“I’ll take the one on the right, I guess,” Jackson said. “Unless you don’t want to deal with a broken beer bottle of course.” He spoke in English, assuming neither of the other men understood.
“I’m fine,” Adriana said.
She stepped to the left to open up space between her and Jackson, moving steadily toward the area in front of the entrance. The man with the bottle inched his way toward her. His face portrayed rage-fueled confidence. His body, however, acted carefully, as if he was herding an animal into a corner.
The bar fell into a still silence. It was the calm before the storm. The bartender watched intensely with both hands on the counter. Evidently, this wasn’t the first bar fight he’d seen, and in a joint like this, it wouldn’t be the last.
Suddenly, the quiet was interrupted as the front door burst open amid a cacophony of laughter and joking. Two young couples stood in the doorway, obviously Americans, who were probably making the rounds of the town’s drinking establishments. Their raucous conversation came to a shuddering halt as they stared inside at the unfolding drama. They saw the body on the floor, the muscular mechanic facing off with a beastly old man in a Hawaiian shirt and sandals, and another mechanic with a broken beer bottle staring at a woman in black shorts and a white tank top.
“Best find another bar, y’all,” Jackson said, peeking out of the corner of his eye at the tourists.
One of the girls screamed, and the door slammed shut as they disappeared into the street.
“Now, where were we?” Jackson said in Spanish. He looked at the name tag on the coveralls. “José is it? Oh, yeah. You were about to join your friend here.”
Jackson went on the offensive. He stepped over the unconscious man and approached with both fists up like a boxer. His opponent mirrored the stance somewhat but kept his body a little more open. It was a style Jackson had seen often in Mexico. While the country had produced some of the best boxers in the world, it had also created many who thought they were good but were actually terrible. This guy was clearly the latter.
They circled each other, kicking tables out of the way as they moved until some space opened up for the battle to begin.
Jackson struck first. A quick jab and then another, feeler bets to see what the young mechanic could do. The punches were parried easily, knocked aside with open palms. Then José countered with three quick jabs of his own, two with the left and one with the right. Jackson blocked them easily enough, swatting them away with his forearms. While José's stance suggested he wasn’t defensive enough, his counterattack was solid.
“Watched a bit of boxing on television, José?” he taunted.
The mechanic’s response was another jab, a fake right hook and a left jab. Jackson blocked the first but fell for the fake, dipping his head a little too far to one side and overcommitting with his left hand. The short punch caught him squarely in the mouth, and a second later, his lip dripped blood from a fresh cut. Jackson took a step back and wiped his face with his forearm. He looked at the blood for a second and then smiled. “Not bad. That’s gonna cost you.”
On the other side of the room, Adriana waited as the other mechanic, a guy named Angel, based on his name tag, circled her with his makeshift weapon.
“I’m going to cut you bad. Then I’m going to have a little fun with you. Then I’m going to kill you.” His menacing words did little to frighten her, but he was dangerous nonetheless and had to be handled with caution.
He lunged forward, swinging the sharp edges of the bottle at her abdomen. She jumped and arched her back, dodging the weapon by a foot. She spun around and took up a new position in the space near the corner of the bar. Angel pivoted and squared with her again. His eyes squinted, and he took another step at her, whipping the bottle through the air multiple times like a drunken tennis player.
When he swung a backhand, it opened up his body. Adriana took a step back and dodged the cuts then jump kicked straight ahead with her boot. The sole struck the man in the chest and sent him stumbling backward. He managed to catch himself on a table before he fell to the ground, stabilizing his balance. Renewed fury filled his face. He growled and charged forward again.
Back on the other side of the room, Jackson jabbed a few more times then tried a right hook of his own. José stopped every shot and countered again with two jabs to Jackson’s face. The older man was able to turn his head slightly so that his cheek absorbed the blows. He retreated another few steps to collect himself. This mechanic was proving to be a tougher fight than he thought. His swollen lip continued to leak blood onto the floor, and some of it splattered on his shirt, adding splotches of crimson to its colorful Hawaiian design.
Frustrated, he pushed forward again, faked a jab,and went straight to the right. José bought the fake,and Jackson’s right fist snapped two inches behind the target. The mechanic’s head rocked to the side, and he wobbled back, but there was no time to recover. Jackson sent another powerful jab into the man’s nose, and a third then a fourth blow to the cheek and jaw.
José stumbled back and struggled to keep his hands up as the onslaught continued. He blocked one punch and partially stopped another, but the damage had been done. Once Jackson’s massive paw landed the first blow, the fight was over. The mechanic continued backward until he ran into the wall and could go no farther. Desperate, he swung a wild roundhouse, and another, but Jackson swatted the attacks aside and thrust his fist into José’s gut.
The mechanic doubled over, just in time for his face to meet an uppercut. His feet came off the ground a half inch as Jackson’s powerful shot struck him in the jaw and sent him to the ground. The older man stood over the unconscious man and spat some of the blood onto José’s coveralls. “I guess you never heard that song about calling the old man out.”
A table scuffed the floor over near the entrance, and Jackson turned his attention to Adriana.
Angel lunged at her again, swinging the bottle more wildly than before. She ducked to the side and then jumped back again with her arms out wide to maintain her balance. One swipe came dangerously close to cutting her side open, and as she stepped back, she tripped over a chair she’d not accounted for.
She tumbled to the floor, and Angel pounced instantly. He jumped on her and straddled her torso with his legs. He smacked her face with the back of his hand and then again with the palm, sending a shocking sting through her skin. The next blow was much worse, delivered with the side of his hand and blinding her with pain for a brief second.
The mechanic leaned over her, putting his face close to hers and pressing the edge of the bottle against her neck. He pinned one of her wrists against the floor and smelled her skin then licked the side of her face. “Now I’m going to take what I want,” he grunted into her ear.
His lust was his undoing. The pause in Angel’s attack gave her the two seconds she needed to recover. A sudden move could force the broken glass through her skin and puncture an artery, so she feigned unconsciousness and waited for the disgusting creature to move it away from her neck. Sure enough, he started to drag the bottle across her skin until it reached the lower part of the tank top. Her breasts heaved with every breath, and Angel stared at them ravenously.
A sharp thud on his right temple sent everything black. The heel of Adriana’s hand drove into the side of his head and sent him sprawling to the floor. She rolled over on top of him and drove her fists and elbows into his face over and over again until exhaustion started to stem the blows. Angel was out cold. The broken bottle rolled out of his limp fingers, coming to rest against the base of the nearest table. His face had been pummeled so badly it was unrecognizable.