by M. N. Forgy
“I don’t get what you mean.” I shake my head confused. “Like sponsors and stuff?”
“Oh, god no. This is more underground, like black market kind of shit,” she whispers.
“Underground?” I scrunch my nose with distaste. I want more than back alley fights in garages. I could have done those in LA, I want bigger. I want to pave the road for females everywhere.
“I have already said too much,” she huffs, stepping back. “Just do what you’re told, and if you have what it takes you’ll know soon enough.”
I can’t help but roll my eyes and continue to hit the bag. This woman is full of shit.
***
For the next three days Debs has me on nothing but the punching bag. I’ve hit it so much, there are times I forget how to hit. My knuckles are cracked and bleeding, and my wrists are on fire. I’ve told her about the pain, she tells me to suck it up and starts flirting with Thomas.
Friday morning as I’m heading out of Chloe’s house I find Journey sitting on the front stoop waiting for me.
“Hey!” She jumps up, smoothing out her tie dye dress. Her hair is in a messy long braid, and her left eye looks darker than her right.
“He do that to you? Or did you fall down again?” I ask sarcastically.
She opens her mouth to respond, and then looks the other way. She is clearly getting tired of whatever is going on her so called relationship.
“You need me to step in?” I’ve never wanted to cause so much harm to someone in my whole life. The feeling is somewhat unsettling.
“No, I have it under control Tatum.” She rolls her eyes, crossing her arms.
I scoff, irritated.
“You need to get away from him. Are you living with him?”
She grabs the ends of her hair, mindlessly playing with it. “Yeah,” she mutters.
“Leave. Go stay with Dad,” I demand, not ask. I bite my inner cheek as the urge to shake some sense into my sister becomes overwhelming.
“Speaking of Dad, he was asking me to come to dinner tomorrow night,” she changes the topic.
“So?” I don’t like where this is going.
“So, I can’t remember the last time we all sat down and had a dinner together.” She raises her brows, looking at me pointedly.
Rubbing the temples of my suddenly aching head, I sigh. Dinner with my dad is nothing short of a disaster, I know it. “Do it for me,” she whines.
I hate when she does that, I can’t tell her no.
“Fine. I’ll see what I can do.”
She gives a curt nod. “Good. I’ll see you tomorrow night then.” Smiling she heads off back towards Dad’s.
“Looks like she’s still a mess.” Looking over my shoulder Chloe is leaning against the door with a cup of coffee in her hand.
“Yeah, she is. This guy she is seeing, I’d like to get my hands on him.” My fingers flex on their own thinking about giving the asshole what he’s been giving my fragile sister. She’s a hippie, who wants to hit a hippie?
The sky thunders, as dark clouds slowly blanket over us. Looks like a bad storm is rolling in.
“I gotta get to the gym. I don’t want to be late. Who knows what Debs would do.”
“Hey, the camel called, it wants its toe back.” Chloe points down at my crotch laughing. Glancing down I notice I have a huge camel toe. Shit.
Hurrying back inside I pass a giggling Chloe.
“Shut up,” I snap playfully.
“Hey, it’s better me than someone else!”
After changing into a different pair of yoga pants, I pass Chloe sitting on the front steps and head toward my car.
“Knock ‘em dead!”
Camden
The blinds are ripped open and Kaley’s perfume fills the room.
Groaning I flip over and hear an audible gasp escape her mouth.
“Um, good God!” she chokes on her words.
Smiling I open one eye and find a blushing Kaley looking anywhere but at me and my saluting morning wood.
“Why good morning Kaley, so good of you to come in my room first thing in the morning,” I casually state.
“I’m here to assist, um.” She brings a clipboard up over her face.
“Oh, you want to assist me?” I tease.
“NO! What I meant was…”
Flustered she throws her hands at her sides and storms out of the room.
“Just get some pants on and meet me in the kitchen!”
After having a good laugh I peel myself out of bed and grab some gym shorts. My hard cock sporting an impressive tent. Ever since it found out Tate was back in town, it’s hardly soft anymore.
