Broken Lullabies

by Nicole Simone

We got halfway across the quad before two young girls who looked to be freshman asked me for an autograph. Camille waited patiently while I signed their notebooks.

  “Stay out of trouble,” I joked as they left in a fit of giggles and rosy cheeks.

  Once they were out of earshot, Camille spoke. “Doesn’t the constant fan attention get annoying?”

  “Fame is fleeting. I’m going to enjoy the perks of it as long as I can.”

  “What are the perks? Besides, having a plethora of women at your beck and call.”

  “I get to share my music with the world.”

  Camille nibbled her bottom lip. Anxiety creeping into her expression. “My screenplays are in a hidden folder on my desktop. I can’t imagine sharing them with anyone.”

  “You can’t grow as an artist without criticism.”

  “I don’t know if I could handle somebody telling me my writing is awful. It might break me to pieces.” I halted and she lifted her eyes to mine in question. “What?”

  “It wouldn’t break you. Nothing could. You’re incredibly strong, Camille. You know what my mother used to say?”

  “What doesn’t break you, makes you stronger?”

  My eyebrows creased together. “Actually, yea.”

  Her laughter was as beautiful as church bells announcing the noon hour. “That was my mom’s favorite saying as well.”

  “It seems our moms would get along.”

  “I doubt it. My mom is a hard judgmental nut to crack.”

  “My mom doesn’t have a judgmental bone in her body, but she does like to meddle.”

  Camille grinned. “Meddling comes from a place of love. That’s what Henrietta likes to remind me.”

  “Who’s Henrietta?”

  “My housekeeper-slash-surrogate aunt. She’s a fountain of wisdom.”

  The black unmarked door of the kickboxing studio screamed, “Do not enter if you value your life.” Exactly the message Tonto wanted to convey. After his UFC career came to a jarring close, he valued his privacy to a neurotic degree. I don’t pay attention to rumors, therefore I had no clue why one of the highest-ranking fighters ended up as a teacher. However, his tragedy was a blessing for me. Tonto could kick my ass into shape faster than anybody else.

  “We’re here,” I announced.

  Camille shifted uneasily as she took stock of the imposing façade. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I don’t have any workout clothes. Would you mind if I ran home and changed?”

  “I’m not an idiot. I know you wouldn’t come back.”

  “But…”

  In rapid succession, my knuckles rapped against the door for three short knocks. The eyehole slid open, snapped shut, and an abundance of deadbolts sounded before the door swung open.

  “Where the hell are you taking me?” Camille muttered.

  Six feet, five inches of imposing muscle blocked the doorway. Tonto’s face was scrunched into his signature scowl.

  “Hell,” he answered her in his rough Scottish brogue.

  Matthew had promised he wouldn’t put me in harm’s way, but Tonto looked like he would snap your neck without lifting a pinky finger. Matthew sensed my fear and squeezed my hand. It did little to calm my nerves.

  Tonto broke into a heart-warming belly laugh. “I’m kidding, wee girl. You should have seen your face.” He mimicked my expression and laughed harder. “Hilarious.”

  I chuckled nervously. “You really got me.”

  Stepping aside, he beckoned us into the gym and slammed the door shut. Two boxing rings were set up in the middle of the windowless room. Punching bags hung from the ceiling on metal chains. There wasn’t anybody else in the space and our footsteps echoed off the cement floors.

  Tonto pointed to the hallway to our right. “The locker rooms are down there.”

  “I don’t…”

  Matthew cut me off. “I brought a change of clothes for you. They’re on the bench.”

  Tonto hurried me out of the room with a wave of his hands. “Hurry. We only have an hour. Also, wear your hair up off your face. It will make it easier to see when you’re kicking the shit out of the punching bag.”

  My nose wrinkled when I entered the locker room. The musky smell of male sweat lingered in the air.

  “Gross,” I murmured.

  Finding the clothes stuffed into a plastic bag with the tags still on, I checked the sizes. A medium for the leggings and a small for the halter-top. Either Matthew went on blind luck or he had help from Marlene.

