"You can teach family- preach 'family first.' But that never guarantees blood will take a bullet for you. family just forces you to tolerate betrayal from people who are supposed to know better." -Robert James Lynch.
BLEEDING OUT
Southern California beach town- The house phone she never used rang twice, followed by two knocks on the door. She didn't bother to check the call log but made her way to the door knowing only a package would be waiting. It was a box, it looked like something Amazon would deliver. She took it inside to the dining table that served as her workspace. The house was small. Her cousin house sat for her while she was away, often long months at a time. This space was her peace, the city, the ocean just a mile away. The only thing in her mind that would be better would be a bungalow in the Maldives over the water. She was not fond of being idle, but that kind of idle was a dream she was willing to test. The contents of the package would no doubt put that off a little longer.
***
Borough in Monmouth County, NJ- Thomas Lynch II exited the blacked out Escalade. He looked straight off the runway most days, today was no exception. Wearing a bespoke grey plaid suit, large framed sunglasses, hair a combination of precision and street, shaved close down the sides, the top swooped back and held in place with high-end hair balm, a gift from his girlfriend. A cartoon-esque villainous goatee, meticulously trimmed, surrounded his deep pink mouth, imperfect teeth he'd once considered fixing but now embraced. Not everything should be manicured and polished, a nod to the streets he'd grown up on and the enduring desire to remain humble, regardless of the power and position he'd assumed three years prior. Humility was a bedrock to Tommy, and it was not lost on him that being humble was becoming a rare trait in humanity. If he could influence even a handful of others to find it within themselves, he could die contented.
Despite edging ever over forty, Tommy had retained a youthful face though it did not often reflect his thoughtful calculating demeanor, written in the etchings across his forehead. Back in school, Tommy had had a history teacher who preferred putting aside the textbook to delve deeper into cultures and nuance the books skimmed over. "Context. Perspective. The writers of history tend to lean on the bits they deem most important. Context is everything." Mr. Franklin had said, and it had stayed with Tommy. Mr. Franklin had introduced Tommy to the teaching of the samurai warriors of Japan, the warrior code that bound men to each other, not unlike the O.G.'s of yesteryear that had left legacies their predecessors seldom lived up to and squandered. He'd learned about the Muslim King Sala al Din, the only man to unite all Muslim countries to fight against the Crusaders but believed deeply in science, math, philosophy and was a master tactician. It had also been Mr. Franklin that had introduced Tommy to rap and hip hop on what Mr. Franklin dubbed "a spiritual level." Learning about Shaolin from the Wu-Tang Clan and their desire for peace but preparation for war resonated with Tommy still.
Tommy had four brothers and two sisters. His eldest brother, Bobby, had died from cancer when Tommy was eight. He couldn't remember what Bobby looked like anymore, only fleeting memories of Bobby kicking Tommy out of his room and stealing Bobby's high school textbooks. It was Tommy's older sisters who'd convinced Tommy that girls were inherently smarter than boys, something his brothers still seemed to prove daily. In spite of having known many girls who'd tested his sisters' assertions, Tommy admired Trisha and Candice more than anyone. They strove obsessively to be as far from the life as possible. They'd always been a team, Candice three years older than Tommy, Trisha two. They'd fought to be seen as equal to their brothers and earned it. They'd matured long before adulthood and found the desire of their brothers and cousins to be shot callers and enforcers like their father and uncles to be absurd. Years of watching and spying on the wives and girlfriends, listening in on the gossip, the girls knew what they didn't want to be. Crushes on their brothers' friends turned to torching photos in resolution and picking up their textbooks and focusing on competitive sports. They'd embraced their black sheep status rejecting with pride anyone trying to bully them over it.
Now both sisters had what they dubbed actual lives. Trisha was a financial adviser for a large global financial firm, with two children going to the best schools in New York state, married to one of the best humanitarian lawyers in the world, a Brit named Terrence. Candice was going on her sixteenth year with the NYFD, also married with two kids and recently remarried to wife number two, Vella, an ER doctor at Mt. Sanai. Tommy was glad. It kept them safe, not that things had been unsafe. Tommy's father Robert Lynch and his crew had tried to keep the neighborhood as gentrified as possible as a trade for the less than legal activities. He thought it the sensible tact to keep residents and police more open to looking away. For the most part, it had worked and it was with that in mind that Tommy ran the Lynch territory. The benevolent gangster, Trish called him.
