I frown. “Brandi, I was a boxer when you met me.”
She fiddles with her fork, her salad bowl just about empty. “You almost got beat tonight,” she says.
“Almost? Please, that punk kid got lucky with a few good punches early on. It had me off my game for a while, but I bounced back,” I say with more confidence than I probably deserve.
“Look at your face!” she snaps, and I realize I’ve left her stewing by herself for too long. She’s had time to think about this.
“It will heal. It’s just bruises, baby,” I say. “I’m fine, really.”
“This is not fine, Jonathan! This is not what fine looks like,” she is really livid this time.
“Damn it, Brandi; you always do this!” I slam my fists down on the table. She does not flinch; if anything, she just looks more pissed than concerned now. I take a calming breath. I smile at her. “Brandi, I love boxing. You can’t ask me to be something I’m not.”
“It’s just so dangerous, Jonathan. I hate watching you hurt yourself,” she says. “If you loved me-”
I cut her off before she dares to give me some sort of ultimatum –one that I admit would not work out well in her favor. “I want you to stop dancing,” I say.
She does not look amused. “That’s my career, Jonathan. And that’s not the same. I’m not hurting myself like you.”
“Oh?” I stand up, go over to where the lasagna has been waiting for us and fix us both a plate. I cut a giant ass slice for her, slam it down in front of her, and then bash a fork into it to where the fork is standing straight up before returning to my seat. I then just stare at her, letting the silence speak volumes as she ignores the plate of fatty pasta. “You gonna eat?” I snap after a long winded silence.
“Of course, I’m going to eat,” she snaps and takes a little nibble.
I slam my hands down on the table again. “Fuck, Brandi, eat for real! Eat something other than salad without dressing! You scare the shit out of me with your fucking bullshit! Eat, damn it! You think I don’t ever hear you throwing up in the bathroom? Fuck you, Brandi! It’s the same. It’s the fucking same! Let’s just wait and see who kills themselves first over their passion, and let’s just spend the rest of our lives yelling at each other about it!”
“You know I don’t do that anymore!” she snaps. When we had first met, she had pretty much been bulimic, and I feel like a jackass for bringing it up. It really embarrasses the hell out of her. It was before she had really established herself as a dancer. Now that she had made a name for herself, carrying a tiny bit of weight around her hips was slightly less of a big deal. She was still the skinniest woman I knew, but I know damn well she’s not bulimic or anorexic anymore. She looks really pissed off; she ditches her wine glass for the bottle and grabs her plate before ditching me in the kitchen.
I roll my eyes and decide to give her time to cool off before going after her. I finish my dinner. I eye the cheesecake for a minute, but I decide against it. I go looking or her, but it isn’t hard to find her. She’s in the den in front of the fireplace. She’s downed half the bottle of wine, and her plate is empty. Damn, I think. I had cut her half of the pan of lasagna. I go and sit down with her on the floor, taking the wine away and pushing the empty plate to the side. I put an arm around her and offer her a sincere apology. “I know you’re just worried,” I say, “I shouldn’t react like that.”
She suddenly speaks, and her voice is shaky as she sobs, “That lasagna was really good.”
I laugh at her; I can’t help it. I kiss her cheek and give her a tight squeeze. “You know, there’s still cheesecake in there,” I say.
She does this laughing-crying bit and then says, “I’m going to eat half that fucking cheesecake.”
That’s my girl.
5
“Oh, hell no,” I say somewhat playfully as I snatch the beer away from Gabriel, and the rest of the guys all snicker. “None of that underage crap while we’re in my house, Gabe.”
“Fuck you, man,” Gabe groans and tries to snatch the beer back. Gabe, while he is my closest friend, he is sort of the kid brother of the group. While the rest of us are slowly approaching our thirties, Gabe has still yet to turn twenty-one and pass the threshold into manhood by being able to purchase his own alcohol.
“Awe, come on, Jonathan, give the kid a break,” Marty, a fellow middleweight boxer, laughs loudly as he circles around my pool table –pool stick in one hand and a beer in the other.
