Page 5 of A Fighting Chance

This entire night has been a waste. What I need now is to go to sleep. I strip down until I am naked and fall into bed not planning to move anytime soon. It doesn’t take me long to pass out and I sleep like the dead. But it doesn’t last. Groaning I turn over in my bed and listen to someone banging loudly on my door.

“I’m coming!” I shout before kicking my feet in a mini tantrum.

Grabbing an oversized and well-worn t-shirt from the chair in the corner I slip it over my head before padding barefoot over the rug into the hallway and to the front door.

“Someone better either be dead or dying for you to wake me up at this godforsaken hour,” I grumble as I pull the door open.

I stare at the empty space in front of me and wonder if I was simply imagining it. Maybe it was all part of a dream I was having. Just as I am about to close the door a box on the doorstep catches my attention. Picking it up I look around for any sign of the person who could have left it there but still find nothing.

Closing and locking my door I take the package into the kitchen and fish my phone out of my handbag. Quarter past four in the fucking morning. What kind of bullshit is this?

Leaving the box on the table I head back to bed. The box will be there when I wake up and then I can figure this all out.

Chapter Four

Alistair

Ilove the smell of ink in the morning. The shop is my pride and joy. Being able to express my artistic side keeps me from losing my mind. One would think because of the violence I so easily dole out in the octagon I wouldn’t enjoy this, but I do. Tattoos are an expression of emotion without having to say the words. Each tattoo has a specific meaning to the person that requests it.

“Morning,” my brother Malichai says as he drops a coffee at my station.

“You’re looking worse for wear,” I comment after a glance.

“Not that it’s any of your business but I haven’t slept in two days. My new neighbor has a baby that simply will not stop crying.” He runs his hand over his face in exasperation.

“Maybe you should head back home and get some sleep?”

“I wish,” he sighs before taking a swig of his coffee. “But Vance is coming in today to finish off his back piece and we’ve already rescheduled twice.”

I nod my head as I continue to sketch out a custom piece for a customer. I know better than to push the subject. Malachi is as hard-working as they come and has an immense sense of pride in what we have built. I couldn’t convince him to go home if I tried.

“What are you working on?” he asks leaning over to check out the design in front of me.

“One of the guys from the gym asked me for a custom piece,” I reply as I continue to sketch. “But you know how these guys are. It’s all skulls and snakes and shit.”

Malichai laughs as he pats my back before moving over to his own station to get all his supplies ready for the day. I lose myself in the sketch. I am so swept away in my task that I don’t even hear the door open.

“I heard you were back,” Malichai’s voice finally filters into my brain.

“Can no one keep a secret in this damn town?” Her laughter hits me.

Turning I watch my brother hug her tightly to his chest and jealousy pummels me. Why couldn’t that have been us? Why couldn’t our first interaction have been a moment of happiness? No. Instead, it has been an uphill battle all the way.

“What brings you to the shop? Need some work done?” Malichai asks as I return to my sketch.

“No thanks. I have an artist in the city who would kick my ass if I let someone else mess with this work of art.” She gestures down her body and my brother chuckles. The pen in my hand creaks at the force of my grip at the mere thought of another man with his hands on her. “Actually,” she continues, “Damian said I could find Ali here.”

My brother chuckles but doesn’t say a word. Her heels click on the tiles as she makes her way to me. My entire body is rigid, waiting for her to speak when she stops behind me. For long moments Mercedes remains silent and I bask in her nearness, enjoying the scent of her subtle perfume. I know this peaceful moment won’t last long so I try to enjoy it.

“Do you think you’re funny?” she asks lowly as she leans over my back and drops a little box on my table.

I stare at the object in confusion. Plain black, square, and small enough to fit in my palm.

“What’s this?” I ask as I push at it with my pen.

“Open it.”

I can hear the anger she is trying to control. Mercedes has a temper and it’s almost as bad as mine. It always has been. Slowly I lift the lid off the box not knowing what the hell could be going on.