Page 97 of Embriagado

“Yes, decent. Whatever you say, bro.”

Like I was in the position to lecture him, but still. Unlike me, he hadn’t made any mistakes yet, and it was my job to make sure he wouldn’t either. But then again, what if this illegal fighting landed me back behind bars—who’d keep him safe then? So hyped over fighting again, I hadn’t stopped to think about that possibility. It was all fun and games until it wasn’t, and I had no doubt Ariyan would toss me under the bus the first second he could.

“It was also my birthday, and you didn’t get me a gift,” my brother said, reminding me he was still here.

Looking at him, he was now talking about this new video game that had come out, the cutest smile on his face. Despite the shit life had us go through, he was still just a kid. A stupid, sweet kid who just so happened to be my little brother.

Ain’t no way I’d risk it all for that devil Ariyan. So, tonight, after I won my fifth fight, my debt to him would be finished, and I’d never have to see him again.

26

SANTIAGO

With my hands raised to protect my face, I calmed my breathing, waiting for the right moment to strike back. Tonight, more than anything, I wanted this fight to last for as long as it could, because once it was over, that was it.

Five fights and I’m free—that was our agreement.

Once this fight was over, I’d never experience the rush of a crowd cheering for me or taste the win on my lips. Soon, the blood would dry from my knuckles, and the skin would heal, leaving no memory of this mere madness. And not just that, I’d never crave to have his golden eyes on me again, observing me from the shadows like a creature of the night.

Hungry for him, I looked up, chest tightening at knowing he was there, watching me. What a shame I wouldn’t get to fuck him in the end, huh? A real fucking shame, because despite it all, that devil was hot as hell.

Back to the fight, I focused on my opponent, some loser they called the “Shark.” I wondered how I hadn’t gotten a lame nickname thus far, although it didn’t matter now, did it?

He was out of breath after I played with him for a while, and yet, he’d just launched into another attack—a front kick aimed for my head. It wasn’t hard to deflect; same went for the other kick he sent toward my leg, which I also avoided before going for one of the classics.

1-1-2.

A double jab that took baby shark by surprise, followed by a cross punch that finished the job. The hangar erupted with the crowd cheering once the Shark’s back hit the canvas, making the place fucking shake, and someone tossed something into the cage. I lifted my hand on instinct in time to catch a beer can. It was still cold, with icy drops coating it, and high on fucking life, I opened the can and emptied the beer in a few long gulps, the crowd screaming the whole time. And when I was done, I smashed the empty can in my fist before raising it in the air, savoring every moment. Then, like thunder carrying through a storm, they began calling a chant, and it got stronger and wilder until the whole hangar cheered one name.

El Embriagado.

The Drunk.

From all the names I could have gotten, this was the one? Smiling at the irony, I shook my head and then lifted both arms in the air, accepting the name. After all, it was already over, anyway.

* * *

I waited for Ariyan in our usual spot behind the docks, where we always met after a fight. The nights were getting colder and longer, and impatient, I checked my phone for the time. He was taking longer than usual, which had me worried.

The sounds of clapping, followed by footsteps, made me look up in time to see him walking toward me.

“Bravo,” he said, finishing off with one last clap. “Earning a nickname this fast? Not the best thing to be called, I’ll admit, but the name quite suits you, don’t you agree?” He stopped right in front of me.

“I don’t give a shit.” I pushed back from the wall so I’d loom over him.

Checking me out with his evil eyes, he smirked.

“El Embriagado.” The name rolled off his tongue with a perfect accent. “How poetic.”

He placed his hand on my neck.

“Such a majestic word to describe a drunk, isn’t it?”

I shoved his hand away. “Like I said, I don’t give a shit.”

His smile grew, and he leaned closer. “Is that so?”

Annoyed with his bullshit, I grunted.