Torn - Part 1: The Torn Series
Read Torn - Part 1: The Torn Series Online
Authors: Ellen Callahan
Torn
Part 1
Copyright 2014 Ellen Callahan
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, places, events, or locales, is purely coincidental.
Warning: contains explicit language and graphic adult content
○●○●○●○●○
Join Ellen Callahan’s mailing list today!
Be the first to hear about following books, new books, sales, and freebies!
Prologue
June
When I told my bandmates that I wanted a unique and exciting New York City experience, I expected them to take me to a wild rooftop dance club, or a warehouse rave in Brooklyn, or hell, on a tour of some museums and maybe a Broadway show. It was spring - perhaps something outdoors now that the weather was nice?
Men beating up other men is not unique to any part of the world. But there I was in a gym basement in Queens, watching two heavily muscled maniacs throw bare-knuckled punches and high, theatrical kicks at each other in the middle of a ratty old boxing ring. They sure as hell weren’t boxing, though.
I said as much to Jen. She, Robin, and I had come to the fight right after we finished our rehearsal. The two of them grinned with delight as one man struck the other on the jaw with the side of his foot. “It’s MMA, you’ve heard of it,” she said without turning away from the spectacle. “My brother is super into it. He’s here somewhere.”
The small audience was eager for blood. They shouted at the two fighters, reacted with hoots and cheers with each punch or kick landed, bared their teeth in bloodthirsty smiles. The air was thick with sweat and heat and testosterone.
My boyfriend Tyler and I were the only two people in the room who hadn’t lost our damn minds. I exchanged a glance with him and he shrugged. Whatever madness had taken hold here, he wasn’t part of it. I could already hear him complaining about it later in my head, “so barbaric, so undignified.”
I hadn’t formed an opinion yet, myself.
The two fighters were in incredible shape. They didn’t exactly look evenly matched from what my untrained eye could tell - one was a fair bit larger - and they were all sweat and taut skin and bulging muscles as they grappled. Definitely athletes. And they obviously took it seriously - it was no joke to maintain the sorts of physiques they had.
So why the secrecy? Why the basement, the whole “underground” attitude? This was a sport, wasn’t it?
“Pretty hot, right?” Jen asked, elbowing me and winking. I replied with a tight smile - Tyler wouldn’t be happy if I agreed with that comment. He was displeased enough with me as it was, lately. He didn’t like the band or these two girls. He didn’t like my new punk style, which I’d mostly only picked up to fit in with their scene. And I was certain he wasn’t enjoying this event, either. He scowled through his beard - that superior frown of distaste that really drove me crazy sometimes.
He leaned in close to my ear to be heard. “We should go. I need to study.”
“You’re always studying,” I pouted. The crowd erupted in cheers as one fighter drove another to his knees. The man was back up just a moment later. “I want to stay.”
His eyes narrowed but he didn’t protest. I’d hear about it later for sure.
The men in the ring circled each other again, giving us a better view of their faces. The bigger one with the dark hair looked like his nose had been broken just one too many times - he’d been introduced as Chet the Crusher.
“I wish we’d placed some bets, I woulda put my money on the hot one,” Robin said, twirling a bright green lock of hair around her finger.
“That’s Mallet,” Jen said, “My brother’s roommate.”
“The hot one,” or Mallet, wasn’t looking like a clear winner at the moment. Blood trickled from his nose and from a small gash on his cheek. But everyone did love to root for an underdog, so I cheered along with the girls as he stepped up and swung at his opponent once more.
He
was
pretty damn hot from what I could see, close to the back of the crowd as we were. Even from there, his green eyes were striking. Dark, intense, focused on the fight and nothing else. His light brown hair hair was darkened with sweat and his body glistened in the harsh lighting of the basement. The fluorescent bulbs in the ceiling cast unflattering shadows on us all, but they only made him look more mysterious, more intimidating.
Like a damn gladiator.
That’s what this was. This basement was a tiny Colosseum and we were the bloodthirsty Roman crowd.
It was over in a sudden flash of limbs - one moment I thought he was going to punch the guy, the next his arms were around the man’s neck and he was taking him to the ground. They sank below where I could see, though I stood on my toes as the audience went wild.
“What’s happening?” I called to Tyler. He only shrugged and looked at his fingernails.
A whistle blew. Some people around us applauded, others grumbled, cash changed hands.
There was betting?
Robin and Jen were beaming.
“It’s over?” I asked.
“My brother’s friend won,” Jen said. “Let’s go find them.”
We wound our way through the dispersing crowd until we reached the ring. Tyler was silent but I could sense him in my wake, seething with impatience.
Maybe I should have turned and left with him. His studies were important - he was working towards his MBA. But it was Saturday evening and I wanted to be out. I wanted to get to know the girls better - it was only a week ago that I’d auditioned with them and won the spot in their band. I didn’t want to turn down any opportunity to hang out with them - not yet. I really wanted them to like me and to keep me around and let me play bass for them when they started playing live shows.
Tyler didn’t care about any of that.
“Surly!” Jen shouted, waving a hand. We found her brother next to the ring, taping a bandage to the winner’s cheek.
