Fighter

“Get out of my face, you bee-wannabe.”


He grumbled, shaking the large yellow jacket head from side to side. “You got no Christmas cheer in you, do you?” Then he laughed, jumped back from me, and raised his black-costumed arms. Striking a pose so his biceps bulged, he rounded his fists toward his head and stuck out his groin. “You know who has Christmas cheer?” He thrust his groin at me again, then turned to the crowd and flung his hands up. “Do you know who has Christmas cheer?”

They roared back, “The Green Jacket does!”

I rolled my eyes. Jax’s opponent called himself the Green Jacket, and because it was Christmas time, he liked to strut around wearing an elf costume. His whole shtick was that he stung like a green jacket, even though his mascot was the yellow jacket. It didn’t make sense, but when the Green Jacket came out, no one cared. He was six-foot-two and a solid 250 pounds.

Jax was way leaner. His advantage was his speed, and as I looked around again, I knew we would need that. Three more of my brothers had popped up around the perimeter. And if they were showing themselves, that meant they had other friends positioned all around the bar. Not good. They also liked to keep four outside, just in case. They usually surrounded the place, and I knew they wouldn’t abandon that, not with one of their own helping the jumper.

“God rest ye merry peeeeenis!” A group of carolers had come in from outside. Two on the end were weaving on their feet, laughing, and the rest of the bar turned toward them. I closed my eyes. A headache formed once again at the base of my skull. I knew where this was going. With the next line, the rest of the bar joined in the song: “Let anyone…” The carolers raised their voices. “…jerk you off!”

“Oh god,” I muttered to myself. This song might never end.

A roar of laughter sounded around the bar, and the carolers kept going. “Remember to rub and savor. And do it every morn.”

“Where’s your boy?”

I stiffened. Dylan stood right in front of me. Looking past him, I could see Haley still at the condom-decorated palm tree. She lifted her eyebrows and mouthed, “Sorry.”

So much for her keeping him busy.

Whatever. I could deal with him. Making sure I wore a guarded mask, I asked, “Who do you mean?”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Come on, you’re playing dumb now?”

I waved a hand around. “I’m just sitting here. Enjoying the show.”

“Comfort and joy!” The crowd was almost screaming the carol now, and they weren’t helping my headache at all. Dylan didn’t respond, but his shoulders had a settled look to them. When he still didn’t reply or move, I had the dreaded feeling he was planning on taking root right next to me.

That wasn’t in the plan. I needed him to go away. “What do you want, Dylan?”

“Wanking it for comfort and joy!”

His eyebrows furrowed together, and he turned toward the carolers. While his back was turned, I waved at Haley. She lifted her hands in a helpless gesture. I snapped my fingers and pointed at my brother. She mouthed back, “I don’t know.”

I glared at her, inclining my head forward. She winced and bit on her lip. I wasn’t getting help from her. I could see that now.

The mascot came back to us, waving his arms in the air in rhythm with the crowd. He paused in front of Dylan and turned to wave his black stinger in the air, rubbing against the front of Dylan’s pants. I waited. This wasn’t going to go well, and it didn’t take a second swipe before my brother reacted.

His hand shot out and grabbed the stinger. “Buzz off, asshole,” he growled. “If you rub that thing against me one more time, I’ll drag you into the ring for an impromptu ass-beating.”

The mascot looked back. He swung those beady eyes to Dylan, then to me. After a second, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Suit yourself.” He moved over, his stinger poised toward me now, and I tensed.

“That’s it, you fucker—” Dylan started forward.

“A blessed angel came, wearing wings and nothing else, brought tidings of glad releases—” The carolers continued, but a roar came over the crowd, cutting off my brother and their music.

“Green Jacket! Green Jacket!” the crowd chanted.

A spotlight went to one of the doorways, and there stood Jax’s opponent, striking a pose—similar to the one his mascot had used just a few minutes earlier.

Dylan cursed, skimming the crowd with his eyes. “Where’s your boy, Dale?”

The mascot jumped into the ring and began dancing in circles. He waved his arms, sending the crowd into a frenzy.