  “Why didn’t you give me a warning I was going to get kidnapped and dragged to a dingy warehouse?” I screeched into the phone when Marlene answered.

  “You’re being overly dramatic.”

  “Am I?!”

  “Yes, you are. Besides, it sounds fun. I’ve always wanted to try kickboxing.”

  “Then we’ll go together and I’ll tell Matthew I don’t feel well.”

  A long-suffering sigh crossed the phone line. “Honey, you are acting like a psycho.”

  “He bought me brand new clothes!” I shot a withering glance at the outfit that cost as much as a week’s groceries. “They’re Lulu Lemon. Can you believe it?”

  “I can actually. The man has nice taste for being straight.”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “No, I don’t. Up until a couple of hours ago, you weren’t friends with Matthew. You downright disliked him. Now he’s calling me and asking what size you wear in clothes.”

  Sinking onto the bench, I propped my elbows onto my knees. Frankly, my own emotions baffled me as well, which wasn’t anything new. They had a mind of their own. Regardless, if I had to pinpoint where my irritation-slash-panic came from, it would be the lack of control the agreement had created and how much I surprisingly didn’t mind giving away the reins. Matthew had managed a feat few had been able to manage within a matter of days -- he had gained my trust. Evidenced by the fact that I followed him to an unmarked warehouse without hesitation.

  “We created this contract which basically states for the next 11 days, he will expose me to new adventures I would never try on my own,” I explained to Marlene. “That’s where the squid fishing came in and now the kickboxing.”

  “How wonderful!” she squealed. “I’m so glad you’re stepping outside your comfort zone.”

  “Yea, but it’s scary. In order for this to work, I need to put my faith in him that he won’t kill me. In fact, it’s in the rules we implemented. No activities that could cause bodily harm.”

  “Well, see, there you go! If he does, you can sue him.”

  Laughing, my irritation dulled. “You’re not being helpful.”

  “Neither is assuming Matthew won’t treat the trust you have instilled in him with care.”

  For a while after the incident, the world was my enemy. I assumed everyone from the man at the grocery store to the cashier at the hardware store had a darkness swirling inside them. It was an ugly place to live. My therapist had helped me gain back a more optimistic outlook. However, my cynicism was harder to curb.

  “What the hell happened to you?!” Matthew called from the beginning of the hallway. “Hurry your ass up.”

  “Coming!”

  After promising Marlene I would fill her in later about the details of my sweat session, I slipped into the clothes Matthew had provided and wished he had sprung for a top that covered my stomach. Shrugging off my insecurity, I walked into the boxing gym.

  Tonto didn’t understand the word “mercy.” He ran me absolutely ragged around the gym. I had to do five laps, twenty pushups, and five pull-ups, which were merely a warm-up for what was to come. After Tonto demonstrated a couple of different moves, I kicked, punched, and basically released a torrent of fury onto the bag. Matthew watched from the sidelines with a smug smirk. I collapsed onto the padded ground with sweat dripping into my eyes. Tonto threw a rag on my face.

  “Nice work,” he praised. “But we aren’t done yet.”

&
nbsp; “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  Tonto laughed merrily, enjoying torturing me a little too much. “I don’t joke when it comes to kickboxing. Catch your breath and meet me at the edge of the mat.”

  From above, his face was replaced with Matthew’s. His steely grey eyes skimmed my half-naked body. “How you doing?”

  “Peachy,” I said sarcastically.

  “It gets easier, I promise.”

  “Are you implying I will put myself through this torture again?”

  “There is no other sport that gives you a rush of power like kickboxing.”

  Helping me off the floor, I grabbed on to his hand, and on shaky legs, stood. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. My bones feel like jelly. The opposite of powerful.”

  A mischievous glint twinkled in his eyes. “Because you haven’t had a chance to spar yet.”

  My stomach dropped to my toes. I had never fought before, or “sparred,” as Matthew put it. My parents were vehemently against violence to the point where even action movies had been banned growing up.

  Tonto clapped his hands together. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

  Techno music shook the ground as Matthew whipped off his shirt for the second time today. Not that I was complaining. The man had a set of abs that looked like they were carved out of marble. Loosening his shoulders and neck, he hopped from one foot to the other. It felt like I had stepped into the pages of the Hunger Games. Tonto grabbed my elbow and hauled me to the mat.

