Fighter's Claim Read online

  I rode up slowly, watching the two of them. He looked a little scary to me at first. He was tall, had black hair down to his shoulders, huge muscles, and a tattoo on his right arm peeking out from under his sleeve. When he turned towards me, I could see his eyes sweep over me. I felt heat creep up my neck. I knew I was blushing, but could do nothing to stop it.

  Jiji rushed to me, drawing me forward. She said, “Tish, this is my brother, Jameson. He’s going into the Marines soon.”

  Jameson stepped up to me, holding out his hand. I took it and we shook; by now, my blush was a red beacon spreading over my neck and chest. He pretended he didn’t notice.

  His white teeth flashed as he smiled at me. “Nice to meet you, Tish.” Dropping my hand, he kissed Jiji on the top of her head. Turning towards the house, his long strides ate up the distance towards the front door, which was flung open by Mrs. Wilks. She flew outside, gathering Jameson into a huge hug. He smiled, returning her hug, and then they walked arm in arm into the house.

  That was the first and last time I saw Jameson in the flesh before today. He left for the Marines, going through boot camp before being shipped overseas, but he didn’t forget his little sister.

  Jiji Skyped with him on her computer. I would wave from the background, usually blushing or hiding my face. I sent him cards on special occasions, a note tucked into one of Jiji’s letters every now and then. We baked him cookies and sent him socks in a care package, but that was the extent of our contact.

  Jiji and I were still thick as thieves. She spent more time at my house than her own. Her mom had married again just after Jameson left. Something about her stepdad, Aden, was off. At first, he treated Mrs. Wilks and Jiji well, but within a year you could hear them yelling at each other clear down the street.

  My mom stopped asking Mrs. Wilks to watch me after school. When I turned fifteen that summer, I got a job babysitting for a new family that moved in a few streets over from mine. Jiji never said much about Aden, but she started hanging out more at my house. She used to come with me babysitting to kill time until her stepdad left to work the night shift.

  He gave me the willies. I stayed as far away from him as I could, which should have given me a clue that something was really wrong. Jiji wouldn’t say anything bad about Aden. We told each other everything, like most young girls did. We shared worries that boys wouldn’t like us, complaints about physical things we didn’t like—it was usually me moaning about having small boobs—and how our moms gave us grief about grades and homework. When she didn’t mention anything strange or hurtful coming from Aden, I didn’t pry—and in hindsight, I should have.

  I should have been more attentive to her. I should have kept after her to tell me what was happening. At the time, though, I was more interested in a boy at school than I was in her and what was going on at home. Stupid, I know, but my infatuation with that boy, Joe, almost cost me my best friend.

  When I started dating him, I wasn’t spending as much time with Jiji as I had been before. Once in a while she filled in for me with babysitting for the Petersons so I could sneak off for a couple hours with Joe. She begged me to let her spend the weekends in my room, even if I wasn’t going to be home. She always gave me some vague excuse that her Mom and she had been fighting a lot. One of the best things about Jiji was her love and affinity for animals. Her dream was to go to veterinarian school. We would pore over college catalogs, looking at classes and worrying about GPA requirements. She talked incessantly about getting it high enough to get into a good school. She spent hours at the library, studying, reading, learning everything she could.

  She said Aden got mad; he was always yelling at her to stop bringing “those disgusting animals” into the house. He would tell her she would never be good enough to get her degree, attacking her self-confidence. He belittled her dreams, tearing her down when he should have been building her up. He was cruel, but only when Mrs. Wilks couldn’t see or hear.

  Finally, her mom gave us permission to use an old shed they had on the back of the property to keep her menagerie in. We fixed it up with old blankets and pillows for the animals. She used a garden hose for water, and the old man next door let us plug in an extension cord so we could have lights. She spent a lot of time in that shed, nursing the sick animals and playing with the well ones before she found them homes. But what she was really doing was staying out of Aden’s sight, away from his negativity and vicious taunts.

