In The Cage (8 page)

Chapter Ten

God’s Gym

I give my son a kiss on the cheek and leave. Hopefully Jake won’t be at the gym working out and I can talk to his trainer privately. When I pull up to God’s Gym on 12
^th
Street in Oakland I can’t see Jake’s black truck anywhere so I park and walk in. Immediately the smell of sweat, canvas, and leather hits my nostrils. It’s an old gym that caters to a serious clientele who favor iron free weights and not the fancy machines you find at most gyms nowadays. In the middle of a large room are two different rings. One appears to be a boxing ring and the other is a square version of an octagon with the cage being about twelve feet high. One of Jamarcus’s assistants is working with a boxer in the boxing ring while Jamarcus is sitting at a desk punching numbers on an old adding machine.

He flashes me a big smile when I walk up. He comes around the desk and gives me a warm hug and a peck on the cheek before pulling out a chair for me to sit in.

“What brings you here today? Jake is off doing some errands before he goes to work tonight.”

“It’s okay. I actually wanted to talk to you if you don’t mind.”

“Don’t tell me you're thinking about stepping into the cage are you, because I don’t train women.”

“Really? Why wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not that I wouldn’t enjoy it especially if the client looked like you. I just don’t have a delicate enough touch for women.”

“Well don’t get your boxers in a bunch. I’m not here to find a trainer. Its…well, how long have you known Jake?”

“You on a fact finding mission? You won’t hear me badmouthing the guy behind his back if that’s what you’re looking for. I’ve trained the guy since he was a bean pole of a fourteen year old. He’s stuck by me even when he had offers from some of the best in the business and I stick with him.”

That actually says a lot about Jake, to command such loyalty. Jamarcus would make a ton more money if he were training a sponsored fighter.

“How many guys do you train these days?” I ask.

“Just Jake. I got assistants who train the rest. I’m nearly seventy years old.” He says, to my astonishment. “I’m serious. I was even considering retirement when Jake walked into the gym. I saw something in him and I just couldn’t refuse. Even when his folks couldn’t pay anymore I still trained him. Tried to get him to switch to boxing. Kid like him could have gone far, but he wanted to fight MMA. He done well for himself for a while. Was near undefeated as an amateur but for some reason when he transitioned to pro and signed with Cold Steel everything fell apart. He lost his first…I don’t know, maybe ten fights and one tie I think and Cold Steel dropped him the moment his contract allowed it. That was a tough couple years for the guy but he never quit.”

“Wow…I don’t know what to say… I’m sorry turning pro didn’t work out for him. What’s the plan now?”

“He’s going to work the Blood Sport circuit in hopes of picking up sponsorship but he’s only got a couple year window before it’s too late. He can’t be having too many more disasters like last Thursday or he’ll lose his edge. That’s the problem with the Blood Sport circuit. It’s brutal. You both excel and get a sponsor quick or you burn out for good very quickly.”

“So when’s his next fight?”

“Tomorrow night actually.”

“Do they always do stuff like last time with the two on one blindfolded?”

“They’ll do just about anything to attract a crowd and agents. That’s why a fighter’s shelf life is so darned short. But you didn’t come in here to ask about his training or his fight history did you?” 

“No…I didn’t. What can you tell me about that bar he works in?”

“Carburetor?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s a MMA fighter and outlaw biker watering hole and no place for a lady. I don’t know why he insists on working there but he won’t quit. I don’t like the criminal element there. Why do you ask?”

“If something happened there…something criminal, would anyone step up and…and testify about what they saw happening?”

“Like in court?” He asks.

“I guess…and if something did happen would anyone play Good Samar-”

“There
are
no Good Samaritans in the Carburetor sweetheart. A body could get himself…or herself murdered in there and no one would see a single thing. It’s a haven for criminals; always has been and always will be. Why do you ask?”

“But what about Jake. What if he saw something…what would he do?”

“Tend bar.”

“I see…is he a good person Jamarcus?”

“I guess that depends on what you mean by good. He don’t smack around the ladies; don’t abuse children, stays away from drugs, even the performance enhancing ones. Sure he likes his drink, but who doesn’t?  He gets into the occasional fight outside the ring but that kinda comes with the territory.”

