Post by Tony DeStefano on Nov 24, 2024 8:19:06 GMT -8
The bass of some old-school rock track thumped through the thin walls of The Neon Cactus, a dive bar that had likely seen better days but still attracted its fair share of regulars. The kind of spot where the beer was cheap, the wings were hot, and the trouble was just spicy enough to keep Tony DeStefano coming back.
The parking lot wasn’t much to look at—dim lighting, a cracked asphalt lot peppered with beat-up cars—but Tony’s Ferrari stood out like a sore thumb. As he killed the engine, he caught his own reflection in the rearview mirror and smirked.
“Looking like a million bucks, DeStefano,” he thought to himself as he opened the door of the car and stepped out into the cool night air.
Tony exuded swagger as he adjusted the collar of his two-thousand-dollar Valentino button-up, the gold-and-black diamond pattern popping under the neon glow. The crisp white wife-beater underneath hugged his lean frame, and his stacked jewelry—a few chains, rings, and a diamond-encrusted bracelet—caught the faint light, making him gleam like the absolute star that he was.
On his feet were spotless designer loafers that probably cost more than most people’s rent, and topping it off, a pair of designer sunglasses shielded his eyes even though the sun had long since set.
Pushing his way through the door, Tony stepped into the bar like he owned the place. His presence immediately turned a few heads, but Tony didn’t pay attention. He wasn’t there to make friends—or enemies. Not yet, anyway.
His eyes scanned the dimly lit room until he spotted them: Liam Callaghan slightly slumped over a beer at a corner booth, flanked by the Dougie brothers, Ray and Kenny. Ray, as usual, was mid-laugh, a chicken wing in one hand and a beer in the other, while Kenny tapped away at his phone, probably messaging one of his many side pieces. Liam, though—Liam looked like he’d had a rough ass day.
Tony shook his head, muttering under his breath as he made his way over.
“Party has arrived! What are we drinking on, fellas?” He asked with a grin, sliding into the booth beside Liam to pat him on the back.
“Pick your head up, cumpà. Don’t worry about her tonight. Let’s cut loose and have some fun, yeah?”
Kenny looked up from his phone and grinned upon seeing Tony. He waved him over, his voice booming across the bar.
“YO TONYYYYY!!!!”
That startled his older brother as he had shouted in his ear. Ray dropped his chicken wing and shot Kenny a dirty look before shaking his head and quickly picking it back up. But Kenny was oblivious of course.
“BOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE! DON’T BE MAD WE STARTED WITHOUT YOU!”
Ray raised his beer to Tony, gesturing to his outfit.
“Well somebody really is the party! Nice shoes, man.”
Liam barely glanced up from his beer, the edges of his mouth pulling into a dry smirk as Tony slid into the booth like he owned the place. He wasn’t in the mood for Tony’s usual theatrics tonight, but he figured that DeStefano wasn’t the type to pick up on that.
“Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Liam muttered, his Boston accent sharp, his tone flat. He leaned back in the booth, swirling what was left of his drink. “Shoes are nice, yeah. Shame you’re wearing ’em here in this shithole though. One wrong step in this place, you’re gonna catch something even your kind of money can’t fix.”
Kenny’s booming greeting made Liam wince, and he shot the younger Dougie a tired glare. “Christ, Kenny. You ever heard of an inside voice? Or you just tryin’ to blow my eardrum out?”
He turned his attention back to Tony, shrugging off the pat on the back. “You wanna cut loose? Go ahead, Tony. Knock yourself out. Me?” Liam lifted his bottle in a mock toast before draining the rest. “I’m good right here, thanks.”
The bitterness in his voice was impossible to miss. He slammed the empty bottle down on the table and let out a short laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And don’t gimme that ‘don’t worry about her’ crap. Easy for you to say, struttin’ in here like you don’t have a care in the world. Some of us actually bother giving a damn, y’know?”
He reached for another bottle of beer from the ice bucket in the middle of the table, his expression darkening as he twisted off the cap. “But hey, sure. Let’s have some fun. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Tony could feel his jaw tighten a little as Liam’s tone cut through the air like a knife. He didn’t miss the bitterness that laced every word, and it bugged him more than he cared to admit.
Sure, Liam was a good friend and one of his trainers at the crucible but Tony had his own pride to manage, and the way that Liam was speaking to him wasn’t sitting right with him. He’d walked in here trying to lighten the mood, and Liam had practically spat in his face.
Still, he tried his best to not let it get to him. Not here. Not now.
Tony let out a low, controlled breath, doing his best to maintain the smile, even though there was a simmering edge beneath it. He leaned forward, plucking his own beer from the bucket with exaggerated casualness as he shot Liam a look. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably should’ve gone with the shit kickers tonight. Would’ve matched the vibe better.”
He heard Ray or Kenny chuckle, but he didn’t even turn to see who it was. He kept his eyes trained on Liam as the trainer’s words echoed through his head
”Some of us actually bother giving a damn.”
He twisted the cap off the bottle of beer and took a swig, rolling the bottle in his fingers, trying to shake off the frustration that was beginning to creep up.
“Look, Liam. I get it. You’re pissed. You think I’m just waltzing in here like everything’s great, but it’s not.” He shot a quick glance at Ray and Kenny, before turning his gaze back. “You think I don’t know why you’re acting like this toward me right now? I didn’t ask for that shit bro.”
Tony placed his bottle back down with a soft thud, his gaze steady on Liam’s. “But if this is really how it’s gonna be, I’ll get up and leave. No hard feelings. I’m just here to have a good time, not make things worse.”
He leaned back with a little more swagger than he actually felt, offering a fake as fuck half-smile. “Or if it’ll make you feel better to punch me over some trivial ass shit that I didn’t even ask for, I’ll meet you outside. We can settle this the old-fashioned way. But it’s up to you, man.”