  That’s why I’m here, driving through the night to get to Jameson. Because her stepfather had finally shown me his true colors. He crossed the line, and both of us had almost paid for it with our lives.

  Three

  “Damn, Breech, how much more work are we doing on the 3rd Street house?”

  Breech looked up from the computer screen to see me in the doorway of his office behind the main meeting room in the clubhouse. He frowned. “Why, we got a problem Fighter?”

  I went farther into the room and turned a chair around, straddling it. I had recently bought a house not far from the club that Breech had told me was a good investment. He was educating me in the art of flipping houses. I had made a nice profit off the last few we had done together, but this was my first time doing it by myself. Breech took care of the crews working the sites and I gave him a cut of the profits. It was a win-win for both of us.

  Breech thought for a minute. “KK told me that Dolly has the plans drawn up. She has most of the interior furnishings purchased and waiting on setup in the house garage. She only needs the beds and mattresses to be delivered.”

  Both Breech and Dolly had schooled me about setting the houses up to look pretty before making them available for viewing. It made prospective buyers all the more willing to pony up an offer and outbid others.

  “You hitting the club later, brother?” he asked.

  Moving to the door, I looked over my shoulder and grinned. “Damn right, Breech, my dick is ready for a good time.”

  “Cristal?” he asked.

  My face clouded. “Nah, man, she’s getting clingy, time to move on to new pussy.”

  “Mind if I have a taste?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Brother, no reason to ask; she’s good with her mouth, her pussy is tight, but she isn’t mine. Have at it, Breech.”

  “Makes me hard just thinking about those lips wrapped around my cock, Fighter. Now get the fuck out of my office, I got work to finish.”

  “See you later, man.” I left Breech’s office, heading to the bar to find KK.

  KK worked with Dolly and her crew dealing with all the girly shit that needed to be done at the houses. KK was one of those guys that everybody liked. He had that country boy charm going for him. He could turn it on with anyone young or old; they would fall all over themselves to help him. A little country on the boom box, candles on the toolbox, the girls would line up to sit shotgun or ride bitch with him.

  I found KK talking to Dolly. She was the one who drew all the interior designs. Then, her crew would carry out her vision. The girl was smart, funny, and you could see she loved what she did. I never interfered with her; she did her thing and sent me a bill. As far as I was concerned, she was worth every penny. I made money, she made money, everyone was happy. I waited for them to finish their conversation.

  Dolly turned to me. “Hey, Fighter, you going to be at the club tonight?”

  I smiled over at her. “I‘ll be there, babe. You and Geno gonna come?”

  Dolly grinned. “I hope so. We have to get a babysitter, but I talked to Geno a couple minutes ago and he said Lucy might be available to tonight. The kids love her. Let’s keep our fingers crossed, yeah!”

  “Good luck, sweetheart, and tell Geno I said hey.” I bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “Will do,” she said, walking away.

  “Man, that girl’s got curves in all the right places,” KK said.r />
  I smacked him in the back of the head. “You little shit, that’s Dolly you’re talking about. Breech would have your balls if you messed with her.”

  KK looked at me and said, “Shit, Fighter, I’m just stating a fact. Not looking to get into her pants. You know I don’t mess with married women. She’s got a husband and a kid, but I can look, can’t I?”

  “Look, but don’t touch, and keep your damn mouth shut, KK. You know that shit gets stirred up around here fast. I don’t need gossip ruining a good thing. We don’t need Geno telling her she can’t work with us. We will never find another designer as good as Dolly!”

  KK looked down, scuffing his boot on the floor. “Sorry, man, I know better than to run my mouth. Won’t happen again.”

  I searched his eyes and saw that he meant it. I stuck my hand out, saying, “No worries, brother.” He took it and we hugged, slapping each other on the back. “I’m gonna need you on the door tonight.”

  KK’s face fell, but he shrugged. “No problem, Fighter, have fun at the party!”

  I gave him a two-finger salute as I walked away. My dick was semi-hard thinking about the party tonight. Since Cristal was off the menu, I couldn’t wait to see who showed up. Cold beer, some pool, music, and women—now that’s a great way to spend a Friday night.