Bracing my hands on each side of the window seal I glance out at that gloomy sky. I sigh, preparing myself for the gym today.
Tatum Fucking Davis. My Achilles heel.
You think being in love hurts? Try falling in love at the age of seven. Tate was a girl that breathed fire and laughter. Everyone else just seemed cold and dull compared to her. She made me fall in love with her.
Pushing off the window I stride into the kitchen and find Kaley pouring a cup of coffee.
“First things first,” she digs in.
“No, no, and no. There, that was easy.” I grab my cracked cup from her, and she scowls.
“I get it, no to everything. But, I did want to let you know that rent is due to this fine establishment.”
“Get the movers to move it to my parents’ place.” My stomach twists thinking about being so close to Tate. I’m not sure if it’s a good feeling, or bad. I can’t stop thinking about her and it pisses me off.
I don’t think I can ever forgive her. However, I find myself more eager to get to the gym than usual.
“Ok, you got it. When do you want to be moved in by?”
“Tonight.”
“Um, really?”
Looking over my shoulder I pinch my brows together.
“Problem?”
She shakes her head anxiously.
“No, not at all. Your,” she looks at my boxes, “things will be at your parents’ place by tonight.”
“Good.”
Chapter Eight
14 Years Old
Tate
Lying in bed I can hear my mother and father talking through the thin wall.
“No, I don’t want the girls to know. Not yet.” My mother insists in a hushed voice.
“Marlow, they can sense these things. I read it in a pamphlet, you need to tell them.”
“No, I’m not dead yet and I won’t have my girls looking at me like I’m already gone!”
I squeeze the pillow, my eyes stinging with the urge to cry. I knew my mother was sick. She has been carted to doctor appointment after doctor appointment after she fainted in the kitchen last month. Her and Dad have been distant, keeping secrets from Journey and I. I expected the worst, and those expectations were just exceeded.
“This is all my fault. I, I should have been here.” My dad’s voice is loud, he’s not trying to hide the shame he is feeling.
“These things are called a secret killer for a reason Nick. Nobody knew, not even I. How would you have known?”
“Yeah, but had I been here, maybe I would have seen the signs. I could have taken the girls off your hands, given you a break.”
“It’s cancer Nick, nobody can predict these things.” My mother’s voice cracks, and I lose it. I start sniffling and bawling into my pillow so loud my door is opened.
“Tatum?” My mother’s voice is soft and I can’t help but break down even more.
“Baby…” She climbs onto my bed and pulls me into her lap.
“I don’t want you to die.” The words just come out before I think about them.
She exhales, her hands smoothing my hair from my face. But she doesn’t say she isn’t dying.
“Is it treatable?”
“No, it’s stage four breast cancer, and it has spread into my lymph nodes.”
“We are still going to try though.” My
dad breaks in, leaning against the doorframe. “Your mother needs us all here, to stay strong with her.”
“Does that mean you won’t be boxing next month?” I wipe a tear from my cheek. Dad is fighting in a match that could make his career. There are going to be scouts from all over. If he makes an impression, we could be rich.
“No. I’m not going.”
“Nicky—” My mom’s hand halts in my hair, her face scrunched disapprovingly of his decision.
“It’s not up for negotiation Marlow. My days of boxing are over. My only fight is your cancer. That goes for all of us.” Dad sets his eyes on me, and my heart cracks. He wants me to give up my judo and kick boxing classes.
I can stop my classes for a while, I want to. I want to be here for Mom.
After my parents leave I slip on my coat and shimmy down from my window. The night is bitterly cold, and the tears on my face freeze to my cheeks.
Running in my fuzzy boots, the grass crunches beneath my feet as I make my way to Camden’s window. Tugging it open, I climb in. He’s asleep. His short blond hair is sticking up everywhere, and he’s shirtless. My insides twist looking at his perfect chest. We’ve cuddled before, but we had our clothes on.
