9 CHAPTER EIGHT: The Beatdown At Pittsburgh

Kevin sat outside the store opposite Pittsburgh bar, waiting patiently, intending to confront the thugs that’d raped Natasha the previous night. It was already dark, and the street was lonely. He glanced up at the big clock that hung inside the shop.

11:48pm.

He wondered how much longer he would have to wait before they show up.

The shopkeeper who’d noticed him sitting there for a while came to meet him. “Sir, is there something I can help you with?”

After a momentary silence, he said to him, “I will have a bottle of tequila.”

And at once the shopkeeper left to get what he’d requested for. He soon arrived with a bottle of tequila placed side-by-side with a bottle opener in a tray, and set them down on the table before Kevin.

“Thank you.”

Kevin opened the bottle and poured it into a dark glass.

“Wait, please! Don’t go.” he said to the shopkeeper, stopping him mid-way into his store. “I’m waiting for someone, but I don’t know where they might be. Maybe you could help me.”

“A friend of yours?” the shopkeeper turned, raising an eyebrow.

“Six guys that usually hang around here late at night… know where I can find them?”

The look on the shopkeeper’s face suddenly turned depressingly dark, which made Kevin wonder if his question had come out wrong. “Are you a cop?” he asked, cautiously.

“No, no…” he laughed, trying not to spook the shopkeeper, but he wasn’t buying his act.

“Look man,” the shopkeeper leaned forward, eyes darting all directions. “I don’t want any trouble.”

Kevin noticed how troubled he looked. Could tell the shopkeeper knew exactly who he was talking about. “I don’t want any trouble either.” he said in such soothing tone. “I just want to know where I can find them, then I’ll be on my way.”

“Really man, I don’t know. You don’t find them, they find you. You really should get going now if you don’t want to get into any trouble—it’s getting really dark.” The shopkeeper dashed away into his store and shut the windows.

Kevin noticed how scared he looked when he talked about them, and Madelia’s word rattled in his head.

If it’s a guy, they would beat him up and rob him of all his possessions, and if he is lucky, they would let him live.

He shuddered in the chair. Now her words were getting to him. Then he gazed at the big clock above the store. A minute past midnight. And glancing around, he observed that the street was devoid of life. For a spring night, the breeze was freezing. He was the only human still outside. And he could feel the tropic, sticky air with each inhalation; the air so thick you could cut through it.

Kevin thought he caught a motion from the corner of his eye and tripped to his feet from momentary excitement. Then squinting out into the distance, at the intersection, he saw them—some guys coming out of dark corners. They sauntered towards him and seemed to be in no rush.

“One, two, three, four, five,” he counted, “Six.” The corners of his mouth twitching up as he took his seat to wait for them. “It is definitely these guys.”

Kevin kept his cool as they walked towards him. Scooped up the dark glass and emptied it in one dose, then he set it down upon the table. They got to where he sat and surrounded him.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” The guy with a raspy, deep voice spoke. “A guy drinking all by himself out on a dark, lonely street. Been a while since I’d witnessed a scene like this one.” he remarked.

“Actually, I was waiting for you guys.” Kevin said, standing to face them.

He turned to look at their faces. His glare found the thug who’d spoken first; he seemed to be the leader of the gang.

The thugs, taken aback by Kevin’s confidence, started making funny faces at each other, then burst into loud, uncontrollable laughter. Kevin laughed along with them, and they all stopped. The guy in the black jacket—the one who’d spoken first, reeled towards him until he was only inches away, eyes fixed on him.

“You’ve got a problem?” he spoke to his face in a low, controlled tone. “Speak up.”

“You all messed with the wrong girl last night, and to be honest, I’m not happy about it. I’m not going to let this one slide.” Kevin muttered, glaring at him.

There was a long, conflicting silence between them. Again, they started making funny faces at each other, and then burst into loud laughter. Kevin also laughed with them—then they stopped. He did, too.

The guy in the black jacket, growing impatient, came closer. “You’ve got guts, I give you that,” he spoke in the meanest tone Kevin had ever heard. “Coming out here all alone and putting up quite an allegation against us.”

“Hey,” interrupted another, “Are you a cop?”

Kevin became silent, he only glared.

“That right,” the guy on black jacket let out a scornful smile. “Keep your mouth shut, little man. Cause if I so much as hear one more word from you, I’m going to hurt you real…”

Before he could finish, Kevin nodded him in the face so hard that he broke his nose. He retracted backward, letting out a loud, horrific cry. “My nose!” he cried, “He broke my damn nose!” he cursed, holding his nose.

Blood trickled.

He turned to look at the rest of his gang members. “Why are y’all just standing there, and looking at me like some bunch of untrained assholes? This degenerate prick broke my fuck’n nose, and y’all are just gonna stand there and watch me bleed?”

And immediately, they all swung into action, lunching at Kevin.

Kevin quickly dived and dough through their punches. He hit one of them hard in the face. Used his knee to kick another on the groin. Another came charging at him, and he punched him on the chest. The impact sent him falling backward.

A punch he hadn’t expected found his face, throwing him backward. It was the guy in a black jacket. As soon as he was down, they all rushed in to beat him. They kicked and whipped him in the chest with their feet. Another smashed Kevin’s face, with his foot, onto the floor. Another two picked him from the ground, grabbing his arms firmly to restrain him.

“Tough guy, huh!” the guy on black grunted, walking towards him, slamming his fist on his palm.

Reaching him, he punched his nose hard, and Kevin let out a loud frustrating groan. His nostril flared. “No one messes with Shady and gets away with it!” the thug boasted, punching Kevin again—this time below his abdomen. “No one!!”

Kevin groaned, his eyes bulging in pain as the rest joined in—beating and kicking him without restraint. They threw him on the floor and continue hitting him. A car halted on the shoulder of the two-lane road.

“Hey! Hey!!” one of them who had spotted the car alerted the others. “We gotta go now!”