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  Now, if only the ref would call the fight, we can all go home and….

  Tony was climbing to his feet and taking his sweet time about it. He stood up like an old man rising from the floor and didn’t even try to shake it off.

  Rocky danced a little while he waited for the ref to call the fight or for someone to come out and say it was all a joke. It didn’t happen.

  Rocky could have run for the jaw or the belly. He just wanted this to be over. Hit him once in the chest where the body can absorb it, but it will hurt enough for Mr. Tony whatshisname to calm the hell down. Then we can all go home.

  Tony swung. His face was red, there was foam around his lips, his eyes were flames. Rocky ducked under the wild swing and brought his arm up from the ground behind him. He was going to let this guy know that this was a professional fight and he was going to calm the fuck down now!

  Tony pulled his punch at the last minute. He moved in with the left. That changed the target on Rocky considerably. Instead of punching him in the pecs like he’d planned, Rocky’s fist hit him dead center in the chest. It wasn’t a legal move, but it was too late to stop it. Already cringing inwardly, knowing Murray would have his hide for this, his hand hit with the impact of a wrecking ball – minus a naked girl riding it while singing.

  He knew the instant it hit that something was very, very wrong.

  It was a solid punch, all five knuckles drove into the center of his chest. Tony’s eyes went from hate to fear to astonishment and then lost focus entirely. Tony didn’t recoil or fly backward, Tony came to a stop and just… dropped. He hit the ground in a way that no one who had an ounce of muscle control would allow. Tony’s face hit the floor and he lay there as he’d fallen.

  The crowd stilled and began booing. Rocky couldn’t really blame them. They’d come to see a decent fight and so far, he’d given them nothing. Ending like this seemed anti-climactic and wrong. If he’d been in the audience he’d have been booing too.

  In the meantime, sleeping beauty there had decided that down meant naptime and was making no move to get up.

  In fact, he wasn’t moving at all.

  Something’s not right.

  Rocky tried to drop to his knees to see what had happened, but the ref was grabbing his wrist and keeping him upright. Rocky looked around wild-eyed. Was he arrested? Was the ref trying some kind of revenge for messing up the fight?

  No…. he was announcing the winner, holding Rocky up while Tony lay unmoving at his feet. Rocky shook off the ref as Tony’s corner man was climbing in the cage. He was moving too slow. Why was everyone moving so slow? Rocky dropped and put his cheek next to his opponent’s nose. There was no feel of air. He put his gloves on Tony’s shoulder and tried to roll him over, but the corner man was fighting him off and the ref was pulling him away. What, they thought he was still fighting? Going after a man while he was down? What kind of fucked up…

  Rocky spat out the mouth guard and screamed “Turn him over! Help him!” Yet no one seemed to be listening. Tony’s corner man was shaking his head, looking like he was sorry he got roped into the whole affair. The ref was still trying to grab his arm, to pull him away.

  What the hell…

  The crowd was shouting something. Demanding a refund, accusing them of cheating. Screaming that Tony had taken a fall. The ref forced Rocky back and Rocky joined his voice to hundreds of others, only he was the only one screaming for an ambulance. Then the corner guy got in on it. He’d rolled Tony over and finally caught on. He started screaming for an ambulance, too, but the crowd was screaming over the top of them and no one was responding to their pleas.

  Diaz was crawling in the cage and from the thick of the crowd. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cell phone held up into the air with 911 emblazoned on the screen and he knew that someone had made the call. Finally. He dropped again to Tony’s side and placed his hands on the man’s chest to start CPR, but the ref and Tony’s corner man pulled him off again. By now, Rocky was babbling, trying to get someone to listen to him, trying to get them to do something other than stand around and look stupid while a man died at his feet.

  Diaz got it. Somehow, he knew exactly what to do. Maybe for the first time in his life he was actually listening. He dropped to his knees and he started CPR. Tony’s corner man didn’t stop it, neither did the ref, neither of them knew Diaz, they may have thought he was a medic. Rocky looked around frantically, spotted the cell phone still in the air and followed the arm that held it to the worried face of the owner of the phone.

  He knew that face.

  Madre de Dios, she was there.

  “VAL!” Rocky screamed. He was never happier to see anyone in his life. Her eyes met his, worried. Pained. She understood what was going on where no one else did. She knew a man’s life hung in the balance. And she was worried for him.

  He turned away. Diaz still hovered over the man in the center of the cage.

  The crowd began to fidget, they were figuring out that something was happening that wasn’t supposed to happen. There were some that thought the entire thing was fake, that Diaz’s efforts at lifesaving was all part of the script, part of the act, that Tony was still paid to take a fall, but they became fewer or at least quieter as time went by. As the drama continued with no resolution, the ref sat down hard and looked like he was about to cry.

  Soon there was silence but for Diaz’s labored counting “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.” He was singing to himself, quietly, using the count as lyrics and singing to the “Staying Alive” disco song. No one moved, no one breathed, Rocky sank to his knees in the far corner and felt something press the tip of his glove.

  Val was standing just outside the cage, her fingers through the mesh, wrapped around his hand as best she could. That tiny pressure became his entire world.

