Untamed (21 page)

It’s the same limousine I first climbed into two years ago.

It’s the smell I remember first. The sticky leather… it makes me feel sick instantly. It’s a wet smell, something that coats itself to the inside of my throat. Something I can almost taste.

I guess I’m just not used to luxury.

Glass hasn’t changed a bit. He’s still got those crooked, smoke-stained teeth bracketed by gold ones, the gold watch, the completely bald head, the hard, mean eyes.

I don’t let my guard down for an instant, and I won’t ever around him. I didn’t trust him as a kid, I just didn’t know it at the time.

Now… now I understand the trepidation I felt when I climbed into that limousine. I was faced with the choice of taking something given to me, and then finding out how not to be controlled by it. Glass is a serial controller.

Or I could have returned to my life as it was… destined for nothingness.

I hate the idea of being nothing, of being worthless. I have worth.

They used to say that every human being, inherently, had worth. But even as those words left the social worker’s mouth, I could sense that they were empty. She couldn’t hide her true, sad thoughts behind that well-practiced smile. A warm smile in the winter wind. She may as well have said nothing.

But bless her. Bless all of them. They stand in the way of the storm, try to block it with words and compassion and sometimes, in rare cases, even love.

It won’t work. It will never work… not in this God damned world.

But rare is it that the cards you’re dealt can be exchanged. That’s why I climbed into that limousine. That’s why I followed a man like Glass who just stank of something rotten.

I got to turn my cards in, get dealt a new hand. How many times can people say that?

“I’ve set up a gym for you in the back of the house. It’s my old one, but I’ve got all-new and modern equipment. We’re going to get you on a proper diet. I’ve got the best supplements, some experimental ones too, testosterone boosters, everything.”

I nod at Glass, lick my lips.

“And I’ve got a trip set up, we leave tomorrow. We’re going to talk to Jim McNamara in Omaha. You ever heard of him?”

I shake my head.

“Well, he trained some of the best boxers this country has ever seen, and he owes me a favor. He’s got a compound a ways away from the city. You’ll live there, train with him and the other boys. I’ll stay with you, spar with you, show you the ropes, show you my best moves.”

“Got it,” I tell him. “For how long?”

“Around six months. You’re going to be the best, boy,” he says, gripping my shoulder, squeezing it tight. “A man like you is welcome into my family.”

“Thank you,” I tell him.

The truth is, I do feel gratitude, but I also recognize the tongue of a snake. That was my education; learning how to tell the good people from the bad. I suppose that’s everybody’s education, really, but in my life, when you see bad people all the time, you start to notice patterns.

It’s always the promises… the promise of greatness, success, money, whatever. You learn to tell that they aren’t promising
you
these things… they’re promising
themselves
these things.

You’re just the tool, the instrument.

Well, I’m no tool, though I’ve been called one before.

“We’re fighting strictly underground in the beginning,” he says. “Nobody will know you. They’ll think you’re easy pickings, bet against you. I’ll sell it. Don’t worry boy, I’ll play my part.”

“Your part?” I ask.

“Yes. We all have a part to play. Life is a stage, don’t forget that, and we all have roles. All my men understand this. My daughter understands this. Play your part, I’ll make you rich. I’ll make you the underdog nobody wants to back. I’ll sell you short.”

I don’t say anything.

“Does that bother you?”

“No,” I tell him truthfully.

“Good. You’ll be the guy who is
supposed
to lose. You understand, Duncan, you’ll need to sell it. Look like you’re getting beat, then wham!” He claps his hands together. “Then you fucking take them down and submit them.”

“So you want me to take a beating,” I say.

“Precisely. I knew you were smart the moment I saw you,” he says. “You got a good head on your shoulders, Duncan. You’ll go far in this business.”

“What happens when everybody knows who I am? What happens when you’re no longer taking bets against me?”

“We shut it down. Nothing lasts forever. You go pro.”

“Pro, huh?”

“UFC, whatever. Then we go big on a national stage, international, even. The money there will be amazing. But you need a reputation first, and we’ll build it in the underground cage. Your name will echo.”

“You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

“Damn right I do,” Glass says. “How the fuck do you think I got to where I am? How the fuck do you think I ride around in a limousine all day? Drink only the best whiskey? Own a house like the one that I do?” He gives me a big grin. “We’re going to make a lot of fucking money. I know it.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “We?”

“You’ll get your cut, boy, don’t you worry about that. Five-percent of the pot, non-negotiable. I expect the pot will climb to over ten million some fights, so you’ll be good. Don’t ever say I wasn’t a generous man. I take care of my own. Just ask Frank. Frank! Frank!”

The intercom hisses to life. “Yes, boss.” Frank’s hoarse voice is made scratchier by the static.

“Don’t I take care of my own, Frank?”

“You do, Mr. Marino.”

“See?” Glass says, looking at me.

I swallow, nod again. Promises. But maybe Glass will be good for them. There’s more to me being a good fighter than simply him making his quick buck. I’ve been a years-long investment.

There’s emotion behind this whole thing. This is more than just
business
, even if he claims the contrary.

“You want me to be the fighter you never were,” I tell him. “You want to live through me.”

The words silence him, still him. I call it how I see it.

“I won’t lie to you, Duncan. We’re family, and family don’t lie to each other, right?”

“Right.”

“I’ve treated you like my own son. I’ve given you a life. I want
you
to carry
m
y torch.” He slaps my chest, holds his hand there.

His torch
. The one he never held.

Glass continues: “You don’t know what it’s like having my body, being robbed by my body. This piece of shit!” He thumps his hand against his own chest. “This stopped me from being the best. Brittle bones and inelastic tendons. Genetics.” He scrunches up his face in disgust. “I hate my body. But you… you have it all. You were blessed. Your name may still be Malone – and I’m really fine that you kept your own – but legally you’re my son. You are Johnny Marino’s son!”

He shouts it triumphantly, like a trumpet blaring in victory.

I just nod at him.

“You’ll make me proud, won’t you?”

“If you mean that I’ll fight to the best of my ability, yes.”

“Good, good.”

“I don’t like to lose,” I tell him.

“You and I are similar,” he says, clasping me around the shoulder, pulling me into him.

No we’re not
, I think to myself. But this is an opportunity, not one I’m going to turn down.

Not to mention, I’ve got another motive for being diffident toward Glass, one that I’m sure he wouldn’t like.

“We’re nearly there,” he says. “Frank, go a little faster would you?”

The speakers in the back of the limo crackle to life again. “Right, boss.”

The car speeds up, and we take the bends breezily.

“There,” Glass says, pointing out the window. “That’s your home now.”

I see a huge house, three floors high with a… I don’t know the word… layered back garden. I see trees, like a small forest, and sitting on a bench I see a lone girl.

Dee
.

My heart starts to quicken, and I swallow. The last time I saw her she was just a little girl, all of fifteen, nervous, insecure.

But even then she was pretty. It was plain as day that she was going to grow up to be a beautiful young woman. Those generous lips of her small mouth that sits above a soft chin, those big, black eyes, that voluminous, wavy hair, a light shade of brown, pulled back tight into a ponytail.