‘Hey,’ he says.
I gaze at him. He is wearing a pair of faded jeans. They hug his strong thighs. Something about him always makes my mouth dry. ‘Hey, yourself,’ I reply.
‘What are you reading?’
‘The Billionaire Banker.’
‘Any good?’
‘Not bad.’
He comes forward, the muscles of his chest gleaming in the down-lights. Desire floods through me, so hot and fast that my clit aches.
I pat the sofa next to me.
He raises his eyebrows.
‘I want to try something.’
His eyebrows rise. ‘What?’
I turn my book to the appropriate page and hand it over to him. ‘I want to try that.’
He takes the book from me and reads. I watch him, the way the light caresses his cheekbones, the shadows his long eyelashes make, the straight mouth. A beautiful man, a truly beautiful man. When he looks up his eyes are dark and amused. ‘I’ve got whiskey.’
‘I know where I can get some ice,’ I say with a grin.
By the time I come back with a bucket of ice, he has stripped naked. His big thighs are bunched and ready and his decorated, satiny soft cock is erect and magnificent in the soft glow of the lights. He is so hot and so perfect my thighs quiver. In one hand he is holding a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.
I lean weakly against a pillar. ‘Already so hard?’
He doesn’t answer. Instead he opens me with his practiced fingers and does to me what the billionaire banker did to his woman.
FOURTEEN
The first thing I do at work when I return from our little holiday is go on the Internet and find out about bare knuckle fighting, a sport where the opponents ram their unprotected fists into each other to decide who is the hardest of them. What I discover scares the shit out of me.
The activity is considered to be the ultimate tear-up, no fucking around, no holds barred and with plenty of blood. It could be pouring from a fighter’s ears or even from his groin, bitten by his opponent.
I also learn that the impact of one man’s bare fist on another is equivalent to the force of a four pound lump hammer traveling at twenty miles an hour. The effect could be devastating, even after a bout lasting just a few minutes. There are no official rounds to this blood sport; instead it just goes on until one of them cannot take it anymore, or has sustained so many injuries that he can no longer stand.
It reminds me of the Chinese proverb my grandmother used to tell us grandchildren: When two tigers fight, one limps away horribly wounded, the other is dead.
That evening, profoundly disturbed and unable to wait, I run to the front door as soon as I hear Jake enter and confront him. ‘Is it true that in bare knuckle fighting you could be bitten so hard in the groin that you start bleeding?’ I demand.
He closes the door with a deliberate click. ‘It won’t be like that, Lil. Both Pilkington and I are too proud to bite like wild animals.’
I clasp my hands together nervously. ‘But you could end up with a broken eye socket or a smashed fist?’ The thought makes me tremble.
‘Unlikely. The fight will be marshaled by a referee.’
‘But the possibility exists that you could get hurt?’ I insist.
‘Yes, I could,’ he admits.
I take a deep breath. ‘And what happens when you do?’
‘There will be a paramedic on standby.’
‘It says on the Internet that you could be brain damaged. What could a paramedic do then?’ I cry.
‘I could die tomorrow crossing the street.’
‘I don’t want you to fight,’ I blurt out unhappily.
He takes my trembling hands in his, but looks at me with an unyielding face. ‘It is tragic, but we both have to go through this fight simply to sustain our identities. I have to fight him, Lil. It is all arranged. The date has been set. Saturday coming. And there is no backing out.’
I gasp. ‘And when were you going to tell me that?’
‘Saturday.’
Angrily I pull my hands out of his grasp. ‘Before or after the fight?’
He runs his fingers through his hair. ‘Before. I was trying to avoid a scene like this.’
‘Where will it be held?’ I ask coldly.
‘In a barn somewhere.’
‘I hope you’ve reserved a good seat for me,’ I throw at him sarcastically.
‘You’re not going.’
My eyes widen. ‘Why can’t I go?’
He folds his arms over his chest. ‘Do you really want to watch two men inflict savage injuries on each other?’
I narrow my eyes. ‘I thought you said the injuries are not going to be savage?’
