Chapter 5
Baron
Twenty minutes later, I glance up from chair I am sprawled in.
We are in the trailer that is parked at the edge of the parking lot.
It’s also our unofficial green room, of sorts.
And not only because it's moldy... it's here where we count our winnings.
Har, har. Poor joke. You're welcome, by the way.
Weston has bandaged my wounds, which aren’t that many. Unlike Arpad, whose face is a bloody mess. A bandage covers his left cheek, where I’d sunk my fist.
"You look none the worse for the wear, ol’ chap," I smirk.
"And you look," he glares at me, "too bloody smug."
"Hey, I won fair and square." My grin widens. "Admit it. I am a better fighter than you."
"You got lucky this time," he grumbles. "I’ll get you in the next fight."
"Keep dreaming." I glance up as the other boys troop in.
"That was a bloody good fight." Saint bounces into the room, "Of course, if I’d been fighting, I would’ve felled Arpad in half the time."
"No, you wouldn’t’ve." Arpad scowls. "I’m a better fighter than you."
"Want me to prove it to you?" Saint throws up his fists as Edward ambles in.
He brushes past Saint, to throw himself onto the hammock that’s strung up in a corner of the space. "I’m hungry," he mutters. "All that fighting... It’s given me a hell of an appetite."
"Me too," Damian groans from the armchair he occupies in the corner.
His long hair flows about his shoulders, his eyelids at half-mast as he stares down at the woman who kneels between his legs.
He looks every inch like the rockstar in training that he is.
He folds his arms behind his neck, yawns.
Yep, right down to that jaded act that he portrays so well, and at the tender age of nineteen.
"Nothing like a good fight to get the juices flowing. " He smirks.
No kidding. "Arpad and I are the ones who fought, you dip shit. By rights, we should be the only ones who are hungry."
"Hey, come on, we’re growing boys." Saint protests, "We need our sustenance, and not only in the form of pussy." He lowers his gaze to the girl in front of Damian, who leans in and begins to move up and down, clearly putting herself into the task on hand.
"You have ten seconds to get me off," Damian informs her. "That is, if you want another chance at worshipping at the altar of future greatness."
"Worshipping at the altar of…?" I scowl. "Who do you think you are? The next Led Zeppelin?"
"Better," he bares his teeth, "I’ll be the one and only Damian Savage to have graced the annals of rock history."
The girl’s shoulders snap back, her breathing audible in the room.
Damian sighs, then pats her head. "You may leave now."
She leans back, wipes her hand across her lips, "B…but…"
"That was excellent for a one-off," he informs her, "but my friends are waiting, and bros before hos, and all that."
He jerks his chin, and she rises to her feet.
"You…you’ll call when you feel the need?"
"No promises, babe. You knew what you were getting into when you volunteered your services in the first place."
"Can I at least get a selfie?" she whines
"You know the rules; no pictures allowed in here." He raises a finger and points it to the door, "Off you go, now."
She looks like she is about to protest, then pivots and marches to the door.
"Since when did we decide no pictures in the dressing room?" I scowl as the door snicks shut behind her.
"Since I’ve had a stalker showing up on my social media sites making threats."
"Bro, you’ve arrived." Saint shakes his head, "To think, people actually pay to hear you yowl."
"Most likely, it's some girl you treated like shit," I mutter.
Saint snorts.
Damian glowers.
"I’ll make you yowl, you mofo." Damian closes his pants. He springs up, heads in Saint’s direction, when Sinner steps between them.
"Let’s cut the shit and get out of here." He holds up a paper envelope, then glances around the room. "These here are the winnings from the fine fight that you gentleman put up today. What say we go and blow some of this on a slap-up meal?"
The next day we meet at lunch time at one of our favorite pubs.
It's on the outskirts of the city, not far from Saint's uncle's urban farm, where we had stopped off first to help out with the horses.
The pub itself is buzzing, this time of the day.
Like many British pubs, this one has transformed itself into a bit of a gastro-pub, complete with a chef who cooks really well.
It attracts both noobs like me and the Seven, as well as families who stop off the highway, in search of a decent meal.
I pile my plate with fried chicken, mashed potatoes, a well-done burger, and waffles on top, because, yeah, I’m not hungry at all. My stomach rumbles, and I pick up my knife and fork. I tear into the waffle, while Edward eyes my portions. "I don’t think you have enough on that plate."
"Hmm." I chew on my food, swallow it, then glance around the table. Stick my fork into a potato and place it on top of the pile. "There, that’s better, isn’t it?"
Edward grimaces, turns back to his plate. I take in the roast duck on his plate. "That’s all you are having?"
"Nope." He cuts into his food, swallows a mouthful, "I am just not eating everything, all at the same time."
I stare down at my plate, then at his again, "You may have a point… Not." I smirk, "Why wait, when you can have everything at the same time?"
"Why try to sample everything all at once, when you can take your time and savor the taste of each mouthful?"
"And there you have it, ladies," Saint drawls, "the difference between the two of you."
"Which is?" I scowl.
"Yeah, enlighten us, oh wise soul," Edward scoffs.
"Speaks for itself, doesn’t it?" He glances at my plate, "Our man Baron, here, clearly, prefers to cram as much as he can into the moment.
While Ed—" He turns to Edward’s plate, "He errs on the side of caution.
Likes to take his time to savor what he has.
" He stares between us, "In a sense, you guys are two sides of the same coin. "
"How so?" I frown.
"You make sure you never lose an opportunity; you make the most of everything you can get your hands on in the moment, while, Ed," he jerks his chin in Ed’s direction, "he relishes whatever is in front of him. So, both of you, in a sense, want to live in the present. You both want to take hold of everything in front of you and make sure you indulge yourself. You both want to let go of the past; you both don’t want to worry about the future.
Ergo, you like to be in the moment… Which is the toughest thing anyone can do, and yet, both of you make it look so easy.
" He laughs. "Not." Saint lays down his fork, "Any of you guys fancy another round of beer? "
At our nods, he gets up from the table, stalks off to the bar to order.
This pub is an original, meaning, you need to order food and drinks at the bar and they bring it to you. Also, families, including dogs, are welcome.
A peal of laughter breaks through my thoughts.
I turn, and in the adjoining dining room, I see a girl who must be nine or ten, talking animatedly to her sister.
She’s wearing a red dress. The sunshine slants in through the window and highlights her auburn locks.
The red highlights glint, and for a second, it’s as if there’s a halo around her head.
She laughs again, and the sound is so musical, so carefree... When is the last time I felt that way? Just living in the moment, without being burdened by my past. Without the constant ache that I seem to carry inside me. I'd do anything to feel so free, so innocent again.
Saint walks back, with a pitcher and I turn back to the boys, follow along with their half-assed jokes.
I glance down at my heaped plate but don’t feel like eating anymore.
I reach for my pint of beer, down half of it, then wipe the foam off my upper lip as I glance sideways at the table again. Only the space is empty.
Huh, did I imagine it? Was the girl actually there?
And why the hell am I so curious about her?
She was only a kid… And yet, something about how she’d laughed and tossed her head of curls, it hinted at the woman she’ll become one day, which…
Is none of my business. I don’t know her at all. Probably won’t ever see her again.
"Baron." There’s a touch on my shoulder. I turn to find Damian staring at me. "You okay, man?" he asks.
I nod.
"You look pale," he comments.
"Only because I have been spending too much time in the presence of you reprobates." I grimace.
Damian smirks, "Let’s get out of here."