Tap Out (9 page)

It's a fuck lot like school, boring as hell, but it keeps me from having to think about what Rob just revealed. What I should have been aware of all along. I know those tests said I was smart. Even Big O seems to think so. But sometimes I miss the most obvious shit. I have to find some time to think, to figure this out. I get that Big O's offered me something sweet—even if I'm about to lose it—but if it means because of it I'm pulled closer to the source of my fucking problems, I have to walk away.

W
e spill off the bus and pass Charity's. The hogs are gone. “You see?” I point and Rob nods.

“Could be a good sign, right?”

Rob lowers his head against the cold. “Could be.”

Amy pops out of her trailer, face puffy and eyes red. She's wearing only jeans and a T-shirt, but she lights up and we wait for her. “They're gone.” She points with her cigarette.

“Saw that.” Rob steps closer, looking like he wants to hold her. “You seen Char? She call?”

“No. That's why I stayed home, in case she came back.” She takes a long drag and shivers. “I don't know what the fuck's up.”

I picture Char's dad from the other night. Nothing good is coming from him. But Char's at her grandma's. Well, so he says.

Rob moves to her and puts an arm around her back. She lowers her head, and I can hear her crying. “I fucking hate it here,” she says.

Don't we all. Rob's looking at Amy's neck, and I can't tell what the fuck he's thinking, but Amy's right, this place is a nightmare. Guys like Charity's dad make it so. I wish Mom could have made it work with one of those guys. I mean, did she only pick complete assholes, or is that all I can remember? Why can't life just give us one? Something to make this
shit easier? But knowing my luck, it'd be even worse in the suburbs. And I'd never have been friends with Rob.

I take off and Rob yells into my back. “Tonight, Tone.” It's not a question.

I climb into the trailer. It's dark and I don't bother with the light. I don't want to see what kind of condition they've left it in.

I pull the fridge open and half a turkey club is sitting in an open take-out container. I haven't eaten since breakfast, so I take a bite. The bread's soggy from the pickle juice and the bacon's chewy, but it wouldn't matter if the thing were balled up and dripping, I'd eat it.

I pour a glass of milk and lean against the counter. We've been here seven or eight years and not one thing has changed. The ugly-ass striped couch we got at Goodwill still takes up way too much space in the living room. If you can really call it that. The La-Z-Boy still leans to the right. And the TV reception blows. We don't have end tables, just floor lamps. There's no kitchen table either. Not that there's room.

It's fucking depressing. My mother and I live a pathetic life. And there's nothing that says it's going to get any better. I'm going to be a mechanic instead of going to college. Guess all those fucking tests from back in the day that said I was smart were wrong. Mom, she's going to? Fuck, I don't know. Serve food the rest of her life. Get beat by her boyfriends. Smoke too much.

What if? What fucking if my dad hadn't been a drunk? What if she stood up to him? Or if I did? I had my chance. I was five, and he was passed out. Mom was crying in the bathroom. He was in a chair, head craned back, Adam's apple bobbing away. I had the knife from the drawer, and I was cutting out that bobbing apple. And I was smiling.

Mom came out of the bathroom then and called my name, snapped me back to reality. She asked me what I was doing, and I just started bawling. The way she asked, I felt like she knew. But what if I'd gone through with it? All this shit, this violent, dirty fucked-up life we live, could we have escaped it?

I set the glass in the sink and hesitate before going into her room. The bowl and some shake lie on the nightstand. I open the drawer. The pipe's still there, but I still don't see a bag. All right. Maybe I was worried over nothing. I mean, I don't give a shit if she passes a bowl or smokes a joint, so long as she keeps that fucking pipe out of her mouth.

I head down the hall and flop onto my bed. The crash causes the trailer to creak. I've outgrown this shit. My eyes close, and I haven't yet taken off my shoes.

“Tone. Hey, Tony!”

I snap up, wipe drool from my face and look at my clock. 6:15. Fuck!

“Tony, you in there?”

“Yeah. Hold up.” Fuck, we have to boot. I grab a pair of shorts out of my hamper. I'll change at the gym.

Rob screws up his face when he sees me. “Damn. You just wake up? Face's got pillow lines and shit.”

“Didn't know I had to look pretty for you.”

“I like my bitches to be smoking.” We both laugh, and Rob notices my jeans. “You got shorts underneath?” I hold up the pair I snagged.

“Change when I get there.”

He nods. “That's good, cuz you'll need this.” He extends
a jock strap and cup. I head down my steps.

“The fuck?”

“I'm serious. You need to wear one.”

“Yeah. But that's yours.”

He shoves the filthy thing at me. “But it ain't like you're going to buy one.”

That hurts, even though he's right. We don't have money for food, and Mom's already bitching about oil prices. Fuck it'll be a cold winter. “You clean it?” Rob nods and I look the thing over. I've worn one before, back when I played football for a season. Fucking joke that was. “I just hope it isn't too small.”

