The Brick Yard by Carol Lynne Read Free Book Online Page B

and lungs. He’s refused treatment because the chemo or radiation would only prolong his life for a short time instead of cure it,” Lucky explained.
    “Fuck!” Dray threw the half-full water bottle against the wall. “How long?”
    “Hard to say, but Brick’s determined to last through the rest of the season. I told him I didn’t give a shit about the fights, and he informed me that he wanted to go out a winner.”
    Like always, there was a pen and pad of paper on the table, all the artists used for doodling on their off moments. It was a nervous habit they all shared, and one Dray frequently used to rid himself of his excess energy while in the shop. “You’re with him every day. What do you think?”
    Lucky sighed. “I think he’s strong enough to make the Indianapolis trip, but after that, my next fight isn’t for another three weeks. With the amount of blood on that fucking towel…”
    “Indianapolis will be his last,” Dray surmised.
    “Yeah, I think so.” Lucky cleared his throat. “I put a call into Ray Bruno. He’s got a winner take all tournament coming up next week. The weight classes are broad, but anyone can enter for five hundred bucks. The more entries, the more fights.”
    “Don’t do it.” Dray rubbed his hands over his bristly scalp. Ray Bruno’s tournaments often turned into blood baths, pitting trained fighters against regular men who thought they were just as tough but weren’t even in the same league as their skilled opponents.
    “I can win,” Lucky declared. “Not only will I need the release while dealing with this shit, but it’s local, so I can give Brick the only thing he wants before he dies.”
    “And what happens if you don’t win?” Dray asked. “What happens if you go against someone who fucks you up so bad your dream of going pro is over?”
    “If some schmo in Bruno’s tournament can fuck me up enough to put me out of the game, I don’t deserve to go pro.”
    Dray added some shading to the portrait he’d drawn of Lucky. Even as a teenager, Lucky had been high-strung, only really settling down when he was in the ring or working one of the bags. Fighting for Lucky was like a drug, whereas it was the fan reaction that had always driven Dray. Although he didn’t like it, he understood Lucky’s need to do it. “Fuck,” he groaned.
    “There’s something else,” Lucky said. “Brick’s leaving The Brick Yard to the two of us. He wants us to look after Jax and anyone else who comes along who needs it.”
    “What the fuck is he thinking? I can’t just pick up and move back to Chicago. I’ve got a life here—a house, a job.” Not to mention the fact that Kansas City was far enough away from Lucky not to pose a threat to the younger man’s career.
    Lucky was quiet for several moments before he exhaled. “I think he’s worried about the kids, and this is his way of insuring they have somewhere to go. He’s asking us to pay it forward.”
    Dray thought of the farmhouse he’d worked so hard on. It was still far from perfect, but it was his—or at least it would be in another twenty-one years after he’d paid off the mortgage. He wondered if he should be honest with Lucky or if knowing how much Dray wanted him would put Lucky in a worse position.
    Lucky made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob. “I can’t do this alone,” he finally said.
    Motherfucker! Dray closed his eyes and shook his head, knowing he couldn’t ignore the plea. “Okay. I need to take care of a few things, but I’ll head that way in a few days. I’m not promising I’ll stay for good, but I’ll be there to help take care of Brick.”
    “Thanks,” Lucky mumbled.
    “In the meantime, keep me updated on what’s going on,” Dray ordered. How the hell was he going to tell his cousin Berto that he had two days to find a replacement for him at the shop? “What about Indianapolis? You still gonna go?”
    “Yes, but we’ll be home on Sunday.”
    “Expect me on Sunday