“Mohammed,” I laid a warning hand on his shoulder.
He shook it off.
“Mohammed, are you freakin’ nuts?” I demanded, seething.
He grinned, ignoring me, as his gaze undressed Vicky. “Get your hands off me,” he snarled.
“Leave her alone!”
“Or what?” he finally took his eyes off Vicky and stared at me, stretching his neck. “You gonna cry about it or something? Get on with it, then, and have a good cry. Vicky and I might find something better to do,” he swung round and asked her a question so straightforward that it just couldn’t have been misunderstood. “Victoria, how do you like it? Rough and from behind? Or plain missionary? My brother Zaurbek could help us out if you wish...”
I saw red. “I’ll make you cry now!” I promised, knowing this wasn’t an empty threat. “You’re gonna get it rough: from behind, from the front and all points between!”
The program promptly registered an adrenaline rush followed by an increasing heart rate,
Righteous Anger!
You’ve come across an injustice and are experiencing a fit of Fury!
+3 to all main characteristics
+100% to Vigor
+50% to Confidence
+75% to Willpower
+75% to Spirit
-50% off Self-Control
The effect will remain active until justice is restored and while you’re convinced of the righteousness of your cause.
Mohammed’s Boxing skill was 2 levels higher than mine, but this Righteous Anger gave me a decent chance against him.
“Boys, stop that now!” Katia the receptionist demanded. “Coach Matov!”
Mohammed spat on the ground. “I’ll see you outside. We’ll see who’s gonna cry.”
“He’s already shit himself,” Zaurbek smirked, winding me up.
“I’ll sort your brother out first and then you,” I replied. “Let’s go, then.”
The two brothers guffawed and followed me. As I turned round, I saw a very smug Vicky. You couldn’t really see it but my interface had already registered her soaring Mood.
I attacked them first, knowing that otherwise I might not stand a chance.
“Let’s get on with it!” I swung round and buried my fist in Mohammed’s cheekbone.
He momentarily lost his balance but kept his footing. Grinning, he felt his cheek, then went for me.
“Kill him, bro!” Zaurbek shouted.
And so he did. While I had enough stats to dodge and parry his powerful blows, I didn’t get the chance to launch any decent response. Seconds turned into minutes while I was defending myself, waiting for an opportune moment but I just didn’t have much room to maneuver. On one side of me was a fenced-off flower bed and a row of parked cars on the other, so I did miss a couple of blows in the end.
Realizing it was no longer a joke, Vicky cried out and rushed to separate us.
Zaurbek grabbed hold of her. “Let them sort it out between themselves!”
When I saw him manhandle my girl, I went completely ape-shit, bringing the Righteous Anger buff to Level 2. Just at that moment, Mohammed — who must have thought that he had me collared — opened up.
Bang! It took all of my willpower not to close my eyes when his fist glanced off my ear, while I countered with a jab to his face.
His head jerked back. With a funny wave of his hands, Mohammed collapsed on the tarmac.
Silence fell. A round of applause came from behind me.
I looked up. One of my eyes had already started to swell but I could still make out our whole group standing around. Why hadn’t they tried to separate us? Did that mean that Matov and all the others had been watching us square off?
“K. O.,” Matov said. “And a rather unexpected one.”
“Well done, Phil!” I heard Kostya’s voice.
I walked over to Zaurbek who was still holding Vicky tight. Now he finally came to his senses and let her go.
“Your turn,” I said to him.
He gave me a grim look, then averted his eyes. Mohammed had already come round and was groaning behind my back.
“Zaurbek, take your brother to the first-aid room,” Matov said. “Let the girls take a look at him. But first I want an explanation. Which of you two started it?”
“I was just sticking up for my girl...”
“He was the one who started it!” Zaurbek pointed a finger at me. “Mohammed just wanted to talk to her...”
Matov winced. “I know Mohammed’s ‘just talking’. Which one of you started the fight?”
“I did,” I replied in all honesty.
“I see. You two brothers get yourselves over to the first aid, you others go and get changed. Panfilov, you don’t need to bother.”
I turned to Matov. “I’m sorry I didn’t even say hello to you, Sir. I was otherwise occupied.”
“Are you all done now?” he said sarcastically. “You can go now. Don't bother to come back. I'm kicking you out of the group.”
I couldn’t believe my ears. “What did you say?”
“You heard. The group’s rules forbid fighting on the premises. The instigators lose their card without compensation for the remaining class time. The best of luck elsewhere, Phil.”
“But I want to carry on training, Sir!”
“You’re very welcome. But not here. Bye,” he swung round, making it clear he was done with me.
“I’ll wait for you in the car,” Vicky said, then left too.
The joy of victory — because this was probably the first fight I’d won in my entire life — had been tarnished by my anger at Vicky. Had it not been for her stupid showing off, flirting with Mohammed... What had she wanted to achieve with that, my jealousy? Had she wanted to make sure I was still in love with her? Shit, that was really stupid!
I stood alone for a while, trying to calm down after the adrenaline surge. Then I started toward the car but remembered I still had to hand in the key and collect my bag. I staggered back to the gym with my head hung low until I bumped into somebody.
