SO COLD (18+) currently editing

Chapter 50

SO COLD

THE MEN WERE ROWDY, BOISTEROUS AND LOUDMOUTHED. Jeers and sharp comebacks were flung about the room, they taunted each other about fucking each other's mammas, and forcing their members into each other's mouths. Bets were placed on how long a person would fare against another, and who would win the fight. This was a repeated occurrence. The sound of a heavy fist against a nose or a kick to the chest was met with cheers and yells of delight. Mouths were numbed with gin, and beer bottles clinked together. Currently Irvin was up against Doriano. The Italian was taller, stronger and his build was bigger and he had the upper hand; after repeated punches, he slammed the heel of his foot into Irvin's face, and Irvin crashed back against the floor, the force of the hit broke his nose, and he bled messily.

The men and women exploded into roars, there were disappointed noises from those who wagered he'd last longer, and demands from others. "Is he staying down?" There was a thirty-second rule; if the fighter didn't get to his/her feet, then a winner would be declared. Money would be exchanged and the loser would be ridiculed.

I slid my ass off the leather-padded stool, and placed my hands under Irvin's armpits, hoisting him up. He felt like dead weight. "You good?" I grabbed his chin, frowning slightly. "Hey."

His chestnut brown eyes were unfocussed, and his lip was puffy, he wiped his nose with his sleeve, smearing the blood across his cheek. He smiled sloppily, hand on my shoulder for support. "I'm alright," he assured, almost falling on his face when I let go of him. I grabbed him quickly, and he held out his hands, shaking his head like a wet dog, reassuring confidently. "I can walk, I'm fine."

"Twenty three seconds," James announced to the room, "the boy is back in. Give him a minute to gather his head, Dorito. He looks like he's going to pass out." The statement was met with contemptuous scoffs and hoots. People wanted a fight, goddamnit, the only way to get a break was to be knocked out or to accept defeat.

"This isn't the fucking playground, bitch," Oscar yelled in outrage, slapping Irvin on the back and almost flinging him across the room from the sheer strength of his hands. He was a six-foot-something man, the sides of his head was shaved, revealing faded tattoos inked on his skull. He was a fan of wearing tight t-shirts to show off his muscular physique. No one made fun of him or dared to call him a 'gay pansy sonfabitch' like they'd did when the pizza delivery guy's jeans were a little too tight for their liking. He was aggressive, and he roared his favourite catchphrase like he was declaring war. His face was strained, veins prominent, spit flying out of his mouth. "Be a man, bitch! BE A MAN!"

I put a glass of whiskey to Irvin's mouth, encouraging him to drink, put some fire into his belly and then I took his face in my hands, urging him to listen. "You're smaller, agile, dance like Mohammed Ali in the ring, duck and drop and don't let him hit you. Waste his energy and then fight dirty. Attack from behind. You got it?"

He nodded, pulled his stained t-shirt over his head and used it as a towel, cleaning his nose and then tossing it at Doriano's face. The fight was back on. The energy in the room was electric, thrumming, manic almost.

Doriano grinned viciously, coin-black gaze glittering. "You should've stayed down, faggot," he circled Irvin, predatory, cocky and confident. His chest gleamed with sweat and he revelled in the calls of support for him.

I reached for my glass of gin and swallowed the last large mouthful, my mouth was feeling pleasurably numb already, and my chest was warm. My glass clunked against the counter top. My fingers grazed against the cold bottle when it was plucked out of my reach. I turned to Cole, grim mouth lowered slightly, questioning. "What are you doing?"

"You've had enough," he passed the bottle to Art who took a swig from it and then set it between her thighs, her bright smoky eyes fixed on the fight, Cole continued. "Remember the two glass limit?"