The Stalker’s Playlist

Prologue

brODI

One year ago…

“Kelly lands his first shot right out of the gate!” The crowd roars and screams. “Cook may be the heavy weight in the ring tonight, but Kelly is quick on his feet.”

“Bullshit,” I mutter to myself, watching this unjust fight unfold.

“Looks like Cook is blocking every body-shot Kelly is throwing. If he keeps up at this rate, he’s going to tire before the next round,” the ring announcer speculates.

Kelly’s erratic, pushing Cook back to gain center ring.

“Cook’s calm and controlled movements make for a good defense against Kelly’s combination work. ”

The bell marks the end of the first round, sending the boxers to their corners for a minute to hydrate and hear from their trainers.

I don’t know why I bothered watching the fight; I already knew who was going to win. In one ear I had, T.O.P.- DOOM DADA, blasting as to keep me from being bored to tears.

Spectators move around trying to get a better viewing angle, before the second round begins. One pair of eyes scanning the crowd locks onto mine, then moves quickly to my position in the back of the room.

“I would never have thought a beast like Cook would have to work so hard to come out on top,” Alex says.

I cross my arms, not meaning for the chuckle to escape.

“No… Really? They’re fixing it for Kelly?”

I look down at nothing in particular and shrug, already annoyed by this man’s inability to notice anything of significance, like me trying to be left the fuck alone. I clear my throat, remove the transceiver, and put it in my pocket.

“It’s not my fault you put your money on a name who wasn’t already tied to the Murrays.”

Alex is the kind of guy everyone knows, but no one can really rely on.

Mostly because he has no allegiance to anyone.

He’s a drifter. Knowing a little bit about a lot of things and using that as his calling card on the streets.

No gang will have him, but it’s no mystery he wants to be in whatever group that’ll have him.

I’m confident he would turn on his own grandmother if it meant a payday.

“Well, fuck me sideways…”

I grimace.

“What can I do to have you move my bet to Kelly?” His wide pleading eyes make the dark circles below them look even darker on his thin aging skin. Fool.

“No way. I’m not ending up like the last bookie.”

The second round begins, and the horde of people screams Cook’s name.

His sharp movements open up an opportunity for him to deliver an uppercut to Kelly’s jaw, causing blood to drip from the victor’s nose.

He better reel himself in real quick or this is going to be his last time ever fighting.

“Good shot from Cook! Kelly is going to have to claw back into this and do some damage.”

I look over at Alex, who watches the fighters with hope in his eyes, as they dance around the ring. Like a switch is flipped, they go from toe-to-toe to unnaturally primed. Cook all but pulls his hits, as Kelly begins landing blow after blow.

Alex looks back to me. “I put everything I had into this match! Switch my wager to Kelly and… I’ll give you something significant.”

My eyebrow raises accompanied by a reluctant smile, because nothing this guy says is valuable. “Tell me now and I’ll consider it.”

Alex combs his thinning hair back with his fingers, all the while looking around for something, or someone who may make him not want to divulge this secret.

“Things are not looking good for Cook, folks!” The announcer bellows.

“I know you're skimming the top of the bets…”

I see red. This slimy motherfucker is going to blackmail me! Instantly my arms unfold, I crack my knuckles within each palm, while deciding where I’m going to dump this asshole’s body.

“Woah! Keep your assless chaps on, biker boy. My lips are sealed if you can do this for me. Plus, I have some historic news about that banging brunette you're seeing.”

How the fuck does he know about Cindel? Is he watching me when I’m not at the Bay Boxing Club? I’ve only ever brought around girls for hire, never wanting any of this to get entangled with my personal life.

“Ooooo. That overhand left from Kelly has clipped Cook, leaving him looking a bit buzzed,” the announcer proclaims, right before the bell signals the end of the second round.

I watch Cook return to his corner, looking like a lame dog that’s being taken out to pasture. I hate when they force the obviously better opponent to lose. It makes me wonder what Cook did to deserve this, or maybe in this industry it all just comes down to who you know.

Alex leans closer. I wish I was smoking, just so I could blow the smoke in his face, but I am out at the moment.

“What do you know about the Lombardis?”

I sneer before regaining a foot of space between him and I. “I know enough about the stories, but they’re ghosts now. What do they have to do with any of this?” I snap.

His smile turns feline as he beckons me closer to whisper into my ear.

