“It’s not Coach. It’s all of us.”
“All of you?”
“Yeah. We want the team focused. McClain and I—”
“McClain? Are you f**king serious right now?”
“Yeah, I’m serious. You seem to be forgetting that you screwed us all over. McClain stepped up.”
Levi scowls, a low, bitter laugh rolling out before he takes another drink. “That guy’s nothing. Walk-on, junior college piece of shit.”
I’d always felt more at ease with Levi than anyone else. He reminded me of my brother in ways. My brother was always kind of an ass**le, too.
And with my past pressing in on me, I know I’ve got two choices. I can go the easy way, the way that comes naturally to me. I can stay at this bar, get drunk, get some girls, and ride out my time here at Rusk doing whatever the hell I want for as long as it lasts. That’s how I’ve always lived—take the good you can get before the bad catches up to you.
But I actually feel sick at the thought of staying here with Levi. As easy as it would be, as many times as I’ve made that choice, it doesn’t hold the same appeal now. It used to feel smart, like I was one leg up on the world, but now it feels like I’m running downhill because I’m too much of a pu**y to turn and face the incline.
I stand up, take one last gulp of my beer, and throw some cash on the bar.
“I gotta go.”
Levi moves, too, his stool scraping the cement floor as he pushes it back.
“What the hell, man? You just got here.”
“I don’t see much reason to stay.”
“Are you shitting me?” Levi asks, getting up in my face. “I thought out of everyone you would have my back.”
“I’ve got my own back.” That’s the one thing I’ve always known. I can’t depend on anyone else but me. “The only thing I care about is staying on that team. You’ve already f**ked up your shot. And I’m not gonna let you or anyone else do the same for me.”
“That team will fall apart without me. Then what will you do? Run back to the trailer park you came from?”
That shouldn’t sting. It wouldn’t on any other day, but I can’t help but think that it’s only a matter of time before everyone here knows that about me.
I want to get right back in his face, turn this on him, make him feel like the worthless one. But I get the feeling that’s why this is all happening. Maybe I’m not the only one feeling out of control today.
“Nah, man. You got it wrong. The team is better off without you.”
I turn to walk away, and he shoves hard at my back. Stumbling forward, I collide with a few stools, toppling them, and barely staying on my feet.
I try to breathe, but my vision goes black around the edges, and that familiar need to hit something roars back. I clench my fists to rein it in and stand, my eyes on the door.
“You’re nothing, Silas. You’ve already got has-been written all over you.” I glance back, even though I know that’s exactly what he wants. The bartender is pointedly ignoring us, polishing a glass that probably hasn’t really been clean in five years. Levi continues, “Don’t you f**king look down on me. I know you, man. I’m gonna be just fine, but you? It’s just a matter of time before you f**k it all up. And then what will you have? Nothing.”
And that one? That hits a little too close to home.
I get up in his face, nose to nose. “You know me? You don’t know shit.”
“I know enough. Brother’s in prison. Mom’s a whore. Trash is trash whether you dress it up with a scholarship and a uniform or not.”
His face makes a satisfying crack when my fist connects. The jolt of pain in my wrist, the bite of broken skin on my knuckles . . . it dulls out my thoughts and sharpens everything else.
Satisfaction and anger and exhilaration burn through me, and the world sure as f**k doesn’t feel muted anymore.
He’s slow to recover and retaliate, and even though I see it coming, I let him get one hit in. He goes for my midsection, but he must still be dazed from my hit because it makes even less of an impact than I expect. I barely feel it. And I don’t know why, but the piss-poor punch makes me even angrier.
“Come on, Levi. I might be trash, but you’re pathetic. Lazy. Couldn’t even play football without cheating.”
He swings again, and I lean back enough that he only clips my jaw. The jolt is enough to sting and break the dam on my much-needed adrenaline. I grip him by the shirt and ram him into the bar on my right. A few glasses go sliding and crash onto the floor. The bartender yells something, but I don’t listen, delivering my own hit to Levi’s stomach, followed by a second.
He curses and shoves me back, and I stumble into a chair, sending a few more glasses shattering against the concrete floor. He comes at me, and I shift, using his speed to leverage him past me, tossing him forward into a table that topples and splinters under his weight.
He rolls onto his back, groaning, but I don’t let him stay down. I need more of a fight than this. I drag him to his feet and make him look me in the eye. He swings and clocks me in the side of the head, but my blood is pumping so fast and hard that it’s more obnoxious than painful. I don’t know if I want to hit him again or just shake him as hard as I can. While I’m standing there thinking like a dumbass, he gets a good punch into my kidney, and my whole body locks up against the pain for a few seconds. Before he gets off another, I shove him into the wall. He hits hard, and only my hand keeps him from slumping down to the ground.
“You just couldn’t leave it the f**k alone, could you?” I ask. “Spoiled rich boy is unhappy, so he has to drag everyone else down with him.”
Levi is beginning to list to the side, and I’m sure if I let him go, he’d keep on leaning until he crashed. Whatever pain he’s in, it doesn’t hamper the angry look he gives me.
He spits and his bloody saliva lands on my shoe. I’ve got him pegged and he hates it.
“That’s enough,” I hear the bartender say behind me. “Walk away.”
Levi laughs. “Don’t pretend I dragged you down. You came here looking to fight. You work better down in the gutter.”
“Maybe I do.”
Then I clock him once more, and his expression goes slack, and he slumps down against the wall at my feet. His head droops toward his chest, blood dribbling down from his busted mouth.