Page 47 of Devious Roses
Anything that keeps me busy can only be a good thing.
On Fridays, we do bedding. I’m tasked with the sheets. After pushing in the large bins overflowing with dirty bedsheets, I begin sorting them out and throwing them in the washer.
My first clue something’s up is the absence of noise. The industrial-sized laundry room goes from being filled with chatter to just the squeak of worker boots on the tiles. My next clue something’s up is even more obvious. Several of the lights cut out.
I look up from where I am by the washer and barely have a chance to react.
LaTessa shows up with two of his guys in tow. He’s brought the gangly, sunken-eyed jackass and the boxer from our last altercation. By now, our bruises have faded, though he has faint scarring from the cuts he sustained.
He steps forward. “Look what we’ve found. A mafioso doing laundry. There’s a joke there somewhere.”
“I’m not interested,” I say.
“Not interested? That’s too bad for you. ‘Cuz I am. Somebody on the outside told me all about you. I gave you a fair shake but you wanted to disobey the rules around here. So now I’m gonna keep my word to him and take you out. You should be very afraid,” LaTessa sneers. He motions to the guys at his side, and both produce blades. “Don’t ask how I got them. Just know that I do.”
“You really want to make your situation worse?”
That’s my best attempt at mediating. These fuckers are in attack mode, raring to go judging by the ravenous looks on their ugly mugs.
This could end badly—I can more than defend myself and have against them. But they’ve got weapons and all I have are my hands. Not to mention, even if I did somehow overtake them, I’m on my last strike.
“There is no such thing as worse. I’ve got a rap sheet a mile long. That’s thanks to your wifey. If I don’t go away this time. I’ll go away next time. It doesn’t fucking matter.”
“All this ‘cuz some guy on the outside told you he doesn’t like me?”
“All this ‘cuz you didn’t know your place,” he snaps. “You thought you were real big and bad knocking me and my guys down in front of the whole jail, huh? Well, how about now? Go ahead.”
Both the gangly fucker and the boxer advance on me. Gangly has a long reach. He swipes the blade at me and I jump back, barely maneuvering out of the way. In that small window of time, the boxer rushes me, throwing out a fist, foregoing the blade altogether.
I react by blocking him. I throw up my arm to fend off his fist, only to suffer for it. He slashes my forearm with his blade, cutting me open.
The sting is immediate. So is the blood that gushes out. But I can’t react. I hold my bearings in the moment and concentrate on countering their moves.
Stay one step ahead. Anticipate what they’re doing.
I’ve always relished in physical confrontations. They’ve made me feel alive from the time I was a small boy fighting the other kids at school.
No other time made me feel like I was living for something as much as when I was engaged in a fistfight.
Right now is different. It’s not some low level fight that means nothing.
This has turned life or death.
As I drip blood on the floor, I manage to knock the blade out of the hand of the boxer. He throws another punch, and I crack him in the ribs with an elbow. Then dodge Gangly’s next stab attempt.
For a while, this becomes our dance. Me swerving and issuing combo hits wherever I can. The two of them aggressively pursuing me to bring me down.
LaTessa stands somewhere in the vicinity, watching on like he’s some important crime boss.
I’m backed up past the bins of sheets. I use them to my advantage and shove them toward Gangly. They knock into him and send him tripping several feet back.
The boxer’s charging at me. He dodges my swings and makes it up close. His jabs connect with my sternum. I cough despite my best attempt to remain unaffected. He manages another blow to my face, knocking me down.
“Do it!” shouts LaTessa. “DO IT!”
Though he doesn’t say what “it” is, I understand what he means. What else could it be when he shows up with two of his guys armed with blades?
The boxer sinks on top of me and wraps a hand around my throat after pummeling another fist into my face. Pain explodes across my nose, cheeks, even my mouth.