by JJ Knight
I force out a clipped laugh. Everybody still ribs me over my old crush on Jo. I didn’t even get a single minute with her before Colt snagged her back. Of course, if I’d known they were a thing, I never would have even looked at her twice. Colt was somebody you didn’t make an enemy of. Although I’d tried my damnedest.
That was past.
I stride through the weight room. A half-dozen lifters are working out. I always like the smell of Buster’s, lemony, like somebody has just come through and cleaned everything. Nothing like a typical gym.
Colt’s in the cage, sparring with a partner. I pause by the door to watch. He’s already defended his light heavyweight title twice since winning it a few months back. Nobody can tell now how close he came to dying.
For a minute I flash back to that night, doing CPR on his chest in the alley behind the gym. Jo looking like she might pass out again any second, gamely trying to keep pressure on his belly with her one functioning arm.
I probably won’t ever look at Colt again without picturing that night and the part I played in it. I’m damn lucky I have any career at all after that. That we are friends.
“Hey, Parker!” Jo calls out. She’s got three girls doing caveman throws, the sandbag weights thudding to the floor in tandem.
“Hey, Jo.”
“Grab some gloves. I’m sure Colt will want to pull you in.”
I dig through a basket of gloves at the corner of the mat.
I watch Jo’s form from the corner of my eye. She’s tiny, but pure strength. Fiery. For a while, Jo had one of the most promising starts of any female fighter the league had seen in a long time. But after the attack on her and Colt, she just quit.
I often feel responsible for that. I’d been there. Been a part of it.
“Yo, Power Play!” Colt calls out from the cage. “I’m ready to beat that pretty face of yours for a while.”
I turn around. Colt pushes against the mesh wall.
“Somebody’s already been mashing yours in, I see,” I call back. “Oh, wait, that’s just your ugly mug.”
I make it up the steps and Colt hooks his elbow around my neck. He drags me in a half circle. “You’re going to lose your nose for that.”
“Only if you catch me first, old man.” I wrestle loose and kick my shoes to the base of the cage wall.
The sparring coach passes me a helmet and I shove it on.
The girls Jo is working with move closer to the cage. I guess they want a show. Why the hell not?
I bounce in place, warming up. Colt looks a little fatigued, but he outclasses me on pretty much every skill, so exhaustion probably barely levels the playing field.
“Whatcha got?” Colt says. “You just going to stand there and bat your pretty eyelashes?”
“I like to play with my toys before I crush them,” I say.
“I’d like to see you try.”
I shift like I’m going for a roundhouse kick. When Colt moves to block it, I switch positions and instead land a bruising jab to his ribs.
He doesn’t budge, but his hand drops in defense. I think I have a nice chin shot set up, but he sees that coming a mile away and bats it away. Before I can think through my next move, I’m off my feet and slamming to the mat on my back.
The girls whoop from the floor. Damn it. I can’t go down this fast.
Colt drops on me for a grapple, but I know I won’t last long with him a couple weight classes above me. I manage to roll out of it with a sweep of my leg to his arm. I bounce back up, hopping in place, trying to figure out a move that will get me anywhere.
“Colt!” Killjoy, his trainer, presses into the wall of the cage. “Office. Pronto.”
Colt jerks off his helmet. “What for?”
“Lawyer.”
Colt nods grimly. Jo snaps to attention at the mention. She says something to the girls and waits for Colt to come down the stairs. She seems so tiny compared to the mammoth fighter who takes her hand.
I pull off my helmet. I wonder if the call has something to do with me, or the others who were part of the attack. Striker, the fighter who hired the guys who shot Colt and Jo, has managed to get his trial postponed twice on technicalities.
One of Jo’s girls stands timidly at the base of the stairs. She’s lean and strong, frizzed-out hair tied into a puff of a ponytail. Cute.
“You want the cage?” I ask her.
“You leaving?” she asks.
“I can.” I head for my shoes.
One of the other girls shoves at her and says something I can’t hear.
“No!” she says suddenly, then ducks her head, like she hasn’t intended to be so emphatic.
I grin. “No?”
Her dark eyes widen. “I mean, no, I want you in the cage.”
The other girls giggle behind her.
“Oh, really?” I ask. “Right here? With an audience?”
Her face burns bright red. “No! I mean…not that!”
I cross my arms. “You want to spar? With me?”
She looks relieved. “Yes. That’s what I meant.”
I push open the cage door. “Well, come on up, then.”
She slips up the steps in bare feet. I peg her as early twenties. I have no idea how long Jo’s been training her, or if she has any skill. She doesn’t seem to be trying to sidle up to me for a date or anything. In fact, she’s pretty shy.
“Camryn!” one of the girls calls out.
The girl stops and looks back.
“Gloves!” Sammy, Jo’s main fighter girl, tosses a pair up to her.
Camryn catches one, but the other lands on a step. She bends down for it. Poor thing. She seems terrified. But she’s screwed up enough courage to ask me to spar. I wonder what her game is.