  Four

  Driving down the road, I kept the window open so the fresh air blew in to help keep me awake. The smell of the rain was fresh and clean. My body throbbed with pain, dulling my senses. Memories played in my mind like an old movie reel, taking me out of this time and space; letting me drift away as I kept the car pointed towards safety.

  I remembered that, after I graduated from high school, I went to the local community college. I didn’t want to be a nurse like Mom, but knew the medical field was a great way to make a living. I wanted something that I could support myself with and could see myself doing for the next twenty or thirty years. I was anything if not practical. With some help from my college advisor I decided on Radiology—becoming an x-ray tech. I worked the 3-11 shift at the local hospital. Joe, the boy I was infatuated with in high school, was long gone, along with my virginity and a little corner of my heart.

  Jiji and I were a pair again. She had forgiven me a long time ago for letting my hormones get the best of me. I spent a lot of my day time hours helping her at the local animal shelter. She had just graduated college, doing some undergrad classes and working as a vet tech when she wasn’t volunteering. We went out on weekends, shopped, cried, laughed, and watched chick flicks together, gossiped about our dates and girls we had gone to school with. It was the perfect friendship.

  Yesterday was just like any other day of the week. I went over to her house to pick her up, but she wasn’t waiting outside like she usually was. I put the car in park, shut off the engine, and got out to knock on the door. I waited a few minutes but no one answered. I knocked again, then waited. This was weird; so unlike her. Damn, Jiji, what the hell are you up to today?

  Taking out my cell phone, I speed dialed her number, but she didn’t pick up. I could hear her cell phone ringing inside the house, though. Now, I was really worried. Turning the knob on the door, it opened, so I went inside, calling her name.

  “Jiji, come on; we are going to be late.”

  Closing the door behind me was a stupid thing to do; the hair on the back of my neck was already standing up, and my gut told me something was really wrong.

  Walking down the hall into the living room was like walking into a waking nightmare. I felt the dry heaves starting. Crap, don’t throw up, don’t throw up, the litany sounded in my head. There were two bodies lying on the rug at odd angles to each other; both of them looked lifeless.

  I ran to Jiji, dropped to my knees, and pressed my fingers to her neck, checking for a pulse. She was lying so still next to her mom. Mrs. Wilks was half naked and bleeding profusely from her head and abdomen; her chest wasn’t rising and falling. Shit, she wasn’t breathing.

  Most of the furniture in the living room was overturned, broken, or ripped to pieces. I frantically searched my pockets for my cell phone to call 911. I felt someone grab me by my hair, pulling me away. As I screamed from the pain, someone hit me across the face before dragging me a few feet, smashing my back against the wall. I was held up there by one hand in my hair and another around my throat. The position brought me level with the dead eyes of Aden, Jiji’s stepfather.

  He smiled an evil smile and pushed his face closer to mine. His breath reeked of alcohol, his hair was greasy and uncombed, and the shirt he was wearing was torn and stained.

  “Sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong again, Tish?” he asked. “I warned you before to keep your fucking mouth shut around Jiji, but you didn’t listen.”

  “No, Aden, I didn’t—I didn’t say anything to her!”

  He backhanded me across the face again. “Stop lying, you little bitch. I know you’ve been filling Jiji’s head with shit, things you made up I’ve supposedly said and done. She was compliant, puttering around with those animals until you started butting in where you didn’t belong, filling her head with nonsense about lawyers and police.”

  His phone rang. He released the pressure on my hair, allowing me to sink down to my feet, but he twisted my arm behind my back as he hauled me over to the couch, where he flung me down. “Sit there, and don’t fucking move,” he said.

  Jiji and Mrs. Wilks were still out on the floor, but I could see that Jiji was breathing. Mrs. Wilks, though… She was still, and the pool of blood under her had widened, spreading out frighteningly towards Jiji. I hadn’t gotten a chance to examine her and it worried me that she hadn’t moved at all.

