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Though exhausted by the epic battle, Lincoln woke up early the next day due to intense tooth, eye and elbow pain. Good thing it was a Saturday, as he couldn't bend his right arm enough to go to work. A look in the mirror told him his gouged eye was completely bloodshot. He also felt disturbingly dizzy, and wondered how bad a concussion he had. Checking his phone, he saw he had fifty-seven new voice messages. He turned on the TV while preparing to check them. His jaw dropped.
The news was on. "The town of Raiseville is in shock this morning as a video uploaded online last night apparently shows local singer Freya Blackstar being mercilessly assaulted by an unidentified black male," the female anchor's voice announced, after which part of Lincoln's fight with the girl began playing onscreen. The grainy, clearly cell phone-recorded clip started with Lincoln standing over a spread-eagled "Freya Blackstar" before jumping into the air to deliver another elbow. "Here we see the unidentified male savagely attacking his already unconscious and defenseless victim."
"Christ man she was just stunned," Lincoln said to no one in particular. "She got up and kicked my ass."
The scene on the screen switched to Lincoln straddling Freya, pounding away on her face. "And here again, he is seen continuing to beat the helpless young woman nearly to death. It is reported Freya was able to leave the scene under her own power, but many are calling the plausibility of that report into question. Meanwhile, our police department is diligently investigating this matter."
Lincoln threw his remote at the TV, knocking the flatscreen off its stand, then grabbed his arm in pain. "That video is edited! Fucking bitch and her bitch friends! That video is fucking edited!"
He then started to check his messages.
"Hey Lincoln man I saw you beating the shit out of that girl, that's not cool man. If you have a problem you can talk to me and I'll help you get the help you need, but if you can't keep yourself in control you're gonna get locked up for murder."
"Lincoln what drugs were you trying out last night? You looked like you thought you were in a cage fight, beating the makeup off that girl."
"Hi this is Joanne from the community center, if you need a lawyer or psychiatrist I can find you one for a commission of $500 each."
"Yo Lincoln that was awesome! I hate that chick, can't sing for shit. Happy you did what I always wanted to do!"
Lincoln exited voicemail. Goddammit. There was a knock at the door. His heart sank. Somebody must have already ratted him out to the cops. He looked through the peephole and to his surprise saw Freya's face, covered in bruises and Band-Aids.
"Guess the cops must be on the side, huh bitch? I have rights too cops do you hear me?! She hit me first, I fucking swear! If I get arrested for assault you damn well better arrest her too!"
"Dang, loud. No, I didn't bring the cops."
He looked back through the peephole. "Why should I believe you bitch?"
She frowned. "Well, if I brought the cops they would knock the door down. Heck, I could knock it down. But I want you to open it."
"And why should I do that?" Lincoln crept away from the door and got his baseball bat in case she had a weapon—and maybe even if she didn't. "So you can kick my ass again?"
"I kicked it enough last night. Besides, I'm a little banged up to be in the mood for another fight. Please don't make me break your door." Hesitantly, he opened it. She walked in. "Put that baseball bat down. I'd just break it in half and ram it up your ass."
He did it. "So why are you here? You want to extort me? Pay you off so you'll drop the charges?"
Freya laughed. "With what money? I have a tad more than you I think."
"Hey, stop being a racist bitch. I'll have you know I have lots of money."
"Probably not more than me. I do pay people off to let me fight in their bars." She sat down on his couch without asking him. "By the way, nice TV setup. But I'm not a racist."
His eyes narrowed. "Yeah? What was that dark man shit."
"I'll get to that. But really, I'm not a racist. My best friend in junior high was a half black half Hispanic girl."
"So what? Half black half Hispanic girls ain't black men." But his voice softened and lost conviction because really, he believed her. "I'll have you know I have over two hundred K saved up. Might not beat you but for my age that's a lot."
"Okay fine, that is a lot. But I'm not here to extort you. Really do you think I'd do something like that?" She raised her hand and made a fist—a small, but really strong fist. "I'm a Gothic warrior."
