Tap Out (7 page)

“Turn away from him!”

I take the advice. Rob's palms are sweaty, so I slip from his grip, but he kicks out my legs and we're on the mat. Rob hops on top like he's trying to mount me. It's fucked up. He grabs my wrists and pins them to my stomach, looks down at me, and smiles. Like this is some joke. Fuck him. I didn't come here to look like a fucking tool. Especially not with that douche watching.

I pop my hips off the ground, and Rob pitches, lets go of one hand. I spring on top of him. I don't have a fucking clue what I'm doing, but I'm acting like I do, pulling his arm up toward his face and wrapping my legs around it. I've seen this move before. Trap the arm. I tuck my feet into his shoulder and hold on to his arm like it's the one thing in the world that might save me.

“Lean back!”

“Open the hips!”

“A fucking arm bar? He's got him! Fucking-A!”

I do what they tell me and feel Rob's muscles tighten and twist, but then go slack. He grunts and taps the mat twice.

The room fucking erupts. Hands slap my back. Someone says, “That was fucking awesome!” They help up Rob and give him props. I step to him.

“Nice job.” He laughs.

Why the fuck's he laughing? I just beat his ass. Day one. Shit, did he? Did he
let
me?

“Tony, excellent job, and not just for your first time.” Coach grips my shoulder and smiles. “You sure you haven't done this before?”

I shake my head, still thinking about what Rob may or may not have done. Coach looks down at Rob.

“You all right?”

Rob stands and looks from me to Coach. “Knew he had it in him.”

Coach's face tightens, as does his grip on my shoulder. He looks me over, again. Taps my chest. “I'm glad Ostrander sent you my way. Warrior spirit in there. I can feel it.”

Something inside me flutters. I can't remember the last time someone said anything like that, and I don't know how to feel about this praise, especially if it isn't deserved. Coach
releases me. “Get some water.” Guys go to their bags, talking about what happened. Dave goes with them and shoots me a look. I turn to Rob.

“Thanks.”

“For what?” He heads for his water. I didn't bring any, so I follow him like a fucking pet.

“You know.”

He swallows and eyeballs me. “Sure. Whatever.”

After class we step outside and walk back to the park, steam rising off our heads. I turn to Rob and ask the question that's gnawing at me. “Hey, did you let me take you down tonight?”

He gives me a hard look. The steam's no longer coming off his head, and his eyes are intense. “You heard what Coach said, 'bout the warrior spirit.”

“That the same shit he says to everybody? You know, make 'em believe in themselves or some shit.”

Rob stiffens. “Ain't like that with Coach. He don't talk shit or blow smoke. He's never said something like that to me, and I've been there over a year.”

“So, what, I'm special?”

Rob looks out over the park. “I don't know. Maybe. All I know is that, no, I didn't let you take me down, and that Coach did say that shit to one other dude.”

“Who?”

Rob licks his lips. “You won't like it.”

In the park, someone coughs hard, like a lung coming up. “Just fucking tell me.”

“Dave.”

I don't say a word. What can I say? There's no way me
and that fuck-face are any way like each other. If Coach thinks otherwise, he's been cracked upside the head one too many times.

“Come on. We should check on Charity.”

I think about what he's said as we walk to Amy's. I don't like the comparison to Dave, but everything else . . . well, that felt more like a family than I've ever known. In spite of the fighting and all. Or maybe because of it.

Amy's outside cranking a butt. “So you actually fucking manned up, pussy?”

I just shake my head. I don't want to get into it with her. No doubt she's pissed about whatever's up with Charity. I get that. But I'm no whipping boy. Least not here.

Rob slaps my back. “Take it easy on him. Tone did all right for his first time.”

I'm glad he didn't say shit about what Coach said.

“Popped your cherry. We should celebrate.” Amy inhales and the ember lights her face.

“Shouldn't we just go and check on Charity?” I ask.

“Why you gotta fucking just get right to the point? Can't we just chill for a bit?” Amy crosses her arms over her chest but looks over at Charity's. Two more bikes—one a bad-ass fucking chopper—are parked out front. The lights are on, and there's a lot of noise coming from inside.

Rob touches Amy's elbow. “Come on.”

She sighs and flicks her cigarette, scowls at me, and then tramps over to Charity's. Amy gives the door two good raps. The aluminum sounds like gunshots, and the voices die down. Goose bumps pop along my arms and neck. My hoodie isn't thick like Rob's, and I've got nothing at all to hide my nerves.

A big fuck fills the doorway. “Yeah?” His voice is deep and
charred. His beard is braided into a tight rope that brushes his chest, which nearly touches both sides of the doorframe.

“Is Charity home?” Amy's voice is small, and she twists her foot back and forth.

The dude grumbles and then looks past her, at Rob and me. His face comes into the light from the house. It's Charity's dad. I've only seen him a handful of times; he comes and goes so much, but the scar is unmistakable. It runs from his temple to his bottom lip. Someone tried to take his ear off. He fought back and won. Took the other guy's. “She ain't home. Her and her mom went to her grandmother's.” He says this flat, kind of like he's just remembering, or just figuring it out.

“You know when she'll be back?”

“Can't say. Sometime.” He looks at her like a trick-or-treater with a pathetic costume, just begging for candy.

I know the look. He's waiting for a reason to make a move. And from what I know of him, he wouldn't hesitate to hurt Amy. “Thanks. We'll catch up with her when she gets back.”