“Yeah, Johnny-boy, you were young once,” Tyler, a jackass I met at Damion’s gym who only thinks he’s a boxer, says.
“Once?” I hiss, and Tyler and Marty laugh at my expense. I hand Gabe back his beer and pat his head like a child. “All right, one beer won’t hurt him, I guess.”
“Knock it off, jackass,” Gabe says.
“Hey, you better be nice. Otherwise, you can ask someone else to supply you with your buzz for the evening,” I say, and Gabe shuts up quick.
“So where’s Brandi at tonight?” Tyler asks; they’ve all gotten used to her pretty much being around all the time.
“Visiting her mom,” I say, but they notice the subtle grin on my face.
“Oh, shit, what’s going on with you?” Marty says in a sing-song voice to let me know he’s picked up on my perkier than usual mood.
“Nothing, nothing,” I say, but I say it like I’m toying with all of them –like I’m holding out.
They all pick up on it. Tyler especially. “Awe, shit, Jonny-boy’s screwing with us. What’s going on –did you knock Brandi up or something?”
“I hope not,” Marty jokes, “could you imagine this moron as a daddy?”
“No, she’s not pregnant,” I say, “But I’m planning on making her an honest woman.”
“What?” Tyler’s voice lingers somewhat excitedly –as excited as a man who lives and breathes the bachelor lifestyle can get for a friend who’s talking about popping the question.
“Congratulations, man,” Marty says, “So I’m the best man, right?”
“Screw you, Marty,” I say, “You know it’s Gabe.”
Gabe suddenly awakens from whatever daze he was in. He stands upright, his chest poked out proudly. “Really? Me?”
“Of course,” I say, “you’re like a brother to me, man.”
“That’s lame. You can’t let him be the best man. What kind of bachelor party is he going to throw? He can’t even get into the good clubs. What are we going to do? Go to Chuckie Cheese?” Tyler teased.
“Three weeks,” Gabe says, “Twenty-one in three weeks. You guys are a bunch of assholes.” Gabe shakes his head. “Congratulations, Jonathan.”
“Don’t congratulate me yet, guys,” I say, “She has to say yes first.”
“Not to put a damper on things, Jonathan, but…” Gabe pauses, wondering if whatever he’s about to say should be said. He decides to press on. “Maybe you should end things with Vivian.”
Ah. Yes, Vivian. The side chick. I nod. “I know,” I say, “And you’re right. If I’m going to make things work with Brandi, I guess I have to stop being such an idiot, huh?”
“I’d say so,” Tyler says, “but that’s going to require a lot more than you dumping the hot model or whatever it is Vivian does. You’re an idiot for more reasons than that.”
“Awe, shut the hell up, Tyler,” I say and shake my head. “Let’s focus on one thing at a time, all right?”
“The Dancer and the Boxer,” Gabe says, “Sounds like one of those cheesy romantic comedies.”
“Or a really good porno,” Marty adds.
I shake my head. “Nice,” I say, and we get the pool table ready for our game. I shoot Vivian a text saying that I want to meet up soon. I suppose if I’m going to dump her I should be decent enough to do it in person even if she and I both know she’s just a booty call. I can be somewhat classy at times. It’s been time to end that so-called relationship for a while. Brandi has been on my mind a lot lately. She’s been there by my side for a long
time now. It’s time to move forward, and while a part of me is saddened to leave the fun bachelor lifestyle behind, I’m much more excited about what lies ahead.
6
Oh. My. God. She is still fucking talking. I look at my watch. Damion is going to kill me; it doesn’t look like I’m going to get back to the gym before closing. I cannot believe that she has not run out of stuff to say about fucking Victoria’s Secret. A small part of me wants to punch Vivian in her face. Another part of me wants to just scream out my break up in her face just so I can get out of here.
