by Meg Watson
What can he call me? I should have had a dozen smartass answers ready to go. What the heck is wrong with me?
“Um, Callendra. Callie.”
His lips widened into a smile so shiny and perfect his teeth looked varnished.
“Callie is a beautiful name,” he purred, holding out his hand.
Callie hesitated for just a moment then held her hand out too. Instead of shaking it, he picked it up and drew it to his mouth. She bit her lip as his breath puddled in her palm. Then he dipped his head, dropping a small kiss just below the joint of her middle finger.
“I am really enjoying touching you,” he whispered into her palm.
She sucked in her breath. “What?” she choked.
The bell rang suddenly. Callie twisted in her chair, pulling her hand away and dragging it to her lap as her heart flopped around her chest like a wounded crow.
What the hell is he doing to me? Callie forced her eyes to focus on the ring and begged her armpits to please, please stop sweating on Tammie’s dress.
The announcer finished muttering the rules to Auger and Twister who stood half-bent at the waist. They looked like they were in suspended animation, paused in a critical scene of a film until the MC took a step back.
Auger bowed his head slightly and shook out his arms and legs one at a time. The lights went on at his side of the room and he and Twister stalked a slow circle around the ring perimeter. People walked backwards as they took their positions at opposite corners. The MC drew a cordless mic to his lips and tipped his head back, exultant.
“In this corner! Weighing in at an impressive two hundred thirty-five pounds… Undefeated for the last 18 bouts… It’s Twister!!”
The crowd roared delightedly as Twister raised both fists over his head and shook them. The cornerman slipped a mouthguard between his lips and he gave us all a diabolical, black-gummed leer.
“And in this corner! Weighing in at two hundred twenty pounds… Untested and unbested, it’s newcomer… ODIN!!!”
Auger shook his hands over his head and scanned the crowd, letting the enthusiasm wash over him, pumping himself up. His gaze flashed over to Winsor and Callie, and for a second she saw his cocky grin twitch a little, just at the corner.
When the bell sounded, time immediately slowed. Everyone pressed ahead breathlessly. Callie and Winsor leaned forward in their chairs.
CHAPTER 5
Auger
When the bell rang, Auger leapt from his corner with his fists up around his ears, circling the mat with Twister. The light seemed to thicken as though they were in a silent tunnel together.
Twister grinned and leered, but Auger couldn’t look directly at his face. He trained his senses on knowing his opponent’s body: how his shoulders showed his intentions, how his torso flexed with his already-labored breath, how his stance was wide, too wide.
Auger made a mental list of these things as they circled. Twister came in with a feint and he just swayed away from it, bouncing off on his toes, dancing around.
Twister shook his head fiercely, silently telling Auger that he wasn’t planning on just dancing for the next three rounds. Little did he know, Auger wasn’t planning on three rounds at all.
He came in with a right cross. Auger saw it coming and told himself to take it to see what Twister was made of, but his body wouldn’t obey. He dodged easily instead, then bounced to the left. Twister pivoted on his heel all clumsy and slow.
Some animal intelligence started to settle into his body, eagerly waiting for the next throw. He knew Twister now: eventually the big steroidal husk would over-reach, and there would be an opening to crush him.
Twice more, he came in with a powerful but imperfect throw, and Auger just stepped aside. He didn’t even dance on his toes. His relaxed posture was an extra insult. Then Twister attempted a combination and Auger simply swatted the left jab away as though it had been thrown by a teenager.
Was that me making that sound? Did I just laugh at him? Oh shit.
Instantly enraged, Twister threw an illegal elbow, narrowly missing Auger’s cheekbone.
Auger heard himself snarl in response, and the light turned to amber. He realized suddenly why Twister’s stance was so wide: he was waiting for a knee strike or heel strike.
No.
Auger knew he had to end it before that happened. He stopped circling and stood, making himself an easy target. Twister took the bait and snorted before throwing his heel in the air.
