Broken (#Hashtag Book 2) Page 6

  When my bare, raw and bleeding knuckles connect with the other guy’s face there’s more blood and there’s no way to tell if it’s from his face or my own hand because we’re already pretty messed up.

  This fight, it’s like a drug.

  More potent than anything I’ve ever had and trust me I have an extremely sketchy record when it comes to chemicals that make me feel good.

  All I can smell is blood and sweat, all I can taste is blood and sweat…

  And then something happens.

  And I don’t know what it is but suddenly people are cheering and someone grabs my wrist and my arm goes up in the air.

  My cornerman Andrew’s voice reached my ears. “You won, man!” He said that like he knew I had no idea what was going on but how he knew. “Teague, you won the fight!”

  The disbelief in his voice matched my own disbelief. Bob The Tucker was known in the underground circles as something of a challenge and there were more people rooting for him at the start of our fight than I had ever seen rooting for anyone in the past month that I’ve been attending the fights. Did I just knock him down in round three? Is the game really over? I need someone to tell me how to get back to Sebastian because I have no clue…

  And then instead of cheering me everyone starts scrambling about and there are voices that I can hear but those voices don’t form a proper sentence in my head so I try to figure it out but all I can see is that Bob is on the floor and he isn’t moving. His face is all bloody and there’s a nasty bruise on his chest, right under his heart, and the bruise seems to be growing in size…

  “Teague!” Someone pulls me out of the cage and I let them. It’s when we’re out in the open that I even realize it was Sebastian who had pulled me out.

  “Teague!” Sebastian yells. “Hey! Can you hear me?”

  I try to focus on Sebastian’s face but I can’t.

  There’s a lot of noise inside my ears and then I feel a headache coming on that makes me double over on the street and I’m holding my head in my hands and screaming.

  “Fuck, Teague!” Sebastian yells and he and someone else, grab hold of me and put me in the back of the limo. When Sebastian gets in, the limo starts to move and Sebastian takes off his shirt and dabs my face with it. “You stupid fuck!”

  My head is still screaming with that nasty ache…

  “Steven,” Sebastian says and I realize that’s who the other guy was who picked me up and hauled me into the car because Sebastian himself isn’t capable of it. “Let’s go to the emergency room please.”

  “No…” I start to protest but Sebastian cuts me off. “Shut up, Teague. I’ll take care of it.”

  “The cops…”

  “We’ll call Vince!” Sebastian says and I realize he’s right. Vince is my cousin and he will make sure I don’t get in trouble. But I’m still in trouble if he rats me out to my family.

  “Can’t tell Mia…” I try to speak.

  “Fuck, Teague. I said I’ll take care of it! Now shut up and relax.”

  I’ve never seen Sebastian this angry before.

  Or this worried.

  “I’m sorry…” I say and realize that I’ve started to cry. “Did I kill him?”

  Sebastian says nothing.

  “Fuck,” I sob. “I fucking killed him, didn’t I! I fucking killed a guy! Fuck!”

  Sebastian pushes a button so the screen goes up, giving us privacy from Steven. He places a hand on my shoulder and puts a little pressure on it. “Teague,” he says. “Listen to me. Don’t you have to sign a disclaimer before these fights? Something that says the fighter alone is responsible for any damage that happens and no one else?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So that guy signed it too.”

  “I guess.”

  “So he’s not your responsibility, Teague! He did this knowing the risks!”

  “Yeah but it’s kind of an unsaid rule that you won’t kill anyone!” I snap. “Fuck, Sebastian! I’m fucked!”

  “Teague,” Sebastian says. “You didn’t kill anyone. You got that? That guy was alive when we left.”

  “You don’t know that…”

  “Fuck Teague!” Sebastian yells louder this time. “You didn’t kill anyone! That guy was alive when we left! Say it with me!”

  I can’t stop looking out the window at the world moving past me.

  “Teague,” Sebastian urges. “Say it.”

  At a small distance, I can see the EMERGENCY ROOM sign of a hospital that I have only seen and never visited before. There’s an ambulance standing nearby and Steven drives right up to the place.

  “Teague.”

  “I didn’t kill anyone,” I say, unable to stop the tears. “That guy was alive when we left.”

  “Give me your phone,” Sebastian says.

  “Why…”

  “Give me your fucking phone I need to call Vince!”

  I hand my bloody phone to Sebastian and he starts dialing.

  Sebastian is still talking when the limo comes to a stop.

  The Photographs

  HOLDEN

  I pick a time when I know my mother isn’t going to be around and use it to raid her room for anything that might give me a clue as to whether that man who calls himself my father was speaking the truth. Ever since I’ve come back from that meeting I’ve done nothing but think. And I can’t keep going through life without finding out the truth anymore. If my mother won’t talk about him then I have no choice but to do this. I take one swallow from the flask I’m holding and try to forget about the fact that I’m invading her privacy. I have to find something, some connection to my past, something she’s been keeping from me.

  But I’ve been searching that room for hours and haven’t found anything.

