Tap Out (22 page)

She pulls a wobbly hand to her mouth and the ember burns from beneath a stack of ash. She doesn't nod or speak or in any way seem as if she's heard Rob. We turn and head for the gym.

“That's how she is now?”

“Yeah. Except for when Amy starts talking, baby this and baby that. She perks up, but then goes back to that.”

“She say anything about what the fuck happened?”

“No, but it doesn't really matter, does it?”

I stop walking, look at Rob. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “Not like we can change it, you know, do anything about it. Just gotta deal with the here and now.”

I want to say something to him about how he should be using his same advice with Amy, but I can't. It may be because I still don't want to fuck his head up before the fight. Or maybe it's because he's making a lot of sense, and maybe I should just listen.

Coach Dan's face is clouded when we enter. “Boys, how's everything?” His words are clipped, and he moves like he's hopped up on too many energy drinks.

We say, “Fine,” at the same time.

“Good, good. You seen Dave?”

Rob and I look at each other and shrug. I told him about running into Dave today, even though I didn't think I should. But he put my mind at ease saying that it was just Dave talking shit, like always.

“All right. Light class tonight, but go get warm.” He moves to the front door and stares out while we join up with Phil and Amir.

“Yeah, he's fucking tweaked.” Phil curls toward the ceiling while lying on his stomach. “Found a dead deer in front of the door when he came in this morning.”

“Car hit it or something?” Rob straddles the ground.

“No, man.” Phil turns his head. “Somebody fucking slit its throat and left it there.”

“You didn't see the blood?” Amir rolls his shoulders.

We shake our heads and Rob says, “It's dark, or I wasn't paying attention, I guess. Is that why he's asking about Dave?”

Amir stops rolling, looks at us. “He thinks Dave killed that deer.”

Phil laughs out loud. “Probably the only way that psycho can get tail.”

“True.” The two pound fists, and my head swims.

I don't know if I should say anything. I mean, I don't know if these guys want to know what I do. Then again,
Coach looks scared as fuck and that puts me on edge. If a man like that is frightened, then my ass better start looking for help.

“Dave didn't, but someone he knows could have.”

Rob shoots me a look, and I can't tell if he wants me to shut up or that he hasn't thought of this yet.

Phil rolls onto his back. “Who does Dave know like that?”

I settle into the stretch and open my mouth to speak, but Rob does for me. “No one. Tone don't know what the fuck he's talking about.”

I read his eyes loud and clear this time and swallow the answer I had for Phil.

I'm sweaty and tired and uninterested in being here, but I've got no choice, I need to eat. The hospital doors slide open and I walk in.

All we did in class was drill kicks with the shields. Rob and I paired off, drew knees, aimed at shins and sides, and took out legs while Coach talked up maintaining balance, striking hard and fast and pulling the leg back so we don't get caught. But mostly he just glanced at the door.

I hop on the elevator and punch the button for the third floor.

At the end of class Coach Dan just told the guys fighting to rest up, and for us to come and show support. That's it. No fucking inspirational quote, nothing dramatic. Fucking bullshit. The guy's scared out of his head. I don't blame him. If that deer isn't some freak coincidence, then he's got some bad-ass motherfuckers on him, and that means Dave is real tight with them. But Rob said it was all right, not to worry.
He's in his fucking Zen space, and I'm not fucking with that. We pounded fists and went our separate ways. I didn't say shit about the bikers, or Dave or Amy.

I step out of the elevator and head to the nurses' station. Camilla smiles. “Well, long time, no see.”

“How's she doing?” I don't want her getting interested in me. Mom is her only concern.

“Very well. I think the plan is to have her discharged by the weekend.”

I smile even though I don't want to. “That's great. Can I see her?”

“Go right in.”

I head down the hall and find my mom sitting upright, relaxed, watching TV. The bruising around her eyes is gone and though her face is still swollen, she's got a healthy glow. It hits me, like a crack upside the head: she's clean, inside and out. I haven't seen her like this in years.

“Tony?” She brightens.

“Hey, Mom.” I walk to her bed, but don't reach out, even though part of me, right now, feels like we should. But I'm fucking gross anyway. “Camilla says they might release you this weekend.”

She lowers the volume on the TV. “I know. Can't wait.” She smiles, but I can see the lie tucked inside her cheek. Home is dark and cold. This place is a warm spring afternoon.

I shift my weight and don't know what to say. There's so much, but I'm so fucking hungry. “Do you want something from the cafeteria? I haven't eaten all day.”

“No, no, I'm fine. Go, fill up.” She's got her hand on the remote before I'm out of the room.

Another old bag works the register, and I play my scheme, loading up with as much shit as I can manage without
looking ridiculous. I pay for my milk after pretending to return my tray of items and apologize, again.

“It's all right, son.” The geezer with a face like a raisin pats my hand. “Least you were nice about it.” I resist pulling my hand away and she continues. “Had a fella just a few minutes ago, before you came in, wanted me to give him some food for free.” She crinkles her face and the lines hide her eyes. “Between you and me, I think he was drunk.” Her face reddens. “I told him that nothing in this world's for free. Well, he didn't like that. Slammed his money down and didn't wait for the change.” She releases my hand and props hers in the air. “Imagine that, looking for a handout and then forgetting your change. Some people!”