I start tuning her out. I think about Brandi, and a smile appears on my face. I will need to go ring shopping. I wonder if she would appreciate one of those big ass diamonds to show off or if she would prefer something more traditional? A single stone or something more intricately designed? Brandi is a tiny little woman; too big of a diamond would probably overpower her hand. She’s an elegant and classy girl; I bet she would prefer something extravagant yet still somewhat traditional. Geeze, and then there’s the wedding band. I saw in a magazine that you can buy them in pairs now so that they kind of go together; that would be one less thing to think about. I’m not so great when it comes to jewelry.
My mind goes back to when Brandi and I first met. It had been at the beach, and she had been wearing this sexy little black bikini. Marty had bene with me; in fact, he had been the one to point her out. He made a comment about her looking skinny as fuck but still bangable, and Brandi had overheard him. She had come right up to us and started throwing some curses around. I had kept my mouth shut and let Marty dig himself a hole as he attempted to spit out some sort of apology. I finally told Marty to shut up because he was making himself look like a jackass, and I apologized to him and told him to go get us some food by the pier –Brandi and her friends included. While Marty went off to get his apology food, Brandi and I stood around talking. I had made her laugh a few times at Marty’s expense. I had still been an amateur boxer back then, but I was starting to bring in the dough. She had looked so damn fine in that bikini. She looks even better now though now that she was past that uncomfortable bulimic time in her life and had started to fill out. Healthier I suppose is the word.
Yup, my dick got hard sitting here fantasizing about Brandi in her bikini. I suddenly feel Vivian’s foot land in my lap from under the table. “Oh, well, hello there,” she says with this erotic tone in her voice. She leans forward and puts her hand on my wrist. “You know; my apartment is just around the corner.”
One voice in my head is screaming don’t do it, jackass! While the other is telling me, Brandi’s not even home this weekend –one last hurrah!
For some stupid reason, I listen to the second voice. We walk around the corner to her apartment building, climbing up three flights of stairs before reaching her apartment. Three. Three flights of stairs –during which time I could have changed my mind, but I didn’t. I kept on. She touched my ass, stroked my chest, and kissed my neck as we made our way there. As soon as we come through the threshold, Vivian locks the door behind her and pounces on me like a wild cat.
She nibbles on my throat, puts her tongue down my throat, and proceeds to pull my cock out of my jeans and stroke it. “Come on, Jonathan, fuck me good,” she says and gives my cock a gentle, playful tug.
“Hey, easy,” I say and kiss her long and hard before squeezing her ass and telling her to get back to the bedroom.
She scurries past me and through the door to her bedroom, throwing herself down on the bed, her legs spread open wide. She wasn’t wearing any underwear under that dress. I drop my jeans and underwear and throw off my shoes in one quick motion before jumping on top of her. I rub her with my fingers for a minute before inserting my cock, sliding in and out slowly at first but then moving faster and harder as she becomes wetter and wetter. “Ooh, baby, you do me good,” she says; she’s always been a lot more talkative in bed than most women I’ve been with. “Come on, go faster,” she demands and reaches around to pinch my ass. “Ugh, faster, Jonathan! I want you to go faster!”
I can’t go much faster; she’s just running at the mouth now. Honestly, I start thinking about shoving it in her mouth just so she will shut the hell up. I suck on one of her tits, and she starts moaning. She’s so loud. I mean, really loud. “Shut the hell up!” I hear a voice from the other side of her apartment wall shout; her neighbor hates my guts because this happens every time I come over. It’s really hard to concentrate with someone yelling and banging on the wall.
“Shut up, Donnie!” I shout back. Yeah, I even know the guy’s name after he and Vivian got into a cussing match once while I had been inside of her going to town.
“Fuck you, man!” I can just barely hear him say, so we just ignore him and finish the deed.
It ends with her screaming her head off and me cumming all over her and passing out beside her in bed.
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7
The boxer’s only gym, Golden Gloves, is my sanctuary. Damion has been running this place for years, and I’ve been coming here ever since my amateur days. Right now poor Gabe is standing behind a punching bag, holding it steady while I go to town on it. I can hear him grunt every time I make a good, steady punch. “Come on; Jonathan quit being a pussy. Gabe can handle it, nail that thing,” Damion hisses. “Speed, speed! That’s what we’re working on, but don’t let your form suffer just because you’re picking up the pace. Come on!”