The words felt like a challenge, though Tony wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. Not when Liam was the only one who’d ever taken a second to tell him, “Good job, kid” after he’d won his debut match. Not when the guy had seen the potential in him when nobody else seemed to.
He didn’t want it to go down like this.
But he wasn’t the type to back down. Especially when he was hurt, and the way that this guy that he respected was talking to him right now stung.
Probably because Tony felt guilty. He’d been one of the people that Bella had blatantly been hitting on after all.
He tossed a glance at Ray and Kenny, waiting for someone to make a move, but his eyes moved back quickly and stayed on Liam.
“So what’s it gonna be, man? I respect the hell out of you and wanted to have a good night but it seems like you got some shit you need to get off your chest.”
Liam held Tony’s gaze for a long moment, his jaw tightening before he let out a long, heavy breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in the booth as the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. The fire in his eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of regret.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “That was outta line, Tony. My bad. I’m just… I’m just bein’ a little irrational right now. Got all this shit in my head, and I guess I’m takin’ it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”
He reached for his beer again, taking a long sip before setting it down more gently this time. His tone was calmer, quieter. “Bella’s got me all twisted up, and it’s not fair to you—or anyone, really. You show up tryin’ to lighten the mood, and I go and bite your head off. That’s on me.”
He exhaled sharply, the tension finally leaving him as he smirked and took a drink. “Alright, no more sulking. Let’s play some darts. Maybe even throw in a bet or two. Loser’s buying the next round.”
He gave Tony a nod, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. “Thanks for callin’ me out, man. I needed it.”
Tony sat back in the booth, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts. He didn’t say anything at first. He just let the silence hang there as he lit up a cigarette and took a drag.
He could feel the tension slowly dissolving between them but there was still a part of him that wasn’t sure whether he should air all the dirty laundry out now and sort through it with them or not.
The flicker of regret in Liam’s eyes made Tone pause though. He wanted to say something, tell him that it was fine, or maybe even let Liam know exactly how he felt about everything that had gone down with Bella on Twitter but he had his reservations.
It didn’t feel like the right moment.
He sighed softly and glanced over at Kenny, who was still looking between the two of them waiting for an answer.
Tony didn’t want to drag this out any longer, not when it seemed like things were starting to chill, but their teammate wasn’t going to settle for not receiving an explanation of some sort.
Tony shifted in his seat, trying to ease the awkwardness without making it worse. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, Bella’s been acting out of pocket on Twitter lately. Been flirting with some folks pretty blatantly, myself included.” He began, casually glancing at Liam to gauge his reaction while hoping for the best.
“But don’t get it twisted, man. I’m with Callie and she’s amazing. I’m not interested. I flirted with Bella a little when I first showed up but once I found out she was with you, Liam, I set my sights elsewhere.”
He gave a slight shrug, just enough to pretend like he wasn’t sweating it.
“I mean it though cumpà, it’s all good. I just wanted to clear that up. You know I wouldn’t do that to you or Callie.”
Tony looked at Liam one more time, his expression softening, and without missing a beat he stood up, doing his best to loosen up his aching trap muscles as he stretched. Training had been hell this week but he was in prime form ahead of his match against Alizay. He’d made damn sure of that.
“Alright, enough of this heavy shit. Let’s get to the darts. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling lucky tonight. You’re on. Loser buys the next round.”
His arm extended out to offer Liam a friendly dap, pulling him up out of the booth into a bro hug.
It wasn’t just about the apology; it was about making sure Liam knew that everything was good between them. Tony wasn’t here to start fights. At least not with his teammates. He was here to keep things on track.
“Come on,” Tony said, gesturing toward the dartboard, his voice light again. “Let’s go have some fun.”
It was at that moment that a group of bikers at a nearby table began to snicker. “Look at these two grown-ass men hugging each other. Hey, which one of you is the bottom?”
Another one chimed in immediately. “Has to be the one with the fancy shoes. Look at him. Where do you think you’re at, Ritchie Rich?”
Hearing this, the Dougie brothers exchanged quick glances as they smirked. Then Kenny, always quick to banter, called out first.
“Bottom? Wow, somebody’s jealous he didn’t get a hug today!”
Ray chuckled as he leaned back in his seat.
“Also jealous of fancy shoes he can’t afford probably. Must be hard having to beg for love and attention every night at dive bars.”
Kenny nodded sagely.
“Alright, free hugs for everyone. Say please!”
Ray tried his best not to snicker, hiding his face behind his beer bottle.
“It probably comes naturally to them, since clearly, they had to beg for love and attention from their meth-head parents growing up too. No wonder you think a hug is gay, you never got one as a kid huh?” Tony added on, extending his middle finger at the biggest guy at the table.
“Fuck you, fat boy. Come over here and chat that shit to my face and it’ll end with me stamping your big ass forehead with these “fancy shoe” prints that probably cost more than your mobile home and the lot it sits on.”
Suddenly, all the frustration he’d been feeling about the situation previously had been turned onto these homophobic pieces of shit.
“And that’d be the closest he’ll ever get to wearing fancy shoes. Just the prints!”
Kenny added, just egging him on. But seeing the bikers not happy at all and looking like they were about to step to them, the grin on Ray’s face faded. As much as he enjoyed banter, he didn’t want to cause any real trouble. Plus if there were to be a real fight, it would worsen the injuries he already had. He was already warned by Nathan.
One of the bikers called out, “Oh is that a threat? You wanna fight, Richie Rich?”
Kenny continued throwing jabs, earning a smack on the arm from his older brother. Ray held up his hand at the biker who stood up.
“Look, you wanna settle shit, take it out on darts or something. Come on.”
Ray threw a cautious glance at Tony, hoping he would let it go.