  My voice raised above the thumping bass. “I can’t do this!”

  “We’ll be wearing gloves. I promise nobody will get hurt,” Matthew said.

  “You pinky swear?”

  His eyes softened as he crossed to where I stood and hooked his finger around mine. “Pinky swear.”

  My breathing freed from the confines of my throat at Matthew’s touch. Heat radiated off of him in waves. Matthew had enough sexual charisma to tranquilize a tiger. A bead of sweat traveled from the top of his neck to his collarbone. Swallowing the need to taste him on my tongue, I attempted to banish my dirty thoughts and focus on the task at hand which proved impossible when Matthew was barely dressed.

  “You should put your shirt back on,” I said gruffly.

  “Distracted?” He leaned forward and my eyelids fluttered closed. His hot breath tickled my ear as he whispered. “I haven’t been able to think about anything else but teasing your nipples to a peak with my mouth since you walked out here in that strip of material.”

  Lust flooded between my thighs. “You’re the devil.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Feeling his stare, I opened my eyes. He looked at me intently like a deadly cheetah about to pounce. A chill danced along my arms, dowsing the flames.

  “All right, you two, enough flirting,” Tonto said. “Let’s put that sexual tension to use.”

  Throwing a pair of gloves to Matthew, he slipped them on and smacked the gloves together. My own pair felt awkward and heavy as Tonto shoved them onto my hands. Before my confidence could dissipate any further, a bell dinged.

  Matthew danced gracefully on the balls of his feet, waiting for me to make the first move. Problem was, I hadn’t a clue what the first move should be. Kick? Punch? Jab? The moves Tonto taught me minutes earlier blurred together into a singular blob. My feet remained rooted to the mat, numb with uncertainty.

  Matthew jabbed me on my right side. “Scared, princess?” He skipped around and planted another jab on my left side. “Huh? Are you?”

  His provocation sent a buzz of annoyance fluttering to the surface. “No.”

  “Prove it.”

  “We aren’t in grade school, Matthew.”

  His foot lifted from the ground and kicked my calf. A dull sting caused a flurry of curse words to spill from my lips. Instead of apologizing, Matthew laughed. It grated on my nerves, and combined with the pulsating music, created a tornado inside that clenched my hands into fists.

  “There you go,” Matthew murmured with approval. “Show me what you got.”

  My arm jutted forward in a pathetic rendition of a punch. He grabbed my wrist, his thumbs pressing into my pulse points that fluttered with adrenaline and threw my arm back.

  “Really?”

  His tone coated in disgust drove me to try harder, be faster, and above all, wipe the floor clean with Matthews’ ego. We danced around the mat together as we blocked each other’s attempts. Tonto’s yells of encouragement disguised as taunts blended into the background. The smell of sweat twisted into the stench of garbage, putrid and gag-inducing. Matthew took advantage of my distracted state and landed a jab to my cheek.

  I flexed my jaw, pissed. “You’re supposed to avoid the face.”

  “You looked like you were getting bored.”

  Bored? Nope. More like getting tugged back into the past where nightmares lurked. I readied my stance, throwing a jab to his right ribcage. The glove connected with my intended target. He stumbled backwards as satisfaction blossomed in my lower stomach.

  “Tit for tat,” I said, smugly.

  Matthew grinned wickedly. “Game on, girly.”

  The room blurred, faster and faster, until my surroundings were dark smudges against a white background. Matthew’s face was the calm in the middle of the storm. His grey eyes narrowed in concentration while we continued to spar. I struggled to hold on to the present. To block out the sound of Tonto’s voice, which had contoured into my attacker’s, deep and seeded with evil. A need to end this fight as quickly as possible ran through my veins like quicksilver, fueling my movements. I pushed my body to the breaking point, bending, ducking, and using every ounce of energy I had. With years of experience under his belt, Matthew had the upper hand. I, however, had one trait he lacked: a lower center of gravity. He charged forward and I lowered to a crouching position. Rolling behind him, I waited on my haunches for him to turn around. When he did, my feet sprung upwards. Matthew’s eyes widened with surprise as my fist came flying. Like a cartoon character, his face jerked upwards in slow motion. At the sight of the river of blood that ran from his nostrils, the tentacles of the past loosened. Reality caught up to me and a heavy sense of regret wrapped around my heart.