  I’m about to give up when I discover a false cabinet in her walk-in closet. I throw down all the clothes that are hiding it and make way to the false bottom, lift it to discover a vintage box that looks like someone might place jewelry in it. But the box is so beautiful I can’t imagine why someone would store it away and not display it proudly on her dresser like my mother usually displays beautiful things. The thing has no lock, nothing to prevent me from going in but I still have to find some courage to be able to look through the contents. When I’m finally over my fear, I open it.

  Photographs.

  Lots and lots of them.

  And odd trinkets.

  A hospital wristband stating my first name but the last name as Heliot.

  I don’t know why I start crying.

  There’s other stuff in here, ticket stubs from a movie, a dried up flower, a corsage—and then there are those photos. I start going through them and I’m taken back to a time that I didn’t even imagine existed, a time before I was born: my mother in a prom dress with a boy who looks a lot like me; my mother showing off a pregnant belly next to the same kid; my mother and the same kid holding a baby with the same hospital wristband.

  And then there’s one picture that knocks the wind out of me.

  “Holden, what’re you doing in here?” My mother’s voice breaks my trance.

  She sees me with the box. “Holden,” she snaps. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

  I drop the box to the floor and everything spills.

  Everything except for that photograph that I still hold in my hand.

  “Holden answer me!”

  I turn to face my mother. “This picture,” I say, showing it to her. “Is of my father and us.”

  She has something on her face, but I can’t tell if it’s annoyance or anger. Probably a bit of both. “So?”

  “Mom,” I say. “You never even told me his name. I asked you a million times if you had any pictures of him and you told me you didn’t. You lied to me, Mom.”

  “So what?”

  “So, this!” I shake the photograph at her. “This is the same exact picture that Zaff Heliot has in his wallet, Mom! If you hate him so much, then why would you hold on to these photographs?”

>   She looks hurt now. “He contacted you, huh?” she says. “I knew he wasn’t going to let this go, I knew it. I mean, I know he’s a fucking two-faced bastard but this is low even for him. Don’t you see it, Holden? He’s using you to hurt me. He doesn’t care about you.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t believe me?” she says. “Holden, you know that man for what, five minutes? An hour? A day perhaps? I’ve known him for forty-two years.”

  “Did he really abandon us?”

  She takes the picture from my hand and starts putting everything back into the box. “I held on to these because they’re memories from my past,” she says. “Is it a crime to hold on to a few old memories?”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not a crime. Unless every good memory of yours happens to have my biological father in it!”

  She finally manages to fill the box back with that old stuff and stashes it back in the false cabinet. She turns to me. “Never get into my stuff again.”

  “Did he abandon us, Mom?” I ask. “Or did you leave him?”

  “Holden,” she says. “Half-truths don’t make a fact.”

  “He was right,” I say, unsure what to do with this new information. “You took me from him. And then you married Dad for his money, didn’t you?”

  “I’m not going to dignify that with a response.”

  “You’re going to tell me the truth Mom,” I say. “Or I will hear it from my father.”

  “Your biological father.”

  “Well he wants to be my father.”

  She looks at me. “Baby,” she says. “You can’t be angry at me for trying to protect you from that man.”

  “How bad could he be if you’re still holding on to pictures of him?”

  “Those pictures are of a different time, Holden. Your father wasn’t the same person then. And sometimes I like to think that everything I did in life wasn’t a mistake, is that so bad? Those good moments that we shared, including you being born Holden, that’s my whole life.”

  “Look Mom,” I say. “I’m not a complete idiot. I get that you wanted to leave him, marry someone else for whatever reason, I get that. What I don’t get, is why you and Dad made sure my father never got to talk to me?”

  “We loved you, Holden. We were only trying to protect you from him. He’s a dangerous man; you don’t know the half of it!”

  “Well maybe you should have let me draw that conclusion for myself, Mom! He’s my father, I have every right to talk to him!”

  “Edmond was your father,” she says. “Don’t you forget that, Holden.”

  I scoff. “All the time Dad was alive you did nothing but bitch about him. And now suddenly he’s husband of the year?”

  “Every couple has their differences, Holden! He may not have been the best husband but he was a damn good father, and you know it.”

  I can’t help thinking about the way Zaff was talking, how he kept saying he wanted to be able to see his son, nothing more. “Did you really stop him from seeing me, Mom?”

  “Don’t you see it, Holden? He’s turning you against me!”

  “Mom. You’ve already done a pretty good job of that yourself.” I storm out the room before she can say a word.

  But the minute I’m outside, I can hear her crying.

  Truths, Lies and Virgin Piña coladas

  DANIEL

  I must have been standing at her doorstep for hours now.

  Just do it, Daniel.

  It’s a door, not the entrance to a witch’s lair.

  I finally manage to bring my knuckles in a position for knocking, when the door opens before I can do it. “Daniel,” Jamie says. “What…are you doing?”

  “Uh…I was just…I was trying to knock…”

  “I buzzed you in like half an hour ago.”

  “Right, yeah. I guess I was getting up the nerve to do it.”

  “For thirty five minutes?”

  “Sorry.”

  Jamie steps aside. “So,” she says, holding the door open. “Would you like to come in?”

  “Yes,” I say but it takes me another five minutes to actually get past the threshold.