Damion’s voice echoes throughout the entire gym. Whenever he’s doing training, everyone in the small, private gym tends to take notes. They won’t necessarily stop what they’re doing, but they all hope that they can get a glimpse into a private training lesson and pick up on a couple of things. I do as I’m told, and I pick up the pace while still focusing on my form. I get about twenty good jabs in when Damion shouts for me to show him a hook. I guess Gabe didn’t hear because when I swing my arm around, I knock him and the punching back to the ground.
“Fuck, man!” Gabe shouts after falling flat on his back with the punching bag on top of him. That punching bag probably weighs just as much as he does.
“Pay attention!” Damion shouts down at him. He offers Gabe a hand, helping him back up onto his feet.
Gabe is rubbing his chest; I really knocked the shit out of him. “You all right?” I ask.
He stands upright and stretches his back. “Yeah, just give me a minute, would you?” he goes and sits down on a nearby bench, and Damion just shakes his head.
“I can’t believe you talked me into hiring that lightweight,” Damion says.
“He’s good, and you know it,” I say.
“He couldn’t take one of your real punches,” Damion says.
“Most people couldn’t,” I say with a grin. I know I can be arrogant at times, but this is just me being a little playful with Damion. He knows I’m joking –mostly.
“Awe hell, you aren’t getting a big head again, are you?” Damion crossed his arms. “Do I need to remind you your place, kid?”
I laugh. “Come on, old man; you don’t wanna cross gloves with me,” I say.
“Maybe I do,” he says and then shouts at one of the towel boys to go grab him his gloves off of his desk.
And now the gym is really quiet as everyone goes running up to the ring. Damion is not as hands-on as he used to be, so whenever he decides to square up with one of his students in a sparring match, everyone tends to flock towards the ring. He’s old as hell, but he can still pack a punch that would have left that Stockney punk stunned. “Come on, Damion; you don’t want to box me,” I say to the man who is nearly seventy years old at this point. I climb into the ring anyways as Damion has Gabe tie up his gloves for him.
“Hey, this is just a lesson on form,” Damion says, “but I still think I could give you a run for your money, kiddo.”
I laugh at the thought. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Damion.”
“Come on, Damion, you gonna let
him talk to you like that?” one of the guys taunt me from outside of the ring.
Damion just laughs and tells me to put up my gloves. I go easy on him. I’m not about to break an almost seventy-year-old man’s nose or ribs. Like Damion said, this is all about form anyways. He’s always nagging me about my form even though it’s practically perfect. “Come on, watch those feet,” Damion snaps and then jabs me in my nose.
“Fuck!” I shout, and the guys all laugh. That old man’s hands are faster than I remembered.
“And keep your gloves up,” he adds as the two of us do our little dance around the ring.
Before we can go much further, a loud, screeching voice interrupts our brief match. “Jonathan!” a woman shouts from the back of the gym. It’s Vivian.
I drop my gloves and turn only to receive a serious blow to the side of my jaw. “Damn it, Damion!” I snap, “What was that for?”
“You’re distracted way too easily,” Damion says. “What did I say about letting broads in here?” He turns and shouts over at Vivian, “Members only!”
She just rolls her eyes. “I was invited.”
I quietly assure Damion that she certainly had not been invited. “Look, I need to take a lunch,” I say and climb out of the ring. “This is kind of important.”
“You getting some action on your lunch break does not qualify as important,” Damion hisses.
“Shut up, man,” I say
Gabe shoots me this judgmental gaze as I am climbing out of the ring. The crowd is slowly making its departure and working their way back to their individual workouts. “I’m a classy guy,” I say to Gabe, “I don’t break up over text.” Gabe gives me an approving nod and lets me pass by him without saying much more.
I head to the gym locker room, telling Vivian I’ll be with her as soon as I change. I throw on some street clothes –just a pair of jeans and old t-shirt that I have yet to sweat in –before heading out to meet her in front of the gym. The two of us head down the street to a place called Moe’s Subs to grab some lunch.
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