I hear the third round commence, just as he ardently reveals everything my girl has to do with the Murrays, and the Lombardis.

He also proudly discloses how he found out from his cousin Craig, who just so happened to have gone to high school with her mother, Terri.

Craig, apparently rejected by Terri, was bitter.

Knew she chose Charles over him. When Cindel applied to work at the store Craig managed, he was able to make the connections.

The roar of the crowd becomes distant; the ring announcer sounds as if he’s underwater. How can this possibly be true?

Kelly lands the final hit that knocks out the boxer who should be the titleholder.

I guess that’s how life goes. No matter how big and bad you may think you are, there will always be someone who has your balls within their grasp.

Alex, for being as blind as he seemed, figured out my game without even trying.

Perhaps I misjudged what he’s capable of.

If he’s right, I have valuable intel which could prove to be useful, if I find myself facing down the barrel of a gun.

“Consider this an early Christmas gift,” he teases, just as two of Murray's notorious thugs walk by.

Each guy has more height and muscle than him and I put together.

Alex stands ramrod straight, looking out toward the concluded fight with a smug grin.

“Be sure to handle that bet for me. Oh—do say hi to Cindel as well.”

Fuck… I need to look into this shit myself to validate his claim.

After the warehouse is void of drunken fans and irate gamblers, who lost a small fortune, one of the Murray’s lackeys strides up to me.

This guy was a little more doughy than the other, but I liked him better.

He was kinda fun to play cards with and had jokes for days.

Though, I’m not a dumb fuck, I would never want to be caught in a ring with him.

I’ve seen him train and worse; I’ve seen what he’s capable of when someone did the Murrays dirty.

“Brodi!” He bellows, lopping the toothpick in his mouth from one corner to the other.

I rise from my seat at a small table, having just finished counting out the night’s winnings, before stuffing the bills into a green zippered pouch. “Garron.” I hold out the money for him to take, just like he’s collected so many times before. “Ten thousand tonight,” I declare.

“For this big of a fight?! Damn. Boss isn’t going to be too happy.”

I shove my hands deep into my front pockets, feeling the small roll of bills I've taken for myself. “Word on the street is the fight was rigged.”

He opens up the pouch while chewing on the wooden stick.

“Word on the street, huh?” He raises an eyebrow at me after flipping through the money.

I nod, so fucking thankful I’m dealing with him as opposed to his less friendly accomplice.

He shrugs, taking my word for it. Then turns toward the hallways where the safe resides.

I’ve never seen it, nor would I dare enter that damn room. That’s Eamon’s office.

My phone buzzes and I look down to find a message from my girl.

Cindel: Hey, I know you’re at work, but could you maybe come over and watch a movie with me?

I let out a lengthy sigh and set down the phone to rub my fingers into my eyes.

I know why she wants me to come over. She’s sad.

It’s close to the anniversary of her brother’s death.

I’m fucking terrible at this shit. It wasn’t so bad at first, mostly because we spent a lot of our time fucking, but as time went on and the fire didn’t burn quite as hot, she wanted to talk more.

Started sharing her desire to build a future on trust or some shit.

She was actually a little freakier than I thought, even got jewelry for her snatch.

We experimented a bit, but I couldn’t really get on the same page as her.

I’m a simple kind of guy and I know what I like.

This past Thanksgiving, she invited me to the Catskills to meet her parents.

Rather than suck it up and go, like any good boyfriend would, I made up an excuse.

“Sorry, babe. They have me stuck at work that whole holiday weekend.” In actuality, I was at work, just buried deep inside a bombshell blond, with double D’s.

I never claimed to be a good man, but I seemed to make her happy.

Now that I know how special she is, I have no intention of giving her up.

I look up to the opened ceiling. Squiggles of light float around the exposed ductwork, from rubbing my sockets too hard. Phone in hand, I write out a response for my needy girlfriend.

Brodi: Hey sunshine! I’m feeling kind of lousy all of a sudden. Think I may be coming down with something. When I’m better, I promise to go with you to feed the ducks.

Not waiting for a response, I shove the phone into the inner liner of my jacket, and leave.

Between the fight, Alex’s news, and the misappropriation of the house’s winnings, I’m too wired to sleep.

After watching someone get unjustly fucked into fifty shades of black and blue, I was heading to Cha-Cha’s where I planned to cum down Destiny’s throat.