Chapter 16

~John~

 

“Dude, you sure you don’t wanna go to a hospital?” Mitch asks me as he dabs a cue tip soaked in disinfectant at the cut under my right eye.

“And tell them what when they start asking questions?”

“That three frat guys attacked you in the parking lot.”

“And when they ask why they did it? Should I tell the cops I lost my temper at my uncle’s gym and attacked, Axel? No, man. I can’t.”

“All right. It’s just…I’m not the best at this. You want me to call Jim?”

I look down at myself. I’m wearing nothing but a pair of boxers. I can barely see because my right eye is closed up from swelling. My shins are scraped to shreds and a series of Band-Aids are stuck to them thanks to Mitch. They weren’t really necessary, because they would’ve healed fine, but he’s doing me a major favor so I kept my mouth shut. I see the blood staining my chest, most of it from my mouth and face, and a couple of grazes on my pecs from the fall I took at the beginning of the attack. My wrists suffered similar damage. My knuckles are shredded from dealing out so many bare-knuckle hits. They’re wrapped with gauze now. I know they won’t take that long to heal. Aside from my face, my abs took the worst of it. They’re way beyond black and blue. Purple is more like it.

“Nah. I don’t want this shit getting back to my dad.” I already had my ass kicked tonight. The last thing I want is my dad finding out about this and having a reason to give it another kick. Yeah, he’d fucking love that. Not gonna give him the satisfaction. I lean back against my chair and blow out a tired breath. “Look, I can take care of the rest myself if it’s grossing you out. Don’t worry about it.”

Mitch scoffs. “Grossing me out? Nah, man. You know this isn’t my first rodeo. I just don’t wanna make anything worse.”

“Not possible.”

“All right.” He presses a Band-Aid over the cut under my eye, grinning at me because he knows I hate them all over me. He pulls back and studies the rest of my face for a second. And then he says, “That’s as good as it’s gonna get. You want more ice for your cheek?”

I shake my head. “It won’t make a difference. That bag of peas did all it was gonna do.”

I grip the sides of my chair and try to lift myself out of it until I realize I can’t actually manage it. Argh! Mitch rushes to me and clamps his hands down on my shoulders, forcing me to stay where I am.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I need a smoke and a beer.”

“Stay there.”

Amused, I just smile. I watch as he snatches up my jacket hanging on the chair at the other end of the kitchen table. He fumbles around in the pockets for a while before finally pulling out my lighter and a pack of smokes. He slides out a cigarette and lights it.

“Here,” he says, handing it to me.

I take it with a shaking hand—my body hasn’t come down from the huge adrenaline rush of the fight—and I struggle to get it in my mouth.

He snatches it back and tells me, “Open.”

I burst out laughing, which my abs hate me for and it ends up coming out as more of a sputter. “Is that what you say to all the girls, Mitch?” I tease. “You know, before you shove your dick down their throats?”

“Fuck you and just do it.”

I do as he asks and he slides the smoke between my lips. Shit, I’m glad no one else is here to witness this. I take a long, hard drag. I wave him away, telling him I’m good now. He crosses to the fridge and returns with a couple of beers. He pulls off the cap for me and pushes it right to the edge of the table so I don’t have to reach far. “Thanks, man,” I say as I pull the smoke out of my mouth, but not all the way in case I can’t put it back in again.

“What do you wanna do about your ribs?”

“There’s nothing to do. They’ll heal on their own.”

“Are you sure they’re not broken, cuz the way they look…well, they look bad, John.”

“It’s just bruising. Always looks worse than it is.”

We sit in silence for a while as I finish my smoke. When I’m done, he takes what’s left from me and slides the butt into his empty beer bottle. He sits back down and reaches for his cell phone as I take a sip of my beer.

“Who you calling?”

“Nicki.”

“Hang up!” I snap. “Now.”

“Okay, man. Relax. She’d want to be here for you right now. And I thought you wanted to show her what kind of an asshole Axel really is?” He gestures at me and says. “And this is all the evidence you need. More evidence than you need.”

“There’ll be another time for all that.”

“John—”

“Look, she can’t see me like this. You hear me?”

His eyes narrow with suspicion and he asks, “Why not?”

I look away and drink some of my beer.

“John? You’re gonna tell me. And let’s face it, you can’t exactly get up and walk away right now as you normally do when you don’t like where a conversation is going.”

Dammit. He’s right. It’s not my business to tell. It’s Nicki’s. But I have to tell him something to both get him off my back and to convince him not to call her.

“There’s stuff in her past. Stuff that isn’t mine to tell. And seeing me beaten and bloody like this will bring it all up. I don’t want that. Understand?”

I see the surprise in his eyes. And then something that looks like realization. “She was abused,” he says. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize it all this time. It makes sense. She hates people touching her. She’s never dated—not that I’ve seen anyway. She’s shy around guys she doesn’t know. That’s heavy.”

“There isn’t a word for what happened to her, Mitch.”

I can’t stop the emotion welling up inside me at the thought of Nicki hurting like that. It takes a lot for me to get a grip.

“You were there?”

“For the last time.”

“You stopped it?”

We lock eyes and I tell him, “I almost killed him.”

“Fuck,” he breathes, leaning back against his chair with a heavy sigh. “Fucking hell.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

A few seconds of tense silence pass between us and then he asks me, “So you almost killed him? How did you get away with that one?”

“I had a good lawyer.”

He smiles as he realizes, “Your dad.”

I nod.

Everyone knows my dad. To say he’s famous would be an understatement. He’s the best damn criminal lawyer around. And I respect that. But the man can be a stubborn piece of work. I guess I inherited that. He’s determined to make me follow in his footsteps. He hates the band and my music. He hates my tattoos; everything about the rock lifestyle. Although, he likes Nicki’s little phoenix. What’s that about?

Nicki can do no wrong around my parents. They love her. She lived with us for a while and my parents basically unofficially adopted her. They’ve been trying to push us together forever. If they knew what had been happening between us lately, they’d be on my back 24/7 talking wedding plans and kids and all that bullshit.

Mitch snaps his fingers in my face, shocking me back to reality. It’s then that I realize he’s struggling to lift me out of my chair.

“Where are we going?”

“I’m putting you to bed.”

We make it out of the chair and slowly, very slowly, make our way out of the kitchen.

“Are you gonna tuck me in too?”

He laughs. “What I am gonna do is force a couple of painkillers down your throat.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think so.”

“I wasn’t giving you the option.”

I sigh tiredly. “Fine. But if I wake up late tomorrow for class, it’s on you.”

“You’re not going anywhere until you can walk on your own. I’ll speak to your professors. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’ll be fine. It’s not that bad.”

“Dude, it’s bad.”

Maybe it is, because as we walk to my bedroom, all I feel is burning. Everywhere. Every part of me hurts. But I’m not about to admit it to him—or anyone. I’m not a pussy. I can take a beating. Although, taking on three guys is a little excessive. It’ll be fine. I’ll wake up tomorrow and everything will be fine. I’ll go to class, do what I normally do.

Right now I just need to sleep. Real bad.