Page 138 of Jensen
“I am a round peg in a square hole, Jen,” he says finally. “Been weird, little off-beat, my whole life. Don’t think I had a chance after the way I was raised, but she makes me feel…like that’s alright.”
My head goes back to Della, to how accepting she’d been of my past and how it shaped me. Brothers drops his head, stabbing out his cigarette on his boot. We sit for a while.
“Grace,” I say.
“What’s that?”
“She’s giving you a little fucking grace,” I say. “Feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”
He stares, then he smiles. Sweat etches down his forehead, and he wipes his face with his palm.
“Yeah,” he says finally. “I don’t actually know what the point of all that was. It just came out.”
“I heard what you were saying.”
“Maybe you can enlighten me on what that is.”
“You have a good thing going on,” I say. “At the crossroads, if I were you, I’d pick that woman over taking down the Caudills and getting the city back. Power don’t love you back.”
“No, but it keeps you safe,” he says.
“I’m fighting tonight like we planned,” I say. “Then, I’m getting my girl and her kid, and we’re going west. I don’t need revenge for what happened to me.”
“So what was the point of returning? I know it wasn’t just for the kid.”
“You asked me once what I wanted to be when I grew up,” I say. “Ask me again. I’m grown.”
He’s got the saddest smile. “What do you want to be when you grow up, Jen?”
“I’m a cowboy,” I say. “And I reckon there’s a woman in the Caudill mansion right now who wouldn’t mind settling down with a cowboy like me. So, I’m gonna get in there tonight, win this fight, and get my girl. You fuck your life up if you want and fumble Kayleigh because you can’t give up your hold on this city. I won’t.”
He drops his head, laughing. “You are a firecracker.”
“I know what I want,” I say. “And tonight, I’m getting it, come hell or high fucking water. I couldn’t care less what you do. I’ll be on that plane to Montana you promised me by morning.”
He stands, releasing a heavy sigh. “I respect that.”
“Alright,” I say. “Let’s get moving.”
We don’t speak again until we’re both in the rented truck. I drive, and Brothers sits on the passenger side, the headlights reflecting in his unreadable eyes. Following behind us is a cargo truck of his men with weaponry. I’ve been here and done this with Brothers before. We both know the pit will be the most heavily guarded place tonight, from both sides.
The further we go into the woods, the darker it gets. Then, after we’ve been in the forest for almost an hour, I catch a glimpse of firelight. The trees grow sparse. Trucks and ATVs appear, parked in the dusty ditches along the edge of the road. Men mill around, some of them with women. I see the glint of their eyes as we drive past.
It feels different this time. Even in the past, when I fought for sport, I was always the underdog.
Not this time.
We pull up outside the pit. Surrounding it runs a fence made up of spiked stakes that run to my shoulder. On the other side, by the trees, sit a handful of tents. Some of the men who fight often, usually for money, stay here through the summers. They’re a rough bunch. I’ve spent a few nights out here myself.
I swing out of the truck. Brothers does the same, circling to me. He’s dressed down tonight, work boots and pants and a gray t-shirt. It makes him look a lot younger. Or maybe that’s the shadows, the flickering light, but he looks the way I remember him back then.
“You ready for this?” he says.
I jerk my head.
“Knock ‘em dead, son,” he says, taking his AK out of the truck bed and slinging it over his shoulder.
I don’t tell him not to call me son. A dozen pairs of eyes follow us as we climb up the short bank and go through the opening in the fence. Inside, it’s packed, absolutely jam packed beyond anything I’ve ever seen. Caudill soldiers are gathered in groups, I can tell because their guns are branded with Leland’s crest. They glance up as Brothers and I walk up the pathway to the pit. There’s a strong sense of unrest.