When it had fallen to Tommy to take over the businesses three years before, in effect to save them from his two older brothers Conor and Seamus, Tommy hadn't been surprised but he also hadn't been thrilled. Tommy treasured the small freedoms he'd been afforded by not being in charge. Now those loves and dreams were locked in a safe cemented in the floor at the back of the closet of his soul. His older brothers enjoyed the perks of their lives and once too often pushed the boundaries in public, not unlike and frequently at the behest of the youngest Lynch brother, mICKEY.
That cold morning as he walked into his gym The House, it was the occupied wrestling mat at the back corner that caught his attention first. This was the fourth morning in a row; no one but the kids ever used it and no one but Tommy and those friends who practiced jiu jitsu ever used it. And now, the brunette was training alone. She mopped it before using it, warming up on a stationary bike while it dried, always mopping it again when she was done. Guys lifting weights leered and smirked, Tommy noting them with his "judgement face" as his younger brother Mickey dubbed it. Tommy went back to watching her from behind his sunglasses in earnest, respecting her agility and flexibility. She was a wrestler, he had no doubt by the movements and body positions. He wondered if she trained jiu jitsu, training partners were always welcome.
The new member was noticeably inconspicuous compared to many of the members including his girlfriend, who preferred the "less gets more eyes" approach to gym attire. The brunette wore a rashguard and long basketball shorts over compression pants. It was functional, considerably so when he looked to his girlfriend Amber, who was barely dressed in a hot pink barely-there sports bra and black booty shorts, and taking an "inspirational" puckered kiss selfie in front of the mirrors for her social media pages. Her attention on the details of her face angle, she hadn't noticed Tommy and his crew enter. Tommy had meant to walk passed and upstairs to the office, which would be met with complaints from Amber, that was a problem for later. He'd made his way to the mat without realizing, watching the new client sprawling and practicing single leg shots. The wrestler noted his approach and finished a sprawl before removing an ear bud and approaching him.
She was almost as tall as he was, maybe 5'7, sweaty and red-cheeked from the workout. Dark brown hair had been braided back, light topaz eyes and a great smile.
"I'm sorry, you didn't have to stop." Tommy apologized.
"Totally fine. What's up?" the wrestler smiled wider, sincerely. "Do you need the mat? I can mop up?"
"No, no. It's cool. I've seen you...I own the gym." the words fumbled their way from Tommy's usually polished mouth. "It's just been a long time since anyone used the mats. Now I'm glad I didn't throw them away."
"Me too. It's impossible to find a place that has them that isn't an MMA grunt factory."
Tommy started laughing. "That's why I got them." he said a little too loudly in his enthusiasm.
The wrestler continued smiling. "This is a great gym. Well done. And if you ever decide to get rid of them, let me know. It's always been a life goal to have them in my house for flooring."
"Seriosuly?" Tommy laughed hard trying to imagine.
"Train at home, sleep on the floor, no aching joints from cleaning house all day,"
"Getting old gets old." Tommy commiserated and then wished he could take the words back in case he'd just accidentally insulted her. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
The wrestler laughed. "It's fine. You aren't wrong. Punishment for the ignorance of our youth."
Tommy's smile was wide. A warrior and a philosopher? he thought.
"Oooh myyyyy gaaaawwd, beeeeeeehb," the voice cut through the room and his smile. Amber approached and threaded her arm through Tommy's and leaned against him. "Hiiiii. Sooorry to cut in." Amber smiled irritably, cocking her head to the side to address Tommy.
"Beeeehb, I forgot my towel." Amber pouted, She was as tall as Tommy, platinum blonde, flawless spray-tanned skin from head to toe, sparkling blue eyes with long false lashes to accentuate them. "Are there any in our Escalade?"
Tommy smiled through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, trying to remain patient and unaffected.
"No, there's nothing in the SUV." Tommy always wondered at the struggle for patience he had with Amber but it remained a constant one.
