In The Cage (3 page)

When I finally look back up I see Taylor transfixed. She’s staring up at what has got to be the most beautiful human being I have ever seen in my life. But I just get a flash before he becomes part of an unbelievable fury of fists and feet as the two fighters pummel the existence out of each other. I’ll never forget that face though. We end up staying at the fights for another 45 minutes and every time I close my eyes I see his face looking down at me. Most fighters favor the shaved head look but not this guy. He had longish blond hair that came down a little past his jaw with a shock of hair falling across his left eye. I’ll never forget that piercing blue eye looking down at me. I felt like he was searching my soul with his penetrating gaze. The weird thing of it was, he only looked at me for a second but in that second but that second told me everything I needed to know about the man. Honesty, loyalty, integrity, and honor…words to live by. Words that the blue-eyed man lives by. He’s a good person in a bad situation and looking to get out and better himself…

“Are you nuts?” Taylor asks me as we wait for our taxi.

“What?”

“Honesty, loyalty, integrity, and honor…words to live by?” She asks. “You got all that from a single glance between blows?”

“Oh shit, was I just saying that out loud?”

“What’d you think you were doing?”

“I don’t know, carrying on a private conversation in my head?”

“Yeah you been saying everything that pops into your head ever since we came out of that place. I thought you were weird before, but now? Your head’s a scary place to live in honey.”

“It’s that weed we smoked. I think it was laced with something else. I’ve smoked a lot of weed in my life as a teenager and I never tripped like this before.”

“Oh…I thought that shit was normal.” Taylor says. “I am
not
smoking that stuff ever again.”

“That guy…with the blue eyes and blond hair…was he as hot as I’m thinking or was that the drugs too?”

“Oh no, that wasn’t the drugs sister, he was hot!”

“You did call our cabbie right?”

“Should be here any second.”

I close my eyes again and I can still feel the world around me spinning slowly. I feel like I’m wrapped in a warm pink cloud of love and everything is just alright with the world.

“Hey lady, you gonna pay for that?” Asks a loud voice.

Abruptly my warm fluffy goodness falls away and the sound of a hundred clinking glasses and forty different conversations flow over me. I open my eyes to find an unbelievably handsome guy with a towel in one hand and holding a receipt in the other. My eyes follow the hand holding the receipt and move up his veiny, muscled forearm to his beautifully sculpted bicep. Even with his arm being relaxed like it is I can see the cloth of the black tee straining almost to a point of tearing. My eyes fall on his bulging chest and I can’t help but think he’s gonna be in trouble if he flexes. It’s gonna be The Incredible Hulk all over again with his shirt ripping and coming off his tanned body. He’s got one a couple days growth of blond whiskers on his square jaw. I look up into his blue eyes and it’s all over for me. I am captivated! Mesmerized. I’m lost in him and he doesn’t even know it yet. It’s the guy from the fights Taylor and I…where’s Taylor?

“Miss?” He says.

“What?”

I whirl around in my stool taking in my surroundings. I’m sitting at a long bar, on a stool and holding some kind of drink in my right hand. What the hell happened to Taylor? And where’s the cabbie and the fight club? I look around frantically for something that looks familiar but I’m sure I’ve never been in this bar before.

“You need to settle your tab lady. It’s 2:00 am, bar’s closing.”

“What?” I know I should say something charming right about now but I’m drawing a blank. It’s enough just to hear his voice.

“You hard of hearing lady? Settle your tab. You can pay for this right?”

I snatch the receipt from him and look at it. There’s…fifteen drinks on here. I look at the total on the bottom; $111.75. I look back at the bar tender.

“Who drank all these?” I ask.

“You and your friends…but mostly you.”

“Where ar-”

“Split…about an hour ago. You okay lady?”

I ignore his question. “How long have I been sitting here?”

“Not really sure.” He says. “Probably a couple hours, maybe more.”

“And I didn’t leave? I just sat here the whole time? Who was with me?”

“Come on lady, I gotta lot a shit to do so I can close down the bar.”

“Just tell me who I was drinking with and I’ll pay up and leave you alone.”

“Fine…you were with some hot brunette chick. She had this super cute short haircut along the jawline and diamond stud in her nose. She was hot. I noticed her. Then there was this buff fighter type dude by the looks of him. He was scary big. I mean I got guns on me but this dude; he was steroid big if you know what I mean. Oh, and he had this kind of sunburst tattoo on the back of his shaved head. He was kind of an asshole to you though. I was surprised you just sat there and took it.”

He just described Taylor to a tee and maybe Boomer which is totally weird.

“What’s your name?” I ask him.

Keep him talking. I think to myself. I gotta keep him talking. I swear he’s the most beautiful specimen of a human being I have ever set eyes on.

“My name’s Jake.” He replies. “Now please, pay your tab. I gotta get back to work.”

