Komal Kant - Wrong Side of Town

“He’s...” I searched for the word, “complicated, I guess. He holds back a lot.  I think it’s all part of the tough guy act he has going on and he’s trying hard not to be weak. But there’s obviously a lot going on in his life and he’s pretty messed up.”

“Do you like him?”

I hesitated, not really sure how I felt about Vincent. At the moment, I kind of wanted to give him a piece of my mind.

“He’s not a bad guy.”

It was obvious that I’d avoided answering her question, but thankfully Hadie didn’t press the topic any further.

“How are things with your dad?”

This was another topic that I didn’t really want to talk about. My friends knew about my dad’s issues, but they didn’t really know how bad things had gotten for us. A part of me just wanted to tell Hadie everything that was going on in my life. I wanted to tell someone, anyone, what was happening to me.

I wanted to ask for help, I really did, but I was ashamed. I was ashamed of what I let him do to us. I was afraid that people would judge me. I was scared that somehow this was my fault and I would be blamed for letting it continue for so long.

Besides, Hadie had enough problems of her own without me adding to that. I didn’t want to make her feel even worse, so I just swallowed away all that pain that had been stored in my chest for so long that it had become a part of me.

I was pain.

“Things are better,” I lied, because I truly wanted to believe that. “Things are definitely better with him.”

And as the lie left my mouth, I could almost pretend that my lie was a truth.

Vincent

The air crackled with excitement—the crowd was bloodthirsty tonight.

People surged around me, moving forward as they tried to get a view of the two fighters. I wasn’t fighting tonight, but I was here to scope out my competition.

Whoever won tonight would be fighting me in a couple of weeks. That would be the big fight; that was the fight everyone bet the big bucks on. That was the fight I couldn’t lose. Ryder was making sure I kept my focus for it.

This fight was a big deal for everyone involved in the amateur circle, and by the looks of it, the newcomer wasn’t going to go down easy. He was in the ring with Smith, who was probably our best fighter after me, and seemed to be getting the better of him.

“Look at that guy,” Ryder said from beside me. “He’s not holding back. That’s a guy who’s been through shit in his life. That’s how you can tell a good fighter, little bro. You can tell by how desperate they are; from how dirty they fight.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, I continued to watch Smith and the newcomer. The guy Ryder was talking about wasn’t as big as his Smith. He had dark blonde hair, was a little taller than me, and was lean and muscular. Smith was a huge son of a bitch and people were usually intimidated by his size alone. They usually just psyched themselves out and Smith would win easy. He knew how to use his size to get into people’s heads. The main issue with Smith was that he was a stupid fighter.

His punches kept missing because he swung without focus. His strategy was to hit the smaller guy and knock him down, but he wasn’t really considering anything else beyond that. His movements were slow and delayed, while the other guy was quick on his feet. His eyes were calculating as he dodged Smith’s large fists every single time.

I leaned forward eagerly. This fight was getting good now. Smith was hard to beat, but it seemed pretty obvious that the newcomer had an advantage over him.

I could tell. The crowd could tell. All eyes were on the new guy.

And then the fight turned deadly. Smith let out a roar and moved forwards, throwing both his fists around like a moron, hitting air every single time. The newcomer jumped out of the way, and then he suddenly darted to the left and punched hard against Smith’s side.

The crowd let out a chorus of “oohs”, but the fight wasn’t over yet. Smith clutched his side, obviously in pain, and that’s when the newcomer started barraging him with punches and kicks at lightning speed. He was relentless, he was merciless; he didn’t show any signs of stopping, until Smith was out cold.

Smith’s supporters—mainly our guys—starting heckling and swearing at the newcomer, who didn’t seem fazed by the assholes yelling around him. There was a lot of cheering too, and he was swept up into the crowd.

There was a gleam in Ryder’s eyes when he turned to me. “That’s Troy’s new guy. Not bad, huh?”

I shrugged, not letting the nervousness show on my face. I never got nervous, but all of a sudden something made me not want to be in the upcoming fight. This was what Ryder meant by not losing focus. If I went into a fight and my head wasn’t in the game, I was majorly screwed.

“You can take him though. He’s good, but he’s not as good as you are,” Ryder said, unfazed by how quiet I was. He grabbed me by the shoulders with enthusiasm. “Shit, Vin! We’re gonna make so much money from this fight! Bets are already being lined up and it’s pretty even at this point. There’s no way you’re gonna lose this thing.”

I didn’t bother to answer him.

What the hell was I supposed to say? I couldn’t tell him how I was feeling because he’d give me shit for being weak. All I could do was act like everything was fine—that I was fine—and that I was confident about the upcoming fight; that I wanted to win, and that I would win. Because I never lost a fight.

“Yeah, I’ll pound his ass into the ground.”

Ryder grinned and led me through the crowd, and once again I couldn’t help but feel like my life was under someone else’s control. I kept wanting to break free and make my own decisions, but Ryder was in charge of me, and I let him play that role in my life like I was a fucking puppet.

Later that night, we sat around a small fire at the creek behind our house. The boys were all here, drinking and smoking and being loud. As usual, there were lots of girls around, but none of them caught my interest.

I was quiet as I sat with Goat and Three, who kept going on about the newcomer that the Allbrooks were backing. Everyone was talking about his victory against Smith and wondering how he’d stack up against me.

