Page 21 of Whiskey Sour
His eyes widen at my shouting. People turn their heads to see what’s going on, but neither of us cares. After a second, he starts laughing. “Aw, man. So you haven’t fucked him yet? That’s what this is all about? I really did think you were slipping it to him while we were together. Guess it’s good to know he really wasn’t a slut.”
I flinch and take a quick step forward. Knox is there to hold me back, because my Skylar isn’t a slut. He’s a perfect ray of sunshine. He’s my everything. Ricky is just asking to get his ass handed to him.
“Oh, tough guy.” He chuckles and looks around at the crowd that’s gathered to watch. “Tell you what, let’s fight. You win, and I fuck off forever. But if I win, I get Skylar’s number.”
I should be smarter than this. I could just walk away and not give him what he wants. Knox and I can leave and go to dinner like we planned. There’s no reason to engage an asshole like this in anything.
But I’m only human.
I’m only human, and this isn’t just a matter of being smart. It’s a matter of pride. He’s challenging me. While rationally, I know that he’s all talk, the feral side of my brain is chomping at the bit to get at him.
So maybe that’s why I say yes.
“Fine,” I snap, shrugging Knox off me. “Let’s do it.”
The commissioner—gleeful as ever—comes out of nowhere and steps between us. “Fuck yeah. I didn’t think you’d be fighting today.” He turns to Ricky, probably spying the easy money, and smirks. “Okay, boys. You got people all excited with all this raw testosterone. Shirts off and in the cage.”
Taking a step back, I whip off my shirt, throwing it in Knox’s direction as I walk around the fence behind the man. Ricky does the same as he looks at the commissioner. “Rules?”
He hums under his breath in consideration. “Maybe no eye gouging? Try not to kill each other? I don’t fucking know, just make it entertaining.”
I nod as I enter the cage, with Ricky following close behind me. The echo of the barbed wire fence slamming shut can be heard even over the crowd. Neither of us waits for any sort of introduction as we begin circling each other. With every step I take, watching that stupid fucking smirk on Ricky’s face, I start to think that this is a terrible idea. There are better ways to resolve our issues than?—
“Do you think Skylar likes being watched?”
The question knocks me out of all logical reasoning. “What?”
“Just a question,” he taunts, beating at his chest as the crowd roars around us. “Seems like he’d be into it. Thought that maybe I’d come over to the club and fuck him right there in the center of the dance floor. Little whore would be begging right in front of your face?—”
But he doesn’t get a chance to finish his cruel fantasy before I tackle him.
Some people say that in moments like these, they don’t know what comes over them. They say that something else takes over and eliminates all rational thought. That they’re ripped out of their bodies and forced to watch the brutality they ensue.
That’s not me.
I’m very aware and conscious as my fist connects with Ricky’s nose. I can feel and hear the sick crack that comes after. I am entirely myself as I give him no mercy and attack every inch of him I can reach. As I shove my knee into his stomach, I pray for internal bleeding. I grab his face with my bloodied hands andslam his head against the concrete floor. I unleash something—not a monster—butmyself.
All thoughts of Skylar manifest. Ricky becomes a distorted mosaic of every man who’s ever had my ray of sunshine. I take out my anger at the universe on this one guy because it’s all that I can do.
“Fucking hell! Don’t kill him!”
I’m ripped off Ricky’s prone body, and my fist goes flying, but Knox manages to duck before I can deck him in the face. His arms are wrapped around my center as he tugs me back until we meet the fence. He’s laughing his ass off as I struggle in his arms. “Jesus, Cassius. You’ve got some serious issues, man.”
Even though I shouldn’t find it funny, I start laughing alongside him. We watch as the commissioner checks Ricky’s pulse and a thumbs-up is all the crowd needs to know he’s still alive and breathing—maybe in for a world of hurt when he wakes up, but that’s his problem.
“Did he get you at all?” Knox asks as he lets me go and spins me for examination. “Damn, not even a scratch.”
“That’s him for you,” the commissioner says, slapping a wad of cash in my hand. “That was good. You’ll come back tomorrow night?”
“Yeah,” I say as I take the cash and shove it in my back pocket.
“Perfect.” He claps happily. “Fight like this more often and the real cash will start rolling in. This is exciting!”
Exciting might not be the word I’d use. No, I would say?—
Liberating.
CHAPTER EIGHT
