They stood out on these streets. They looked more like kids cruising a suburban mall than the people who lived here.

Barry ducked into a store, “a bo-de-ga,” he over pronounced to Tommy and Mike, his eyes wide open for emphasis while flashing that Hollywood smile. The guys were not so enthralled with their new college roommate right now. “Here,” he passed a brown bag to Tommy.

“What is it?”

“A forty.”

“What?”

“Just drink it.”

Tommy took a swig and made a face like he’d bitten a lemon. “Oh, that’s, that’s…”

But before he could finish Barry took the bottle out of his hands and took a long drink. “Hey,” he pushed the bottle to Mike, “a little local flavor.” Mike gave Barry a sly sliding look, wiped the mouth of the bottle, and took a conservative sip.

“Where is this place?”

“Just a few more blocks,” Barry answered and after another sip he settled into the street.

To Tommy, it felt like every eye was on him. “Barry, I feel like, I feel like a fucking Ralph Lauren ad on a porn site.” He noticed some guys, his age, in hooded sweatshirts with their arms crossed, not looking directly at him, but looking all the same. Shadowy figures, hunched over, or sitting on the stoop, their legs wide open. “I thought we were going to a club.”

“What?” Barry asked, “You afraid to live a little?”

“No, I’m afraid to die a little.”

“You with me, okay. You’re fine, okay?” Barry’s eyebrows shot up emphasizing the question. “Just relax.”

From the steps, “You boys lost.” It wasn’t a question.

Tommy wanted to jack-rabbit, but Barry slung his arm around him keeping him still. Barry’s mouth was open just a bit and jutted his chin in the direction of the voices. Barry was all street. Relaxed. “I’m Deke’s cousin comin in to visit. These are my friends. You okay with that?”

Mike looked at Barry with new eyes. Barry was bad-ass.

“Have fun boys,” the man said and Barry shot him a wave and pulled his friends along, and down the street.

The guys from the stoop got up and followed.

“Oh, shit,” Mike whispered and Tommy looked over his shoulder.

“You’re gonna get us killed,” Tommy said low and made fists.

“Relax, it’s just up ahead. If they wanted to harm us, they would have by now.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Yeah.”

They walked to the door of an abandoned warehouse, they could hear voices inside, echoey in the open space. “Come on,” Barry jogged ahead of his friends. The inside of the warehouse was lit up with construction lights and a large group of mostly men stood around tipping beers, talking, and from the crowd a large man with a pronounced limp ambles forth. “Aye, College Boy,” and his face was alive with his smile.

“Deke!”

“Whatchoo doing here, huh?” And he nodded to Tommy and Mike.

“Come to see you.” Then Barry shot a glance back to the guys tailing them and watched them disband.

“Now I know college is boring.”

Barry laughed an exaggerated “Ha-haaa,” letting the last run of a’s string out and echo. “These are my friends, Tommy and Mike.” Barry made a sweeping gesture toward the two. “This is my cuz, Deke.”

Deke offers his hand, “Good to meet you,” and he sounds genuine. “Just push your way through, it’s gonna start in a few.”

“Can you hang?”

“Not tonight, I got the book.”

“Sweet. Movin up.”

“Movin up.” Deke shot him a wink. “You boys want a bet on the fights?”

Barry pulled a twenty out of his pocket. “I got twenty says the first one goes five minutes.”

“Fights?” Mike looked over to Tommy who shrugged.

“Hold, hold,” Barry said and raised a finger to keep his friends quiet.

“Twenty for five,” Deke says, and jotted the numbers on a pad and gave Barry a chit. “House takes five.”

“House takes five.” Barry repeats.

Deke disappeared into the crowd taking bets along the way.

“Fights?”

“Yeah, man. Bum fights. It’s crazy. They gather up a bunch of homeless dudes, and offer them money to fight. It can get insane.”

“That’s,” Tommy was about to say something arbitrary.

“Listen, they need the cash and know the score. No one forces them into it. You don’t want to hang, I understand, but I ain’t leaving. Got me.” His expression turned from friendly to menace.

There was no way Tommy or Mike were going it alone, so they followed.

Barry cut through the crowd quick as a bouncer, and sidled up ring side. “Oh, man,” and his body went slack.

“What?” Mike said.

“See that dude,” Barry pointed at a man bouncing in his corner of the open ring. There were no ropes, just duct tape on the floor to indicate the ring. “I used to spar against him. He’s good.” Barry rubbed his hand over his head. “I think I’m out a cool twenty.”

Mike clapped him on the back.

“Look who he’s fighting,” Barry pointed to a jagged-out junkie shuffling, lurching, his vagabond outfit trailing like streamers. The junkie looked around, and a crazy smile broke across his face.

“Looks like someone spent their winnings already!” Someone yelled above the jeers and yells of the swelling crowd and got a gunshot laugh in return.

Mike and Tommy are riveted, watching the boxer approach the bum. Tommy yells something and raises his fist, anticipating the violence.

The junkie stares as the boxer comes forth, and snarls.

“Oh, man! This is way past cool,” Mike yells.

The boxer shifts fast and blasts a heavy right that sends a blood arc into the crowd.

The cheer is deafening. Mike gets something in his eye, and he turns from the fight, rubbing his face on his clean white shirt. It was blood. He’s scared, he’s past scared, grossed out, and runs the drummed in facts of HIV through his mind. Airborne, I should be fine, but hep, oh, fuck, he thinks and steps deeper into the crowd.      Tommy grabs the bottle from Barry, rinses his mouth and spits it out.

The junkie is still standing.

“What the fuck?” Some one yells and the disbelief spreads.

The boxer looks at the junkie and can’t believe what he’s seeing, gesturing his surprise. He dances a bit and throws a jab, but the junkie lunges, grabs the boxer by the waist biting his hip.

The boxer’s eyes go wide, his mouth makes an O, and he pummels the junkie with his elbows. Deke races in, grabbing the junkie around the shoulders and gives him a spin. Deke sends him sprawling into the crowd, and lurches strong and fast after the man. “Bust him up, Deke,” someone yells, but then there’s another scream.

The crowd fans back away from the raggedy man, the biter, moving away like a school of fish from the jaws of a predator.

Barry raced ahead, cutting through the crowd to watch. Tommy stood still, putting his hand to his forehead and one hand out to catch his balance. Mike was on his back, writhing from something.

“What’s this boy on?” A man bending over Mike yelled to Tommy. But all Tommy felt was a rage. He wanted to shriek and attack the man, but he was too weak. The floor seemed to up end itself and twirl, and Tommy landed with a swack.

“Deke!” Barry pushed past the idlers.

“Fucker,” Deke was cradling his hand, his face was pale and his shirt was bloodied. “Take me to the ER,” he yelled to Barry.

Deke’s legs went out from under him.

“I got you.” Barry couldn’t hold him up. Around them the shrieks grew to screams.

“Where you friends?” His voice was weak and Barry looked up.

“Here they come,” Barry brushed his cousin’s face, he looked up to ask for help but couldn’t. Tommy and Mike were shuffling toward him, nice and slow, their eyes shined with a primal rage and their mouths were twisted into murderous grins.