"Sure, sure. So why are you here?"
She smiled. "You put up a great fight against me. Better than anyone has in a while. So...
"You're going to be my bodyguard."
Lincoln did a double take. "What the..? The hell does that make sense? You beat the shit out of me and now you want me to protect you?"
"Oh yeah, I know I can take you. But how many bodyguards couldn't I say that about? You tested me like I rarely get tested. Checked my chin a few times good."
"Naw bitch, I have a career man! I can't just drop everything to go running around with some goth band."
"You know, I could not vouch for you regarding our fight..."
"You are extorting me, you bitch!"
She shrugged. "And what is this great career you saved so much money from?"
"I'm a coach. A boxing coach."
"Now that's awful. You're a coach and you throw eighty hooks in a row in a fight? I don't think you even know what a straight is."
"Shut the fuck up."
"Seriously though, you still look pretty young. So why are you a boxing coach and not just a boxer?"
Lincoln hung his head. "I was, dammit, a good one. But I used to be a skinny kid and even though I could beat most guys in my weight class, I wasn't satisfied not being able to compete to be the very best in the world—you know, with the heavyweights. So I took a whole lotta steroids and bulked up until I was two hundred twenty pounds of pure muscle. Unfortunately, I was so messed in the head by the drugs I couldn't control my rage in the ring. In my second bout as a heavyweight I knocked out my opponent and he got hung up in the ropes. I didn't notice he was out and I punched him to death.
"Now I'm not the nicest guy in the world, but I got pretty shook up over killing another kid. I tried to have another fight after that, but I couldn't even get in the ring. So I retired and became a coach."
"You killed a heavyweight boxer and you had no qualms about punching me full out in the face? You could have killed me!"
He rolled his eyes. "Not likely. You're some kind of superhuman, mutant beast girl or something." Lincoln paused. "Sorry about the cheap shots last night though. When I grabbed you by the hair while you were busy with your purse and kneed your face into mush."
"Oh don't worry, I kept score. That's why I raked your eye instead of just punching you."
"You little slut!"
She laughed. "So on the bodyguarding thing, you know you'll be a celebrity again if you hang with me for a while, right? I'll pay you more than you earn as a coach, and people will be even more interested in you when you go back to coaching."
"Okay, maybe you're right. So would I have to wear ninety percent black all the time if I accept this gig?"
"Only when you're with us. What, are you that picky about clothes?"
"Eh, guess not. One other thing though. You broke one of my teeth. If I agree to this, I expect you to replace it."
Her eyes went wide a bit. "I did? Sorry. Of course I'll pay for it.
"And I know I really was being a bitch back there. Asking you to lick up my drink and all that... I need to keep myself on a tighter leash when I'm in a bad mood."
Lincoln couldn't help a slight, pained grin. He was starting to like the little bitch. "Well it's a good thing it was us two who found each other, because if the girl picking a fight with me wasn't a Gothic warrior my first punch mig
ht've killed her ass."
"That's sexist! How do you know another girl wouldn't have taken it as well as me?"
"Because you're fucking ridiculous. Speaking of which, you still haven't explained the dark man thing."
"Do you believe I'm not racist?"
"Yeah I believe you. You're just crazy."
"Then don't worry about it." Freya's voice grew lower. "You'll learn all about the dark man soon enough."
Lincoln squinted. "Are you messing with me?"
"Maybe, maybe not." She stood and handed him a card. "Here's our studio address. You have the weekend off, come in to work on Monday at 8 am. And you can give me the bill from the dentist when you get it." She offered her hand. "No hard feelings?"
He tested her handshake by giving her his hardest squeeze. She squeezed back just as hard, and he grinned. "No hard feelings."
Freya slapped him on the back and turned away. "See you Monday, roid monkey."
That took a few moments for Lincoln to process. "Yo, was that a racial jo-" But she was already gone.