Charity's dad shifts his gaze off Amy, to me. I grow even colder inside. “Tony, right?” I nod. He offers a smirk and looks at Rob. “And I know you, Rob.” His smile widens, and I'm instantly confused. He seems downright happy to see us, especially Rob.

“You boys feel like partying some? Got good times in here. Girls, too.”

My mouth drops and fortunately Rob answers. “Maybe some other time. But thanks.”

“Your call.” He nods and shuts the door.

We move off the steps without looking back and don't speak until we're at Amy's.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Amy can barely get the words out she's so amped to light her cigarette.

“I don't have a clue.”

We look at Rob.

He puts his palms up. “No idea. He was probably just high and being nice.” He turns to Amy. “Char tell you she was goin' anywhere?”

“Fuck, no. And there ain't shit that she don't tell me.”

I clear my throat. “What about yesterday, when she was crying?”

Amy takes a drag. “Yeah. That was just about her mom ragging on her about her weight.”

“Nuthin' about her dad and what he's doing?”

Amy shakes her head, and we're quiet for a while before she speaks. “They'll be outta here soon. Guess we'll just have to wait. Maybe it's better that she's out of the way.” She takes a long drag, squints at us. “You sure there ain't nothing going on? That was fucked up that he knew your names, invited you in and all.”

I agree, but have no explanation. Rob shakes his head. “Like I said, probably just toasted.”

Amy keeps smoking and doesn't say a word. We say good night to her and take off. We pause near my trailer. “Tomorrow, then? You coming?” Rob asks.

How could I say no, even if I wanted to? “Have to. You know?”

“But you liked it, right? Still your choice?”

“Yeah. Of course. I lumped you up, and hell, I'm a warrior.” Rob laughs with me, and then I ask, “What you think is up?”

“With Char? Who knows?”

“Her dad?”

Rob looks away. “Chaz is always on the prowl. New recruits, you know? Must be our time.”

“Oh fuck that!”

Rob nods but keeps looking away. I don't like that one bit, but there's no reason to get into it now. We pound fists, and he heads toward his trailer. I wait a second, take a breath, and then walk into my own.

The lights are off, except in my mom's room, and there's music playing low. People talking. “Mom?”

Sheets rustle and then she's at her door wearing a robe. “Tony? I thought you were out?”

“I was. Now I'm home. What's up?”

She leans on the doorframe. “Nothing . . . just Cameron's over.”

Every muscle tightens. I knew this would happen. It always does. But shit, things seem calm. He's not flying through the door tying to take my head off. My skin crawls, though. Something's up. I step toward her, and she hides more of her body behind the wall. She's glass-eyed and her head bobs down, then jumps back up. I take another step, and she grips the metal. I look into her room, to her bed. Cameron's staring at the ceiling with a kind of smile on his face. Pot, I smell it. That tangy scent. It's not meth. I back out of the room. “You high?”

She smiles and nods, her hair falling around her. “Don't be mad.”

The fuck?
Don't be mad.
Who's the parent here? “I'm not mad, it's just, after last time, why'd you let him back in?” I know the answer even as I ask the question.

It takes her a second to process. “He said he was sorry, and he had a bag, and I thought . . .” She trails off, but I don't need her to finish.

“I'm going to bed.”

She reaches for me. I pull away, and she stumbles. “Good night.”

I walk toward the bathroom. “Shut your door.”

The accordion plastic snaps into place behind me. I take my shoes off, tuck them under my bed, and then walk across the hall. I ignore the music and the way I feel. Well, at least I stuff it down so it's not filling my head. I've learned enough to know that at this point there's nothing I can do but wait. Wait for it to turn ugly again. Wait for her to need help. Will I give it this time?

I sit on the toilet and wait for the water to heat. My body's sore all over, but in a good way. Like I've done something useful. I could do this MMA shit, not because Big O wants me to or because of what Coach said, or because of Rob, or even because it's smart with Cameron's ass around, but because I liked it. The entire time I was there, before Dave showed up, I wasn't thinking about this shit at home. It's like I was someone else, not this piece of trash kid from the park. Because that's all I am to everyone. And that's why Char's dad offered to let us party. He knows what we are. Our options are almost nonexistent.

But I can't get excited about this. I can't get wrapped up in another fantasy about how
this
could be a way out, like it may be for Rob. No, I can't go stupid, thinking like I do about fucking up Cameron. Coach Dan's running a business, and Big O's paying. I'm there to keep Rob from getting fucked over by me. In the end I'll owe somebody for the chance I've been given, even if I am being used. If I've learned anything, I know nothing in this world's for free. Except pain.

I
t's Monday. Mom's door is closed, and Cameron's whining snore is ripping on the other side. They got high and stayed high all fucking weekend. Must be nice.

The good thing about them getting lifted is that there's food in the house: a box of Ding Dongs, a bag of salt and vinegar chips, and in the fridge, some cheese slices and a gallon of milk. I eat two packs of Ding Dongs and every bite makes my body tingle. I can't remember when I ate last. I didn't dare eat Cameron's food with him around. Too risky. Mostly I just hung out with Rob and did jack shit.

I wash the cake down with two glasses of milk and for once I feel full. I slide into my ratty hoodie and head out the door.

Amy's not out, so I walk alone. I pass Charity's, and the bikes are still outside. I hope she is at her grandma's, unless it's like my own. A worse park than this.