“I told you to stay away from me, Lyric. You just had to tempt me when you knew I had been drinking.” He leans into my neck and kisses it roughly, before running his lips in a vertical line, stopping under my ear. “I’m leaving soon. I’ve already hurt too many people and I don’t want you to be another one, dammit. So stay away.”
“Don’t blame it on the alcohol, Memphis,” I say, now pissed off. “You know damn well what you’re doing right now. You seem to be a pro at controlling your liquor just like you are with everything else . . . and don’t you fucking tell me to stay away when you’re the one pressing me against a wall.” I push him away from me. “I’m not a little fucking girl. You don’t need to worry about me, I got myself covered, but don’t worry . . . I’ll stay away from now on.”
I walk into the house and slam the door in his face. I’m so fucking angry with him that I could choke him. He wants to accuse me of tempting him while he’s drunk? Well, screw him. You can barely tell he’s had one drink. Maybe it’s best he’ll be leaving soon.
Better for both of us . . .
FUCK ME . . .
I stand outside for a moment and just stare at her door like an idiot. I knew I should have made her stay home tonight. I knew that if I had a few drinks around her that I would lose my willpower and put my hands on her. I did, and now all I want is more.
The worst part is . . . I don’t want anyone else putting their hands on her either; not now that I’ve had a taste. I just fucked her and myself without even using my fucking dick.
I look over at my house and see Alex leaning over the porch railing, smoking a cigarette. I get an ache in my chest, taking in how grown he is. Last time I saw him he was just a scrawny boy. Now he’s a grown man, built almost to my size and covered with tattoos. I wouldn’t doubt it if most of those tattoos were from his personal artwork. He’s got mad drawing skills; always has.
He looks up with a small smile when he notices me at the bottom of the steps. “Shit, man. It feels so strange being back here with you.” He takes one last drag of his cigarette before tossing it into the grass and standing up straight. “I can’t believe it’s been six years, bro. I missed the shit out of you.”
I walk up onto the porch and lean next to him, against the railing. “Yeah,” I breathe. “I missed you too, Alex.” I swallow back the hurt. “And mom. I miss her the most.”
Alex turns away, running his hands through his hair. “It’s all my fucking fault; why you weren’t here for mom when she passed. I’m the reason you missed her funeral. The guilt eats at me every damn day. I feel like shit. I’m sorry, bro.”
I squeeze the railing in my hand, my knuckles turning white. “Don’t,” I seethe. “We already went through this . . . that day, and I meant every single word of it. I told you that I’d always protect you and mom, and I did. I did what I had to do. None of that was on you. You were a kid for fuck’s sake.”
“Yeah, but you don’t think it haunts me just the same?” He turns to look at me, his nostrils flared. “If I would’ve known how to protect myself . . . you would’ve been here for mom. You always took care of her. That’s why I’m fighting now. I don’t want to be helpless. Fuck, Memphis!”
I can’t stand seeing him hurt and blaming himself, but I have a feeling that no matter what I say, nothing’s going to change his mind; not right now at least. The best I can do is distract him.
“Tell me what you’re doing with Asher. He’s dangerous and we both know it. Mom taught you better than that . . . I taught you better than that.”
His face turns white and he suddenly looks sick. He didn’t think I’d find out so quickly. “What the fuck?” He whispers, but barely loud enough for me to hear. “I’ve been doing some fights for him. No biggie.” He walks into the house and I follow behind him. “I needed cash to help take care of mom’s expenses. He was at a fight one night and offered me a lot of money because he heard I was your brother.”
“Yeah?” I watch as he reaches into his bag for some shorts and some wraps. “He’s still dangerous, Alex. I don’t want you fighting for him anymore, or at all.”
He looks up from wrapping his hands. “It doesn’t matter what you want, Memphis. I have to for now. I’ll be fine.” He pulls off his jeans and slips into his black shorts.
“What are you doing?”
“Fighting.” He tosses his bag aside and reaches for his keys. “The alley. Ten minutes.”
“Are you fucking serious?” My voice peaks as I punch my fist through the wall, before leaning against it, trying to calm myself. “Is that why you came back? For a fucking fight?”
He walks to stand in front of me and looks me in the eyes. “Fuck no! I’m back for you, but I got screwed into fighting tonight. I need the money, Memphis. I know what I’m doing. Just come with me. It will be quick.”
Shaking my head I grip his shoulder and look back at him. He knows I’ll do anything he asks. I just wish it didn’t involve me watching him fight. It fucking kills me to even think about what he went through as a teenager. All the hits I saw him take over and over again. All the hits I took. I never wanted him to go through that.
“I didn’t want this life for you. I couldn’t control my anger. That’s why I got into fighting in the first place. It’s different for you. You’re better than I am.”
“Says who?” He shakes his shoulder free and walks outside.
“FUCK, ALEX!”
I lock the door handle and slam it shut behind me as I trail after him. Alex is already waiting in his truck with the engine running, so I jog over to the passenger side and hop in. “You’re lucky I care about you so damn much, and that you already have this fight set up. I know you can’t just cancel that shit, but after this we’ll talk about money and what you need. Okay?”
He looks in my direction and nods, but doesn’t say a word. There’s more. He just doesn’t want to say it. I could always read him and he knows that.
THE ALLEY IS PACKED WITH eager people, partying it up and waiting for a good fight. As I stand behind the white line with Alex, it brings me back to six years ago when I used to live for this moment, fighting inside that stupid, spray painted makeshift ring. It was the best idea we could come up with, without having to put up a ring each night and take it back down. Plus, it’s kind of hard to hide a real ring from the cops. This works for us, keeps us out of trouble . . . most of the time. It’s simple: whenever the huge white square fades, it gets repainted.