"Are you sure? I could have sworn I put some back there." Amber insisted.
"I'm sure. There'd be no reason to have your towel in my truck." He regretted the words and tone immediately and knew he'd be regretting them further later. Amber pouted her lips at him.
"I guess I'll have to use one of yours then." she sighed. "His towels, let me just tell you," Amber turned to address the wrestler, "...are such trash. They're totally like loofa sponges."
"Oh I get it. Guys and their sandpaper." the wrestler went along with Amber.
"Oh my god, riiiight? It's sooooo tragic I can't even! Like I'm not trying to exfoliate at the gym!" Amber went on.
"Seriously, can I just tell you that you are," the wrestler pointed at giant black and white canvas photos displayed on the walls of various muscle groupings, "absolutely fierce. Those are just as stunning as you are in person." the wrestler complimented sincerely.
"You know that's me? Oh my goood! Behb, can we keep her?" Amber exclaimed cheerily, the jealousy vanishing and grabbed the wrestler's forearm in a familiar embrace.
"I can tell by the contours in the shoulder blade and the little tattoo you can just barely see the corner... Gorgeous. Really."
"I am not even! Oh my God thank you! I like have no make up on right now, I feel so gross! And you! Look at you so athletic and strong! I bet you'd be so pretty with your makeup done and like a professional hair style!" Amber was as happy as she could be and Tommy was quietly grateful and equally embarrassed. The wrestler stood smiling, Tommy knew in his gut she knew exactly how to deal with Amber and had intentionally sought to bring down the drama level, despite the backhanded compliment she'd just received from his less than political other half.
"Do you have a DIY makeup tutorial on line I can at least try to practice?" the wrestler continued smiling. Tommy choked down his laughter.
"OMG! Behb! Weren't we just talking about that?" Amber excitedly clutched Tommy's forearm.
"We were." he nodded, wishing he could walk out the door.
"Behb- oh my god your manners!" Amber chided him. "I'm Amber, this is my boyfriend Tommy, he owns the gym, ob-vi." she held her cupped hand out, fingers facing downward. Tommy saw the wrestler's nose twitch trying to hide the disdain of the weak handshake his girlfriend was offering but shook Amber's fingers regardless.
"Vaughn." the wrestler introduced herself, smiling at them both, "...it's a pleasure to meet you."
"I am so happy to meet you too! Oh my god your name is so different!"
Amber's attention went to her phone. When Vaughn shook Tommy's hand, it was firm and meaningful, just the way Dad had taught all of the Lynch children to. He knew immediately Trish and Candice would like her.
"Forgive me if I excuse myself and finish up here and get out of your hair," Vaughn said motioning to the mat.
'Nicely done,' Tommy thought to himself and smirked.
"Oh totally! Go for it girl! You do you!" Amber replied cheerily and distracted, not looking up from her phone.
"Really a pleasure to meet you both." Vaughn shook Tommy's hand once more and winked at him. He bowed slightly acknowledging the victory.
" I need to get off my ass and come roll with you. It's been too long and I love jits but it's not the same."
"It's not the same," she said at the same time. "When you're ready, we will see if you still have six in you." Vaughn smirked, referring to the length of time for a wrestling match.
"It's like that?" Tommy laughed.
"Oooohhhh behb, look out," Amber half-heartedly entered into the conversation, still focused on her phone.
"It is." Vaughn smirked. She started to step back. "this," she motioned to the gym, "might be yours, but this," she reached the center of the mat and spread her arms out, "this is mine."
Tommy started laughing.
"Challenge accepted." Tommy nodded, thoroughly enjoying the simple interaction.
"Beeeeehb, I still need a towel." Amber whined, but remained texting and distracted by her phone. Tommy rubbed his neck irritably with his hand. He didn't want to make a show of his irritation with Amber to a stranger but gave her an apologetic look. Vaughn smiled slightly in understanding and put her ear bud back in and continued on with her workout.
Tommy turned to continue his journey up to the office, Amber hastily grabbed his hand while remaining fixated on her phone.
"Loooove yooou, beehhhhhb." she said absently as they walked.
"Love you too." Tommy sighed.
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