The kids at school have been experimenting with sex. The pressure has not been easy.
He stirs, and I remember why I’m here.
“Camden,” I whisper. His eyes flutter open, and a smile fits his perfect face when he sees me.
“I was just dreaming about you.” His voice muffled with sleep.
I roll my eyes, and shove him over.
“Nice line.”
“I thought you’d like that.” He throws the blanket over us, and hovers above me. His vivid blue eyes search my face. His smile slowly fades as he senses my sorrow.
“What’s wrong?”
My hands caress his tight chest, but my mind is hardly thinking about how close Camden’s body is to mine.
“You know how I told you Ma has been going to a lot of doctors lately?” My voice cracks with emotion.
“Yeah?”
“Well, I just found out she has… she has cancer Camden.” Tears spring from my eyes, my heart beating hard.
“Baby, don’t cry.” He lies down next to me, and thumbs my tears. “These things can be treated nowadays.”
I shake my head, looking up at the posters on the ceiling. It’s a blonde chick with boxing gloves over her big boobs.
“No, not this time. I mean, they’re going to try, but Mom pretty much told me there’s little hope.” Saying it out loud, my chest feels so heavy I can’t breathe.
“Shit.” His back rises, as he takes a deep breath. “What can I do?” Turning my head, I palm the side of his face. Patches of stubble are beginning to grow on his face.
“Can I just, can I lay here for a little bit. Mom’s in the living room crying, and Dad is taking down all his trophies. He blames himself, and is going to quit boxing. I can’t be in that house right now.”
“Yeah, of course.” He grabs my hips and pulls me close. I can feel his excitement having me next to him, and if I wasn’t such a mess I’d confront him about it, but right now I just want to be in the comfort of his arms.
Getting comfortable, he spoons me from behind. His hot breath on my shoulder, and the smell of his skin surrounding me.
What happens to my family when Mom is gone? Can Dad raise two girls or will he send me off? How long will Mom live for?
My mind races with the worst of thoughts.
“I can hear your mind from here babe.” He massages my shoulders, and kisses the back of my neck. “Stop stressing, I’m here.”
“Thank you Camden,” I whisper into the dark.
“What are boxing buddies for?” he replies.
The next week is miserable as they start radiation therapy treatment right away. When Mom comes home from it, it’s as if death is literally in our house. She cries and screams from the pain, and I can’t help but cry and scream with her. It’s as if we are all dying with her.
She’s suffering. It makes me angry and bitter at the world. Why would God take my mother away? I’ve been in many fights at school, my dad is not pleased with me. I’m trying to behave, trying not to bring any more stress to my mother but I can’t help it. I’m… I’m fucking angry! The only thing that helps is when Camden and I sneak to a judo class, or even a kick boxing class. Something about kicking that bag as hard as I can, it gives me sense of control… something I feel like I don’t have outside of the gym. I say sneak because Dad forbid me from any martial arts, and I tried to obey his wishes… but I just can’t.
One day after sneaking off to judo with Camden I find my parents home early from Mom’s radiation treatment. The good feeling from the judo class vanishes. A nervous sweat spreading along my back as I silently pray Dad doesn’t ask where I’ve been. I touch my cheek, where a growing ache has become hard to ignore.
In the middle of practicing a leg wheel with Camden, instead of landing on the floor, I landed my face right on my elbow. It’s a basic move, you spin your opponent to where their front is facing your back, apply pressure to their leg with your own, and flip them over your knee onto the floor.
I wince, pressing my fingers too hard on my sore cheek. It’s definitely going to bruise. I should just raise a red flag saying, ‘I’ve been sneaking behind your back.’
“I’ll see you later?” Camden asks, that flirtatious smirk of his making me weak in the knees. He tugs on my fingers that are holding his hand, refusing to let go.
A disgruntled cough sounds from the porch, catching my attention. My head whips toward the house, finding my dad staring down at me. He eyes zero in on my cheek, and his face reddens with anger. I swallow hard, awaiting the words to leave his mouth.
