The Art of Trust

TOM WELLS

My father was a greedy man, and he had every intention of raising a greedy son. Since the age of ten, I was put behind the wheel during numerous drag races, the money I'd win going to my father. I never lost a race, I was my father's lucky charm. Only, that wasn't enough for him. I've done many things that I'm not proud of, things I wish didn't effect me so much now.

Because of my father's money addiction, I was left with a lifetime supply of cash by the time he passed. Despite not having to work, I still opened up my own fight club, illegally of course. Technically, it wouldn't be hard for me to make my business legal, but I guess I liked the thrill.

I still race from time to time, this being a release of some sort for me. My windows were always down when I did, so I could feel the wind flow through my hair.

Breaking from my thoughts, I glanced up at the mirror of my car. Everything about me was dark. My eyes were a chocolatey brown, my hair was the shade of acorns, and my skin was a dark shade of tan from my Italian roots.

Currently, I was speeding down a quiet neighborhood. Turning a corner, I caught sight of a small boy running down the sidewalk a little ways ahead of me. His blonde curls bounced as he ran, some strands blowing lazily in the wind.

He carried books in his arms. I could see a picture of an arctic climate with many animals on the cover. I smirked a bit at that. My favorite animals were polar bears, a big one centered right on the book front. The boy shifted and I caught a sliver of green before he turned away and ran up the porch of one of the houses, disappearing into it.

I cleared my throat and continued out of the neighborhood towards town. My club was an old warehouse I had fixed up a few years ago. It was simply named Tom's as I was never very creative. I had my own lucky charm there— brought in cash by the thousands. Tobias Mitchell, or Ghost, as he was commonly known. He was quiet and unnerving to some, that nickname fitted just perfectly.

Ghost showed up at my entrance door looking to fight. He was just fifteen at the time but he was built like an twenty year old. I looked out for him. He didn't talk much about anything, but when he did talk, it was about this boy. I didn't have anything against homosexuality, being rather open to possibilities myself. But man, the way he talked about him. I wanted that, someone to adore. My thoughts go back to the kid with the green eyes and I bit my lip. You couldn't fall in love with a stranger.

Pulling to a stop outside my place, I saw Ghost leaning against the side of the building, knees to his chest. He looked angry, just as he always did. I didn't know much about Ghost, but I could see the torment in his eyes. I wasn't stupid, I saw the scars across his body.

I had asked once, but all Ghost did was glare at me and ignore me for a week. I decided not to push, though I had made it clear that I would help him if he needed me to.

Slamming the car door shut, I walked over to him, squatting down. Those dark eyes clashed with mine and I smiled, making Ghost roll his eyes. He never smiled.

"You don't have to wait, Ghost. You know it's unlocked," I said, sighing quietly as I watched him shrug in response. Evan, my best employee (who also had worked for my father at one point) always unlocked the place at exactly eight in the morning.

"I like waiting," Ghost said, accepting the hand I held out. I pulled him up, letting out a small chuckle.

"You fighting tonight?" I asked, pushing the door open, inhaling the scent of sweat and blood. The music was loud, rattling my ears. Larson, another worker, glanced quickly at Ghost before realizing who it was. I made people pay an entrance fee, but Ghost always got in free. I figured he had paid enough.

"Yeah, I need the money," Ghost said, looking around at his environment. He always did that, like he was waiting for someone to attack. He would've made a good worker for my father, but even I knew Ghost wasn't that cold and heartless.

Sometimes Ghost would come just to watch, other times to have a drink of soda with me in my office, and on bad days, he fought. Larson held his fist out, and I bumped mine against his, continuing into the building.

Ghost stood close behind me. In some ways, it felt like he was guarding me. He turned to go on stage. I stood and watched for a bit, impressed by him like always. Then I headed to the back, green eyes at the forefront of my mind.

hi so this takes place a little before tom meets sammy at his club. once they meet, the story is set in that four year time frame. just letting you know how the stories line up.

- mason