Francisco Rico wiped his bloody lip with the back of his hand and flicked the blood on the floor.
To his right stood two men. To his left, two more. And in front of him, with a shit-eating grin he would love to punch down his throat, stood another.
The men on either side of him were uglier than the next, with traps that came to their ears and necks so wide no collared shirt would fit them. Knuckles scarred and faces likewise, they eyed Francisco like dogs waiting to be told to go after the ball.
Francisco clicked his neck from side to side and swept back his brown hair that almost matched his sun-kissed skin. “What’s the meaning of this Nicki?”
Nicki spread his arms wide, allowing his cologne to carry on the breeze; Francisco resisted the urge to gag as Nicki smiled. “How long have we known each other Rico?”
Francisco scratched his chin while he looked off into the distance. “When did we first meet? Was it that time I saved your ass from getting jumped and you cried for your momma? Or the time I went home with those two smoking hotties—you know, the ones with the big tatas—and you were left with the dumpy friend with the nice personality? Or was it the time you were running away and slipped face first in dog shit?”
A snicker from one of the men made Nicki snap his head in their direction.
“You should have seen it,” said Francisco, imitating someone falling and clutching their knee in pain. “Shit all down his new suit. You know the ones he likes to wear that look like he got it from a back alley in China. We were running away from this gang that—”
“Too long! That’s how long we’ve known each other. Too long for you to just try to take off in the night, without even saying goodbye, without even leaving a note. We’ve built something beautiful together, and you just want to destroy it.”
Francisco looked at the alley they were in and raised his eyebrow. “Built something beautiful? Our offices are in an alley next to the bins where the hookers take a piss when they’re not working.”
“Be that as it may,” said Nicki, dodging out of the way of a floating plastic bag, “I saw it as beautiful and I had dreams of building it into something greater.”
Francisco sighed. “There’s nothing beautiful about hustling people out of money with fixed fights and gambling nights. Or using me as muscle when you can’t handle disputes. There’s no honor in what we do.”
“Honor! You want to talk to me about honor when your dad left his friends and crew to die when they faced—”
Francisco took a step forward, causing everyone to tense. Fists clenched until his knuckles were white, he took a deep breath of stale air and shook his shoulders out.
“It’s about time you stand on your own two feet. You don’t need me anymore. You have enough men willing to do your bidding. You’re rich and powerful enough. Take what we’ve built together as my parting gift before I leave town. I apologize for not coming to you like a man and telling you I was leaving.”
Nicki’s eyes bulged as he tried to speak, but he tripped over his words. A vein along his temple pulsed as he took a step forward. “If you think for a minute I’m allowing you to leave—”
“Look at the size of that fucking rat!” said Francisco, pointing behind Nicki.
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Nicki jumped into the arms of the guard closest to him as Francisco turned on his heel and sprinted away. Head down, he heard shouts and pounding feet behind him, but he refused to turn around until a sentence caused his heels to skid along the trash-littered ground.
“Go on! Run away like your old man! You and him have more in common than your last names.”
Ears ringing until all was silent, version narrowing until he felt like he had side blinders on, he skidded to a halt.
He tried to spit out the acidic taste in his mouth, but it only made it worse. Turning around slowly, he saw the four goons try their best to surround him in the tight alley space. He dropped his rucksack to the floor out of the way and shot forward without warning.
His fist connected with the goon’s face nearest to him, snapping his head back. He stumbled backward, but Francisco grabbed the material of his shirt and pulled him forward into the crown of his head. Francisco felt the cartilage of the man’s nose shift as he dropped him to the floor with an open-hand strike to the Adam’s apple.
The other three pounced toward him, but he ducked under a wild swing and delivered a liver shot before pushing the puncher into the path of the other two. They collapsed in a tangle of limbs as shouts of frustration rose from throats.
He used their frustration to his advantage and up-kicked one under the chin, shattering his teeth. The man dropped to the ground, one hand over his mouth, the other hand trying in vain to collect whatever teeth he could find on the trash-covered ground. Blood poured through his fingers as Francisco stepped forward and punched him in the temple, knocking him out.
He looked at the other two, who got to their feet.
Their gaze swept back and forth between him and each other. Neither man wanted to move as Francisco’s feet crunched the rubbish underfoot.
“What the fuck are you waiting for?” screamed Nicki. “Finish him.”
Finally deciding they would make their move, they rushed him as one.
Francisco blocked and ducked under punches that came his way. He covered his vital organs and head while they wailed on him. He slid just out of the way like a featherweight boxer, and the attacker’s eyes widened in shock at his speed and agility. For a big man, he could move.
They kept on attacking with glancing blows, while their breathing got heavy and their limbs filled with lactic acid.
This was good. He needed this. It allowed him to feel the pain, feel anything other than the roaring rage that filled his veins. The more they attacked, the longer he had to clear his head, because if he didn’t, he would kill these men. He wouldn’t mean to, but his rage would overtake his rational thought and before he knew it…
He breathed out as his attackers leaned on their knees, breath coming in short and sharp.
“What the fuck was that?” asked Nicki, bouncing up and down like a child having a tantrum. “Why am I paying you fuckwits when four of you can’t even defeat one man? How am I ever going to conquer this city if all I have working for me are fools?”
Francisco rolled his eyes as the men in front of him looked at Nicki with frowns. “Second guessing your career choice?” They gave him dirty looks.
“Normally, I would break every bone in your bodies, but I’ve been where you boys are. Working for some rich dickhead who doesn’t value you and only sees you as hired muscle who can’t think or feel. So as a parting gift, here’s what I’ll do. I’ll allow you to leave now, if you and your friends promise not to come after me, although where I’m going you wouldn’t, anyway.”
The two goons looked at each other, lips pulled in, before they turned to him and gave him a nod.
He returned their gesture and stepped to the side, allowing them to pass him by.
Friendless and alone, Nicki slowly backed up as the long shadows in the alley grew in size. His head snapped this way and that, looking for some sort of escape, but none presented itself to him.
“Look, Rico, you know this little scuffle wasn’t personal. It’s just business. You know how it is. How can I allow my number one worker to just leave when he chooses? It makes me look weak. It’ll give the other crews ideas. They’ll think they can muscle in on my territory. They—”
He darted to the left, then right like a cornered rat, before he ran toward a fire escape. He jumped for the bottom rung of the ladder and tried to pull himself up with a quivering body but couldn’t, and he swung back and forth like a wet towel in the breeze.
“Nicki, Nicki, Nicki,” said Francisco, cracking his knuckles as he walked toward him, “your first mistake is not recognizing your limitations. Your second is thinking I ever worked for you.”
The shadows descended, and the only things heard were the cries and pleas of a grown man and the sound of bone hitting soft flesh.
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