Liam on the other hand, froze for a second, staring at the bikers as their laughter filled the air. His grip on Tony’s hand tightened, his jaw clenching again instinctively. He could feel the heat rising, that familiar Southie temper bubbling up, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. Not tonight. He wasn’t about to let these clowns ruin the vibe—not after he’d just started to get his head on straight.
He stepped forward, turning just enough to glance back at Tony with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fancy shoes or not, he’s still leagues ahead of you boys in both class and brains. Don’t think the two of you combined could afford the soles of those loafers, let alone keep up with us in a fight or a game of darts.”
Then, Liam turned back to the dartboard, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. His voice stayed calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it as he addressed the bikers without even looking their way. “But hey, you wanna keep runnin’ your mouths, I’d be happy to show you what happens when you pick the wrong table to mess with.”
He moved over to pick up a hand full of darts, aiming with one right away, “Or you can shut the fuck up, enjoy your night unscathed, and let us enjoy ours.”
The dart hit dead center.
Liam turned, finally giving Tony a nod, his smirk widening. “Alright, Tone, you’re up. Let’s see if you can keep up with me. Hey, maybe you can bet those fancy-ass shoes.”
Liam’s smirk lingered as Tony stepped up to the dartboard, the tension in the room seeming to settle for a brief moment. He was proud of himself for keeping his cool, for not letting the bikers’ crap get to him. But, of course, that peace didn’t last long.
One of the bikers leaned back in his chair, the scrape of the legs against the sticky floor loud enough to grab attention. “Oh, big talk from the guys that would rather settle things over a game of darts and not fisticuffs in the parking lot. What, you scared or something, little guy?”
Another one chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh no. Look Curtis. Dead center. Oooooh. Bet that’s the only thing you can hit straight, sweetheart.”
The first biker chuckled, taking a long swig from his beer before adding, “And what’s with the accent? You think being from Boston makes you some kinda badass? Newsflash: we’ve all seen The Departed. You’re not special.”
Liam’s smirk faded. His grip on the next dart in his hand tightened until his knuckles turned white. He could feel his chest rising and falling just a little quicker, the irritation bubbling back up despite his best efforts to keep it in check.
He turned, his eyes locking onto the bikers.. The edge in his voice was sharper now, unmistakable. “You got a problem with us, say it to my face instead of sittin’ over there runnin’ your mouths like a bunch of cowards.”
The room felt heavier as Liam took a step toward their table, his shoulders squared and his gaze burning. “And if you think for one second that you can talk to me—or anyone at my table—like that and not get your shit wrecked, you’re about to learn just how wrong you are.”
He could feel the Dougie brothers shifting behind him, their silence telling him they were ready for whatever might go down. But Liam didn’t care about backup right now. His focus was locked on the bikers, his temper teetering on the edge as the biggest of the bikers pushed himself up from the table immediately.
“You boys think you’re funny? Let’s see if you’re still laughin’ when I knock you the f—.”
Suddenly, without so much as a warning, the biggest of the bikers who had stood up from his table and made his way over to size Liam up while he was speaking, got absolutely CRUSHED with a right straight to his eye socket, as Tony got tired of hearing them yap and swung a punch around his trainer.
A sickening smack echoed through the bar as the shot landed, and Tony could feel the man’s orbital bone disintegrate under the brunt of the punch.
The fat ass biker didn’t utter another word. Instead, he hit the dusty barroom floor like a sack of bricks, completely stiff.
“Talk that shit now, motherfucker.” Tony roared, spitting on the man’s unconscious body.
The table full of his buddies, who up to this point had been stuck watching in shock after the biggest and baddest of them got folded like the New York Times finally sprang to action and charged from their seats to rush toward Tony and Liam.
Tony made sure to put himself between them and the Dougie brothers, firing off crisp boxing combinations as a complete brawl erupted. Two more of the men fell in succession thanks to some thunderous punches from the former boxer. Tony made good on his word too, making sure to stomp them in the face with his loafers and bounce their heads off the floor.
This version of Tony was different. He wasn’t funny and cheerful anymore. He was wild, and dangerous.
“Kenny. Get Ray out of here. Go fire up the car.” He’d call out over his shoulder, taking a solid punch to the face for taking his attention off the scrap. The punch wobbled Tony for a second, but it did nothing more than make him madder.
SMACK SMACK SMACK
Three more nasty punches landed against Tony’s closed guard in succession but he just rolled with them, expertly blocking them all and answering with a jarring uppercut that lifted the closest biker off his feet.
The Dougie bros looked at each other in shock and Ray grabbed Kenny’s arm. “Yo we gotta go now!”
Kenny pointed at the pandemonium happening. “Go grab the car, I’ll get Liam and Tony!”
Ray made a face. “Tony? Are you not seeing this shit? The guy is freaking Rocky Balboa Rage Version, just straight up killing everybody with those punches!”
Kenny nodded with a grin. “Ha, true!”
So while Ray rushed to get the car, Kenny ran past Tony who was at this point just wailing away on a half-dead biker caught in a dirty boxing clinch. He dodged broken bottles and flailing fists to get to Liam.
“Liam! This ain’t the time to Hulk out, man! Let’s go, Ray’s getting the car. We gotta leave before the cops show up!”
Liam barely registered Kenny’s voice over the chaos around him. His blood was pumping, fists balled up, ready to launch into the next idiot who dared step forward. The tension that had been brewing all night exploded when Tony threw the first punch, and now the bar was a full-blown war zone.
But as Kenny’s words finally broke through, Liam turned his head, his chest heaving. “You think I’m the one Hulkin’ out? Look at him!” He jabbed a finger toward Tony, who was in the middle of ragdolling yet another biker with a brutal combination of punches and a stomp that made Liam wince.