I dig around in my purse and fish out my credit card. A sudden ding ding ding of a bell startles me and I nearly drop my purse on the floor. I look up and on the television set above the bar a MMA cage fight has just ended. The camera zooms in on the winner’s face. He has longish blond hair with a shock of tresses flowing across his left eye. As he begins to answer questions the camera zooms in for a closer look. His one visible blue eye literally pierces my heart from right out of the television set. I know him. Or I feel like I do. His penetrating gaze tells me everything I need to know about that man and before the camera cuts away I know he’s a man of honesty, loyalty, integrity, and honor. Wait a second; I’ve seen that guy before. He’s right in freaking front of me!

As I hand Jake my credit card I catch his hand. “Wait, that’s you.” I say to him.

He nods.

“What’s your…your stage name or fighting name, whatever you call it?”

He winks at me. “They call me The Punisher, after the comic book character. I’m here to clean house and take names…at least that’s what my promotional flyers say.”

“But that’s you up there…but you’re here now…”

He gives me a strange look before answering. “Yeah that was my first fight with Cold Steel. You watch I’m gonna be a star one day. Might even make a run at Surge’s guys. Top three fighters in the nation are Surge fighters.”

I can’t believe I’m talking to the guy on TV. “That company is still around?” I ask.

“Of course…why wouldn’t they be?”

“Who are the top fighters for Surge?” I ask, ignoring his question.

“King, Boomer, and Crusher, in that order.”

Oh my god…King is still fighting…The last time I saw him he was whacked out of his mind on steroids and killing my son. And here I am fucked up in some bar while he’s sitting on top of the world. By the time Jake brings me back my credit card I’m back in a daze. Can this night get any worse? He hands me my receipt. On the bottom is a telephone number; 541-797-1121.

“Hey uh Christine, if you ever wanna grab a coffee or lunch or something give me a call.”

“Uh sure…yeah I’ll call.” I say as I slip off my stool and stretch my aching legs.

Even my ass is telling me I sat way too long on that stool. As I hobble towards the door I look at the top of my receipt. I am not at the Blue Lagoon in Ashland Oregon. I’m walking out of the Carburetor, a bar in Oakland, California!

Chapter Two

Coming to My Senses

As I wait for a taxi I rack my brains. I haven’t been in Oakland in ten years. After my son died I fled to Oregon to get away from King and my life in general. I swore to myself I would never return so what the hell am I doing in a bar in California? Where do I live? How long have I been back and why the hell don’t I remember these things? Someone must have given me something in that bar that really has scrambled my brains. I dig back into my purse for my wallet and ID. My driver’s license still says my address in Ashland. My keys have my house key and Honda key on my key ring. Where am I staying now? I get the feeling I didn’t just drive through town and stop at the Carburetor. I think I’ve been here for a while. I dig around my purse some more before I finally come up with a hotel card key. I’m staying at the Waterfront Holiday Inn in Oakland. That’s in Jack London Square, a waterfront market place that has various small shops, restaurants, and hotels. It’s pretty much a low key tourist place. A stone’s throw from my hotel is the ferry terminal that takes passengers to Alameda and San Francisco. At least I’m not living in an hourly fuck-a-thon motel in West Oakland.

I get to my feet slowly as my taxi arrives. As I climb into the back I rattle off the address of the hotel and close my eyes. The world is still spinning and I can still see that fighter’s face staring down at me from the TV. If I’ve never seen him before why is it that I feel like we’ve met? I’m just about to pursue that line of thinking when another thought hammers though the fog that’s my brain and just about cracks me senseless; then I start screaming!

“My son! Where’s my son?” Over and over I scream for Diego.

I scream so loud and long that my cabbie actually pulls over to the side of the road and stops the car.

“Lady, did you leave your son back there?” He asks.

“My son…my son…I can’t find my son.”

“Want me to call the police? Yeah, I’m gonna call the police for you.”

He gets out his cell phone and starts to dial but I stop him and thrust a piece of paper at him.

“What’s this?”

“Call that number for me please?”

“This your husband’s number?” He asks.

“A friend. He’ll help me. Just please call him and ask him to meet me here.”

That’s about as long as I can last before I lose control again and just start bellowing into my coat sleeve. I don’t know how long I sit here crying and calling out to my son, but pretty soon the back door opens and Jake gets in.

I remove my face from my sleeve long enough to gasp; “my son…” before covering my swollen face in my hands.

I must have left him in Oregon. How could I have left him there? What is wrong with me?

“The uh…taxi guy says you can’t find your son…is that true?”

I nod. I am so ashamed I can’t bear to look at him.

“Don’t you think we should call the cops?”

I shake my head. “They’ll lock me up. Look at me. I’m a wreck. I just spent hours stoned out of my mind in some bar in a whole other state from where I live and I can’t account for the last, not just a couple hours spent at the bar, but for moving here from Oregon. I can’t remember coming here and getting a hotel in Oakland. I don’t remember any of that.”

“Hey, I bet your kid is at your hotel. Let’s go to your hotel. I’m sure you’ll find him there.”

I nod my head miserably. ‘Yeah okay…maybe you’re right. I’ll go there. You can leave now. You don’t have to come with me.”

“It’s okay. I want to make sure you find your son before I leave. Besides, I don’t have anything better to do.”

“Thanks…”

“No problem Christine.” He replies, and then says to the cab driver. “Take us to the Waterfront Holiday Inn please and hurry for her sake. She thinks maybe her son is there.”

