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Beside me, Kristy accepted, too. The only noise when we got to our feet was a muted murmur of approval. But I saw smiles everywhere.
Gunner smacked my shoulder with his hand and gripped hard. "Come to me when you have questions."
Someone said loud enough for me to hear, "I swear that old silverback is an angel of God. Never seen anyone with his ability to turn a soul."
Gunner heard it. He walked away from me and passed the biker that said it. He muttered, "Fuck you, too, you shit."
Laughter erupted in the room and I felt an elation that drove my spirit to a place I had never felt. I had been worthless, but maybe no more.
Twenty came to me, checking his watch. "Half hour has passed. You ready?" His look to me brooked no argument.
I can't say I was in a mood to fight. I think I wanted to hug. But I nodded.
Twenty glanced at Gripper. He said tiredly, "Don't break his nose."
Laughter flew through the room again, followed by cheers.
He motioned Kristy to the side.
There was something there amongst all those bikers that said they were one. They were a unit. Family. I was an outsider, even if I felt better than I ever had. I felt no danger from the group, though I had been held captive. Though I had thought my life was nearing an end only hours before. No, there was something honorable just out of my reach. Something I needed.
Twenty looked to Dealer. Dealer nodded. Twenty, as Sergeant at Arms, nodded in return. He turned to both of us and held up his fist. He looked back and forth once. Then he dropped his fist, saying, "Fight!"
The former whore house echoed with cheers and yells of glory.
I brought up my hands into the standard guard position. Gripper just looked at me, shifting slightly to the side. I evaluated his stance. Okay, he sort of knows a good position. He can launch quick strikes from his left or powerful ones from his right. I lightly tried to bounce on my feet to keep agile. He was stock-still. He edged closer, his eyes on mine.
Seeing an opening in his eyes, I lunged forward and dropped into a spin. I shot my foot out and caught the rear of his. I heaved and felt his feet go out from under him.
The bikers in the room roared.
Gripper was down on his back.
Feeling triumphant, I stood over him and offered him my hand.
He slapped it away with a scowl.
Okay, I guess the fight goes on until...?
Twenty answered my mental question. "If either taps out, the fight is over. Not until then."
Okay, I know that procedure. I let him get up and moved around him.
He made a face and came low right at me, arms wide in a sweep to capture. This was dangerous to me and I knew it immediately. I sidestepped and slapped the back of my hand against his head to push it away from me. He stumbled away, cursing.
But he straightened, his lips firm. He brought up his fists in almost a proper karate pose. He rolled his shoulders and advanced.
I moved in a circular motion, edging around him. Shit, this guy is tenacious. He came at me low again and I prepared to block.
Suddenly, he was up high and his fist connected with my mouth. I felt my lip split and blood pour over my tongue. I cried out, "Agh..."
He wasn't done, launching punch after punch. It was all I could do to block them as I retreated away from him. That was my mistake. Instead of attacking, I was busy blocking. Not only that, but I was blocking repeated punches to the face. I was not expecting the punch that came in low, different from all the others. The wind left me in a rush as his fist sank deep into my belly.
I went down to my knees.
The bikers in the room were roaring. Probably for their own, I was sure.
My head was jerked back by Gripper. His look was intent, crazed, and out of control. He lifted his fist, ready to strike. I knew it was coming; I jerked away, rolling to the side. I was away and rose to my feet. I panted, "I guess I'm a little stiff."
A couple of the bikers guffawed loudly and I knew I had chosen the wrong word: I had gotten stiff watching Kristy get fucked.
Gripper grinned, but it wasn't friendly. He advanced fast, launching punches I could barely block. I had to do something fast. I ducked and dove forward bringing my right elbow into his ribs. I heard a satisfying grunt from him and raised my elbow to strike down on his lowered head. His own elbow to my gut sent me staggering back. The hoots and hollering in the old whore house echoed madly in my head.
I blew out a breath and waited for him to straighten.
He twisted his head as if to bring relief to a stiff neck. "Never wait for your opponent." He leapt forward, foot raised for a kick.
I crouched and prepared to deflect his foot for a perfect strike to his groin.
The foot never came. It went down and I realized my mistake an instant before I was struck: it had been a feint. I looked up as his fist impacted the side of my chin. I went spinning. Really, I felt as if I was still and the room spinning instead. I found myself on the floor. I heaved upwards, and then rolled over onto my back. I felt little control in my limbs.
Gripper cupped the back of my head and yanked upwards. His other fist was poised. He said through gritted teeth, "I'd tap out right now. If I were you..."
I was dead to rights. There was no energy left in me that seemed to reach my arms or legs. He could punch me endlessly and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I reached a hand over and tapped on the floor three times.
A raucous cheer ripped through the room and I felt humiliated.
Gripper shifted a little, his fist shifting downward. I flinched. But his fist had opened; he was offering me his hand to get up. I panted, realizing the fight was over. I gave him my hand. He hauled me up, grinning in triumph. He howled to the crowd's cheers and raised my hand in his. I was dumbfounded. Instead of ignoring me, he held me up as if I was a victor. My arm in the air and blood in my mouth, I smiled weakly, knowing that as much as they were cheering him, they were also cheering me.
Gripper turned to me and slapped my face. But it was a friendly gesture. He said, "Good job, fat boy."
The cruel reality of my condition struck me. At the same time, I accepted his praise as real. I mumbled, "Thanks..."
He gave me a push, propelling me towards...Kristy. I gripped her in a hug as tight as she clung to me. She whispered, "You were wonderful. Are you hurt?"
Something swelled in me alongside that earlier spiritual swelling, and I felt at peace.