Still, Kenny wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t their turf, and the longer they stayed, the worse this was gonna get. Liam straightened up, brushing off the glass shards and grime that had somehow made it onto his shirt. His knuckles were aching from decking one of the bikers in the side of the head, and the adrenaline coursing through him wasn’t helping him think straight.
“Alright, alright, we’re goin’!” Liam growled, stepping over a groaning biker who was clutching his ribs on the floor. He grabbed Kenny by the arm, dragging him toward the door before pausing to yell over his shoulder at Tony.
“Tony! Let’s go, man! You made your damn point!”
But Tony didn’t stop. The guy was still in full beast mode, raining hell on anyone dumb enough to get close. Liam cursed under his breath, darting back toward his teammate. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder, yanking him out of his frenzy. “That’s enough! You wanna get us all thrown in the clink tonight? Let’s go, now!”
Tony’s wild eyes met Liam’s, and for a split second, it looked like he might swing on him too. But then reality seemed to click back into place, and Tony huffed, shaking his head.
“Fine,” Tony began, kicking one of the men he’d just floored one last time for good measure. He adjusted his blood-splattered Valentino shirt and flashed a wild grin at Liam. “Guess I got carried away.”
Liam shook his head, muttering under his breath as he grabbed Tony by the collar and started dragging him toward the exit. “Carried away? You damn near killed half the bar, you psycho.”
The sound of distant sirens cut through the night as they burst out into the parking lot, where Ray had the car running, waiting for them. “Get in, get in!” Liam barked, shoving Kenny into the backseat before climbing in himself and pulling Tony along with him.
As the car peeled out of the lot, Liam slumped against the seat, running a hand down his face. “Next time,” he muttered, glaring at Tony, “we stick to darts. Got it?”
“For sure. Next time I…FUCK. I got blood all over my shirt. I liked this fuckin’ shirt.” Tony answered, scrubbing at the blood stain with his hand, which was also dribbling blood from his knuckles at this point, making the attempt futile.
Liam was right. This was stupid. He’d been so wound up that he’d gone off like a powder keg when they’d pushed his buttons. Not only that, they’d left his Ferrari behind.
“Fuck. My car. You gotta let me out.” Tony shouted suddenly, sitting up in the seat and swiveling around to look back at the bar, which was already illuminated by the approaching patrol cars.
“Goddamn it. I’m fucked. My pops is gonna lose his shit.” He groaned, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.
His adrenaline was still going full blast, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest, so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before speaking again.
“I’m sorry guys. I don’t know where that came from. I’m sure I’m going to be in deep shit for this one with Nathan too. I’ll take the blame.”
Liam leaned forward in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he ran a hand over his face. He was still catching his breath from the chaos, but hearing Tony spiral made him snap back to reality. He turned his head, leveling Tony with a look that was more steady than angry now—almost like an older brother scolding his little brother for being reckless.
“Tony, calm the fuck down,” Liam said, his voice firm but not harsh. “The car? It’s just a car. Yeah, it’s a nice one, but you can get it back later once the heat dies down. Right now, the only thing that matters is that we didn’t end up in cuffs back there.”
He paused, glancing at Tony’s bloodied hands and ruined shirt before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I get it, alright? You were tryin’ to back me up, and I appreciate it. But next time, don’t let those assholes get under your skin. They’re not worth it, man.”
Leaning back, Liam let his head hit the headrest as the car sped away from the scene. His voice softened, though it still carried that no-nonsense Southie edge. “And don’t be takin’ all the blame for this. It’s on all of us. None of us stopped it from poppin’ off, and I sure as hell didn’t do anything to help calm the situation.”
He turned his head slightly, glancing at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll deal with Nathan when the time comes. You’ll deal with your pops, too. They’ll both be pissed, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”
Liam sat up a little straighter, looking toward the road ahead. “What matters now is we get outta this clean, lay low for a bit, and not pull some dumb shit like this again. Agreed?” He gave Tony a slight nudge on the shoulder, smirking faintly despite the situation. “And for the love of God, maybe don’t wear a two-grand shirt to a dive bar next time, yeah?”
His smirk widened a little as he added, “You’re buyin’ the next round of drinks too, by the way. Call it payback for gettin’ us in the middle of a damn barroom brawl.”
Tony let out a sharp breath, leaning back against the seat once more and letting his head thump against the headrest. Now that the adrenaline was subsiding his knuckles stung like hell and he could feel his face starting to swell a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Tony muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He tilted his head to glance at Liam, catching that faint smirk. “You’re right. It’s just a car. And the shirt… well, shit, lesson learned.”
He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy watchin’ me drop that asshole though. Admit it. That was a clean shot.”
Liam gave him a look, but Tony could see the flicker of amusement and proudness in his eyes. That was enough to ease the tension in his chest, at least a little. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, no more dumb shit. I’ll lay low, keep my head down. And yeah, I guess I’ll cover the next round—dive bar or not. I owe youse guys that at least after getting you into this shit.”
He closed his eyes, rubbing at the swollen lump on his face with a light wince. “Thanks, man,” he said quietly, not looking directly at Liam but meaning it all the same.
“No problem kid.” Liam answered, giving him one last pat on the shoulder. “Remind me to stay on your good side though. Because that was fuckin’ insane.”
“Yeah no shit. You turned into the terminator in there. I’m glad you’re on our side.” Came a voice from the front seat, filling the car with laughter as the Southie boys successfully made their escape back toward their faction house.
For Tony though, the night was far from over. He just didn’t know it yet
The parking lot wasn’t much to look at—dim lighting, a cracked asphalt lot peppered with beat-up cars—but Tony’s Ferrari stood out like a sore thumb. As he killed the engine, he caught his own reflection in the rearview mirror and smirked.
“Looking like a million bucks, DeStefano,” he thought to himself as he opened the door of the car and stepped out into the cool night air.