“I see…”

“So if that’s your definition of a good person than I guess Jake is a good one. He wouldn’t never hurt you or your son if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“I don’t know what I’m asking Jamarcus. I think something happened to me at the Carburetor about a month ago.”

“But you don’t remember it? Where you drunk at the time?”

“I seriously doubt that.”

“What is it then?”

“I have about two months of my life that are a real big blank for me. It’s like I just woke up in Carburetor a week ago and I had no idea where I was. I actually thought I was in Oregon in the Blue Lagoon Saloon. Imagine my surprise when I found I was in Oakland California. I fled the state a decade ago vowing never to return. Then I find from my son that two months ago I pulled him out of school and came here and have been living out of hotels ever since.”

“That’s…wow…I don’t know what that is.”

“Me neither. And to make matters worse, a month ago I left my son with his babysitter on Friday night. I was to return before midnight. Problem is I didn’t return until Monday afternoon. Jamarcus, I’m almost positive I was kidnapped Friday night and didn’t manage to escape until Monday. I either escaped or they let me go. I don’t know which. But my son tells me that on the day I came back I was totally freaked out. I was hurt and had wounds on both wrists. Rope burns Jamarcus, on my wrists. Same for my ankles but not nearly as bad. How do you explain that?”

“I get it now Christine. You want to know if Jake was there that night, if he saw it, and why he didn’t do anything or at least say anything to you after you two began dating. Is that about the size of it?”

“That’s exactly it.”

“Well why don’t you ask him?”

“I intend to do just that. I’m just not sure I want the answers.”

“You have to ask. It’ll drive you crazy until you do ask him. I won’t say anything. I’ll leave you to do what you have to do but the longer you wait the harder it will be to say goodbye if that is ultimately what you need to do.”

“Yeah…I’m aware of that. Well I think I’ve taken enough of your time. Thanks for your input Jamarcus. I can tell you really care for him.”

“Yeah…it’s been good for me. Keeps me young I guess. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t. Nice place you got by the way.”

“Stinks.”

I sniff. “Yeah…still nice though.”

“Bye Christine.”

Chapter Eleven

Memories True Memories False

The Next Day…

“Are you sure you want to jump back in so soon?” Dr. Frazer asks.

“Absolutely. I need to make some important decisions and I am running out of time. I need more information so I can be sure I’m making the right decision. In an ideal world I would wait yes, but this is the real world so I have to know now.”

“Well…take a seat. You know the drill.”

This time it doesn’t take long before I’m plunging into the past. In no time I’m sitting at the end of the bar at the Carburetor and sipping on some clear drink in a shot glass. The liquid burns like fire all the way down my throat and into my belly. Minutes later it goes to my head and I feel the effects of the liquid courage settling in. Sitting half way down the bar is none other than Robert, King of Pain, King, my ex-husband. I have been looking for this guy for a month, every night and now he just shows up here the same night I do. Talk about blind luck. Question is how to approach him? I reach into my purse one more time to reassure myself. My fingers touch the cold steel of the revolver and immediately I relax. No way can I go up against that behemoth of a man and not have some form of protection. I take another sip as Taylor takes the stool to my left.

“Looks like the rat’s taken the bait.” She says, pointing to King.

I nod my head. “Like a drink first?” I ask.

“I got something better.” She says, holding out two small oblong white pills.

She immediately pops one into her mouth and downs it with a swallow from my drink then she puts the other one in the palm of my hand.

“Take it. It’ll take the edge off. Give you some courage too. You’ll love it; I promise.”

I study the little pill in my hand for a moment. I don’t take drugs. But I trust Taylor so…so I pop it into my mouth and down the rest of my drink with it. We sit and make small talk for a few minutes while keeping tabs on King. He appears to be settling in for the night so we’re golden. After about twenty minutes I begin to feel good. I feel warm and snuggly good. I also feel confident and on top of the world. This is definitely not what I thought it was. I guess I just figured she was giving me a Vicodin or something similar. But not this. Seems to have similar effects as a narcotic, but also other things going on. I reach into my purse again allowing my hand to close over the weapon. It’s a .38 caliber, Smith and Wesson that I bought at a gun show a while back. I finger the weapon as my excitement grows.