He frowns. ‘Just stop it, Lil. You’re not coming, OK?’
‘It’s a spectator sport so won’t there be others there, including women?’
‘Yes.’ His voice is cautious.
‘And you said it is a noble tradition.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I want to be with you while you engage in this noble tradition.’
‘Well, I don’t want you there.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I will be distracted and unable to concentrate if you are. I want to know that you are in a safe place. At home.’
Some part of me is relieved to know that I am not going to see the fight. It makes me sick to even watch a boxing fight between total strangers. I don’t know that I can take watching Jake bloodied in such a barbaric way. ‘Will you at least let me come and wait in the car for you?’
He sighs. ‘All right, you can wait in the car with Shane.’
I look at him. ‘Will many people be going?’
‘Entrance is by word of mouth and the location will only be revealed a few hours earlier by the organizers, so nobody really knows how many will turn up until the day.’
‘Will people be betting?’
He shrugs. ‘They usually do.’
Saturday flies into my life. Nobody talks and I sit in the back of the car, sullen and fearful, as Shane drives us to a barn in the middle of nowhere. Dominic has gone on ahead and will meet us at the location of the fight.
A swarthy boy is directing cars down a beaten track to a field. I am shocked to see what looks like hundreds of cars parked there. Shane passes them and comes to a stop outside a barn. There is a van selling hot dogs and burgers. As I watch, people are going into the barn.
Dominic has been waiting for us to arrive. He comes striding toward us. He is tall and broad like his brothers, but it is immediately apparent that he is not the thinker of the family.
‘It’s a fucking zoo in there,’ he says bending down at Jake’s window.
‘Is Pilkington here yet?’ Jake asks.
‘Just arrived. He’s got a lot of supporters. His women are going crazy, but don’t worry, it won’t take you long to put him to sleep.’
Jake gets out of the car. I scramble out, too. Dominic acknowledges me with a nod. I don’t nod back. I know it is him that has caused this fight.
Jake turns toward me and smiles. ‘Kiss me good luck?’
I fling myself at him and, holding the sides of his face between my palms, I kiss him desperately. His mouth is warm. His hands come around my waist. And his tongue traces my teeth gently. But there is no passion. There is only the sense of cold fingers crawling all over me. I break away. He smiles again at me.
Shane comes around to stand beside me as I watch Jake stride away with Dom.
Close to the barn, he stops, and turns around to look at us. I wave at him, but he simply stares at me as if this could be the last time he will see me. The thought makes my throat constrict with fear. What if something happens to him? Brain damage. Or…death. People have died during these fights.
The thought galvanizes me, and I take a step to run toward him, but Shane’s arm shoots out and grasps my forearm. I stop and do not move. He holds me still while Jake carries on staring at me.
Finally, Jake nods and, turning away, walks into the barn. He never turns again. He enters the door and I hear the crowds roar their welcome. I feel a shiver go through me. Shane removes his hand. I hug myself. I don’t want to think of what is going on in that barn.
I turn my head to look at Shane. He is staring at the entrance, his face tense and anxious.
‘It’s going to be OK, right?’
‘Yeah, it’s going to be OK,’ he says very softly, not looking at me.
This is the first time I have been alone with him since that night at the party when he found Jake with his fingers inside me. ‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
His head whips around. ‘About what?’
‘About that night. I didn’t mean to hurt you or cause trouble between you and Jake.’
He stares at me incredulously. ‘You don’t understand at all, do you?’
‘Understand what?’
‘My brother would never have done that if you were right for me.’
I stare at him curiously. This unshakeable loyalty they all have toward each other even at their own expense.
‘My brother is the father I never had. Did you know that his burning ambition was to be a vet? He wanted to be the best vet in the world. He was convinced he could talk to animals. Maybe he could. Even fierce dogs used to wag their tails at him.’
His eyes harden.
‘He gave it all up for us. We are what we are today because of him, because he took the tough decisions and did whatever was necessary for us to stay alive and thrive. I owe my life to him. So yes, I liked you, but contrary to what you think, I had no problems stepping aside. And I am proud that I did something for him. I introduced him to you.’