Tony exuded swagger as he adjusted the collar of his two-thousand-dollar Valentino button-up, the gold-and-black diamond pattern popping under the neon glow. The crisp white wife-beater underneath hugged his lean frame, and his stacked jewelry—a few chains, rings, and a diamond-encrusted bracelet—caught the faint light, making him gleam like the absolute star that he was.
On his feet were spotless designer loafers that probably cost more than most people’s rent, and topping it off, a pair of designer sunglasses shielded his eyes even though the sun had long since set.
Pushing his way through the door, Tony stepped into the bar like he owned the place. His presence immediately turned a few heads, but Tony didn’t pay attention. He wasn’t there to make friends—or enemies. Not yet, anyway.
His eyes scanned the dimly lit room until he spotted them: Liam Callaghan slightly slumped over a beer at a corner booth, flanked by the Dougie brothers, Ray and Kenny. Ray, as usual, was mid-laugh, a chicken wing in one hand and a beer in the other, while Kenny tapped away at his phone, probably messaging one of his many side pieces. Liam, though—Liam looked like he’d had a rough ass day.
Tony shook his head, muttering under his breath as he made his way over.
“Party has arrived! What are we drinking on, fellas?” He asked with a grin, sliding into the booth beside Liam to pat him on the back.
“Pick your head up, cumpà. Don’t worry about her tonight. Let’s cut loose and have some fun, yeah?”
Kenny looked up from his phone and grinned upon seeing Tony. He waved him over, his voice booming across the bar.
“YO TONYYYYY!!!!”
That startled his older brother as he had shouted in his ear. Ray dropped his chicken wing and shot Kenny a dirty look before shaking his head and quickly picking it back up. But Kenny was oblivious of course.
“BOUT TIME YOU GOT HERE! DON’T BE MAD WE STARTED WITHOUT YOU!”
Ray raised his beer to Tony, gesturing to his outfit.
“Well somebody really is the party! Nice shoes, man.”
Liam barely glanced up from his beer, the edges of his mouth pulling into a dry smirk as Tony slid into the booth like he owned the place. He wasn’t in the mood for Tony’s usual theatrics tonight, but he figured that DeStefano wasn’t the type to pick up on that.
“Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence,” Liam muttered, his Boston accent sharp, his tone flat. He leaned back in the booth, swirling what was left of his drink. “Shoes are nice, yeah. Shame you’re wearing ’em here in this shithole though. One wrong step in this place, you’re gonna catch something even your kind of money can’t fix.”
Kenny’s booming greeting made Liam wince, and he shot the younger Dougie a tired glare. “Christ, Kenny. You ever heard of an inside voice? Or you just tryin’ to blow my eardrum out?”
He turned his attention back to Tony, shrugging off the pat on the back. “You wanna cut loose? Go ahead, Tony. Knock yourself out. Me?” Liam lifted his bottle in a mock toast before draining the rest. “I’m good right here, thanks.”
The bitterness in his voice was impossible to miss. He slammed the empty bottle down on the table and let out a short laugh, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And don’t gimme that ‘don’t worry about her’ crap. Easy for you to say, struttin’ in here like you don’t have a care in the world. Some of us actually bother giving a damn, y’know?”
He reached for another bottle of beer from the ice bucket in the middle of the table, his expression darkening as he twisted off the cap. “But hey, sure. Let’s have some fun. Why not? What’s the worst that could happen?”
Tony could feel his jaw tighten a little as Liam’s tone cut through the air like a knife. He didn’t miss the bitterness that laced every word, and it bugged him more than he cared to admit.
Sure, Liam was a good friend and one of his trainers at the crucible but Tony had his own pride to manage, and the way that Liam was speaking to him wasn’t sitting right with him. He’d walked in here trying to lighten the mood, and Liam had practically spat in his face.
Still, he tried his best to not let it get to him. Not here. Not now.
Tony let out a low, controlled breath, doing his best to maintain the smile, even though there was a simmering edge beneath it. He leaned forward, plucking his own beer from the bucket with exaggerated casualness as he shot Liam a look. “Yeah, you’re right. Probably should’ve gone with the shit kickers tonight. Would’ve matched the vibe better.”
He heard Ray or Kenny chuckle, but he didn’t even turn to see who it was. He kept his eyes trained on Liam as the trainer’s words echoed through his head
”Some of us actually bother giving a damn.”
He twisted the cap off the bottle of beer and took a swig, rolling the bottle in his fingers, trying to shake off the frustration that was beginning to creep up.
“Look, Liam. I get it. You’re pissed. You think I’m just waltzing in here like everything’s great, but it’s not.” He shot a quick glance at Ray and Kenny, before turning his gaze back. “You think I don’t know why you’re acting like this toward me right now? I didn’t ask for that shit bro.”
Tony placed his bottle back down with a soft thud, his gaze steady on Liam’s. “But if this is really how it’s gonna be, I’ll get up and leave. No hard feelings. I’m just here to have a good time, not make things worse.”
He leaned back with a little more swagger than he actually felt, offering a fake as fuck half-smile. “Or if it’ll make you feel better to punch me over some trivial ass shit that I didn’t even ask for, I’ll meet you outside. We can settle this the old-fashioned way. But it’s up to you, man.”
The words felt like a challenge, though Tony wasn’t sure if he meant it or not. Not when Liam was the only one who’d ever taken a second to tell him, “Good job, kid” after he’d won his debut match. Not when the guy had seen the potential in him when nobody else seemed to.
He didn’t want it to go down like this.
But he wasn’t the type to back down. Especially when he was hurt, and the way that this guy that he respected was talking to him right now stung.
Probably because Tony felt guilty. He’d been one of the people that Bella had blatantly been hitting on after all.
