American Sweethearts

21

"I thought you said we were going somewhere safe," I frown, taking in the building before me.

"You're safer here than in the apartment," Tyler says, dropping his cigarette onto the floor. He steps on it, putting it out with his feet. He heads towards the metal garage door, and I make sure to stay close to him.

This place does not feel safe at all. We're in an industrial area outside of town. There's a flickering street light over our head, and an eery darkness in the air. This whole street seems abandoned. There's graffiti all over the place, except for on the roll-up door before us.

There's a normal, wooden door beside it, but Tyler doesn't touch it. Instead, he bangs on the metal door, making it clang loudly. Seconds later, it begins to rise.

Tyler ducks beneath it, but I stick my head under it first, just to check that it actually is safe.

The inside of the building looks a lot better than the outside. It's a gym, with multiple boxing rings, and other kinds of equipment. It actually looks kind of nice. It's well lit, and the walls are painted white. There are only three other guys here, one of which, is Owen.

I don't recognise the other two. One is old, bald, and chubby, while the other is younger, but still older than me. He's got dreadlocks tied up in a ponytail, and beads of sweat are dripping down his forehead. He wipes them away, and glances at me, but before either of us says anything, we're interrupted by the sound of Tylers yelling.

"You fucking dick!" He shoves the bald man. "I'm on parole, you fucking idiot! You want me to go to jail?!"

"You're going there anyway! I've seen the shit you do! I know how much of a good-for-nothing lowlife you are!" The man responds.

"Look who's talking!" Tyler scoffs. "You can't even pay your fucking bills!"

"And who's fault is that, huh?!"

"Your fucking own! Maybe if you took your fucking head out of your ass for two fucking seconds you'd realise what a waste of space you are!"

"Watch your fucking mouth! I'm still your father!"

"You're nothing but a fucking junky!"

"I fucking raised you!"

"Is that what you call it? Running around snorting coke and getting pissed?" Tyler snickers. "I raised my goddamn self!"

"And look how you turned out, huh? Just like your father!" He smirks.

Tyler lunges at him, but he doesn't make it. Owen interferes, pulling Tyler back by his waist. They struggle against each other, until eventually, the bald man holds his hands up in surrender and takes a few steps back. Tyler breathes heavily, with his fists balled at his sides. Owen whispers something in his ear, causing him to step back, too.

"Alright, alright," the guy with the dreads says, rubbing his hands together. His eyes flicker between Tyler and his father. "What's the situation?"

"Fuck if I know," the bald man shrugs.

Tyler snickers. "You're little buddies keep showing up at my house!"

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about."

I definitely know where Tyler gets his language from.

"You know damn well what's going on! You can't pay your fucking debts!"

"I don't know what he's-"

"Quit the bullshit, John," Owen scoffs. "We all know the kind of shit you're involved with."