Damaged

James

I don’t know a thing about running an art gallery. Or an auction house or whatever it is this place does.

I assume it’s like any old business, but I’m not going to be as involved as McMurphy was. I’m already busy enough running a billion-dollar enterprise.

Alex Blackwell is in town from Washington State for business. He wants to celebrate my new purchase, and I agreed. A night out doesn’t sound bad and I’m tired of my same old routine, so we’re going to Brooklyn.

I meet him for drinks at a quiet rathskeller. It’s got big stone arches and vaulted ceilings. Three dozen high-end scotch whiskies sit glittering on the top shelf. I intend to sample half of them before we leave.

Alex sits across from me. His hair is ruffled like he’s had a long day, but there’s been a light in his eyes ever since he started to date his new girlfriend. He’s not the perpetually cool and down-to-business bastard I knew him to be.

Hell, I’m colder than Alex Blackwell these days.

“I hate to be a broken record, but before we’re too wasted to remember, can we talk about our phone call?”

“What about it?” I ask.

“Hailee heard you bought the gallery. Sophia reached out to her about it.”

“Okay.” I say this like a question, failing to understand the relevance.

“She’s extra protective of Sophia. I think she feels bad for moving to Washington for a year.”

“And she thinks now that there’s a pretty girl at a business I own that I’m going to sleep with her?”

“Essentially, yes. The whole being neighbors thing doesn’t help her paranoia, either.”

“I’ve never even seen her at my building. That’s the pleasure of having the penthouse. You know, Alex, I have no plans to sleep with this girl. But I am curious why your girlfriend thinks it’s the end of the world if I do.”

“…” Alex looks off and smiles. “You’re kind of known as a…”

“Bachelor?”

“Dog,” he corrects. “I think Hailee used a chewing up girls like bones analogy.”

“I see. I didn’t know you’d be so whipped so fast.”

Alex grins like he admits he’s under his girlfriend’s thumb on this one. “Is it that crazy of a request?”

“No, I guess not. She’s one girl in a city of millions. So again, I won’t chew her up.”

“Thanks. I heard from Hailee that she’s a little sick of her job, anyway. Maybe you could find her a new one in the art world. You know, somewhere else.”

“You really don’t want me around her.”

Alex shrugs. “Hailee’s a protective friend. Maybe overly.”

I find it interesting that he felt the need to double down on his request. Is it because he knows just as well as I do how attractive Sophia is?

Probably. No man could deny her looks. If she was more ambitious, she could be on the cover of magazines.

Maybe the word she’d choose is vain, not ambitious. I can understand why some women might not want that life. Living on looks alone.

I’m as private as they get. No social media. No interviews. No peacocking so the world can see my handsome, lavish life. I have it. That’s all I care about. Not showing it to others.

Besides, a low profile is safer as the head of a technology security company. The real power is always behind the curtain, and I’ve never cared for fame. Everyday people recognizing your face is an inconvenience.

So maybe Sophia is truly passionate about art and history. Good for her. Her expertise will come in handy for my plan. I don’t look forward to working with Jessica. She came up to me with her feet touching and back straight like a teacher’s pet and asked if there was anything I needed, not to hesitate to call her day or night.

There was a ring on her finger, but from how her eyes lingered on mine, unblinking, I don’t think she was strictly talking business.

No, Sophia is going to be my lead on this. We’re going to have to get along better than we have been. It was smart of me to give her a ride that snowy evening.

I can tell she’s not my biggest fan, but she seems to think that I must have some kind of a heart. If I can keep it quiet upstairs, too, I think I can get her to melt in no time. But I don’t want her liking me too much. I plan to honor my word to Alex.

Getting Sophia to like me is not manipulation—I simply plan to be less of a dick.

“So where are we headed tonight?” I ask. This is, of course, only the pregame.

“I’m not leading the charge tonight. A potential client wants to take me out. He’s a young guy. Trust-funder. His father owns eleven thousand acres in Nevada and wants me to mine it for gold.”

Alex is the CEO of a mining company. His job is international. Gold in Nevada. Lithium in South America. Uranium in the steppes of Asia. He meets far more people through his work than I do. I’m not envious of him for that.

“Do you like the guy?”

“God, no. He’s an insufferable little one. He wears boat shoes around Las Vegas, but a contract is a contract.”

“Why drag me into it?”

“Because I’m only here for one night and I want to see you.”

“Aw. You’re so considerate.”

