm embarrassed and wonder why he hasn't given up on me. Like everyone else. I put up my fist. “I got this. Because
I
want to. All right?”

Rob cocks his head. “For real?”

I nod and he reaches up and pounds my knuckles, and I almost believe my own words. He didn't know, and now here I am because of Big O. Where the fuck am I headed?

Rob turns and opens the door.