Raising a hand almost lazily, Auger caught the strike in midair. He paused with Twister’s heel in his hand to see the look of shock on his face. With a cruel grin, Auger slammed a single overhand punch to Twister’s temple with all his weight in it. Twister crumpled onto the mat like a rag doll.
As Auger stood over him, time immediately sped back up. The sounds and lights of the room slammed in on him like a tidal wave. He heard the roar of applause and realized it was over, already over. Orion rushed into the ring and shoved him away.
Auger bounced nervously on his toes, his whole body alive and sparking with unused energy. His taped hands opened and closed at his sides, straining the hand wraps. Every breath felt like a powerful wind filling his lungs, but he had nowhere to go.
Orion sat over Twister’s hunched form for a few more moments, barking in his ear and slapping his shoulder. Twister shook his head then straightened to sitting, a furious scowl on his face. Orion raised a thumbs up to the crowd, and a few people clapped appreciatively.
Auger stepped forward cautiously, wanting to see Twister’s eyes for himself to know he was all right. Shame began to creep into his mind again, reminding him that he wasn’t supposed to be in the ring at all. Not ever. As Auger got close, Twister snapped, glaring like a wounded animal.
“Get the fuck outta here!” he snarled.
Auger raised his hands. “I was just checking on you. Forget it.”
“Fuck you, man,” Twister growled. “One round? One lousy grand? You better hope I don’t see your face again, you—”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s enough!” Orion said sharply, dragging Twister to the ropes and out of the ring. Auger walked backwards and ducked through the ropes at the other corner, shaking his head in disgust.
I remember why I hate this, he thought as he strode toward the door, bowing his head and avoiding eye contact with the crowd.
“He’s fine,” came a low voice over his shoulder.
Auger shook his head angrily. The nerve! “You really shouldn’t sneak up on me,” he snarled without turning, his muscles still itching to be used.
“Oh yeah? Still have a lot of energy left over from the bout?”
Auger spun around and met Winsor Cooke’s cocky stare. He was far too close again, but the fighter refused to back away and held the billionaire’s gaze until Callie’s blonde head bounced into the corner of his vision. She shot him a warning look. He barely resisted the urge to drag her off the boat by her elbow.
“He wasn’t really a match for you, now was he,” Winsor taunted, dragging his attention back.
Auger shrugged. “Not really.”
“You should have taken my offer.”
Auger shrugged, squinting suspiciously at Callie. Why was she standing behind this guy like they came here together? He tried to read her expression.
Nothing. I have no idea what she’s thinking, he realized with a cruel awareness. As usual.
“I don’t fight,” he finally snarled back. “This was a one-time thing. I gave it up.”
“Gave it up?” Winsor repeated blandly. “That’s a pity. You’re impressive.”
“Eh, I got lucky,” he said. His body still twitched and ached for more conflict, some release of all the energy he had left over from the match.
Winsor cocked his head to the side slightly. “Well, happily for everyone,” he purred, “the sponsorship is still yours.”
Auger rocked back on his heels, barely restraining himself from the uppercut blow that seemed cocked and read in his right arm.
“I told you: No.”
Winsor shrugged, either now realizing or not caring how close he was to someone that deadly. “Do I look like the sort of person who accepts that answer?”
Auger ground his teeth together, silently begging his body to calm down, move past the fighting urge that seeped from every pore. “I don’t want it.”
“You absolutely earned it,” Winsor said, his voice low.
“I don’t know what you mean,” Auger muttered finally. His shoulders visibly slumped as he forced himself to release the tension in his muscles.
What am I supposed to say to this guy? He just will not let it go!
Auger kept trying to catch Callie’s eye but she wouldn’t look at him, not even for a second.
“Sure you do,” Winsor nodded arrogantly, sensing he had made some kind of forward motion in the argument. “You say you don’t want anyone to own you… But somehow I think that’s a lie. I think you would love to be owned.”
“Fuck you, man,” Auger shot back automatically.
Winsor chuckled and Auger vividly imagined smashing his teeth in. “There now. That’s the spirit! Just come round the house. Both of you.”