Camryn isn’t the first girl I’ve worked out with in a cage. The women who show interest in me tend to fall into one of two camps. Fawning roadie girls like last night’s blonde, all cleavage and makeup. Or fighters wanting to train.
But this one strikes me as different. Both types of girls tend to be pretty bold. Camryn seems easily startled. But she’s in the cage now, clumsily strapping on the gloves.
“So it’s Camryn?” I ask her.
“Camryn Eventide,” she says.
“You got a fight name yet?”
She shakes her head.
I point to her yoga pants. They stop just above her ankles. “We’ll call you High Tide for now,” I say. “Just so I can do some trash-talking.”
She laughs, and it isn’t a girlish giggle at all, but a full throaty sound.
I like her.
“Have you sparred before?” I ask.
“Not really.”
“Well, take it easy on me,” I say. “I’m just a big lug.”
Another throaty laugh.
I could get used to this.
I walk to the center of the ring. “Ready?”
She heads over to me. “What happens first?”
“First, I insult you.” I look her over. “High Tide, you look like you have the stamina of a one-legged flamingo.”
One more laugh. I could listen to that all day. I circle her, gloves up. “Whatcha got, High Tide?”
Her face gets all serious. “Your mama pick out those tattoos, Power Play?”
The girls clinging to the outside of the cage hoot their approval.
Yeah, I totally dig this girl.
“You all talk or you going to throw a punch, High Tide?” I ask. “If you can reach.”
She drops into a fight stance.
I’m pleased. I need a little lighthearted fun. This is perfect.
I wish I knew something about her, anything. I rarely come over to Buster’s. Most of Jo’s girls are a blur, other than Sammy, since she’s doing matches now.
I keep my movements very clean and focused, basic and readable. She spots my first jab and blocks it. She’s strong and capable.
I shift in the circle, setting the speed. She moves with me, still all defense, her eyes bright. The g
irls on the floor cheer for her.
“You going to try something?” I barely get the word out when she attacks, a whirling dervish of flying arms and legs.
I block each blow, amazed at her speed and agility. It’s something we heavier fighters lose as we build mass. I wasn’t lying when I said I was a big lug. Compared to her, I am.
But size has its advantage. When she gets close enough, I grasp her waist and flip her over on her head.
I try not to knock her to the floor too hard, but when she gets a solid elbow to my chin, I pin her flat.
“This is called an armlock,” I say. “There’s pretty much no escape from it.”
Camryn breathes heavily against the floor. “It sucks.”
I let her go. “Try never to get in it.”
“Easy for you to say.” She rolls onto her back, shaking out her arm.
I laugh. “That’s right. Thou shalt never get in a submission hold.”
“Moses left that one out.” She looks up at me with her dark eyes, and I see the interest there.
But the position makes me picture Maddie, her long black hair pooling around her head, me lying over her.
I sit back on the floor of the cage, my mind whirling. Camryn is the sort of girl I’ve always imagined meeting. The sort of girl I’ve looked for.
So why am I thinking about Maddie?
Jo comes back in the room and claps her hands. “What’s going on in my cage?” she calls out.
Camryn jumps up instantly. “I think I just got pinned by Power Play.”
The other girls giggle.
“A position a lot of girls find themselves in,” Jo says, cutting her eyes at me. “Gloves on. Speed reps. Line ’em up.”
Camryn hurries out of the cage to follow the others. Jo climbs a couple steps. “Did you want to talk to Colt?” she asks. “He’s back in the office. You can catch him.”
I peel off the gloves. “Thanks.” It’s hard to look at her. I still get embarrassed about that night I met her. My friend Lani prodded me to come on strong, that she knew Jo liked me. I know now it was all part of a game Lani was playing. But it’s still hard to face.
“Hey,” Jo says. “You okay?”
“I’m all right,” I say. “Just trying to figure out my next career move.”
“You’re doing great.”
I reach for my shoes. “That’s what everyone thinks.”
She stares out the big windows at the top of the walls for a minute, seeming sort of sad. “I hear you on that.” Then she shakes herself out of it and heads toward the girls, who are all beating on the speed bags.
I wish I knew her better. But after our history, maybe it makes sense to keep my distance. If I remind her of that terrible night when Colt almost died as much as she reminds me, then no doubt looking at me is the worst part of her day.
Chapter Four
Buster’s still out front by the door. I pass him for the hallway to the office. Colt is inside, sitting at a desk covered in paperwork. He leans back in the chair, lost in thought.
I knock on the doorframe. Colt waves me in. There isn’t any other chair, so I just step inside.
“Everything all right?” I ask. I don’t really want to know what’s going on with the lawyer, especially if it involves me. But I have to say something.
Colt shrugs. “Just a little thing with Jo’s old family,” he says. “Nothing big.”
I knew Jo was recently brought up on charges for attacking her stepbrother before she came to LA. “I thought all that got dropped.”
“They are suing me in civil court now. Anything for money.” He pushes papers out of his way. “They’ll lose. Or I’ll pay them off. It doesn’t matter either way. Just details.” He spots a poster of himself and grimaces. “We should use this for darts.”