“Did you see how fast he was?” Three’s face was lit in an orange glow from the fire. “Shit! I couldn’t keep up with all the punches he threw. Smith won’t be getting laid for a long time. Poor bastard.”

After the fight tonight, Smith had barely been able to move. He was one of the best fighters we had and he’d gotten his ass pummeled. Sure, it sucked to get your ass kicked, but the embarrassment was a hell of a lot worse than any physical damage he’d endured. He was getting a lot of shit for letting a new guy kick his ass in.

“So a pretty shit day all round,” Goat said as he took a puff of his cigarette. “We didn’t even get any dinner from Estella tonight.”

“I did,” Three said, looking pleased with himself. “She brought stew for Dylan and he let me have some.”

“You lucky bastard,” Goat growled.

Three held up his hands in defense. “Hey, don’t go hatin’ on me. Vin was the one who didn’t want her at the house.”

Goat glanced at me sideways. “What’s up with that, huh? She’s probably the only chick we know who’s not easy and who we actually don’t treat like a piece of meat.”

Three snickered. “She’d be good to eat.”

I shot him a glare but he only grinned back at me. “You totally wanna do her, Vin. Admit it. That’s why you get all protective over her. You don’t do that with other girls, just her.”

When I didn’t say anything, Three kept on talking. “She’s something else though, and man can she cook.”

I knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to get me to admit how I felt about Estella, but that wasn’t going to happen. I would never admit it to him, to anyone, that she’d been on my mind all day. I’d never admit that it’d killed me not seeing her today, but I’d decided that in order to stop thinking about her, I’d have to stop seeing her, too.

I’d never forget the look on her face when I’d called her desperate. It’d completely torn me apart. I didn’t want to care about her; I was trying to avoid her as much as I could, but for some reason I did care.

As hard as I tried, I couldn’t give her up.

But I had to try. For my fucking sanity, I had to try.

“I don’t give a shit if she can cook.” I stood up and drained the rest of my beer. Then I walked over to the bunch of girls who were crowding around Ryder. None of these girls was her; they would never be good enough, but one of them would have to do.

If I didn’t get her out of my system, she was going to drive me insane.

The girl closest to me had a really nice ass and I grabbed it. She let out a squeal and turned around, her face lighting up when she caught sight of me.

“Vincent! You’re so bad.” Her tone was flirtatious as she tilted her head to the side, looking at me like she couldn’t wait to rip my clothes off.

I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her towards me, not caring who saw us. “Do you wanna see how bad I can really be?”

From the way her lips curved up into a smile, I knew she wanted me. Her eyes weren’t the right color, her hair was too short, and she was curvy, but she would do for tonight.

Tonight I needed to forget about a girl. I needed to forget about a girl who had the power to bring me to my knees and destroy me.

Estella

On Monday night, I found myself finishing up early and heading outside twenty minutes before Savannah was due to pick me up.

I was glad we’d finished up early tonight because my head hadn’t been focused on my work at all; it’d been somewhere else, distracting me from doing my job. Being around people tonight had suffocated my thoughts, and I’d rushed to finish so I could escape into the cold November night.

I’d just have to brave the next twenty minutes until Savannah got here, but I didn’t mind so much. The freezing air against my face was sobering, and despite my best efforts to stay warm, a chill seeped into my skin.

My mind drifted to thoughts of the Maddens, even though I was desperately trying not to think about them. I was supposed to have a tutoring session with Dylan tomorrow, and I wasn’t sure what the arrangements were. I’d kind of expected Dylan to call like he had on Thursday, but so far I’d heard nothing.

Was I still banned from their house? Were we going to meet at the library like last time? Was I even still Dylan’s tutor?

I honestly had no idea what the circumstances were anymore, but I felt obligated to find out. I really didn’t want to call Vincent and ask, just in case he thought I was desperate, but I had to do it for Dylan. Someone had to be the mature one here and that had to be me. This was my job after all and I depended on that money.

But it wasn’t just about the money. Dylan had a place in my heart and I couldn’t stand to disappoint him. Maybe Vincent didn’t mind disappointing his brother, but I did.

Reluctantly, I dialed Vincent’s number and waited for him to answer. The phone rang for a long time, and I wondered if Vincent had seen my number and didn’t want to answer.

Then the line connected. “Yeah?”

The sound of his voice started up a thrumming in my chest that travelled through my entire body. It was hard not to be affected by Vincent. I had let him in and now I couldn’t push him out.

Taking a deep breath, I tried to get my emotions under control. I couldn’t care about a guy who was so cold towards me. I had to match his attitude; that was the only way to survive in his world.

“I’m calling to ask about my tutoring lesson with Dylan tomorrow.” I was proud of how detached I sounded, but then I frowned. What was happening to me? I was trying to be something I wasn’t because of a guy. That wasn’t right either.

“What about it?” he snapped.

Sighing, I leaned against the wall in defeat. My resolve to be cold had lasted a few seconds at best. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t uncaring like him. Caring about everyone else was who I was. I wasn’t going to change myself just so I could compete with Vincent in a stupid game about who was most uncaring.

No. I wouldn’t put myself through that.

The sound of approaching footsteps made me straighten up and survey the dark street. This night reminded me of the night I’d first met Vincent in the same exact place. A part of me was hoping that the footsteps belonged to him, but that was just me being foolish.