Brandon

I call the number Ted gave me. Denver is now looking skeptical about the whole thing. I kind of knew he might want to skip out; I don't blame him. Going after someone isn't something anyone does lightly. Only I'm here now, and I'm not prepared to let that douchebag get away scot-free from what he has done to Tammy.

"There's still time to walk away." I turn and say to him. We're parked up in an unused parking lot with a wire-fenced perimeter. There's a burnt-out car to the left and an old caravan that has lost all its wheels. This isn't the best neighborhood to be in. Certainly not where we all hang out.

I know that the lies of Lizzie, Denver, myself, Tammy, and Lilly are privileged. We have extremely rich parents and money is never an object. My dad always makes me realize that it doesn't grow on trees. Yes, I have an allowance on a monthly basis that even I know would be an annual allowance for most kids, and yes, my father pays for a lot of my shit. But trust me, that man is tallying it all up: the money that he lends me and wants it all paid back when I make it in the football world.

Because I will make it,

I'm hellbent on that.

"Nah, I'm here now. I'm not letting you do this on your own. Let's just hope he doesn't pull a piece on us." Well, that had crossed my mind. A worthless piece of shit who dates, rapes, and doles out drugs is sure to have some kind of gun or knife on them. I know it sounds stereotypical and something like out of a movie, but trust me, here in Cali it's an issue. There are more guns being sold than in most other states.

"Okay, let's do it. I'm going to call him." I dial the number. It rings a few times, then someone picks up.

"Who is this?" His voice is deep; I can tell he isn't our age and from what Lizzie told me, he's in his mid to late twenties. I don't say anything. "I said, who is this?"

"I'm after some gear. I got your number from a friend."

"Which friend?" He sounds pissed off, like this is some secret CIA number. Way too dramatic for my liking. Dick. I can't wait to swing the bat across his face and fuck him right up.

"I can't tell you that. You want to make a sale or not, hot shot."

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he shouts down the phone, nothing like an ass-wipe losing their shit!

"Listen, it isn't any skin of my nose, either you want the sale or not. I've got a couple hundred dollars burning a hole in my pocket. Your call," I tell him. Denver puts one hand over his face. This is making him uncomfortable. I bet he just wants to be back in his room at home with Lilly lying by his side and chatting sweet nothings.

What I mouth to Denver and shrug my shoulders. There's a silence on the line. The dude is obviously thinking about it.

"Where are you? I'll come to you." He finally says. Great, hook, line and sinker. I tell him where the derelict car park is and that we'll have our headlights on. Not that there's any other cars around, only I have a feeling the later it gets, the more cars will come out of the woodwork. It has that vibe to it. A shit hole where junkies and druggies come to hang out and cheap girls looking for a quick ten bucks for their heroine fix.

"I'll be there in fifteen." He curtly hangs up, and I place both my hands on the steering wheel and stare out the window into the blackness.

"How long?" Asks Denver.

"Fifteen." He exhales; I exhale. We're taking him down and leaving him like a piece of shit that he is.

We don't speak much; I know he's wondering if he's got it in him to kick the shit out of another human being. I know I have. The fire is burning in the pit of my stomach; my rage at what this dick has done to Tammy is fueling my veins, and the anger inside is like a volcano ready to erupt. Lizzie would go nuts if she knew what we were about to do. But I can't let this man get away with it. Besides, I have a burner phone in my pocket, and after we've dealt with him, I'll be giving the cops a tip-off where to find the bastard that did this to our girl, Tammy.

We see a car pull up; the lights are bright as it parks a few meters away, facing our rental car. I flash my lights twice. It flashes back twice. Jeez, this isn't some movie set.

"You understand the plan?" I turn to Denver. He threads his hands together, then stretches out his arms and moves his head side to side.

"Got it. You're going to approach him, ask to see the gear whilst I get the bats out of the boot. You're going to start on him, and then I'll hand you a bat."

"We've got this, Denver." He nods. The guy isn't going to know what's hit him. It's empty in the car park, which is a good thing. We don't need an audience, and we don't need anyone calling the cops either. Our families could be ruined by my plan. Tammy's folks will pay for the best investigators to find this prick in any case, but I want to make it quicker and easier for the cops to pick him up and lock him away. No court in the country will let this man walk free once they hear what happened last night.

Slowly, I get out of the rental car and make my way towards the man who is standing in front of his car. It's pretty dark, so I can only make out that he's not as tall as me. I'd put him around five ten; I'm over six feet. There's no match. As I approach him and get a better look, I can see he looks slim in his dark T-shirt and black denims. I'd guess he's never seen the inside of a gym, not like Denver and me. It's part of our football training; we have to go to the gym every day for 90 minutes. It's grueling and hard work. If you want to get to the top of your game, you have to put the hours in, and we are both serious and focused on our football careers.

"You got the cash?" he asks. I want to punch him in the face right there and then. My guess is a swift right hook, and he'd fall straight to the ground. I'm hoping Denver has already got the bats out as I stand directly in front of the guy, ensuring he has no sight of Denver getting out of the car and round to the boot. It's too dark in any case for this jerk to be able to see.

"Show me the gear first," I say, my voice even and direct.

"No way. Cash first." Prick.

"No gear, no cash. I can get it elsewhere." He knows that. You can pick gear up anywhere in this state; it's not exactly like the rats hide in the dark.

I watch as he reaches into his jeans and pulls out a small bag. "Sure that's worth the cash I've got?" I need to play for time.

"Don't get smart with me motherfucker." Now he's trying to be the hard man. In a few minutes I'll be showing him exactly who is the boss in this situation.

"You gotta come closer, man," I tell him. Reluctantly, he moves towards me. I can hear Denver behind me.

"Right behind you," he says.

"Who the fuck is that?" Dickhead asks, and before he has time to say anything, my right fist has made contact with his face. He stumbles back, then rights himself and lunges at me. I step aside; he misses, then I hear it. A cracking sound.

Denver has smacked him across the body with the bat and thrown the other one down at my feet.

The guy falls to the floor. Good, exactly where I want him, as I reach down for my bat and begin to smack him across his back and then take it to his face.

Denver moves back. "Hey, not in the head. You can kill him. Brandon." He shouts at me. I don't pay any attention. This motherfucker deserves to die. I continue to beat him as the man beneath my bat screams and tries to protect himself. My rage and anger is at the fore.

I feel a hand on my arm and shrug it off. "Stop," Denver screams at me, and as if woken from my senses, I stop. He's right. We don't need to be the ones the police want to lock away for murder or manslaughter. We've done what we came to do.

I head back to the car; Denver follows me. My breathing is rapid, my heart is pumping so fast I feel like I'm going into cardiac arrest. "Breathe, Brandon." Denver takes the bat and throws it in the boot with his. "Come on, we need to get out of here before the dregs show up."

"Just a minute. I need to call the cops." I've managed to even my breathing out by taking deep breaths. Honestly, I could have killed that prick. He deserves it; only now he'll go to prison for a long while.

I've made the call anonymously to the cops, and we drive back. I need to see Lizzie and to be with her. The desire to have her fold her arms around me like she does when I'm having a rough day is burning through my body. She is the only one who can calm me.