“Phil,” Kostya grabbed me by the shoulder. “Great right hand!”
“Yeah. Just a lucky shot.”
“Maybe it was lucky but it was a good jab! Listen, is it true what they’re saying that Matov has kicked you out? Would you like me to train you?”
“You?”
“Yeah, sure, why not? I’ve had my own problems with Mohammed for a long time. Finally someone’s shut him up. So I guess I owe you because it should have been me and not you.”
“Sure. I’d love you to train me. But where do you wanna do it?”
“What do you mean, where? Anywhere! We might not have a punch bag but we still have the sparring pads which are the most universal apparatus of all! And you’ll have a sparring partner, a.k.a. yours truly. How about it?”
“We could train at the school sports grounds, I suppose,” I said. “It’s only a couple of blocks away.”
“You mean school No 27? I know it. I used to go there. Only I can only do it either early in the morning or late at night. What do you prefer?”
“Let’s go for the mornings.”
“Agreed. We’ll start tomorrow if you want. Seven a.m.?”
“Sounds good,” I smiled. “Give me your phone number.”
I marked his number down. He hurried to bid his goodbye,
“All right, I’ve gotta rush off otherwise Matov won’t let me in. Catch you tomorrow!”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow. Thanks!”
Training with Kostya was a good alternative. His Boxing was level 8: only two levels lower than Matov’s. Also, I’d be more than happy to train in the mornings, alternating boxing with running. That way my evenings would be free to concentrate on learning and leveling up.
That cheered me up a little. I collected my stuff, said goodbye to the slightly unsettled Katia and left that particular fitness club never to come back again.
In any case, it had given me a lot of points in Strength, Agility, St
amina, Boxing and Hand-to-Hand. So even though I’d left a lot of money there, it had been a good swap.
I got into the car and we drove to the supermarket to do some shopping as planned. We didn’t say a word to each other. I was a bit surprised that she’d shown no reaction to me having to fight to defend her honor. But what if I’d missed something? Maybe she’d thought nothing of it?
In any case, the air in the car was not indifferent. It was clear to both of us that a serious conversation was brewing.
“Why did you have to start that?” I began.
“Start what?”
“Flirting with Mohammed.”
“Me? Flirting with him? We were only chatting. Can you tell me why you had to start a fight?”
“Only chatting? I started the fight? Ah, whatever,” I said, realizing the futility of continuing the conversation.
She was just teaching me another lesson and I was almost sure that it too must have had something to do with Stacy’s arrival at the agency.
This time I’d had enough. The only things that prevented me from breaking up with her on the spot were the feelings I still had for her as well as the fact that we’d had more good times than bad. By the same token, the bad times seemed to have had a cumulative effect.
We preserved a gloomy silence for the rest of our journey.
Even in the shop, we didn’t exchange a word. I pushed the trolley down the aisles while Vicky picked out our shopping. When the trolley was almost full, we headed for the cash register. I unloaded our shopping onto the belt while the uniformed shop assistant scanned the barcodes and pushed the packets toward Vicky who loaded them back into the trolley.
“Six thousand three hundred and eighty rubles[27],” the shop assistant finally said.
I handed her my bank card.
She swiped it and waited for a connection. “Your card has been refused.”
“Just a minute,” I opened my wallet and counted its contents. I didn’t have enough. “Try it again, please.”
“Can you hurry up?” an impatient voice said in the line behind us.
The shop assistant shrugged and swiped the card again.
Shit. Could I have spent everything without even noticing?
“Refused. You’d better do something about it, mister. You’re holding up the line.”
“What if I pay some of it cash?” I offered. “Here, three thousand eight hundred,” I handed her the money. “And you can put the rest on the card.”
“What are you messing around with?” an overweight dude demanded, indignant. “It’s late already!”
“They fill their trolleys and then they can’t pay for them!” an old lady added, holding a single bottle of kefir. “I can’t even afford a tub of cottage cheese on my pension! And the likes of them are living it up! Just look at all that stuff!”
“How much do we come up short?” Vicky asked.
The shop assistant paused, counting. “Two thousand five hundred and eighty.”
“Here, take this,” Vicky offered her three thousand, took the change, picked up a couple of shopping bags and headed for the exit.
My ears were burning. I’d always insisted I’d pick up the shopping tab. I grabbed the remaining bags and ran after her.
“Thanks a lot,” I said, catching up with her.
“It’s only normal,” she replied. “We live together. It’s high time we stopped going Dutch if we’re a family, as you keep telling me. You need to understand that’s not what I’m mad about!” she stopped by her car, opened the trunk and started loading the bags. “You have to admit you’re wasting your time on bullshit!”
“And that is?” I asked, stuffing the shopping into the trunk.
“Stop it now! Phil, you’re thirty-two years old. With your brains and your potential you could have made a great career for yourself. And what do you do?” she slammed the trunk shut and sat in the car.
I got in next to her. She pulled away from the parking lot.
“Vicky, let’s talk about it already. You mean my business, don’t you?”