  Aden had his phone out and was yelling at someone. His eyes were red and he kept grabbing and pulling at his hair. He was gesturing wildly, raising his voice to talk over whoever it was on the other end.

  “Shit, we’ve got to get out of here before this lunatic kills us,” I murmured to myself. My mind was racing. How the hell was I going to get us out of there alive? I wasn’t leaving without Jiji.

  I reached up because blood was running down my face from where he had hit me; I tried to wipe it away. Aden came back to my side, grabbing my arm in a tight grip. “Get up, bitch, I’ve got a job for you.”

  Half pulling, half dragging me, we went down the hallway to Jiji’s bedroom. He violently threw me down on the floor. When I rolled away, he kicked me in the side. Pain exploded along my ribs and I screamed, rolling into a ball to hug my side.

  He fisted my hair, yanking hard. I felt intense pain when some tore free, floating to the floor in front of me. Reaching around, I clawed at his fingers, trying to get him to loosen his grip. I screamed at him, “Let go of me, Aden!”

  “Bitch, one more word comes out of that fucking mouth, you’ll regret it!” he sneered. “I’ll tape it shut or shove something down your throat ‘til you can barely breathe.”

  Yanking on my hair, he brought my face close to his. “Find some clothes and shoes for Jiji. Get her ready to move,” he ordered. Flinging me to the floor, he kicked me in the side again. “Be quick about it, cunt,” he spat at me.

  I whimpered, but crawled over to the closet to start looking for a pair of jeans, a shirt, and shoes for Jiji. Aden turned to stand in the doorway of the room. His fingers were moving over his cell phone. It looked like he was texting someone. Thinking I was obeying him, he didn’t pay much attention to me.

  In the closet, I found the screwdriver and pliers we had left on the floor after we put together a shoe rack for Jiji’s multitude of shoes. I remember laughing at the fact that she really needed a whole closet just for her shoes, not one puny little rack. She smiled at me, saying I was just jealous because she had nicer shoes than I did.

  I grabbed the screwdriver, carefully sticking it in the waistband of my scrubs and tucking it beneath my top. I peek
ed around me to make sure Aden hadn’t seen me pick it up or hide it.

  I found some tennis shoes, jeans, and a T-shirt, and then slowly walked over to him. He shoved me in front of him down the hallway, taunting me with more punishment if I didn’t do what he said. When I got to Jiji’s side, I sank down to my knees.

  “Get her dressed,” he told me. “Don’t take all day; we’ve got to leave, and soon.”

  I rolled her over onto her back. She had a huge bump over her left eye. Blood was covering her face and neck. I couldn’t tell if it was hers or her mom’s.

  Aden came up behind me. I felt the blow to the side of my head; it rocked my body. “Move it, bitch,” he yelled.

  I bent down beside Jiji, trying to wiggle her night shirt up her body so I could pull it over her head. I had just gotten it off when Aden grabbed me by my hair again. He tugged me backward until I fell on the ground. Standing over me, he unbuckled his belt and slid it free from the loops. He flipped me onto my stomach and, before I could react, I felt his belt hit my back and butt through my scrubs. I cried out, screaming at him to stop.

  “Do what I tell you, when I tell you, whore. This is just the beginning for you and me.” He stood, looking down at me for a few seconds with lust-filled eyes.

  I froze. I knew what he was thinking. Please, my brain screamed, make this nightmare end.

  He fell on top of me, pushing the air from my lungs, and pulled a switchblade out of his pocket. He held it up in front of my face, laughing at my horrified expression, then started cutting through my scrub top. “Plans have changed; we got a few minutes,” he panted. “Let’s play!”

  He roughly squeezed my breast after cutting through my bra. He was going to rape me. I swung at him, but he caught my arm before it could connect—and twisted it behind my back using our combined weight to hold me down. I heard it snap before the excruciating pain hit. I turned my head and threw up. I screamed, crying, begging for him to stop. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, my vision going dark around the edges. I fought not to pass out; gagging on my own vomit kept me awake.