“Refill?”

I look up and my mouth just about hits the bar. I don’t know where the other bar tender went, but this is a definite improvement. He is one handsome devil!

“What’s your name handsome?” I ask, keeping my hand over my glass preventing him from pouring me another drink.

“Jake.” He says.

And wham, just like that I’m back in my doctor’s office, sitting in her recliner. I take a deep breath and let it out.

“Well,” she says. “How was it?”

“I’m not sure.” I reply.

“So you didn’t remember anything new about that night?”

“Actually I did. It’s just that it’s a little unbelievable that’s all.”

“How so?” She asks.

“Can I get into trouble here for the things I tell you?”

“Are you about to murder someone?” She asks.

I shake my head.

“Then you’re safe.”

“My new friend Taylor met me that night. I thought I was alone, but she met me before I confronted… or my ex confronted me.”

“I see…but what is it you’re worried about?”

“She gave me something. Some kind of drug. First she took one then gave me one too. I thought it was something like Vicodin but it was nothing like that. It was so strong. I think things got way out of control after that.”

“In what way did things get out of control? What did you do Christine?”

“I…I had a gun in my purse Doctor Frazer and I think I might have used it.”

I’m shaking now. I can’t believe I could have killed him with or without Taylor’s help. But when I spoke to Boomer on the phone he accused me of doing something to King…He thinks I killed him I’m sure and at some point he’s probably either going to come after me or send the cops after me. My guess is he may decide on some kind of mental torture before he decides to kill me.

“Christine, what do you think you did to your ex-husband?”

I choose to ignore her question. “Can you put me under once more?” I ask.

“Well…you seem to be tolerating it extremely well so why not. Let’s give it another go.”

Within minutes I’m back in the bar. I’ve got a drink in my hand and half way down the bar is King nursing a drink of his own. Encouraged by my own alcohol consumption I finish my drink and slide the empty glass across the glossy surface of the bar to the handsome bar tender.

“Another one Chrissie?” He asks.

“Later Jake, later.”

“You wanna settle your tab then?”

“Oh I’m not going yet. Just need to stretch my legs.”

“Well don’t stretch too long. I can’t hold your tab open forever.”

“Back in ten then.”

He nods and turns his attention to another patron so I get off my stool and walk down the bar and take a seat next to King. I plop my purse on the table with an audible thunk.

“What you got in there a brick?” King asks. Then he recognizes me. “Holy fuck! What the hell you doing back in California?” He asks. I can tell by his look that I am just about the last person in the world he expected to see.

“Just visiting a friend.” I reply. I’m enjoying his discomfort at seeing me suddenly popping up on his turf.

“What friends do you have that would dare hang out in this place?”

“Taylor for starters.”

“How long you been stalking me?” He asks.

“Long enough to know you end up here most nights. I see your fighting on Surge’s card now. How long that been going on?”

“Long enough. I’m one of their premiere fighters, me and Boomer.”

“I guess pond scum sticks together doesn’t it?”

“Any particular reason you’re stalking me Christine?”

“What do you think?”

“I guess I do owe ya. I believe we borrowed a couple grand that night. Here, let me just settle that debt now.”

Then he actually reaches into his pocket and brings out a huge roll of bills, hundred dollar bills. One by one he begins stripping off bills and slapping them on the counter until he’s counted out twenty.

“I guess I owe a bit of interest too.”

He counts off another ten C-notes.

“There, that ought to cover it. Happy? Ain’t that why you’re here bitch?”

“What about for Ethan?” I ask him.

“What about him?”

“What do you think asshole? You think a couple grand is enough? Is that all his life was worth, a few bills peeled off the pile?”

“What the fuck you talking about bitch. He was fine when we left. You kill your own kid or something? Wanna pin it on me and Boomer now? You’re one sick whore you know.”

“You asshole!” I scream. “You son of a bitch! You’re the one that killed him when you smacked him across the head and broke his neck. He died in my arms mother fucker and you’re going to die tonight.”

I reach into my purse and yank out my .38 revolver. The second he sees it he steps back away from the bar with his hands up.