“Hopefully he won't be back.”

She smiles. “But you make sure that
you
do.”

I promise I will and head toward my mother's room, eager to plow into the food tucked in my underwear and happy to have enough to get me through a few days. I turn the corner toward the elevator and something that old bat said wriggles inside my head. The way she described the drunk.

I head up the stairs to my mother's room, and when I walk in, standing beside her bed, is Cameron.

“Tony.” Mom's voice is steady, a command. She keeps her eyes on me, and I do the same with Cameron.

I haven't seen Cameron in a while, and with everything that's gone down from the break-in at the trailer to the dead deer, I know he's been up to no good. And now he needs something. It had better not be Mom.

I step back into the hall and walk to Camilla. “What do you need, hon?” she says. I drop my trousers and start to unload my haul. “Tony? What? Where?” She sputters as I set cookies, sandwiches, and fruit on the counter.

“They didn't have any bags in the cafeteria.” I look up and her face clears, slightly. “So could you just hold these for a minute?”

“Well, um, all right. But where are you going?”

There's no point in explaining. By the time I do and she gets security, Cameron will have slipped out, and I'm not missing this chance, not with witnesses around. I don't care how scared I am, some shit is more important.

“What were you looking for?” I stand a few feet inside the threshold, allowing enough space to maneuver.

Mom gives me a hard look. “Tony, what's going on?”

“The question's not for you.” My heart's hammering in my chest, and my legs feel wobbly.

Cameron runs a hand along his cheek and leans against the bed. “The fuck you talkin' 'bout?”

I step forward and my heart tickles my throat, but I swallow and steady my stance. “Really? You're going to pretend that you weren't the one who broke in?”

“Someone broke in? Again? When? Why didn't you tell me?” Mom sounds genuinely concerned, but I'm confused. The first break-in? The fuck is she talking about? But that doesn't matter at the moment. His answer does.

Cameron moves away from the bed. “Told you. Don't know what the fuck you're saying.” He loops his thumbs over his belt. “Now, if you don't mind, your mom and me were catching up.” He smiles. “Seems there's a lot she don't remember.”

Her face has darkened. “It's true, Tony. I can't seem to get it back. Cam's been trying to help. He told me how I got here, the break-in and all. Well, the first one, now, I guess.” She puts a hand to her chest and her eyes mist. “But I've got nothing, for at least the past month. Just blank.”

I'm certain that if I'd eaten anything, it'd be covering the
floor now. If she can't remember, and he's feeding her lies, has he already created some fucking story? Then we're back to square fucking one. No. No, I can't fucking do this again.

I clench my jaw and fists, close my eyes and growl. When I look, Cameron has retreated the step he's taken, and my mother is wide-eyed.

“
He
fucking put you in here, Mom! There was no break-in. He fucking broke your face, cut the power, and left you for dead.”

Cameron's eyes narrow, but he doesn't speak. Mom looks at him out of the corner of her eye.

“You've been using again, too. But I bet you fucking forgot that.”

She startles and rises up. “What? What are you saying?”

“This asshole's been getting meth from Charity's dad.” My rage is consuming and I'm losing focus.

“Better watch how much you say there, son.” Cameron's unhitched his thumbs, and his arms dangle at his sides.

I'm so fucking angry, or I just don't care, or some part of me wants that fucking fantasy to come true right now that I lash out. “Or what? You going to put me in the hospital, too?” I laugh. “We're already here.”

He crosses from the bed to me. I adjust my weight to the balls of my feet and lower my hips as he moves.

“I'll shut your fuckin' mouth for good.” He pops into a fighter's stance. I eye his body for weakness, but there's not much of a window. He moved so effortlessly, without having to think; it's obvious this is second nature. Thank God he's drunk.

“Tony! Cameron! Stop it!” Her words are muffled noise in the background, like the hollers from the guys at the gym. I'm there now, on turf I know, and Cameron's just someone to tangle with.

He swings and I step to the side, but he slides right back into position. I step and jab and clip his chin. The impact startles me more than it hurts him. I fucking punched Cameron, felt his whiskers against my knuckle. No turning back now. He catches me with a shot to the ribs, then recoils just as quickly and is out of reach. I jab anyway and he weaves. Fuck, I can't throw like this, not on his level.

I fake a right, just pop the shoulder, and get him to lean back. Then I settle my weight onto my left leg and slam my right foot into his shin. He screams and grabs beneath his knee. I move in and get my arm around his neck. He releases his leg and squirms, trying to shift me off, but I grab his right arm and wrench it back. “You little fuck.” He pants and I position my body for the takedown.

We hit the ground with a crack, and I crunch my body as compactly as I can while he flails. I almost lose him twice, but I can smell the beer on his breath and can feel the strength of his body go slack. Fuck, it's not even close to how I imagined it, but I don't care. I've got him now, and I'm not letting go.