  “Your apartment smells like…” I say, smelling the pineapple in the air.

  “Pinacoladas!” Jamie says, and I see her with two full glasses of the beverage and coming towards me. Both the glasses have powdered colored sugar on the rim and tiny yellow umbrellas. She hands one to me. “Non-alcoholic of course.”

  I gingerly take it from her and she leads me to the couch in the living room. We sit in front of the TV which is switched to some cooking show. I take one sip of my virgin piña colada and get a surprise. “This isn’t bad at all!” I say and realize that might not be the vote of confidence she was looking for but Jamie just smiles.

  “Hey,” she says. “I’m no Gordon Ramsey. Everyone knows that. But I can whip up something when I have a recipe. Well, the simple stuff anyway not the fancy stuff they show on TV.”

  “So, you’re watching cooking shows now?”

  “Is there something wrong with watching cooking shows?”

  “Not if you actually cook.”

  “You think people watch these shows so they can learn how to cook?” Jamie says. “You’re so wrong, Daniel. People who watch these shows can’t afford to buy or eat that kind of expensive food and either binge eat burgers from the crappy diner downstairs or bury their faces into store-bought pies.”

  “How many store-bought pies have there been?”

  “Three more than I’m willing to admit.”

  “When’s all this going to stop?”

  “Probably never,” she says and I notice that her drink is almost finished. “I was gaining so much weight, I thought what the hell. It’s not like I can take this decision back now. What’s done is done. Might as well eat and pretend everything’s okay. It’s been working, you know! I’m really happy with the results!”

  “Jamie.”

  “I was getting fat and ugly anyway!” she yells. “I just decided to enjoy the process, Daniel what’s wrong with that?”

  “You think I give a shit about your weight gain? Which by the way, you’re not fat or ugly. But come on Jamie! You’re pregnant. You knew it was going to change you and your life both, didn’t you?”

  She starts to cry. “I wasn’t expecting this,” she says. “Everything thinks I’m a monster. My own parents won’t even talk to me. Kate is the only person who hasn’t left me or kicked me out, and who still talks to me despite everything.”

  “Well that’s because any reasonable would stop to think who you are and they will never even consider the possibility that you’re capable of something like this.”

  “You’re saying Holden isn’t being reasonable?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah. Me neither.”

  “There are other things in this world that we can talk about,” I say. “Plenty of topics that don’t involve #HT or Holden or anything even remotely close to it.”

  “Yes, like cooking.”

  “Like…cooking, sure.”

  “Ooooh,” Jamie says, turning on the volume. “You have to watch this cook off with me Daniel!” On the screen two celebrity chefs pose with their chef hats and their pans. But all I can see is her. Jamie, sitting with her feet underneath her on the couch, engrossed in watching the cook off so she doesn’t even notice that I’m watching her. How can anyone with half a brain even consider the possibility that someone like her could do something so horrible?

  That’s when it dawns on me.

  I’m still in love with her.

  The Dark Storm

  SEBASTIAN

  “I can’t watch this,” I say and turn my back to Teague when the doctor starts stitching Teague’s face. “How can you be so careless, Teague?”

  “It was just a stupid fight,” Teague says.

  “Yeah, it was stupid alright.”

  Teague says nothing.

  Outside, I s
ee a familiar face through the glass walls, looking for someone. He glances at me and smiles.

  “That’s not Vince,” Teague says.

  “Good on you, Teague! You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

  I leave Teague in there and head out of the room and the smell of antiseptic lessens and my head clears up just a little. “Liam,” I say the minute I see his face. “Look, I’m sorry if Steve had to become part of this, I wasn’t planning on things to go this badly!”

  “Sebastian,” Liam says. “I’m not here to complain. Steven told me your friend was in trouble and I came by to see if you needed any help.”

  “You’re not pissed?”

  “Of course not,” Liam says. “Now tell me what happened.”

  I take a seat on one of the chairs in the waiting room and Liam sits next to me. “Do you really want the truth?” I ask. “I don’t know if I want you to become part of this, Liam.”

  “What kind of friendship would it be if it wasn’t based on honesty?”

  “Wow, you brought out the big guns.”

  “Come on,” Liam says. “Out with it. What’s going on?”

  “Teague recently got into the habit of going to underground fights,” I tell Liam. “And well, he’s become part of a few fights and I knew it was going to end badly. I kept telling him and Teague kept saying he would stop but Teague…well, he never listens. So, tonight, he may have severely injured the man he was up against. I mean, I saw the guy and he…he wasn’t doing well.” An image of the man’s torn-up face and the ever-increasing bruise come to my mind and no matter how much I try to shake it off it won’t go away.

  “So, how’re you planning to handle this?”

  In the distance, I see Vincent walking toward us. “Well,” I say to Liam. “Teague’s cousin Vincent is a cop. We’ll talk to him and see what he says I guess.”

  “Sebastian,” Vincent says when he reaches the waiting area. “Where’s Teague?”

  I gesture toward the room and Vincent waves to Teague. I don’t see Teague’s response but I can see Vincent’s and it’s not good. “What the hell did he get himself into now?”