He tossed a glance at Ray and Kenny, waiting for someone to make a move, but his eyes moved back quickly and stayed on Liam.
“So what’s it gonna be, man? I respect the hell out of you and wanted to have a good night but it seems like you got some shit you need to get off your chest.”
Liam held Tony’s gaze for a long moment, his jaw tightening before he let out a long, heavy breath. He rubbed the back of his neck, leaning back in the booth as the tension in his shoulders eased, just a little. The fire in his eyes softened, replaced by a flicker of regret.
“Alright, alright,” he muttered, raising his hands in a small gesture of surrender. “That was outta line, Tony. My bad. I’m just… I’m just bein’ a little irrational right now. Got all this shit in my head, and I guess I’m takin’ it out on you. You didn’t deserve that.”
He reached for his beer again, taking a long sip before setting it down more gently this time. His tone was calmer, quieter. “Bella’s got me all twisted up, and it’s not fair to you—or anyone, really. You show up tryin’ to lighten the mood, and I go and bite your head off. That’s on me.”
He exhaled sharply, the tension finally leaving him as he smirked and took a drink. “Alright, no more sulking. Let’s play some darts. Maybe even throw in a bet or two. Loser’s buying the next round.”
He gave Tony a nod, a flicker of gratitude passing between them. “Thanks for callin’ me out, man. I needed it.”
Tony sat back in the booth, his mind a tangled mess of thoughts. He didn’t say anything at first. He just let the silence hang there as he lit up a cigarette and took a drag.
He could feel the tension slowly dissolving between them but there was still a part of him that wasn’t sure whether he should air all the dirty laundry out now and sort through it with them or not.
The flicker of regret in Liam’s eyes made Tone pause though. He wanted to say something, tell him that it was fine, or maybe even let Liam know exactly how he felt about everything that had gone down with Bella on Twitter but he had his reservations.
It didn’t feel like the right moment.
He sighed softly and glanced over at Kenny, who was still looking between the two of them waiting for an answer.
Tony didn’t want to drag this out any longer, not when it seemed like things were starting to chill, but their teammate wasn’t going to settle for not receiving an explanation of some sort.
Tony shifted in his seat, trying to ease the awkwardness without making it worse. “As I’m sure you’re well aware, Bella’s been acting out of pocket on Twitter lately. Been flirting with some folks pretty blatantly, myself included.” He began, casually glancing at Liam to gauge his reaction while hoping for the best.
“But don’t get it twisted, man. I’m with Callie and she’s amazing. I’m not interested. I flirted with Bella a little when I first showed up but once I found out she was with you, Liam, I set my sights elsewhere.”
He gave a slight shrug, just enough to pretend like he wasn’t sweating it.
“I mean it though cumpà, it’s all good. I just wanted to clear that up. You know I wouldn’t do that to you or Callie.”
Tony looked at Liam one more time, his expression softening, and without missing a beat he stood up, doing his best to loosen up his aching trap muscles as he stretched. Training had been hell this week but he was in prime form ahead of his match against Alizay. He’d made damn sure of that.
“Alright, enough of this heavy shit. Let’s get to the darts. I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling lucky tonight. You’re on. Loser buys the next round.”
His arm extended out to offer Liam a friendly dap, pulling him up out of the booth into a bro hug.
It wasn’t just about the apology; it was about making sure Liam knew that everything was good between them. Tony wasn’t here to start fights. At least not with his teammates. He was here to keep things on track.
“Come on,” Tony said, gesturing toward the dartboard, his voice light again. “Let’s go have some fun.”
It was at that moment that a group of bikers at a nearby table began to snicker. “Look at these two grown-ass men hugging each other. Hey, which one of you is the bottom?”
Another one chimed in immediately. “Has to be the one with the fancy shoes. Look at him. Where do you think you’re at, Ritchie Rich?”
Hearing this, the Dougie brothers exchanged quick glances as they smirked. Then Kenny, always quick to banter, called out first.
“Bottom? Wow, somebody’s jealous he didn’t get a hug today!”
Ray chuckled as he leaned back in his seat.
“Also jealous of fancy shoes he can’t afford probably. Must be hard having to beg for love and attention every night at dive bars.”
Kenny nodded sagely.
“Alright, free hugs for everyone. Say please!”
Ray tried his best not to snicker, hiding his face behind his beer bottle.
“It probably comes naturally to them, since clearly, they had to beg for love and attention from their meth-head parents growing up too. No wonder you think a hug is gay, you never got one as a kid huh?” Tony added on, extending his middle finger at the biggest guy at the table.
“Fuck you, fat boy. Come over here and chat that shit to my face and it’ll end with me stamping your big ass forehead with these “fancy shoe” prints that probably cost more than your mobile home and the lot it sits on.”
Suddenly, all the frustration he’d been feeling about the situation previously had been turned onto these homophobic pieces of shit.
“And that’d be the closest he’ll ever get to wearing fancy shoes. Just the prints!”
Kenny added, just egging him on. But seeing the bikers not happy at all and looking like they were about to step to them, the grin on Ray’s face faded. As much as he enjoyed banter, he didn’t want to cause any real trouble. Plus if there were to be a real fight, it would worsen the injuries he already had. He was already warned by Nathan.
One of the bikers called out, “Oh is that a threat? You wanna fight, Richie Rich?”
Kenny continued throwing jabs, earning a smack on the arm from his older brother. Ray held up his hand at the biker who stood up.
“Look, you wanna settle shit, take it out on darts or something. Come on.”
Ray threw a cautious glance at Tony, hoping he would let it go.
Liam on the other hand, froze for a second, staring at the bikers as their laughter filled the air. His grip on Tony’s hand tightened, his jaw clenching again instinctively. He could feel the heat rising, that familiar Southie temper bubbling up, but he forced himself to take a deep breath. Not tonight. He wasn’t about to let these clowns ruin the vibe—not after he’d just started to get his head on straight.