“What?”
“Ten grand,” he said slowly, as though Auger was too stupid to understand. “Just come round the house and we will settle up. So glad that’s out of the way. You see, Callie?”
He turned to face her as her eyes widened in shock.
“I told you he would take it,” he said to her, his voice smug and oily.
What the fuck?
Instantly Auger was as taut as a wire again and ready to snap. He glanced between Callie and Winsor, trying to measure their interaction, to understand it. Though it wasn’t all clear, he could understand one thing. Winsor was laughing at him, and Callie was in on it.
This is a trick!
“Fuck you!” he muttered again and forced himself to take a half step back. He felt suddenly cold and exposed, and every muscle trembled with the effort to not unleash the beating on Winsor that he so richly deserved.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Winsor purred to Callie, picking up her hand to kiss it as Auger watched, seething darkly.
“It’s twenty,” Auger snarled before he knew he was going to say anything.
“Excuse me?” he said, turning to face Auger with one eyebrow raised.
Auger constrained his voice to a commanding growl. He stared into Winsor’s mocking, hazel eyes and refused to even blink.
This asshole is going to pay me. In a hundred ways.
“You offered me twenty.”
Winsor nodded slowly. “Thank you for reminding me,” he said softly, nodding. He stood for a moment too long in Auger’s personal space, just to show that he could, then tugged smartly on his suit lapels and walked away with a smug grin.
Callie realized her mouth was hanging open and snapped it closed. She lunged at Auger with her palms up, her face a shocked, apologetic mask. “I did not know he was going to—”
“Oh save it, princess,” Auger snarled at her, somehow happy when she flinched back.
Instantly she was pissed again, her hand on her hip, her cheeks going pink as she drew in her breath.
“You know what? Maybe you do need a boss, Auger. At least if you’re going to sell your ass you should get paid.”
“Let’s get one thing clear,” he hissed, pulling up close to her. She stood her ground and he almost lost it, smelling her sweat right there in front of him, her cheeks red, her hair damp along her hairline. “Nobody tells me what to do. I’m not taking that asshole’s money. I make my own decisions.”
Callie said nothing, just stood there glaring like she was daring Auger to make a move. Seconds ticked by. He quaked as a flurry of images pounded through his mind: holding her, smashing Winsor’s face in, Twister’s rage, and the last time he saw Callie’s cheeks that deliciously flushed. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides but Callie held her ground defiantly, her chin jutting out in a brazen dare.
If she doesn’t let up, I’m going to have to...
Suddenly, a bell went off.
“Hey, isn’t that your cue?” Auger whispered snidely, so happy she was going to have to give in. “Don’t you need to get back to work?”
Squinting her eyes, she nodded subtly. Her shoulders went down and she looked smaller. The bell went off again and he saw her wince a little. All at once he saw how silly this all was and wanted to take it all back. Throw it in reverse, start over.
I shouldn’t have come. I shouldn’t have broken my word for a lousy grand. I shouldn’t have dropped that guy to the mat. I should have kept going looking for straight jobs, trying to be the man I told her I would be, so Bryce could be the man he was supposed to be too.
As she turned away he desperately wanted to drag her back and apologize. But as usual, it was too late.
There were still two matches left in the night, but suddenly he desperately needed air. As the lights went on over the ring for the second bout, he slipped through the crowd and made his way back to the dressing room. The hallways seemed too narrow and chilly, and the dressing room reeked of armpits and disinfectant spray.
Reaching for his clothes, he found an envelope with “Odin” scrawled on it in overly-large print. Inside were ten crisp hundred dollar bills. He flipped through them, chewing the inside of his lip and trying to tamp down his disgust. After all that pride-swallowing, he was barely closer to even than he had been at the beginning of the night.
Flipping through the hundreds again, he saw the small cream-colored business card. “Winsor Cooke,” it read simply. Penned neatly on the bottom was a handwritten number and the simple words, “personal cell.”