Surly didn’t smile, though given his name, I hardly expected him to.
“Hey,” he said, and gestured at her hair. “Purple this week?”
She ran a hand through the complicated short hairstyle, the deep violet locks falling perfectly back into place. “The month, at least.”
He greeted Robin, then gestured at me. “New girl?” he asked.
I nodded eagerly. “Riley,” I introduced myself, just as Tyler cut in and said, “Her name’s Alexa.”
“I’m going by Riley,” I said, shooting him a short glare over my shoulder as I shook Surly’s hand.
“Last name?” he asked, and I nodded. “Nice to meet you. Try not to let my sister corrupt you too badly.”
“Little late for that,” Tyler said with a snort. He didn’t approve of my new style. Today I was just in tight black jeans and a torn-up band t-shirt, but the change in my hairstyle was far more dramatic. I’d dyed my dirty blond hair a shiny black with a layer of deep red beneath. I wanted to fit in with the band’s style. More than that, it made me feel tougher. Edgier. And as a brand new resident of New York City, I needed every ounce of bravery I could get.
“You guys are talking way too fucking much,” Surly’s friend mumbled, pressing an ice pack to his jaw.
Mallet. His name was Mallet.
He was still shirtless, still glistening with sweat. It was an effort not to stare.
“Great fight!” I said, and he smiled weakly. Even that brief flicker lit up those green eyes. I started rambling, “I’ve never been to one of these things before. I didn’t even know this existed. What are you guys, like, Fight Club? Like the movie? Is this like…” I leaned in and whispered, “Illegal?”
Mallet laughed, but it was quickly cut short as he grabbed his head. “If I didn’t have a concussion before, I do now. Surly can answer all that for you, sweetheart.” He slapped his friend on the shoulder. “See you at home, man.”
Then he winked at me. I was there with my damn boyfriend hovering over my shoulder and he winked before he strode away.
All I could think was,
goddamn.
“What the hell was that about?” Tyler hissed into my ear. Surly and Jen were lost in a conversation so I finally turned to face him.
“What was what about?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Nevermind, Alexa. Riley. Whoever the hell you are. Let’s go.”
I sighed. I wasn’t ready to call it quits but I’d put him through enough for the night.
I said my disappointed goodbyes to the girls and to Surly, then had to practically run to catch up to Tyler on his way out the door. “Wait up!”
He didn’t slow down until we were outside on the sidewalk. “We’re going to have to talk,” he said.
I didn’t like the sound of that. My eyes dropped to my shoes. He wasn’t very happy with me. “Okay.”
“Riley!” Mallet stood just outside the front door, leaning against the brick wall of the building. He had a sweatshirt on now but still held the ice to his jaw. Somehow he was managing to smoke a cigarette at the same time. I couldn’t help the smile that broke across my face. “It’s not illegal,” he said, “But it ain’t exactly legal, either.”
I didn’t know what that meant so I just waved and said, “Have a good night!”
I had to run to catch up to Tyler again.
CHAPTER 1
August
"I'm ready. I'm super ready. Let's do this." It was a summer Sunday night at Guitar Bar right near the Williamsburg bridge and the crowd was... subdued. Most of them probably were only there to show support for their friends and were really just thinking about work on Monday. But I didn't have work in the morning. I could drink and dance and party as much as I wanted after our set.
Suckers!
"I like your enthusiasm, Riley, but you're making me really nervous," Robin laughed, watching my impromptu bar-side jig from her stool.
I was wearing a pair of serious platform boots - all three of us were. Once we’d played onstage, I would be declared the newest official member of Mistresses of Mayhem, the all-girl punk rock cover band. The big black boots were just one element of our wild style. Colorful hair, short plaid skirts, tight corset tops, clothespins, patches, messy stitching - I'd be downright intimidating if I was a little taller.
Instead I just got called "cute," no matter what I tried.
Jen pushed a beer into my hands. “Here, girl, chill out. We’re not on for another fifteen.” The basement space of the bar didn’t even have a backstage area, so the three of us gathered in the back of the room while the first band played through their set. They were a loud rock act, nothing special as far as I could tell.
I bounced along to the beat anyway. Truth was, I wasn’t feeling as enthusiastic as I was putting on. I bit my lip, scanned the crowd, stood on my toes. No friends of mine, no familiar faces.
I texted him twice, why isn’t he here yet?
I tried to keep up with their small talk; I didn’t want the girls to know how distracted I was. Music was my life and this was the first show I was playing since graduating college just three months earlier.
And the college gigs hardly even counted. Everyone was always drunk, and in the lame college town I was stuck in, any entertainment at all was welcomed with open arms. This here was New York City. This crowd would be much harder to impress.
Small as it is
.
“See any cute boys?” Jen asked, wiggling her eyebrows at Robin.
“Not really,” Robin said, looking at the crowd over Jen’s shoulder. It was dark and hard to see but even I could tell it was slim pickings out there.
Jen ran hand through her short-cropped purple hair and sighed. “Guess I showered for nothing.”
Robin snorted. Her own hair was a neon green so bright it almost seemed to glow. “For our sakes, I’m glad you did.”