He stepped forward, turning just enough to glance back at Tony with a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Fancy shoes or not, he’s still leagues ahead of you boys in both class and brains. Don’t think the two of you combined could afford the soles of those loafers, let alone keep up with us in a fight or a game of darts.”
Then, Liam turned back to the dartboard, rolling his shoulders to loosen up. His voice stayed calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it as he addressed the bikers without even looking their way. “But hey, you wanna keep runnin’ your mouths, I’d be happy to show you what happens when you pick the wrong table to mess with.”
He moved over to pick up a hand full of darts, aiming with one right away, “Or you can shut the fuck up, enjoy your night unscathed, and let us enjoy ours.”
The dart hit dead center.
Liam turned, finally giving Tony a nod, his smirk widening. “Alright, Tone, you’re up. Let’s see if you can keep up with me. Hey, maybe you can bet those fancy-ass shoes.”
Liam’s smirk lingered as Tony stepped up to the dartboard, the tension in the room seeming to settle for a brief moment. He was proud of himself for keeping his cool, for not letting the bikers’ crap get to him. But, of course, that peace didn’t last long.
One of the bikers leaned back in his chair, the scrape of the legs against the sticky floor loud enough to grab attention. “Oh, big talk from the guys that would rather settle things over a game of darts and not fisticuffs in the parking lot. What, you scared or something, little guy?”
Another one chimed in, his voice dripping with mockery. “Oh no. Look Curtis. Dead center. Oooooh. Bet that’s the only thing you can hit straight, sweetheart.”
The first biker chuckled, taking a long swig from his beer before adding, “And what’s with the accent? You think being from Boston makes you some kinda badass? Newsflash: we’ve all seen The Departed. You’re not special.”
Liam’s smirk faded. His grip on the next dart in his hand tightened until his knuckles turned white. He could feel his chest rising and falling just a little quicker, the irritation bubbling back up despite his best efforts to keep it in check.
He turned, his eyes locking onto the bikers.. The edge in his voice was sharper now, unmistakable. “You got a problem with us, say it to my face instead of sittin’ over there runnin’ your mouths like a bunch of cowards.”
The room felt heavier as Liam took a step toward their table, his shoulders squared and his gaze burning. “And if you think for one second that you can talk to me—or anyone at my table—like that and not get your shit wrecked, you’re about to learn just how wrong you are.”
He could feel the Dougie brothers shifting behind him, their silence telling him they were ready for whatever might go down. But Liam didn’t care about backup right now. His focus was locked on the bikers, his temper teetering on the edge as the biggest of the bikers pushed himself up from the table immediately.
“You boys think you’re funny? Let’s see if you’re still laughin’ when I knock you the f—.”
Suddenly, without so much as a warning, the biggest of the bikers who had stood up from his table and made his way over to size Liam up while he was speaking, got absolutely CRUSHED with a right straight to his eye socket, as Tony got tired of hearing them yap and swung a punch around his trainer.
A sickening smack echoed through the bar as the shot landed, and Tony could feel the man’s orbital bone disintegrate under the brunt of the punch.
The fat ass biker didn’t utter another word. Instead, he hit the dusty barroom floor like a sack of bricks, completely stiff.
“Talk that shit now, motherfucker.” Tony roared, spitting on the man’s unconscious body.
The table full of his buddies, who up to this point had been stuck watching in shock after the biggest and baddest of them got folded like the New York Times finally sprang to action and charged from their seats to rush toward Tony and Liam.
Tony made sure to put himself between them and the Dougie brothers, firing off crisp boxing combinations as a complete brawl erupted. Two more of the men fell in succession thanks to some thunderous punches from the former boxer. Tony made good on his word too, making sure to stomp them in the face with his loafers and bounce their heads off the floor.
This version of Tony was different. He wasn’t funny and cheerful anymore. He was wild, and dangerous.
“Kenny. Get Ray out of here. Go fire up the car.” He’d call out over his shoulder, taking a solid punch to the face for taking his attention off the scrap. The punch wobbled Tony for a second, but it did nothing more than make him madder.
SMACK SMACK SMACK
Three more nasty punches landed against Tony’s closed guard in succession but he just rolled with them, expertly blocking them all and answering with a jarring uppercut that lifted the closest biker off his feet.
The Dougie bros looked at each other in shock and Ray grabbed Kenny’s arm. “Yo we gotta go now!”
Kenny pointed at the pandemonium happening. “Go grab the car, I’ll get Liam and Tony!”
Ray made a face. “Tony? Are you not seeing this shit? The guy is freaking Rocky Balboa Rage Version, just straight up killing everybody with those punches!”
Kenny nodded with a grin. “Ha, true!”
So while Ray rushed to get the car, Kenny ran past Tony who was at this point just wailing away on a half-dead biker caught in a dirty boxing clinch. He dodged broken bottles and flailing fists to get to Liam.
“Liam! This ain’t the time to Hulk out, man! Let’s go, Ray’s getting the car. We gotta leave before the cops show up!”
Liam barely registered Kenny’s voice over the chaos around him. His blood was pumping, fists balled up, ready to launch into the next idiot who dared step forward. The tension that had been brewing all night exploded when Tony threw the first punch, and now the bar was a full-blown war zone.
But as Kenny’s words finally broke through, Liam turned his head, his chest heaving. “You think I’m the one Hulkin’ out? Look at him!” He jabbed a finger toward Tony, who was in the middle of ragdolling yet another biker with a brutal combination of punches and a stomp that made Liam wince.
Still, Kenny wasn’t wrong. This wasn’t their turf, and the longer they stayed, the worse this was gonna get. Liam straightened up, brushing off the glass shards and grime that had somehow made it onto his shirt. His knuckles were aching from decking one of the bikers in the side of the head, and the adrenaline coursing through him wasn’t helping him think straight.