  The entire bar fell silent, even when the ambulance arrived. For the longest time, three hundred people listened to Diaz count and sing and they waited to find out if they watched a man die or be resurrected tonight.

  “1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3…”

  Chapter 6

  Rocky was declared the winner. There wasn’t much dispute on that. Val stuck with him, going back into the locker room with a visibly shaken Diaz. It was Val that pressed Rocky into getting dressed when she realized he was just sitting on the bench shivering without moving. Shock. She talked to him quietly, helping him into his clothes, not caring that strangers came and went around them. Let them witness the casual intimacy. Right now, her concern was on him, her focus on getting him dressed.

  “Who’s Murray?” she asked Diaz. She’d identified his voice as the one on the other end of the line when she’d called earlier and found him just as confusing in real life. So far, he hadn’t contributed much to the conversation other than to add in some non-sequiturs when she’d made the mistake of trying to ask him questions. By this point, she’d pretty much given up on finding out anything worthwhile, but the talking helped her focus, so she asked questions that pretty much got no answers at all and wondered just what the hell she’d walked into.

  “My manager,” Rocky said suddenly. Diaz was still looking at his hands as if they were a new growth that he’d only just discovered.

  Val shot him a look that was pure relief. Thank God someone was talking coherently. “Do we need to call him?”

  Rocky clipped his belt and put the end through a loop. He looked at her a long moment and nodded. “Get my phone from Diaz, will you?”

  Val looked with relief at Rocky, recognizing the light in his eyes, realizing that he truly was seeing her. His fingertips brushed against her calf for the barest of moments as he reached past her for his sneakers. The touch was deliberate. Electric.

  Full of promise.

  He’s coming back. He’ll be OK.

  Feeling somewhat reassured, Val placed her hand on Diaz’s shoulder and looked at him until he looked up. His eyes blinked and he smiled at her, but now it was he who wasn’t there, not really. “Rocky’s phone,�
� she said distinctly. “I need Rocky’s phone.”

  Diaz looked down and away, concentrating, as though he was trying to understand the word “phone.” He reached into a pocket and pulled out two phones and handed them to her, with an expression that said he hoped that this was what she’d wanted.

  She took both and handed them to Rocky. He took one and told her the other one was Diaz’s. She handed it back and when Diaz didn’t respond she placed it beside him.

  “Murray,” Rocky was already on his phone. Taking charge. There. Val smiled and leaned over far enough to eavesdrop. Rocky smiled at her and held the phone where she could hear it.

  “Rock!” a voice said on the other end. “How’d the fight go? Did you kill him?”

  Val flinched. Rocky hesitated. Floundered. For a moment Val wondered if she’d lose him again. “We… we don’t know yet…”

  “What do you mean you don’t…wait, is this a decision call? Who the hell are they fooling? This is no tournament! They don’t make a decision call and leave people hanging, they determine right then and there…”

  “Murray, Murray!” Rocky shouted into the phone. “I won.”

  “Hey, that’s great kid, I never doubted it for a second.” He paused and asked, “Wait, if you won, then… what are you waiting for?”

  “To find out if I killed him or not.”

  “To find out if you…wait…you still at the bar?”

  “Yeah, I’m in the storage area they’re using for changing room.”

  “I’ll be right there. Don’t move.”

  Rocky hit the disconnect button and slipped the phone into his back pocket. He turned to Val and stared at her. She reached a hand to touch his face. It seemed to break the spell and he took her into his arms tentatively, gently. He wrapped her up close and buried his face in her hair, holding her for a long time, using her as an anchor. Val held him tightly. She wanted to stroke his back and tell him everything would be all right, but she wasn’t sure it was.

  “Hey, Rock,” Diaz called out suddenly, still staring at his hands. “A girl called, she’s fighting at a motel to see you later.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Diaz.”

  The door opened. On the other side of the door was light and chatter and sounds of men and women at the bar enjoying each other’s company and talking details of a man killed in the cage right in front of them. Others spoke of the man’s resurrection and Diaz’s quiet choice of song.

  The man who came through wore a long white apron tied in the front with a shirt that said, YOUR LIVER IS EVIL AND MUST BE DESTROYED printed on it under the banner for Pistole’s Pub.

  “Hey, there!” he called, cheerful, jovial even given what had just happened in his bar, until you saw his eyes and realized the weight he carried. He held a tray with six bottles of beer and set them down on a ledge. “Sorry about the accommodations, your opponent had to use the men’s room to change, so, it could have been worse, I suppose.” He smiled and set a beer before each of them. “I’m Nick, by the way, I own the place, well… my partner and I own the place… for as long as the bank will let us, anyway.” He reached into his apron and pulled out an envelope. “Here you are, you won the fight, so the prize money is yours…”

  “Thank you,” Rocky said, taking the envelope and staring at it for a long moment. “And for the beer, thank you.”

  “No problem,” Nick said, taking a deep breath. “I figured you could use it after today.” He turned to Diaz, “I guess you’re a hero!” he said and would have clapped Diaz’s shoulder, but stopped the gesture before he started when he saw the look in the other man’s eyes.

