32. Colson
THIRTY-TWO
COLSON
“Tommy was off his rocker tonight,” Eli says as he comes up behind me and pulls a shirt over his head. He sent me a text, inviting me over to his place for a beer when I got back from Gulliver’s. And because of Finn irritating the hell out of me, I said what the hell, why not?
Except Eli forgets to mention that he rents a room in a crowded house. Claims there’s no point in renting one on his own when he spends most of his time training at the gym or out.
And I get that but these people he lives with? They weren’t considerate when I arrived. No one greeted me, which honestly, I’m fine with. But the two people making out on the couch could have at least put clothes on. Or maybe even just left the common area.
It reminds me an awful lot like a halfway home, especially when some dude walks out from the back hallway and starts yelling at the couple on the couch and bitches at a guy in the kitchen scrambling eggs.
That’s about when Eli brought me back to his room. It’s a decent size and smells a lot better than it did out there. There’s a bed on one side of the room, a couch on the other. A flat screen is mounted on the wall above his dresser, and there’s a few odds and ends floating around.
“Oh yeah?”
Eli went out earlier for a fight. I didn’t show up to watch.
“Fucking out of his mind.” He grabs a can of beer from his mini fridge, pops it, and hands it over. I shrug off the thought that comes when I take a sip. The one that says this isn’t me. I don’t go out at all hours of the night. I don’t make drinking a regular habit. I don’t kick back with guys who are one bad decision away from ending up in a hospital room or jail cell. And Eli? He’s hugging both lines.
“Why? What’d he do?” I ask.
“Nearly had it out with Remy because he lost. The dumbass rolled his ankle two hours before he had to go out to fight. Didn’t tell Tommy.”
“Was it bad enough to sit out?”
Eli grabs a can for himself. His eyes fall shut when he plops down on the couch next to me and guzzles some. “Could barely walk.”
I wince.
“It gets worse,” Eli says.
“He decided to fight and lose?”
“He couldn’t shuffle. Couldn’t balance out his weight properly. Only made it to the beginning of the second round before his ankle gave out and his opponent took him out.”
“Glad I wasn’t there if shit hit the fan.”
He hangs his arm over the side of the couch. “Tommy turns into another fucking person when he doesn’t get what he wants. Even worse when people keep shit from him.”
“Starting to see that.”
Which only makes Finn come to mind again. With Violet in the same room as me, he warned me about Tommy. Told me that he wouldn’t just let me go when I wanted out of The Battleground. I’m not looking for an out currently, but what if a day comes when I change my mind? What if I get my head out of my ass and go back to wanting to make something of myself? What then? Is Tommy going to shackle me down and force me to do what he wants? Is he going to take me out if I go against him?
Eli glances over. “You still knocking your socks off with it?”
I gulp down another mouthful of beer. It tastes like cold piss. “It’s working for me right now.” Finn’s voice grows louder in my ears, and I find myself questioning Eli. “What about you? See yourself doing these fights forever?”
It comes out all calm and nonchalant, but inside my body is buzzing. I don’t want him giving me an answer that validates what Finn told me. Because if he does, that means there’s substance behind what Finn’s claiming.
I don’t want a reason to trust him.
Don’t want to believe that he is looking out for me.
“I’m a fighter for life,” he says. There’s noise outside of the room. Someone shouting. I glance over at the door when Eli continues. “Knew that when I was still in high school. Why do you think I came in with a busted face half the time?”
“Were you fighting for Tommy back then?”
“I knew a kid who knew a kid and got introduced. A lot of shit went on back then and while I love getting in an actual ring, the elusiveness of his fights always made me light up.” He shrugs and lifts his beer can to his lips. “Money’s not bad, either.”
I’m suddenly spinning down a spiral staircase of memories.
Mom’s debt to the Lincoln’s.
Ten grand in their greedy palms.
Over a hundred thousand dollars that was meant to be mine in the hands of a deadbeat father who never wanted me. Who has treated me like the shit stains lining the insides of a toilet bowl.
My chest grows tight, and just like that, I’m up out of my seat. I can’t sit here anymore. I hand my beer to a very confused looking Eli. He takes it, but his brows pinch together. “What’s going on, man?”
“Forgot I have a place I need to be.”
Only there is no place.
I just need to get the hell out of here. I need to get out of this weird ass house and fall into bed where it feels safe. I need to get Finn’s voice out of my head because I can’t stand that he’s trying to be there after everything he did. I need to get Clyde’s dark eyes out of my thoughts before I go ballistic because the facts are simple: he took Mom’s inheritance from my grandmother’s death, and he’s going to take the house, too. It’s only a matter of time before the timer runs out, and I have nowhere else to go.
Eli glances at the watch on his wrist. It’s shiny and new, a piece he treated himself with last week when he hit a new personal record. I don’t ask him what the deal is with it. Everything else about him is used and worn. “You sure? Kinda late to have anywhere to be.”
No, I’m not fucking sure, but I throw up a peace sign in response and walk out of his bedroom. The old dude from earlier is pounding on someone else’s bedroom door as I make it down the hallway. He doesn’t spare me a glance. My guess is this happens often. New faces coming and going, and there he is, trying to get a handle on whatever the fuck.
I push outside and jog my way to my car at the curb. My chest grows increasingly heavy with each breath. My hands tremble as I get inside, my heart racing like a stallion in an open field. I blink past the blurring in my vision and start my decrepit Ford. It purrs to life, and amazingly, I return back to the house without sideswiping the cars parked on the street.
My body feels like it’s been thrown around and bounced off brick walls for the last fifteen minutes. My breaths are shallow, and I do my best to deepen them. It’s difficult, though, because when I glance up and look out the window of my car, Finn is on the porch.
Again.
For the third night in a row.
After I told him hours ago at Gulliver’s that he’s nothing to me.
What the fuck is his problem?
It only strengthens these newfound sensations moving through me. My arms tense down to my wrists. My stomach suddenly turns like it wants to hurl up the few sips of beer I drank at Eli’s.
I press my thumbs into my eyes and try not to think about the dull ache that’s moving into my cranial cavity. I get out of the car and make it up the porch steps. My goal is simple: get past Finn as quickly as possible. Get inside and remember how to breathe.
“You look like shit,” says Finn as I amble up the steps and unlock the front door. “I’ll be here if you need a little brotherly love,” is all I hear as I slam the door in his stupid face and trudge my way across the living room.
I stop in the kitchen for a quick drink, the old cookie jar I’m using to store my fighting money mocking me. I found it in the back of Mom’s closet when I was looking for my birth certificate. The mouse on the front reminds me of afternoons I spent watching Tom and Jerry as a kid.
I nearly choke on my water from trying to breathe through the onslaught of whatever this is and turn my back on the piece of ceramic.
Finn’s words pirouette in my head.
I’ll be here if you need a little brotherly love.
I’ll be here if you need a little brotherly love.
I’ll be here if you need a little brotherly love.
There is one person I need, but it’s not Finn.