  “Holy shit!” I screamed. “I’m so sorry!”

  Matthew swiped at his nose; a streak of red stained the back of his glove. He looked at it for a moment, then burst out laughing.

  My eyebrows threaded together. “What’s so funny? I hurt you!”

  “Babe, you didn’t hurt me. You simply gave me what I deserve.”

  I still didn’t understand his bizarre reaction. If my nose were dripping like a leaky faucet, the last thing I would be doing was giggling.

  Tonto joined us on the mat and slapped me on the back. “I’m proud of you, firecracker. You picked up the art of kickboxing quickly. You are more than welcome to come back.”

  “Thanks.”

  Although I didn’t see that happening anytime soon. Yoga was more my speed. Matthew and I left the gym twenty minutes later with tampons shoved up his nose to stop the bleeding. A black and purple bruise was already forming under his eyes.

  “God, I’m so sorry,” I repeated for the billionth time. “So, so sorry.”

  Halting to a stop, Matthew turned to look at me. “From the first day we met, I saw how you held your inner fire in check which is why I poked and prodded until it became ignited. I love that side of you, so never apologize.” He nudged my chin with his thumb. “All right?” Off my nod, he smiled. “Besides, it’s pretty hilarious I got beat up by a girl.”

  A pocket of sunshine chased away the clouds as I matched his smile.

  “Hilarious.”

  I would have gotten punched in the face a thousand times over if it led me back here. Once we returned to my apartment, Camille shoved me into the nearest chair and tended to my busted nose. Although sore to the touch, it wasn’t broken. Applying the ice pack to the bridge of my nose, Camille nibbled her bottom
lip as she watched.

  “I’m fine,” I repeated. “You can stop looking at me like that.”

  “It’s hard not to. You look like you got jumped by a pack of wild thugs.”

  “Nope. Just a five-foot-five redhead who moves like a ninja.”

  “It’s your fault. You’re the one who dragged me there.”

  “True, and I’m glad I did.”

  Camille smiled shyly as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Her innocence made me want to show her the monster I truly was. That whatever goodness she saw in me was a lie. I couldn’t though because I was a selfish bastard. These past twenty-four hours were equivalent to a beach vacation.

  She lifted herself off the couch. “I’ll make dinner. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I thought you couldn’t cook.”

  “I can boil water. Is pasta okay?”

  “Perfect.”

  She sashayed out of the room, the yoga pants I’d bought her clinging to her tight round ass. My dick jumped to attention. A beach vacation while being in a permanent state of blue balls. Sighing, I adjusted my crotch and counted to twenty. Once the tent in my pants wasn’t visible, I wandered into the kitchen to help Camille. The upper and lower cabinet doors were flung open. Her hip cocked to the side, she surveyed the mess and muttered, unintelligibly.

  I cleared my throat. “Everything good?”

  She glanced over shoulder, annoyance tightening her features. “You were supposed to stay in the living room. Relax.”

  “Staring at the wall becomes dreadfully boring.”

  “Then turn on the TV or something.”

  I scooted around her, grabbing the necessary tools for pasta and closing the cabinet doors as I went. “The kitchen is my domain. This is where I relax. If you really want to make me dinner, then by all means, I’ll leave and let you take charge.”

  Camille grabbed a bottle of wine off the wine rack. “I wanted to impress you with a meal that wasn’t so simple, but my mind drew a blank. Also, your pantry is filled with fancy ass ingredients I’ve never heard of before. It became kind of overwhelming.”

  Placing two wine glasses in front of her, she popped the corked and poured the silky red liquid inside. Camille climbed onto a bar stool lined the custom-made island with the wine in hand. She took a long sip, savoring the hundred-dollar bottle I’d acquired in France.