“Alright, alright, we’re goin’!” Liam growled, stepping over a groaning biker who was clutching his ribs on the floor. He grabbed Kenny by the arm, dragging him toward the door before pausing to yell over his shoulder at Tony.
“Tony! Let’s go, man! You made your damn point!”
But Tony didn’t stop. The guy was still in full beast mode, raining hell on anyone dumb enough to get close. Liam cursed under his breath, darting back toward his teammate. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder, yanking him out of his frenzy. “That’s enough! You wanna get us all thrown in the clink tonight? Let’s go, now!”
Tony’s wild eyes met Liam’s, and for a split second, it looked like he might swing on him too. But then reality seemed to click back into place, and Tony huffed, shaking his head.
“Fine,” Tony began, kicking one of the men he’d just floored one last time for good measure. He adjusted his blood-splattered Valentino shirt and flashed a wild grin at Liam. “Guess I got carried away.”
Liam shook his head, muttering under his breath as he grabbed Tony by the collar and started dragging him toward the exit. “Carried away? You damn near killed half the bar, you psycho.”
The sound of distant sirens cut through the night as they burst out into the parking lot, where Ray had the car running, waiting for them. “Get in, get in!” Liam barked, shoving Kenny into the backseat before climbing in himself and pulling Tony along with him.
As the car peeled out of the lot, Liam slumped against the seat, running a hand down his face. “Next time,” he muttered, glaring at Tony, “we stick to darts. Got it?”
“For sure. Next time I…FUCK. I got blood all over my shirt. I liked this fuckin’ shirt.” Tony answered, scrubbing at the blood stain with his hand, which was also dribbling blood from his knuckles at this point, making the attempt futile.
Liam was right. This was stupid. He’d been so wound up that he’d gone off like a powder keg when they’d pushed his buttons. Not only that, they’d left his Ferrari behind.
“Fuck. My car. You gotta let me out.” Tony shouted suddenly, sitting up in the seat and swiveling around to look back at the bar, which was already illuminated by the approaching patrol cars.
“Goddamn it. I’m fucked. My pops is gonna lose his shit.” He groaned, tilting his head back against the seat and closing his eyes.
His adrenaline was still going full blast, and he could feel his heart thundering in his chest, so he took a few deep breaths to calm himself before speaking again.
“I’m sorry guys. I don’t know where that came from. I’m sure I’m going to be in deep shit for this one with Nathan too. I’ll take the blame.”
Liam leaned forward in the seat, his elbows resting on his knees as he ran a hand over his face. He was still catching his breath from the chaos, but hearing Tony spiral made him snap back to reality. He turned his head, leveling Tony with a look that was more steady than angry now—almost like an older brother scolding his little brother for being reckless.
“Tony, calm the fuck down,” Liam said, his voice firm but not harsh. “The car? It’s just a car. Yeah, it’s a nice one, but you can get it back later once the heat dies down. Right now, the only thing that matters is that we didn’t end up in cuffs back there.”
He paused, glancing at Tony’s bloodied hands and ruined shirt before letting out a heavy sigh. “Look, I get it, alright? You were tryin’ to back me up, and I appreciate it. But next time, don’t let those assholes get under your skin. They’re not worth it, man.”
Leaning back, Liam let his head hit the headrest as the car sped away from the scene. His voice softened, though it still carried that no-nonsense Southie edge. “And don’t be takin’ all the blame for this. It’s on all of us. None of us stopped it from poppin’ off, and I sure as hell didn’t do anything to help calm the situation.”
He turned his head slightly, glancing at Tony out of the corner of his eye. “You’ll deal with Nathan when the time comes. You’ll deal with your pops, too. They’ll both be pissed, sure, but it’s not the end of the world. Trust me, I’ve seen worse.”
Liam sat up a little straighter, looking toward the road ahead. “What matters now is we get outta this clean, lay low for a bit, and not pull some dumb shit like this again. Agreed?” He gave Tony a slight nudge on the shoulder, smirking faintly despite the situation. “And for the love of God, maybe don’t wear a two-grand shirt to a dive bar next time, yeah?”
His smirk widened a little as he added, “You’re buyin’ the next round of drinks too, by the way. Call it payback for gettin’ us in the middle of a damn barroom brawl.”
Tony let out a sharp breath, leaning back against the seat once more and letting his head thump against the headrest. Now that the adrenaline was subsiding his knuckles stung like hell and he could feel his face starting to swell a little.
“Yeah, yeah, I hear you,” Tony muttered, rubbing a hand over his face. He tilted his head to glance at Liam, catching that faint smirk. “You’re right. It’s just a car. And the shirt… well, shit, lesson learned.”
He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “But don’t act like you didn’t enjoy watchin’ me drop that asshole though. Admit it. That was a clean shot.”
Liam gave him a look, but Tony could see the flicker of amusement and proudness in his eyes. That was enough to ease the tension in his chest, at least a little. He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Alright, no more dumb shit. I’ll lay low, keep my head down. And yeah, I guess I’ll cover the next round—dive bar or not. I owe youse guys that at least after getting you into this shit.”
He closed his eyes, rubbing at the swollen lump on his face with a light wince. “Thanks, man,” he said quietly, not looking directly at Liam but meaning it all the same.
“No problem kid.” Liam answered, giving him one last pat on the shoulder. “Remind me to stay on your good side though. Because that was fuckin’ insane.”
“Yeah no shit. You turned into the terminator in there. I’m glad you’re on our side.” Came a voice from the front seat, filling the car with laughter as the Southie boys successfully made their escape back toward their faction house.
For Tony though, the night was far from over. He just didn’t know it yet