“You call it business? It’s a kid’s game! You should be happy I love you but honestly, I just don’t believe it’ll get you anywhere. To be successful in business, you need a totally different set of skills. You need to be tough and crafty. And you, excuse my French, you’re a total wimp. Sales — yes, we know you can do it. To find the right approach and talk the customer into a sale — this is your thing, I completely agree. But a businessman? I don’t think so!” she braked and hooted at a car in front. “Go already! The lights have been green for hours!”
“Listen, we haven’t been open for a month yet and already you’ve written us off...”
“There’s nothing to write off, don’t you understand? Just close the office down and come back to Ultrapak, will you? Only today, Mr. Ivanov regretted you were no longer with us. Just think how much time and investment it might take you to reach the same kind of income as he paid you there? If you don’t want to go back, that’s not a problem. I already told you I could find you a job with my friend at White Hill, Ltd. They have far more potential.”
I knew she was right about all that: the potential, the income and especially the fact that I still had a lot to learn business wise. But dammit! We’d only been open for just over two weeks — too short a time to have done anything — and she’d already lost all faith in me.
In actual fact, she’d never believed in me.
I understood that I was possibly wrong in taking offence but my face turned red on its own accord. My ears were on fire. I might have been still suffering from the effects of the Smitten debuff — especially the diminished Intellect — but I replied hotly, fully understanding I might regret saying this,
“Okay, Vick. Let’s presume I’m wasting my time on bullshit, as you so eloquently put it. I can live with that. But you know... my ex, Yanna, had much more patience in this respect. She had faith in me for four long years. Can you imagine? And you didn’t even last a couple of months...”
I’d put my foot in it, hadn’t I?
Confirming my worst suspicions, Vicky swerved toward the curb and slammed on the brakes.
Your Reputation with Victoria Koval has decreased!
Current Reputation: Dislike 15/30
“Get out,” she snapped.
“Vicky, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”
“Out. And take your shopping with you.”
“Vick...” I said, still hopeful.
The next system message left me no chance,
Your Reputation with Victoria Koval has decreased!
Current Reputation: Dislike 25/30
Another déjà vu experience. I picked up my gym bag from the back seat and climbed out of the car. I wasn’t going to take any of the shopping. I didn’t want to appear so petty in her eyes. I started out down the road.
Vicky’s car caught up with me and came to a halt. The window on my side wound down,
“Phil, I’m afraid this time it’s over. I’m serious. This is the last straw. I’ve made up my mind,” she said in a weary but firm voice. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. I don’t forgive things like that. I enjoyed being with you but without you will be better.”
She pulled away sharply and drove off, leaving me by the roadside. I threw my bag over my shoulder and headed off home, seeing as it wasn’t very far.
It had been a hard day. My spirit and willpower had been depleted. I felt empty inside.
It had been a hard day. I’d come home and go straight to bed. I’d think about it tomorrow.
It had been a hard day...
Chapter Eleven. The Same Faces in the Same Places
It is invariably saddening to look through new eyes at things upon which you have expended your own powers of adjustment.
F. Scott Fitzgerald. The Great Gatsby
I LAY IN BED that night struggling to fall asleep. As if sensing my inner torment, Boris came and started to paw my chest, then curled up next to me and began
purring a soothing melody.
A dumped man sharing his bed with a cat isn’t the most heroic of images, I agree. Still, even LitRPG characters are entitled to a pet. I hugged the pillow and buried my face in it but my brain was buzzing, fully awake and refusing to nod off.
In everyone’s life, there comes a key moment when one’s path forks, forcing you to choose. Normally, you realize it years if not decades afterwards. These realizations can lead to dark despair when you curse yourself for having made the wrong decision. And more often than not, you simply regret something you should have done but didn’t — or alternatively, something you shouldn’t have done but did.
Now too I had a funny feeling that this day in July had steered me in a direction totally different from the one I’d been following only yesterday. Too many life-changing things had happened.
The fact that Matov had kicked me out of the group did hurt my pride but I could live with that. I’d already been thinking about wrapping up this particular development branch; besides, there were plenty of other groups and coaches around. Also, tomorrow morning I’d have my first session with Kostya to which I’d so eagerly — and probably too hastily — agreed. Now in hindsight I began to doubt the utility of such amateur sessions.
And as for breaking up with Vicky... my mind was now dancing a mental jig trying to list all the potential benefits of this step. Seriously, I could give you a few off the top of my head: all the free time I now had available, the absence of all the nerve-wracking innuendo, and a clear path to any new relationship seeing as my Attractiveness wasn’t just a figment of my interface’s imagination: I’d watched it grow with every ounce of fat I’d burned and every inch of muscle I’d built.
In which case, why did I feel so shitty?
Then there was the arrival of Stacy. Now that I had the time and opportunity to reflect upon it with a cool head, I could see several explanations of her weird behavior. The first and the most logical of which being that she was just an ordinary girl and that it was the interface that had somehow glitched. You never know, she might have some top-of-the-range mental protection installed by her loving grandma which restricted access to her data.
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