Street Father.

Chap. 1- The Offer

People typically don't like to hear about the negative side of life. They don't like to feel sorry for others. It hurts their soul to realize that most people in the world are struggling just to buy food or pay bills. But that's okay because, typically, people in that kind of situation are too proud to allow others to feel sympathy for them. People like John Rios.

John would go to the ends of the earth to take care of his loved ones. Because his outstanding criminal records prevented him from finding or keeping a legitimate job, he was forced to rely on those same skills that got him into trouble. Sometimes it was hustling pool, other times selling drugs, but his best skill yet was fighting. Ever since he was a child, John had loved to fight and no matter how hard or how often his mother would chastise him, his fighting would get him into trouble-at school and with the law. But now it was his way of life.

John stood in the dank bathroom of the dilapidated building examining the inside of his nose. He wiped the dried blood from his upper lip a final time and tossed the tissue in the bin with several others from the night. He stared at his cross, unshaven face in the dusty mirror and sighed from exhaustion. The sound of the crowds could be heard as loud and clear as they would be were he in the "ring"- it was really just a circle formed by the crowd. John filled his hand with freezing tap water and bent over to sip from it. He swished the rust flavored water around causing his teeth to twinge in pain then spit the liquid back into the sink. He heard the bathroom door screech open as he straightened himself upright and saw two men in classy, high-priced suits.

"Mr. Rios," the taller of the two men asked.

John threw his head back in a short, swift motion to show they were talking to the right person.

"That was quite a performance tonight."

"Can I help you with something?"

"I'm Tyler Wilkes and this is my associate Shaun Beaux. Do you have a minute to talk?"

"You guys cops?"

"No, no. We work for the head of the Puissance Gentleman's Club. He's a sponsor for an exclusive tournament taking place and we were wondering if you'd like to compete."

John scoffed at the request. "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not a sucker, and I think my credibility is good, don't you?"

"Without a doubt," the shorter man began to speak, "but this goes a little bit bigger."

"How much bigger?"

"Care for a ride?"

Normally John wouldn't trust men in suits, but being driven around by high classed men sounded better than sitting in the bathroom for half an hour waiting for his next fight. So, he decided to go with them. What's the worst that could happen he thought. I can handle myself and no one in this city wants to fuck with me anyway. He followed the two men out the back of the building to a black Mercedes-Benz limousine. John climbed into the back as the two swells slid into the front seats. It was the first time John had been in a limo since his high school prom. He had forgotten how nice they were. He didn't even mind how silent the ride was.

After about ten minutes, the car came to its final stop in front of a very regal looking country club. The men let John out the car and into the mansion-like building, and guided him through the halls to a large office behind double doors. Behind a desk, a man sat in a tall chair facing the window. Somehow John couldn't shake the feeling that he had seen the older looking man before. The chair turned and the man was now in full view.

"John!" The man smiled and raised his arms out in front of him so that his hands were leveled with his face as a sign of greetings. John smiled with a sudden reminder of who the man was after hearing his voice. It was Ryan Hearse; a man who was desperately in love with John's mother Lidia-and not very shy with showing it. "Nice to see you again! Come in and have a seat."

Still hesitant, but now calming at the sight of a familiar face, John stepped deeper into the office and took a seat in a large leather chair. As he shifted to make himself comfortable, the chair squeaked and the sound seemed to echo in the emptiness of the room. "How's it going, Mr. Hearse?"

"Oh, come on John, you're a grown man now. Call me Ryan."

"Alright." John chuckled at the mere thought of calling a well known elder by their first name. His mother would have never allowed it when he was a child. Then again, he was far beyond his adolescent years.

"So, how is your mother?"

"She's okay. She moved to Orlando last summer."

"Ah, she's always dreamed of living there." Mr. Hearse's eyes glistened with hopeless longings making the contented businessman appear otherwise dejected. Quickly he sculpted his face to a happier, more pleasing demeanor "How's Renee?"

"She's good." John swallowed before he continued. "She's pregnant."

"Oh that's great! Boy or girl?"

"We think a boy."

"Well, congratulations. I know you two will make good parents." Hearse stood and strutted to a nearby cabinet. He pulled out an intricate crystal bottle and swirled the contents before removing the top. The strong scent of whiskey rushed at John."Would you like a drink?" he asked while pouring the brown poison into a small glass until it filled to the brim.

"No, I quit drinking. And I'm actually a bit pressed for time so if you don't mind, could you tell me what I'm doing here?"

Hearse set the bottle down and chuckled. "Fair enough." He brought the full glass to his lips, not caring that the overfilled glass was losing whiskey over the side. "What are you doing for money, John?"

"Street fighting; same thing I've been doing since high school. You obviously knew that if you sent your monkeys down to get me."

"Oh, I didn't send them," Hearse replied smugly while returning to his seat behind the cherry redwood desk, "they brought you to me. You must be very good at what you do. How much do you make after each fight?"

"About a hundred, give or take."

"And you make a living off of that?"

"We try. Renee works, too. I don't know how we're going to survive when she stops."

"Then perhaps this is coming at the right time. I'm sponsoring a street fighting tournament that begins in just a few days. I send my agents out to find the best street fighters out there so they can compete. You interested?"

"What does this have to do with my family?"

"You said you're financially burdened. Enter this tournament, and you'll be paid three hundred dollars a fight and a one million dollar cash prize if you make it all the way to the top."

"Tempting, but... I don't know Ryan."

Hearse smiled, removed a brick of cash from his coat pocket, and began to count it, slowly moving his fingers through the crisp bills. "I'm simply giving you an option to provide for Renee and your son now and for years to come." He slid the money across the smooth surface of the desk and left it in front of John's hungry eyes. "The choice is yours to make."