Page 72 of A Perfect World
“You think Serina can trace the number?” I asked.
“Maybe,” Jack muttered, returning my phone. “Forward it to her.”
Dropping our bags on a bench, I dug around for my tape while Jack began warming up. I methodically wrapped the yellow foam liner around my wrists and knuckles, following with tape and flexing to make sure it wasn’t too tight. The first time Jack brought me to the gym to box, I almost broke my hand from atrocious form. Thankfully, my best friend was a patient teacher, always teasing when making corrections.
The echo of his fists pounding the bag had me itching to join.
He let out a whoop, grinning at me. “Nothing gets me going quite like punching the shit out of imaginary assholes.”
I bounced on the balls of my feet as he moved for me to take his place at the bag. I rolled my neck-
Eyes in the mirror turned me to stone: two black holes, void of humanity. The longer they burned into me, the tighter the knot of unease twisted. The dim light of the AEP house had hidden part of his bulk in shadow, the heavy set of his brow even starker in the gym’s fluorescent LEDs. The reflection prohibited me from breaking into his mind and dissecting the empty cruelty staring back at me; I turned slowly, fists clenching and unclenching around the fresh tape as I faced Tyler.
Jack sidled up next to me. “Can we help you with something, Guard Dog?”
His tree-trunk arms crossed, flat line of his lips twitching.
“Ty.”
Twirling a tennis racket, Brandon strolled towards his buddy, unaware of us- only for a moment. The racket slipped, clattering to the rubberized floor. Both Jack and I smirked.
It fell off my face when someone unexpected joined the AEP brothers. Like a match tossed onto a pile of gasoline soaked sheets, unrestrained rage flooded my blood.
“Isn’t this interesting,” I growled, glaring at Vince holding the twin of Brandon’s tennis racket. His olive skin drained of color. He shot an anxious look at Tyler, who’s soulless eyes remained glued to me.
Isaac’s fraternity brother had a friend that tipped him off.Vince knew what I was and had every reason to want me caged, but he couldn’t take me on his own. What were the odds that he befriended a well-connected future politician and his bulldog?
The tape around my hands threatened to cut off circulation to my fingers with how hard I gripped my fists. Overflowing anger sent needles prickling across my eyes.
Brandon stumbled back, Vince averted his gaze, and Tyler-
Tyler smiled a disturbing, empty smile.
“So, they weren't full of shit,” he said, scanning me from top to bottom.
Jack angled into my side. “Back up,” he warned. “I promise, you don’t want to test him.”
Tyler leaned forward-
Vince’s racket whacked his chest, halting him. He snarled, but Vince’s stern glare cut him off.
“Don’t. And for fuck’s sake, you know we're not supposed to look in his eyes.”
Tyler grunted, stepping back reluctantly.
“What a well-trained dog you have,” I goaded.Look into my eyes, fucker. Let me find out everything you know before erupting in your head like Hiroshima.
Despite the red fury spreading up his thick neck, his eyes avoided mine. Burning and icing, I focused on his chin, lifting-
“Fuck!” Brandon yelped.
“Ollie, stop,” Jack hissed. Vibrating with restraint, I withheld the thrum of power demanding to delve into Tyler’s dense skull. “People are watching.”
The gym had fallen into eerie, suspended silence, students riveted by the confrontation. Panting and trembling, I backed up and allowed Jack to fully put himself in front of me.
“Wouldn’t want anyone else to find out about him, now, would we?” Tyler taunted.
Static crackled off me, the bottled power behind my eyes surging. Sensing the shift, they all froze.
