16. Tyler

We eventually end up in a coffee shop. It isn't the best of places but it's quiet and mostly empty. It's somewhere. And somewhere is all we need. I pull the truck up and we pile out. Ethan hops out of the open cargo bed.

I take my phone out and groan inwardly when I see that it's ten o'clock. I probably won't get back to my house until closer to eleven now and my parents will be seconds away from killing me by then.

    I watch Franny and Tally as they walk into the coffee shop, and I frown. How come neither of them seems to have any qualms about staying out so late on a school night? I didn't see any of them take a phone out to tell a parent. I guess I understand why Franny wouldn't, but Tally . . .

    I begin to walk in after them when a hand on my arm pulls me back. I turn to see Ethan leaning against my truck. "What?" I ask.

    He lets out a long sigh. "Tyler, you heard what those guys said."

    I rub the back of my neck. "We'll talk about it later. I just need to get this over with first."

    "Someone could be setting you up," Ethan says urgently. "Someone could be using you."

    "I know," I say quietly. "But we'll sort it out later. Not now. Not at ten at night when I've already had a shit enough day."

    I walk away without another word and enter the coffee shop. I head towards the table that the girls have chosen in the back, hidden away. I sit down on the other side of the table from them and Ethan comes in a few minutes later, sitting beside me.

    We're all silent for a moment, not knowing what to say.

    None of us knows where to start.

    "Jesus, I can't do this," I mutter and drop my head into my hands.

    "Stop being so melodramatic," Tally says. "Just start from the beginning."

    Where is the beginning? By now everything has jumbled together and become one useless, fucked-up mess.

    "Fine. If you don't want to tell us everything, then just tell us why those guys were there and why you were beat up the other night," Franny says.

    I nod slowly and glance at Ethan, who just gestures for me to speak. "Okay well—"

    "You need to buy something to stay here," says the waitress, appearing out of nowhere.

    She glares down at us, arms crossed over her chest lazily. She raises an eyebrow and I suddenly feel like every force in the world is trying to stop me from speaking.

    "Just get us a coffee then," Tally speaks up.

    The woman writes it down on a piece of paper and I look at it incredulously. Is she going to forget the word coffee from our table to the damn machine?

    "Room for milk?" she asks, smacking her lips at the end.

    "No," Tally says, aggravated. "Just black coffee."

    "What size?"

    "Small."

    "To stay or to go?"

    "Just get me a fucking coffee!" Tally blurts out.

    The woman's eyes widen but not very much, as she seems to be the most bored person on the planet right now. "No need to be rude."

    Tally sighs when the waitress finally walks away, and brushes her hair out of her face with her hand. The air around us all is tense and I take a deep breath before folding my hands together on the wooden table in front of me.

    "The guys who beat me up were from my work," I start. "I get paid to do fights in an underground circuit . . . an illegal circuit. No sports board acknowledges it or supports it. The circuit doesn't care for the fighters' safety or what happens to them. Meaning if someone ends up dying, they wouldn't do anything. That's why it's illegal."

    I look up and catch Franny's eye.

"How the hell did you get into that?" she breathes.

    "It just happened," I say and continue when she opens her mouth to protest. "Look, I said I'd tell you what you need to know. You don't need to know that yet. I'm not ready to tell you. Especially some girl I've only just met." I direct the last comment at Tally who huffs quietly at me.

    "Okay, keep going," Franny says. The waitress comes back, places the coffee down in front of Tally, and holds out her hand.

    "Four-fifty," she says, and Tally's eyes widen.

    "It's just one tiny cup of coffee," she grumbles, reaching her hand down into her pocket, where I can hear the jingle of change.

    "It's okay. I've got it," Ethan says suddenly from beside me and hands the waitress a five-dollar bill. She clenches her hand around the money. "Keep the change . . . " he trails off when the woman doesn't even offer to give him back the fifty cents. "Well, she was sweet."