“I just had to make sure you weren’t going to piss off my girlfriend. I’d like us all to be friends, you know?”

“You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Have you got a girl right now?” Alex asks.

I think about his question for a moment. I’ve had girls to the new apartment, but I don’t blame Sophia for thinking I’m some kind sex freak.

They both sound like parakeets in the sheets. The noise would be a deal breaker, if the two didn’t get along so well together .

But it’s been a week since I had a girl over. I saw Natasha out the morning after I’d given Sophia a ride home, and I haven’t asked her over since. A week. It’s the longest I’ve gone without sex in a while. Putting it that way, it sounds like I have an addiction. But so what? I’m clean. Safe. I just like the opposite sex.

Not just their asses and tits. I like a gorgeous smile. A demure blush. The way they nervously twirl their hair around me. It’s not just about how they submit, but the look in their eyes before they do.

It drives me as wild as it drives them. And everyone has a good time, although I have had a few locks of my own hair cut off while sleeping and a vase or two thrown at my head. Some don’t like the fact that I’ll never be monogamous, that I believe Don Draper was right when he said love was invented to sell nylons.

But I’ve always been upfront about the fact that I only fuck. I’m not one of those skeevy men who whisper sweet nothings to get into a girl’s pants. I don’t need to do that to get all the women I want.

“No. I’m not seeing anyone,” I finally say.

I swear I see Alex gulp. “I know several girls who’d be interested.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t need a wingman. I’m not in a drought.”

“Good. But stay away from Sophia,” he says teasingly, like I’m a hound who can’t be trusted. I suppose I can’t blame him.

“I think you mentioned that.”

“What’s up, bros?”

I look up to see a blond man standing in front of our table. He’s in his late twenties but is dressed in tight khakis and a polo like he just got out of prep school. But the most infantile part of him are the bangs that reach to his brow.

“Can we help you?” I ask.

“Roman Andersen.” He extends his hand over a thin puffer coat he’s holding.

I stare at his hand, confused.

“, this is the man from Nevada I was telling you about,” Alex says.

“Ah,” I say, realizing I’m going to have to make an excuse to leave early this evening. This kid looks like he’s the front for a boyband.

“So, I hear you guys like the wild side of New York, yeah?”

and I look at each other. This isn’t true. I much prefer an evening poker game than clubbing with the lost molly-loving souls of Manhattan.

“I’ve got a treat for you,” Roman says. “And I don’t want us to be late.” He looks at his enormous dive watch. It’s about twice the size of his thin wrist.

“We were just settling up,” Alex says.

I frown at Alex. This isn’t the kind of client he usually takes on. He deals with foreign governments, not trust fund kids. I don’t have time to question him, however. I don’t bail just yet. I’m kind of curious where this night is going.

After having Alex grill me about Sophia, I’m looking forward to ditching him at whatever club Justin Bieber brings us to with a teasing smile.

Bangs has a car waiting, and the three of us get in the back. We don’t drive to a club. He takes us to the warehouses near the Brooklyn waterfront.

It’s the kind of place where many of the city’s crooks have breathed their last breath before being tossed into the water. Brick buildings with broken windows. Trash everywhere.

I’m looking at Alex, who seems just as confused.

“This is it!” Bangs says, excited. He knocks on the partition rapidly to get the driver to stop.

“Alright, boys, you ready for a fun one?”

Alex just nods while I stare at him. We follow Roman towards the warehouse. He walks quickly, like maybe he’s already on drugs, and Alex and I stroll several yards behind him. This area is used for crime. That’s it.

There are no secret clubs or speakeasys in these warehouses that some kid from Nevada would know that I didn’t.

We get to a warehouse where a bouncer around my height but far fatter is standing in front of a metal door. He doesn’t look like he’d be much good in a fight, but he does look extraordinarily difficult to get past. He’s a human barricade.

“These are my boys, Alex and . I know Tiger. It’s all tight,” Roman says.

The bouncer just stares at Bangs and then at us for a moment. Apparently, the right words were spoken, because he finally relents and steps to the side. No IDs checked.

Yes, this is definitely something illegal. Inside it smells like cigarettes, and the concrete hallway is still lined with old work lockers.

There’s heavy bass thumping behind another set of closed doors.

“Gentlemen. Welcome to Hell Ring,” Bangs says and opens the set of double doors. On the other side is a large warehouse with four sets of bleachers set up around a dirt boxing ring.