“What you gonna do bitch, shoot me? I don’t think so. You ain’t got the balls for that. I didn’t kill your kid and even if I did, you ain’t got the stones to-”

The explosion is deafening! Fire shoots two feet out of the barrel and the first round strikes him in the chest and the second in the shoulder. As he falls to the ground people are scrambling to get out of my way. In seconds the entire bar has emptied into the parking lot. Well, everybody but King and the bar tender.

Unbelievably, King is still alive.

“You’re a lousy shot bitch.” He pants.

“I’m not done yet.” I reply, aiming at his head this time.

“No…you’re done Christine.” The handsome barkeep says.

“I have to finish him off.” I reply. “He killed my kid. He has to die for it.”

“I think you’ve done enough.” Jake says as he pulls a shotgun from beneath the counter.

He aims the double steel barrels at my chest. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is dead serious.

“He has to die for what he did.” I repeat.

“Maybe he does, but it’s not for you to decide. Put down your gun and take a seat at the bar. Your next three drinks are on me.”

I look down at King, bleeding and pleading. I look back up at the shotgun levelled at my chest. It would be so easy to finish off King and let Jake do his duty. I’m sure I wouldn’t feel a thing. But I have Diego to think about so I set my gun on the counter. Jake takes it and puts it under the bar and proceeds to line up three drinks for me. I take a seat and down the first one without a thought. By the time I finish the last one I can hear sirens in the distance. I can no longer hear King though. He has fallen silent. I close my eyes waiting for the inevitable.

“Christine…are you okay.”

Slowly I open my eyes. I have to blink away the tears to see that I’m back in my doctor’s office.

“How was it?” She asks me. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

“Yeah…I just murdered my ex-husband so yeah…a lot.”

“Would you like to talk about it? Do you really think you killed him?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because this supposed memory conflicts with the one where my ex kidnaps me and the kidnap memory goes along with what my son said about my disappearance for 3 days and my coming back with injuries consistent with having been tied up and escaped.”

“That’s certainly a lot more believable than the, you killed him memory. If I had to make a professional judgment based on everything I know I’d say that you were kidnapped and held for 3 days before either being let go or escaped.”

“I think you’re right. In my memory where I killed him I shot him at the bar before he kidnapped me so both can’t be a real memory.”

“That’s right.” She says. “Now I think we should call it a day and let you get some rest and time to assimilate what has come up for you.”

“No…one more time. I’m fine with what‘s coming up. I need to get this sorted out.”

“I’m not sure another session is going to do that for you Christine.”

“Please…just one more for today.”

“Okay, but if I see you getting too stressed out I’m bringing you out right away.”

“Do it.”

“Alright, sit back and take a deep breath.”

I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly everything goes completely black! I open my eyes but I can’t see a thing on account of a smelly black bag over my head. I go to yank it off but my hands are bound painfully behind my back. I kick out violently but my legs seem to be bound just as tightly. Every time I breathe in I get a mouthful of canvas bag and it nearly chokes me every time. Panic begins to creep over me. I fight to keep from completely losing it but the more I kick and struggle, the more it feeds into my panic.

“Please, I can’t breathe in this thing. Please…”

But the bag just gets tighter and tighter and the less oxygen I get the more it makes me panic. Suddenly a pair of hands grab at the bottom my skirt and starts pulling and yanking. I try to kick but now someone’s grabbing my feet. I feel the cool air across my ass and it takes me a full two seconds before I realize they’ve got my skirt and panties around my ankles. I’m about to be raped!

“Stop!” I scream. “Stop, you don’t have to do this. I’ll leave…I’ll go back home and forget what happened. Don’t do this.” I plead.

“Christine its okay. Christine its okay…wake up!”

Suddenly a bright light explodes around me. I open my eyes and for a second my being in the office makes no sense to me. Where are Boomer and King? Where’s the white van and the black canvas bag?

“Christine it’s over now.”

I look around me again. I’m literally on my hand and knees on the floor by the chair I was sitting on. Holy crap that was bad.

“Are you okay Christine?” Doctor Frazer asks.

“Yeah…I am now.”