  Val watched the man carefully. He moved like he was expecting to get scolded for everything he did. He didn’t know where to look and it was plain that he was an affable man by nature, but he was in way over his head. Too bad. He felt like the kind of guy you wanted to know, the kind you would go to his bar just to see him as a buddy, but there was something in him that held them at arm’s length.

  Considering there was a man killed in a fight…or not… that would certainly account for a lot of discomfort.

  Diaz perked up and spun on him. “Hero? You heard something?”

  “No,” the barman said sadly. “But the fact that no one has called after all this time… that’s a good sign, right?”

  “Of course, it is,” Val said, trying to seem bright and reassuring though inwardly she quailed. It really hadn’t looked good when they’d hauled him out. “That ambulance had to have gotten there already, if he was… you know… DOA… they would have already called.” She looked at Diaz. “No one called, right?”

  “Just some motel fighter chick…” he said and did a double take, “Hey! That was you!”

  “Thank you.” Rocky repeated and handed the envelope to Val and took a long pull on the beer. “My manager is coming down, is it ok to stay here for a few more minutes?”

  “Oh sure,” the barman smiled and blew a little bit of a raspberry as he rocked on his feet. “But we will be coming and going a lot from in here. So…” He waved his arms. “… traffic….”

  “That’s ok.” Rocky said and got to his feet. “Thank you for your generosity.”

  “OOOOOOOkay,” Nick said and turned. He got to the door and pointed at Diaz. “You know… you had everyone rooting for you… there’s plenty of people out here who would like to buy you a drink.”

  Diaz stuck a finger in his own chest and raised his eyebrows. The shock seemed to be wearing off rather quickly.

  “Oh, yes! Indeed! And some of them… well, most of them are very pretty.”

  Diaz turned to Rocky like a child just invited to an all-you-can-eat fudge bar. “Dude, man you ok if I…”

  Rocky laughed. “You got enough cash to get home? You’re not driving!”

  “Of course!” Diaz looked positively offended.

  “I’ll be fine, then.”

  “Well, of course you’ll be fine!” He gestured to Val. “Look who you’re with! I kind of want to be fine, too.” He eyed her up and down from her boots to her forehead. “Mmmmmm! Maybe I’ll be fine two or three times!”

  The barman held the door open for him and announced to the crowd “HERE HE IS!” The guests on the other side of the door cheered and Diaz threw his hands in the air to accept their acclaim.

  “That was nice,” Val said, watching him go with a certain amount of wry amusement. She supposed she should be pissed for being looked at that way, but she was willing to be forgiving just then. Diaz had put in a hell of a fight to bring that man back from the dead.

  “What’s nice?” Rocky grabbed one of the beers from the tray and offered it to her.

  “I mean that barman. Letting Diaz out there and building him up like that. He deserves some recognition and I’m glad that Nick would do that for him.”

  Rocky laughed. “Nick wants to sell booze,” he said flatly. “The more of a hero Diaz is, the more people will buy him a drink and another one to drink with him. Nick’s making a fortune off this.”

  Val pulled on the beer and let the ice-cold liquid flow through her. She set it down slowly, enjoying every moment of it. “That’s cynical,” she said when she opened her eyes again.

  “Is it?” Rocky took the envelope back from her and pulled out two pieces of paper. One was a check that he folded and stuck in a pocket. The other was an ordinary-sized piece of paper folded in three sections. Rocky handed it back to her after only a cursory glance.

  “What’s this?” she asked, taking it from him.

  “It’s an itemized list,” he said. “He took the cost of these beers out of the prize money. Six bottles at $4 each.”

  Val nearly spit hers out. “$24.00? For THIS?” She looked at the bottle again. It wasn’t quite so tasty as it was a moment ago. “We didn’t even ask for any beer! That’s outrageous!”

  “So what do you think of your most generous barman now?”

  “He’s a bastard,” she said, chugging down her beer. She finished it off and looke
d around the storage area for someplace to smash the bottle until she realized it wouldn’t be Nick cleaning up the mess, but someone else assigned to do it. Grumbling because there was no revenge that was fitting, she instead grabbed the beer Diaz hadn’t touched. When Rocky raised an eyebrow, she motioned for him to drink up. “Four bucks each? If you think I am going to let these go flat, you’re out of your mind.”

  Rocky laughed and came to her. He finished his beer and set it on the table beside hers, hooking her around the waist to pull her close. Well and truly caught, he kissed her, a long slow kiss that took every bit of pain and loneliness she’d been feeling for days and erased it as though it never were. For a moment, a blissfully long moment, there was nothing in the world save him and her as their bodies intertwined, her arms coming up around his neck, her leg rising and curling around his waist.

  There was power, strength in his arms, yet he held her against him as tenderly as if she were delicate and then brought her in closer until her breath strained against his arms and she felt flush with the lack of air and abundance of his passion.

  She could feel the touch of his hand on her back, the fabric of the shirt little enough obstacle between them.

  They ignored the door, the traffic in and out of the busy storeroom was nothing to them. Kiss begot kiss, each touch driving them closer. Somewhere Val was dimly aware of the door opening one more time, followed by a rather sharp exclamation of disgust.