“No problem,” our driver says. “I hurry.”

I close my eyes again as our taxi pulls back out into the traffic. It’s not so bad when my eyes are open, but soon as I shut them I can feel the effects of some kind of drug and it’s still pretty strong. My thoughts keep getting stuck in a single loop and I can’t think about anything else until I open my eyes again and focus on something outside. Over and over again I feel like a freight train has just bulldozed me in the forehead leaving me reeling from the shock of it. Over and over like some kind of mantra I keep hearing the words
‘I’ve lost my son…I’ve lost my son
…’.

When our taxi finally does park I can’t get out fast enough. I grab a hundred dollar bill from my purse and literally throw it at the driver and sprint to the lobby doors. Once inside I run to the elevator and stop. What floor am I on? I fish out my pass key. According to my card key I have number 423. That’s got to be on the fourth floor. I punch the elevator button as Jake runs up, extending a wad of bills in my direction.

“You gave the man a C-note. Figured you’d want your change.”

I take it from his hands as the doors open. I punch the number 4 button and wait anxiously for the doors to close and the elevator to get moving. I pace back and forth in the tiny space as we go up unbearably slow.

“It’s gonna be okay.” Jake assures me.

How he knows it’ll be okay is a mystery to me because I’m pretty sure it’s not going to be okay. By the time we pass the third floor I’m all but jumping up and down causing the elevator to shake.

“Did you think about just calling the hotel to ask for a welfare check?” Jake asks.

“What, and get the police involved? They’ll notify the authorities for sure.

“But you could have called the front desk and asked them to connect you to your room and you could have spoken to him if he picked up. That would have saved you a lot of frustration and heartache.”

“No I did not think of that and thanks for suggesting that now and not an hour ago.” I snap.

“Hey I only just thought of it. I don’t have kids so I’m not used to thinking this way.”

“I know…I’m sorry. I’m just freaked out about my son right now.”

The doors open and I’m bursting out the second they’re wide enough for me to squeeze out. Jake follows in my footsteps. I glance at my passkey again; four, twenty-three. Two more doors ahead. I skid to a stop and with my heart in my mouth I slide the key in and throw open the door. I charge in, flipping on the light as I go. Sitting in the solitary chair is a woman I have never seen before.

“What the hell…” I stop myself.

I was just about to ask what the hell she is doing in my hotel room but that would be crazy. She is obviously the sitter I hired. I hurry back to the only bedroom in the suite and quietly open the door. Lying beneath the covers is my son safe and sound. Suddenly my knees go weak and I’m about to fall so I lurch over to the side of the bed where I drop to my knees painfully on the thin carpet floor. I reach out and place my hand on Diego’s cheek. It’s warm. He’s safe, sound, and sleeping deeply. I open my mouth to say something but find I just can’t speak. Tears come like somebody turned on a water faucet and I can’t get the thing to turn off. I have no idea how long I knelt there stroking my son’s head and weeping with relief. I don’t even hear when Jake and the sitter leave. I just find a note next to the phone.

Christine,

I settled up with your sitter. No need to pay me back. I’m just glad to see that your son is safe and you’re okay. Still like to have that coffee though.

Jake

I look at the clock. It’s almost six in the morning. The sun will be coming up in a couple hours and Diego will be awake wanting to play. He’s not one to sleep in even on non-school days. With great care I crawl up onto the bed and put my arm around my only living son. Content that he is perfectly safe I close my eyes again and fall to sleep. The last thing I remember thinking is about the blond haired blue eyed fighter. The honest, loyal, and whatever guy that I saw on TV which is weird because I’m not one to go gaga over some guy I’ve just met or seen on TV no matter his qualities.

“Momma…wake up…come on mom I’m hungry.”

Never have I been so happy to hear that voice. I stretch and open my eyes. My son is leaning over me looking into my face. I grab him and pull him to me giving him a fierce mamma bear, bear hug while smothering him with kisses. He has always been very affectionate with me; both my children have and I cherish every moment he lets me hug and hold him because I know some day he’ll be too old for his mother’s hugs and kisses.

“I missed you last night.” I say to him.

“Then why’d you stay out so late?”

“Mommy lost track of time sweetie.”

“Okay. Now can we go eat I’m starving.”

“Yeah there’s a café not far from here. We can sit and eat breakfast and watch the boats come and go.”

“Yeah!” He shouts enthusiastically. He grabs his coat and hat and waits impatiently for me to put on my shoes and coat.

“What’s that on your jacket?” He asks, pointing to the bottom of my jacket.

I look down and I just about faint. There’s a large patch of what can only be blood! Why is there blood on my coat? I do my best to cover my alarm.

“Oh yeah… mommy accidently leaned against a wall that just got painted. Totally forgot about it.”

He laughs. “Looks like blood don’t it. Come one mom, you can tell me. Who’d you kill last night?”

I force myself to smile and laugh but inside panic is building. What if I did kill someone? I pull off the coat and fold it up and shove it in my suitcase. Instead I pull out a heavy sweater and pull in on over my tee shirt. This’ll have to do until I can buy another jacket.

“Alright honey, let’s go eat.