Chapter 11
Debby summoned her last ounce of strength and pulled herself into an upright position.
She sat on the pool table and eagerly watched the battle that was shaping up before her eyes. She rubbed the sweat and tears out of her eyes so that she could focus and see who the combatants were.
Two big men stood behind her, their fists clenched and ready to do battle. Her back was to them, so she still didn't know who they were.
Prairie Dog and Mousy were both out cold on the floor.
"Okay," said a familiar voice behind her. "You take the guy on the left. That's Billy. I'll handle King. I've got a score to settle with that asshole!"
"Anything you say, Pete," came the reply. "Let's get these fuckers and beat the livin' shit outta them."
"Butch!" Debby screamed delightfully as she recognized her brother's deep, growling voice. "And Pete!" she added. She sat straight up on the pool table, the perfect place to view the impending battle.
Pete flung himself at King, who slammed the pool stick down on the man's muscular back.
It broke in two as though it were a mere toothpick. Pete kept on coming. With a full body block, he slammed King into the wall. King threw a short left hook that caught Pete square on the chin. But the big man shrugged it off and began throwing hard punches into King's chest and belly. King backed up, holding his stomach.
His face was contorted in pain. But he wasn't about to give up. His pride was on the line. If Pete Komisky beat him in a fight, King would never be able to show his face in Manhattan Beach again. He and Pete had fought before, he remembered. After the last high school football game. They had both been hurt badly, but no one had won the fight.
This time, King knew, there had to be a winner -and a loser.
Summoning all of his strength and energy, King moved forward and threw two short left jabs, which connected just beneath Pete's right eye. Immediately, Pete's eyelid began to swell. King laughed as he watched Pete's eyes close from the swelling.
"Ha! Ha!" he laughed gloatingly. "I'm gonna pepper your fucking face until you can't see shit. Then I'm gonna finish you off. I'm puttin' your clumsy fuckin' ass in the hosp-" Wham! Wham! Wham! Before King could finish his sentence, Pete connected with three short punches to the mid-section.
King doubled over, gasping for breath.
"Get him, Pete!" Debby shrieked with excitement. "Hit him! Hit that bastard!"
Pete grabbed a thick swath of King's hair, twisted it into a ball with his strong fingers, and turned to speak to Debby, who was so avidly cheering him on.
"This one is dedicated to you, darling," he told her. Then he balled his right hand into a tight fist, reached way down until his massive fist almost touched the floor, paused a second to take a deep breath, and with all of his might, he threw a wicked uppercut which landed directly on King's mouth with the force of a sledge-hammer.
Debby saw small particles flying out of King's mouth. One of them flew up onto the pool table where she was sitting. She reached down and picked it up. It was a tooth!
King was out cold. Pete released his grip on the unconscious man's hair and let him fall.
King puddled to the floor.
Pete spat on the defeated man and turned his attention to Debby. He stepped toward her, and hugging her tightly, gave her a big, wet kiss. Debby blushed and whispered in his ear, "You sure are one hell of a man, Pete. I love you."
During the fight, Billy and Butch had been transfixed watching the action. They had stood side-by-side, almost as though they were friends. But now that the fight between Pete and King was over, it was time to get down to business.
Billy didn't want anything to do with Butch. Billy was a strong, muscular man -well-built and wiry, quick on his feet. And pretty big, at 190 pounds. He had never shied away from a fight in his life. And he had won most of the fights that he had been in. But never -never in Billy's life -had he ever encountered a man the size of Butch Davis.
He backed away from Butch, making his way toward the front door, the only avenue of escape. As he backed away, he took a careful look at his foe. What he saw scared the hell out of him. Butch weighed at least 250, maybe more, Billy figured. And although the big man had a beer belly, the rest of his massive body was firm and muscular.
"Well, little sister," Butch remarked. "Pete and I have three of these boys stretched out on the floor and fast asleep. What about this here fella. What's his name?" Turning to look at Billy, he asked the man, "What's your name, kid?"
"B-B-Billy," he stammered.
"Yeah, well like I was saying, little sister, what should I do with this here fella, Billy? Seems to me that I saw him in here messin' with your little body, Sis. Is that right, or were my eyes playing tricks on me?"
Turning to Billy, who continued to back up in hopes of escaping out the front door, Butch asked, "Is that right, fella? You been messin' with my little sister?"
"No!" Billy blurted as he dashed toward the door. He grabbed the door knob and tried to open it, but it was locked. There was no escape!
"What do you say, Sis? Was this here boy givin' you some trouble?"
"Yes," Debby replied bluntly. "He's a mean, evil bastard. I trusted him, but he brought me here and invited all of his friends over to rape me. Beat him up, Butch! Kick his ass!"
"No sooner said than done, Sis," Butch replied. "Well, son," he said to Billy, who was shaking like a leaf. "How do you want it? In the guts, maybe? Naw. I can't give it to you in the guts, because the way you're shakin', it don't look like you got any guts, boy. Well, shit, if you ain't got no preferences, I guess I'll have to take matters into my own hands."
With that, he lunged across the bar room, grabbed Billy in a tight headlock and began to squeeze the man's neck until his face turned beet-red and he was choking for air.
Turning to Debby, Butch said, "Since it was you that this here boy was fuckin' with, it seems only proper that you should kick his ass. Come on down here and give this punk a few good old Iowa boots, Sis."
Debby was more than happy to oblige. Pete helped her down from the pool table. Butch positioned Billy so that his ass was high in the air, and Debby proceeded to kick his ass a dozen times before she got too tired to continue.
"Okay," said Butch. "Everybody satisfied?" He surveyed the room, laughing as he caught sight of the three unconscious bikers who were stretched out on the floor. He still held Billy around the neck. "Just let me finish off this punk and we'll be on our way."
"Don't get carried away and kill him, Butch," Pete said.
"Well," Butch replied. "Sometimes, I don't know my own strength, so maybe you outta finish this old boy off."
"No problem," Pete replied as he stepped forward, lifted Billy's chin and punched him hard in the jaw. Billy puddled to the floor. Pete, Butch and Debby all broke out in uproarious laughter as they left the Hole in the Wall Bar.
As they climbed into Pete's pick-up truck, Butch struck up a conversation.
"I guess little Debby's wonderin' how we managed to come bustin' in on those boys the way we did. Well, you see, Sis, I remembered that you were callin' from the 'Hole in the . .
. something, and that the bar was located in Manhattan Beach, California, so I hopped on a plane and flew right out here. When I got here, I met Pete outside. We knew something was going on when we saw about five guys come running out the back door, so Pete and I decided to go on in and check it out. Pete was real worried about you, little sister. He didn't think it would be real smart to go in there by himself. But when I told him I would help, he was downright ready to go in and throw some fists."
"OH, thank you. Thank you both. I love you both so much!"
"Well, I think Pete here loves you, little sister. In fact, he told me so."
"I want to marry you, Debby," Pete blurted. "Please marry me. I'll take you a Way from all of this."
"Will you take me back to Iowa?" Debby said anxiously.
"You bet!" he quickly replied.
Pete turned the truck around, drove straight to the freeway and headed for Iowa. Pete, Butch and Debby laughed the whole way.