CHAPTER 6
Callie
The front door banged open against the plaster wall, shaking the whole apartment and hurling Callie out of sleep. She bolted out of her room and toward the kitchen. Auger sat upright on the couch and squinted toward the commotion as Bryce stumbled into the apartment, his arms flung out sideways to steady himself.
“Dammit, Bryce! Do you have to make so much noise?” she yelled, clutching her chest and leaning heavily against the wall.
“Yeah, what the fuck, man,” Auger complained from the sofa, pushing his hair back from his face. “You scared the crap outta me.”
“Yeah… fuck you both…” Bryce slurred, leaning against his forearms and working his gym shoes off slowly.
Auger sighed through his nose and settled back on the sofa, squinting away from the beating sunlight through the window. It was about 9 am. Auger pretended to fall back asleep.
Callie watched Bryce stumbling through the small galley kitchen, slamming cabinet doors, flipping on the tap, opening the fridge three times in a row.
Finally she groaned in defeat. “Dude, sit down,” she said. “I’ll make you some eggs or something.”
“Oh, now you wanna do something for me?” Bryce shot back.
She flinched but didn’t respond. A few more cabinet doors slammed and then a pan clattered against the ceramic tile floor and Bryce cursed at it.
“Seriously, sit down before you break something. I’ll cook,” she insisted.
Bryce lurched from the kitchen, narrowly missing banging his forehead on the beam that separated the counter from the living room. He grabbed for the counter and swung around, planting his body heavily in one of the bar stools on the other side. His head dropped into his hands.
“That bad huh?” she asked carefully as she took eggs and bacon from the fridge and laid them on the counter.
“Fugoff,” came Bryce’s muffled groan from behind his palms.
She grabbed the orange juice, then thought better of it and picked up the Gatorade. She splashed a healthy portion in a glass and slid it toward her brother. Bryce didn’t acknowledge it, just sat there holding his forehead and moaning.
Holding herself back from humming, she got breakfast ready. The coffee was already brewing by the time the elect
ric stove was heated up. The heavy pan felt satisfying in her hand, and the immediate sizzle of the bacon against the cast iron set her mouth watering.
Slicing some leftover baked potato into some heated butter, she had the distinct impression their grandmother would be pleased, if not impressed. Every task was done with precision, nested into other tasks and timed perfectly.
In nine minutes flat, she set a steaming plate of fluffy scrambled eggs, home fries and bacon in front of Bryce and smiled at him proudly. Bryce rubbed his forehead hard.
“Callie,” he mumbled, “you gotta go.”
She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips out. “Haha, very funny. You wanted over easy eggs?”
“No,” Bryce shook his head. He looked up at her with a desolate expression that made her wince. “I’m sorry,” he finally whispered.
She took a step back, her mouth open. “Bryce, what are you talking about?”
“It’s just… We gotta get outta here. I can’t… This was just gonna be temporary, right?”
“Bryce, you are not making any sense. We don’t have to go anywhere. We have to keep just moving forward. Right? Like we said?”
She watched Bryce take a sniff of the food, then push the plate away. He kept his eyes cast down. Auger stirred on the couch, sitting up and meeting her eyes from across the room. Silently she pleaded with him.
Fix this! Help me!
“Callie, it’s just… I don’t know,” Bryce continued after a few more long seconds. He looked like he was talking to the countertop, and his shoulders were caved in as though an invisible block of granite weighed him down. “I figured we’d be on our feet a long time ago… But nothing seems to be going like I thought...”
“No...” She heard herself say as she struggled to keep her confusion to a dull roar. Something was very wrong here. Auger heard her tone rise and stood up in his boxer briefs, walking slowly toward the kitchen. “Bryce, what’s changed? Why are you talking like this?”
“Man, why don’t you just get some sleep…” Auger suggested softly, his hand covering Bryce’s shoulder. Despite herself, Callie wanted to reach out and lace her fingers in his, to thank him for being here so she didn’t have to do this alone anymore. “We can talk about this later.”