Chapter Thirty – Fight Night

I don't often find myself at the club this early in the day.  But then again, I don't often have a day like this.  I'm a bit surprised at the number of other people here at this early hour.  About two weeks ago Quinn started coming in to practice over the lunch hours.  As word got out, more customers started dropping in for lunch.  Now Rex is pressuring him to practice every day over lunch.

I'd been telling Quinn that I'd stop by for a week now, but I never seemed to have time.  I don't really have the time today either, but I don't care.  I need something to get my mind off the op.  And off my love life.  Both are now officially a mess.  That became painfully obvious this morning.

I forgot my portfolio of music at home and had to go back for it.  Will, who had been in bed when I left, was up and eating cereal at the breakfast bar.  He was obviously surprised by my appearance.  He glanced at me briefly, grimaced, and then returned back to his cereal.

I had come to expect the cold shoulder treatment from him and all I really wanted to do was beat a hasty retreat.  But I couldn't.  I figured that the dark areas I saw on his face were just shadows cast by the kitchen light, but I had to make sure.  I mean it's my job to protect him.

So I casually walked towards him like I was going to get something from the kitchen before I left.  As I got closer, I realized there were no shadows on his face.  Only bruises and cuts.  And one very pretty black eye.

I slammed my portfolio on the breakfast bar, trying to get him to actually look at me.  It worked.  He looked me dead in the eye.  "What the hell happened to you?" I asked.  I was scared.  Scared that he ran into some SD-6 thug or one of Irina's troop, and I wasn't there to help him.  The thought of him being beaten senseless in some alley made me… well, I'd never be able to forgive myself.

He gave me a cold stare that he reserved only for me.  When it became apparent that he had no plans to tell me what happened, I pushed him.  "Will, I am not leaving this house until you tell me what happened."  Another serving of cold stare.  "And neither are you."

He exhaled with frustration.  "I had a meeting… with your boyfriend."

What he was suggesting was so absurd that I laughed out loud.  But not for long.  "You're not serious!" I said.  "Mike did this to you?"

"Yeah, he did," Will said bitterness coloring his voice.

"Why?!" I demanded.

Another frustrated exhalation.  "Why do you think, Jess?"  His eyes softened.  The muscles of his face relaxed.  His anger was transforming to sadness.

I figured it was a rhetorical question, but I answered it anyway… with a jab.  "I thought fighting over girls ended in high school."

He pointed a finger at me and with sarcasm said, "Oh ho!  You're funny!"  He turned his eyes back down to his cereal and resumed eating.

"Hey!  I'm not done talking about this yet!" I said.

"What, Jess?!"  The anger in his voice matched mine.  "What do you want to know?  You want to know who set up the meeting?  Vaughn.  You want to know why?  Because he wanted to tell me that I was out of line.  You want to know what I said?  I told him that both of you should have respected me enough to tell me the truth."  His face became redder with each word he spoke.  "You want to know who threw the first punch?"  He stood up and slammed his hands on the bar.  "Me.  You want to know how it ended?  It ended with both of our faces looking like this."  He pointed up to his face.  "It ended when we got too tired to throw any more punches…"  His voice was softening now...  The volume gradually decreased.  "It ended when he said that he honestly loved you…

His voice was merely a sad whisper, "It ended when he told me how long he had been in love with you."

To say I was stunned would be an understatement.  I had no words to say, and no voice to speak with.  I felt the tears pushing at the corners of my eyes.  I stared at him – really studied him until I couldn't hold back the tears any more.  Then I grabbed the portfolio and left.  I drove to work, parked my car, and cried until I couldn't cry any more.

And that was how I found out that my entire life has become a stunning disaster.

I shake my head like that will get rid of the awful feeling I have, and I look around the club.  Rex, the club owner, is behind the bar, tending to the early lunch patrons.  He waves at me and motions me to come over to the bar.  As I approach, I see that he is talking to another man.

"Here's one of the trio, now," Rex says to the man.  The man turns on his barstool to look at me.  Then he stands.  Chivalry?  Standing in a lady's presence?  If he only knew.  "This is Rory McAllister," Rex introduces me.

The man reaches out to shake my hand.  "My pleasure," he says as he takes my hand and brings it up to his lips to kiss it softly.  Chivalry?  Maybe.  But it still gives me the creeps.  As he releases my hand (not nearly fast enough) he introduces himself.  "I'm Sam Langston.  I caught your show the other night, and I was an instant fan."

"Oh, thanks," I say and try to give him a polite smile, but I imagine that it looks more like a sneer.  Even though he is no longer holding my hand, he still gives me the creeps.  He's young… can't be any older than 25.  Probably close to 6'4", he's got an athletic build, fair complexion, dark brown hair, and a matching goatee.  But his eyes.  There's something in his blue eyes that hints at danger.  Even though he's wearing a t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of Vans, he looks incredibly uncomfortable.  The pierced ear and the tattoo on his forearm seem sorely out of place.

My cell phone rings.  Thank God for my cell phone.  As I pull the phone out of my purse, I dismiss myself from Rex and Creepy Sam.  I walk towards the side windows and answer the call.

"Hey, it's Eric."

"God, I'm glad it's you!"  I really am.  I casually glance around to make sure no one is listening, "Have you seen Mike today?"

"Yeah," he responds, his voice filled with amusement, "He looks like hell!"  He laughs. 

"You think this is funny?" I ask.

"Sure I do," he replies.  "Don't you?"  He's still laughing heartily.

"Do I think it's funny that Mike and Will got in a fight because of me?  No!  I don't!" Just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach and the fact that Eric is laughing about it ticks me off on a whole new level.  "Can you explain any of this to me?  What in the world were they thinking?"

"Hey, I've got a question," Eric says.  Is he trying to change the subject?  "What in the world were you thinking when you and Will faced off last Monday?"

Is he trying to piss me off even more?  "That was totally different…"

I'm unable to finish my sentence.  Eric interrupts me, "No, Jess, it's not different.  It's very much the same.  Obviously you and Will and Mike have got some things to straighten out.  But why you all think beating the crap out of each other will help is beyond me."

I'm stunned to silence for a second time today.  If he wasn't my best friend, I'd…

In my silence he speaks again, "So, I was wondering… When are you and Mike set to square off?  Because I'd really like tickets to that fight."  He's laughing again.

"You know, if you weren't my best friend, I would have hung up on you by now," I actually manage to speak.

He chuckles.  "I don't doubt it.  But, you know I'm right, Jess."

I don't want to think about this any more.  I don't want to talk about this any more.  Right now, all I want is a way out of this mess.  "Is Mike going to resign as Will's handler?" I ask.

"I doubt it," Eric says.  "The last thing we need is to give Devlin another reason to hawk us."

"So now what do we do?" I ask.

"We keep on.  Mike and Will are going to get over this.  And even if they don't they'll still be able to work with each other because they have mutual respect.  Guys are like that, Jess."

"I wish I could get over it," I mumble.

Eric chooses to ignore my mumbling.  "Now can we talk about what I called you for in the first place?"