“Doubt that'll be a problem.”

“Right, cuz all Micks are hung like porn stars.”

Rob shakes his head. “Whatever. Tuck that shit away. If we go walking outta here with you dangling it, someone'll beat your ass. And I won't stop 'em.”

Same scene at the gym as last time, guys looking like they're waking from the dead. They slap hands with me this time, though, and give me props for last class. Dave walks in, already sweating, biceps popping. He's the same, but I can't help but think of him differently now. How he ended up working for Chaz is beyond me and why Rob doesn't say anything to Coach Dan almost is. If it weren't for his future.

“Fucking douche.” Phil lies on his back and tucks up. Then he sticks his feet out behind his body, past his face.

“Summer's Eve.” Amir spreads his legs and stretches out over one.

I hit up the bathroom, slide out of my jeans, and work
the cup over my underwear. Not bad, maybe a little tight. I pull up my shorts and see myself in the mirror. Every stitch of my clothing is wrinkled and my face still has those fucking pillow lines. In spite of how I look, one thought runs through:
I want to be here.

I step out. Coach Dan and Rob are talking. I walk over.

“There he is.” Coach looks at me. “The warrior himself.” He puts out his fist and I pound it. I will myself not to blush but can feel it creeping along my cheeks. He hasn't asked me to leave, so maybe all is good with Big O? At least for now.

“Stick with Rob, and my protégé will turn you into the best we've ever seen. All right?”

I shoot Rob a look, and he's doing the same as I was, tucking away the emotion. “No doubt. Thanks, Coach.”

“You got it. Now go stretch. We roll in ten.”

Rob and I drop our gear in the corner and I ask, “What was that about?”

“You know. His and Big O's plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looks at me, and I know the conversation's over. “How's the cup?”

I adjust it. “Do you cry when you look at your cock?”

“Yeah, cuz I know how much damage it does.”

“Your calluses don't count.”

We walk over to Phil and Amir, and there's a fat fuck who wasn't here last class. I elbow Rob. “Who's that?”

“The big dude?”

“Yeah.”

“The Blob. You should roll with him tonight. The fucking stench'll kill you.”

I push away that image and stretch. Everything is sore and screaming for me to not beat it down.

“All right, gentlemen, since we're rolling again, let's start with the hold that got Rob lumped up.” Coach Dan walks to the center of the mat, Dave smiles from the corner, and Rob's face beats red. Coach lies on his back. “Amir, put me in a choke.”

Amir bounces up, lays his body across Dan's, and locks his arm around Coach's neck.

“Now, Rob, correct me if I'm wrong, but is this the position you had on Dave?”

“That's it.” Rob's voice is low.

“Good. So what did Rob leave open?”

“The gap by his head,” a kid from across the room answers.

“Right, which allowed Dave to leverage his elbow and . . .” Coach Dan brings his arm up and lands his elbow an inch from Amir's face. I wince. “What Rob needed to do was close the gap with his hips. Amir?” Coach returns his arm, and Amir shifts his hips toward the mat, pressing deeper into Dan. “Now?” Coach tries to bring up his arm but can't. “You see?” The group nods and then Coach taps Amir twice on the back. They separate. “All right. Pair up and work on that. Close the gap.”

Around the room guys are choking and pressing and talking and switching. Coach is on the mat, watching and giving pointers and patting guys on the back. He smiles and I watch his hand, thick and meaty, come down repeatedly on heads and shoulders and backs, as he nods and gives advice. I want that. How fucked up? I turn to Rob. “All right. Let me get my squeeze on.”

“Switch partners!” Coach Dan hovers over us. “Rob, get with Dave. He needs the competition.”

Rob gets up and moves across the room without argument.
I stand and look for someone else. Fuck, the only one not paired up is the Blob. Fucking figures. I walk over. “Hey, I'm Tony. New guy.”

“Bill.” He extends a hand. We slap. “You wanna roll?”

I don't, but really, what the fuck am I gonna say? “Sure.”

“I'll get on bottom.” The Blob lies on his back and spreads his legs. I can't look. We slap hands and get to it.

The Blob locks his ankles behind me and tries to drive up his hips. I grab his wrists and push down on the jiggly mound. He strains and sweat pops across his forehead. I bring up a knee and press it into his thigh. His ankles separate, and I spring out of the mount. I go for another arm bar, but for a fat fuck, he's lightning. He pulls away and leaves me lying on my side. He rolls and goes for my head. I remember someone saying, “Tuck it away before you lose it.” I do and the Blob's got nothing to grab.

I roll and get to my knees. Guys are paired up around the room, rolling with their new partners and through them I see Dave and Rob. Both are red-faced and breathing heavy.