Homewrecker (Novel Sample)

Memetic

Cody groaned as he trudged his way up the stairs to his apartment. He'd pushed it a little too far on his run and overestimated how much gas he had left in the tank for the return journey. As a result, his legs were dead. He was short of breath, lightheaded, thirsty and somehow nauseous at the same time.

It was only when he was halfway up the staircase that he noticed the white Bugatti parked below in the driveway. Some rich fucker or the other, he thought idly. He imagined a banker or a lawyer... Someone with soft hands who'd had the world handed to him on a silver platter. Someone with a punchable face, for sure.

He didn't have the energy in him to punch anyone, though. He had sweat his soul out and there was nothing left. He needed food. And water. And sleep. If he managed to drop off immediately, he could get at least six hours of shut-eye before he had to be up again. Six whole hours...

Or not. The sun was rising and Compton was waking up. He'd gotten lucky and found an apartment in one of the quieter areas, but there was no way he was going to get six hours of sleep. The birds were already out, checking the feeders. The cats were also out, also checking on the feeders, predatory motherfuckers that they were. There'd be music, a car horn, a gunshot, police sirens, a fire truck... Six hours? Ha.

He trailed his hand along the railing as he climbed the stairs so he could catch himself if his legs gave out from under him. He was so close to having his chance to fight for the title, it wouldn't do at all if he fell and busted his face open. He couldn't afford an injury.

As he reached his floor, full of regret for not taking the elevator, he spotted his landlady tacking a sheet of paper to his door.

He was no stranger to eviction notices. Cody had learned to spot them from miles away. Desperation and raw adrenaline surged through his veins, strengthening his body, and he shot up the stairs, taking them two at a time. "Hey!" he called, running to catch up to the woman who was moving fast for her age. He'd pegged her as sixty, but he might have been off by a decade or two. "Karen! Hold up! Fuck—" he swore, sprinting down the walkway. Fuck, he was tired. Three hours of capoeira and then laps in the pool after that... He should have skipped the run. His body needed a break.

"Hey," he grabbed her elbow before she could turn the corner.

"Don't fucking touch me, Cody!" she snapped. "I swear to God, I'll—"

He waved the eviction notice at her. "Are you for real?" he shouted. "Jesus, we talked about this last week, I explained—"

"You're two months behind."

"I told you—"

She put her finger in his face, stopping him in his tracks. "I googled it! Did you think I wouldn't google it? You don't have a fight coming up. There's no big payday. You haven't fought in months. You've just been blowing smoke up my ass. Fucking liar."

He hadn't lied so much as spoken his truth to the universe. He was the number one contender. Joshua Wilder had gone one full year without defending his middleweight championship. By ACF rules, he'd have to either accept a fight or forfeit his belt. Cocky motherfucker that Joshua was, Cody couldn't imagine the man simply letting his eight-year reign over the middleweight division end in a whimper.

Joshua wasn't as hungry for the fight as he used to be, now that he was branching out into Hollywood movies, but he was still a fighter at heart. His latest movie, Black Jaguar, had made a billion dollars at the box office, and everyone had thought the man would have retired right then and there, but he hadn't.

Joshua would never just give away his belt. He'd want to go out with a bang. Something spectacular.

Enter Cody, stage right. He'd been poking the Joshua Wilder bear for the last three years and one way or the other, he was going to get what he deserved.