Great. An underground fight club. One thing I will say for these is they bring a diverse audience. The place is packed. There are Guatemalan gangsters with tattoos on their bald heads and also a plethora of finance guys ready to bet their Rolexes.

But they’re all the same. Insecure. Angry about what they don’t have. Wishing they had it. Money. Strength. Height. Women.

Apparently watching two broke dudes beat the shit out of each other is a fair substitute to boost their masculinity.

I don’t mind being here. It's important to see this. It’s important to understand what entertains the masses.

“I got us some spots in the front row. My boy Tiger hooked us up,” says Bangs. He leads us to the first set of bleachers in front of the dirt ring. We’re elevated, so the ring is several feet below us. Everybody is looking down like this is a… Wait a minute.

I look around. There are big signs on the support beams saying No Videos or Pictures.

The ring is too small for boxing.

This isn’t right.

“Alex,” I say to get his attention right as the cages are brought out. Two gigantic roosters. One black, the other piebald. “This kid brought us to a goddamn cock fight.”

It’s repulsive. The idea of these drunk man-children betting on which animal will kill the other makes my face twist in disgust.

“This is pathetic,” I tell Roman. “Do you think we like dog fights, too?”

He looks like I just slapped him. “Man, just wait. Once they start fighting, there’s feathers and blood flying. They’re scary, dude. Trust me, it ain’t boring.” Bangs seem to think my disapproval comes from the fact that the animals pitted against each other are mere chickens.

Alex looks pissed, too. He can’t seriously care about a small gold mine in Nevada enough to stick around here to please this tiny tool.

Alex and I make eye contact and come to what I understand as an unspoken agreement—fuck this guy.

The roosters are let into the ring. They dance around the outer wall for a moment before realizing they’re trapped. Before realizing they’re sharing a space so small with an adversary. They stop and stare at each other.

I can’t watch this.

The claws on their legs shine under the lights. They’ve been filed and sharpened to kill.

“Fuck him up, Cortez! Show no mercy!” Roman shouts.

I’m not even thinking when I start to pick Roman up at the knees. He’s so small I lift him like a child. “Hey man! Hey! What’re you doing?”

I glance over to see Alex’s brow ridged with confusion, but it’s only a moment before he seems to realize my plan and joins in. We both hold one of his legs as we hoist Bangs up to the height of our shoulders and toss him into the ring.

He hits the dirt on his back in a little dusty cloud. He coughs, his eyes wide in pain as the wind was probably knocked out of him.

The crowd seems to approve. There is a mix of cheers, whistles, and jeers.

The roosters are quick to find a common enemy. There is a flurry of feathers and blood and, in this case, screams.

The roosters attack Roman.

It’s actually pretty brutal.

He’s actually bleeding quite badly.

“We should go,” I say.

“Quickly,” Alex adds. We walk calmly from our row and towards the doors as the crowd cheers and Roman begs the cocks for the mercy.

No one stops us. Maybe it’s the expensive suits or more likely our combined height of more than twelve and a half feet.

We step back out into the cold. The bouncer is gone. He’s waddling down the street at an attempt to run as three police cars pull up.

“Evening, gentlemen,” Alex says as the policemen get out of their cars.

The cops stare at us as they jog to the doors but decide the two men in tailored suits aren’t worth arresting. Their priority are the bookies and organizers, not the betters.

Alex sighs. “Well, that satisfies my conscience.”

They disappear inside, the only sound the jiggle of handcuffs on their utility belts.

“Mine, too,” I say.

We head in the direction of where Roman’s car dropped us off, our shoulders hunched against the wind.

I’m not furious at Alex for putting us in that situation. Sometimes you get a bad potential customer. The kind that working with is like chewing glass.

I’m just glad Alex figured out the juice wasn’t worth the squeeze on this one.

“It’s my bad, . This guy was less of a shit the first time I met him.”

“But he still talked like a wannabe gangster?”

“Yeah…”

“Well, probably best not to trust someone with blond bangs who acts like they’re from Compton.”

“It’s not my finest hour.”

“You owe me one,” I say suddenly. It’s because I want Alex to be in my favor and not the other way around.

“Yeah. Yeah. But don’t think about asking for a pass with Sophia… You’re not sleeping with her.”

I almost want to roll my eyes. Why does he think I’m obsessed with her? “I think you mentioned that already.”

We find Roman’s car waiting where we were dropped off. We take it back to the rathskeller, telling his driver we have Roman’s blessing.

Twenty minutes later, Alex and I are back at our table, sipping two new scotches like nothing ever happened.