Rivals?

Chapter 24

Daniel's POV

I'm still in awe as I am driving to my boss's house to explain what happened. I still can't believe Mikayla did all that for me.

I look back at the melted ice in my cup holder that she gave me for my nose. I smile a little and put my focus back on the road. She even gave me five hundred dollars for the bet. I didn't have the heart to tell her the bet was worth one grand. Five-hundred could probably hold Lane off enough so I can make up the rest of the money.

My stomach churns and I feel bruises forming all over my body all ready. Everything aches and hurts. It's not like I haven't gotten beat up before, but I've never gotten shot. I'm lucky it was a shitty gun. Maybe he was telling the truth about not having money because obviously he can't afford a gun to actually do something.

I frown, now remembering telling Mikayla about my betting job. She probably thinks I am a gambling addict, thirsty for money. However, I am the complete opposite. I have money. Well, my parents have money. However, they won't lead me to five-hundred dollars so I can just drop that idea.

I started to get nervous realizing they were going to find out soon or later I got beat up from my face and my limp. 

I try to drown out my thoughts by turning up the music. I tap my finger on the center console with my non-driving hand. I drive slowly to enjoy the music before getting to my boss's house. 

Even with the music playing, I picture Mikayla's hurt eyes. Why the hell am I such a douchebag? Putting her through all this, even with her... family issues. 

"I'm a fucking asshole," I say, running my hands through my hair, sighing loudly. 

I just want to make it up to Mikayla. She doesn't deserve all the shit I put her through. God, why can't I just be normal? A normal, football-playing guy, who makes bad grades and screws cheerleaders? 

No. I think to myself. I can't do that to myself. That's not me. Except for the football-playing part. 

I pull into my boss's driveway and turn down my radio. He's sitting on the porch, rocking a chair and smoking a cigar. He nods at my truck, almost like he was expecting me.

I get out, shove the money and my phone in my shorts pocket, and try to hide my limp as I walk up the porch. I stand in front of him, leaning on the porch railing, and meet his gaze.

"Shot?" He asks, simply after blowing out his cigar smoke in my direction on purpose.

My eye twitches in anger. I cough slightly but don't take my eyes off of his.

"Where's my money, son?" He looks down at his ashtray but doesn't put his cigar out.

"I have half of it, Lane," I say, trying to hide the anger and annoyance in my voice. My leg starts to hurt terribly again and I put all my weight on my opposite leg and lean into the railing more.

He looks back up at me. I glance at the cross tattoo on his right cheek and then the blood drop on the other. His sleeve tattoo's a showing on his muscles since he's wearing a white tank top. 

"See, son. I need all of the money. Where's the other half?" He asks, taking another long puff of his cigar. 

"I took as much of it from him as I could. Since you already know I was shot, you probably know he was being stubborn with the money, so I had to dig in his pockets for the money, and only got half." I lie, getting the money out of my pocket and handing it to him. 

"Oh, Daniel. Poor Daniel Blake." He says, standing up. He pins me against the railing, his cigar still in his hand. 

He puts out the cigar on my arm. I feel a terrible sting and sizzling sensation on my arm and grimace at the immediate reaction to the heat on my arm. 

He drops the dead cigar on the porch before looking back at me. I'm taller than him. He's old, short, but strong. He puts one hand around my neck and squeezes it slightly so I can still breathe, but also letting me know he can kill me right here right now.

"If I don't get that money by the end of next week, you're dead, Blake." He says, looking at me with his red eyes.

I nod and he lets me go and walks inside the house, slamming the door. 

I shiver at the fact he called me by my last name and I walk towards my truck, deciding to go home and lie to my dad instead of staying in a hotel, knowing he's going to find out either way.