    The place is dark and looks more like a rustic pub than a coffee shop. It's small, and lit up by dim lights that are mounted on the walls and attracting small flies. Tally looks at the light and scrunches her face up. "That's disgusting," she says, and takes a sip of the coffee. She freezes, then leans forward and spits it back into the cup. "So is the coffee."

    Franny just shakes her head at her friend and looks back at me. "So? You were saying . . ."

    "Right," I say and notice that her hair is now tied up out of the way. "So, what I do is illegal. Meaning you can't tell anyone. Please." They nod so I continue. "Look when I started fighting it was a mistake. I shouldn't have gotten into it and now I realize that, and I want to get out. I don't want to do it anymore. But the guy in charge doesn't want me leaving."

    "Why?" Franny asks.

    "I rake in a lot of money. People put bets on the fighters. A lot of them bet on me, so I get the boss a lot of money. He doesn't want that money going. I'm also kind of underage for anything like this so he thinks if I get out then I'll rat out on everyone because I won't get in as much trouble. I've tried to get out for months now. Each time there's something stopping me. Now it seems like someone's trying to frame me."

    "Frame you?" Tally frowns.

    "Two grand was stolen from the boss. No one knows who took it and they all immediately thought it was me. I wanted to leave so I took the money and ran, pretty believable story. But it wasn't me. Some guys caught me before a fight and beat me up, thinking I stole it. That's when I went to your house," I say, looking at Franny. "They cut me up."

    "And you work with these guys?" Tally asks and I nod. "Well, shouldn't they trust you?"

    "We beat each other up for cash," I say. "No one trusts anyone."

    "What about tonight?" Franny asks.

    "Well you heard most of it. Someone called the cops, they managed to get out in time, but they think I ratted them out. I don't know why they showed up. Probably to beat me up but Greg didn't even bother to hit me. He warned me instead. Maybe he trusts me, I don't know. But it isn't me that's doing all this."

    "So, the question is," Ethan says, "who the fuck is?"

    I scratch my nose and lean back in the seat, the strong smell of the coffee hitting me. Ethan doesn't say anything else and I just sit there, waiting for some kind of plan or escape route to pop up out of nowhere.

    "So, what do we do?" Tally asks.

    "There is no we," I say sternly. " You're not involved."

    "What if they followed you to my house?" Franny asks.

    "Well, they didn't, because no one came through the door throwing punches," I remind her.

    "They still could have—"

    "If they followed me back to your house that night then they would have got me when we were sleeping. Why would they follow me just to walk away? I heard them drive off anyway."

Franny bites the inside of her cheek and nods slowly, looking down at her hands on the table.

    "So what?" Tally scoffs. "We're just meant to act like we don't know you're breaking the law?"

    "Yes. I wouldn't have told you this if I didn't trust you to keep it a secret."

    "I've only just met you," Tally says.

    "I didn't mean you," I say. "I trust you not to tell. Can I trust you, Franny?"

    Franny bites her lip. Ever so slowly, she nods her head, and the relief hits me in seconds.

    "Thank you," I whisper.

    She laughs lightly. "Your world doesn't seem to be all that good."

    "I'm sorry," I say. "Earlier . . . that you had to . . . "

    "It's okay. I'm fine. She's fine," she says, indicating Tally. "Nothing to worry about."

    From her tone of voice as well as what she told me the other day about her dad and his drinking habits, I think that she's been through something like this before. That she's seen her share of violence, and accepted it.

    "Okay," I finally say.

    "Though something tells me that it isn't the last time something like that's going to happen," she says.

    I can't help but agree with her.

    "I won't tell," she sighs. "I'll keep your fighting a secret. Nothing more, nothing less."

My lips turn up in a humorless smile. "Fair enough."

    She looks away and for the rest of the night we barely speak to each other. For some reason I feel like I'm suddenly miles away from her and whenever I try to reach her, she moves further away. I don't like it.

    But lately, everything is turning into something I don't like.

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