“You’ve been off fighting again, haven’t you?”
“I um—” I fidget on my feet, trying to look anywhere but at him. I don’t want to lie, he knows I have been.
“You should go,” I whisper at Camden.
“You sure?”
I silently nod. After Camden is out of sight I peek through my eyelashes at my furious dad.
I’m nervous of what kind of punishment I’ll receive. Surely I’ll be grounded for life. I wish he would just understand I need this outlet. Everyone is coping with Mom in their own way, fighting is mine. When I’m not in the gym, I feel like the world is swallowing me up with its darkness. I become as violent and ruthless as the reaper that is hovering over our house.
“I will not tolerate this. This ends now.” Dad shakes his head and stomps into the house.
“Wait, what are you doing?” My words come out frantic as I follow my dad into the house.
Giving Camden a meek smile, I pull my hand from his and head toward my house.
“I promised your mother that I would take care of you girls, and that’s what I’m doing.”
Walking into my room he grabs the posters of celebrity fighters, and tears them off the wall. The sharp sound of paper ripping echoing throughout the room.
“NO!” I run up to him, and tug on his arm, willing him to stop.
“It might have been cute when you were little, Tate. Hell, I might have even influenced it, but fun and games are over. It’s time to grow up.
His head whips back and forth, looking for his next item of destruction when his eyes land on the blue crate in the corner of my room. My prized collection of magazines. Some of them are even signed by indie fighters.
He marches forward and picks them up, and my heart thuds against my chest in panic. The idea of them being thrown in the garbage too hard to bear. The dew will make them wet, causing the color to run and pages to stick. They’ll be ruined. Years of collecting, gone.
I grab the crate, pulling it with all my might.
“Dad, you can’t do this,” I sob, tugging on the blue plastic crate until my knuckles are white. “Please!”
That rage and anger that boils deep within my soul surfaces, and before I can think ab
out my actions, one of my hands releases the crate and I slam it into my dad’s face.
The crate drops to the floor, as he clutches his face in surprise.
A burning ache races down my arm, settling in my knuckles.
Surprise flashes across my face, before I mask it with a death stare. Pretending my hand doesn’t feel like a dozen bees just stung it.
“You’re killing us all,” I push through gritted teeth.
His face reddens, and he harshly grips me by the arm, tugging me out of the room.
“Let go of me!” I strain against his hold, shoving him and slapping him as he drags me out of the house. Before I can steady myself he pushes me out the door, causing me to stumble down the stairs.
I can’t help the tears streaming down my face as I stare at my father.
“You will obey my rules under my roof, or you won’t live here anymore!” he points at me, his cheek glowing red where I hit him.
“Maybe I don’t want to live here anymore!” I sob.
“I hope you don’t mean that.” He shakes his head, and slams the door shut.
Within seconds, Camden rushes from his house to my side. Our houses are close, and I know my window was open. He saw and heard the whole thing.
“Babe, what the hell?” he whispers, his hands snaking around me and cocooning me into his warm hold.
“I hit my dad,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around his neck.
“I know, I saw.”
“I don’t know what to do Camden.” My voice cracks as I grab at his shirt like a lifeline. Hoping he has the magic words to make everything better, to make the pain vanish that is vining its way through my body.
He pulls me an arm’s length away and looks me in the eye. His vivid blue eyes looking down into my soul.
“You know I’m here for you, but you’ve got to work through this with your dad, Tate. My dad is a piece of shit, and could care less about my mother and me. Your dad, he just cares too much.”
I wipe my stray tear, my heart cracking with the thought of giving up what I love, what sets me free. If it saves my family, I’ll do it though.
“I’m going to have to give up fighting, find a different passion. That means I can’t go to anymore classes with you, Camden,” I weep, looking down at my feet. Saying it, and hearing it come from my mouth hurts much more. When I was a little girl I was asked what I wanted to be when I grew up, I wanted to be a professional fighter. The idea grew in my heart and mind and I had no doubt I would reach my goal.