I look down at the image of Colt in his gold championship belt. It’s an advertisement for the gym. “A hundred points for nailing the family jewels?” I say.
He laughs. “Now that’s a real sport.” He shoves the stack to one side. “So what’s up?”
“I could use some advice.”
He leans back and waits me out. I’ve got his attention.
I’m not sure how to bring this up. Nobody knows about Lily. I don’t keep it a secret, but I don’t go around talking about it either.
So I just say it. “I have a daughter.”
This gets him. His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Really? Here in LA?”
“Nah. Her mother took her to New York.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.”
“So you going to move? New York doesn’t allow official fights.”
I lean against the wall. “I know. And I don’t want to start all over. But hell, the flight and the time off to see her. I just can’t do it much.”
“How old is she?”
“She’ll be four next week.”
“Gonna grow up soon.”
“I know.”
We fall silent. Colt stares at the wall. Finally he says, “I have some contacts over there. There’s East Coast leagues. And unofficial fights too. You want a match on that end so you can score a purse while you’re there?”
I think of Maddie’s reaction to the last match she attended, when she was six months pregnant. Her hysterical face. Her hands, clutching her swollen belly as if every hit I took was somehow a blow to the baby.
I shake my head. “Not yet. I’m selling my car to make this trip. But probably I’ll need something later.” If I can get set up over there, if Colt can help, maybe I can skip a few steps and not start at the bottom of the barrel.
“Damn, selling your car?”
I shrug. “No choice. I missed her last birthday.”
Colt blows out a long stream of air. “I can front you some cash.”
I hold up my hands. “Not necessary. But I could use some introductions.”
“Consider it done. I’ll have somebody for you to meet. A manager. People who can set up some fights.”
I push away from the wall. “That sounds great. Thanks.”
“No problem.”
When I look at him, once again I see that night, the back of the gym, the sirens in the distance. His blood all over Jo’s hands. I’ll never unsee it. But we don’t talk about that. I just give him a half-ass salute and head back out to the red Porsche, which is about to be somebody else’s problem.
Chapter Five
The plane touches down at La Guardia a few days later, and despite the fact that I throw punches at people on a daily basis, I’m nervous as hell.
Maddie already told me on the phone that she can’t take the day off, so her Aunt Delores is bringing Lily to the airport to meet me. I’m anxious. I talk to Lily all the time on the phone now that she can actually have a bit of a conversation. Sometimes we video chat. But still. What if she is shy? What if she doesn’t even know who I am? She was only two when we last saw each other on more than a fuzzy video feed.
I follow the line of passengers down the tunnel. We get held up by a mother trying to open up a stroller and load baby twins inside. I don’t see how she managed to travel so far by herself. She kicks at the bottom latch, clutching a child in each arm. Everyone seems content to just watch her and not help, a few squeezing past to keep the line moving.
I drop my duffel bag to the floor and wrench the stroller open. “You’re a brave lady, venturing out with double the trouble.”
She bends down to set one of the babies in a seat. “My father died yesterday,” she says. “I didn’t have a choice.”
I don’t ask why she’s alone. I suddenly picture all the things Maddie had to do by herself these four years. Traveling. Assembling toys. Attending to hurts and bad nights and sickness. I’m flooded with regret.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say.
She’s barely holding it together, but manages a soft “Thank you.” The babies get strapped in and she takes off down the corridor toward the gate.
I shoulder my bag again a
nd let a few other passengers cut ahead of me before jumping back in line. Now I’m glad Maddie won’t be out there, because I’d probably say something foolish and embarrassing. The closer I get to the situation, and the more I think about moving east, the worse I feel about not following her in the first place.
I was barely twenty-one, and stupid. Maddie was just nineteen. We didn’t know anything. We didn’t even try.
I’m going to do better from now on.
The flight attendant smiles at me as I make it through the exit and into the hub of the airport. Delores and Lily can’t come into the terminal, but they’ll be waiting down by baggage claim. I step onto the escalator, my anxiety riding high. What does Maddie tell Lily about me? I have no idea. I’m grateful that she doesn’t talk trash, that she hasn’t poisoned Lily against me. I know I deserve it, but Maddie isn’t that kind of woman.
The luggage conveyors come into view. The place is jam-packed with travelers on a Friday. I’m not sure how I’ll even spot Lily in all this mess. I can only hope I’ll recognize Delores from my old visits. Her image isn’t fixed in my mind.
A little girl cries, “Daddy!” and my heart leaps, but some little blond girl goes crashing into the man in desert camo in front of me. A smiling tearful woman follows her and they block my way for a second until I manage to get around.
Where is Lily?
My heart starts hammering. Are they late? Did something happen? Did Maddie change her mind and decide not to let her come? I pull my phone out and realize I forgot to take it out of airplane mode. I fumble with the buttons, hoping there’s a message.
Then something tugs on my coat.
I look down.
Lily’s bright eyes shine up at me. Her hair curls against her shoulders, and her face is pink-cheeked with excitement. She’s the spitting image of Maddie, now that I see her in real life. It’s in the way her smile turns up at the corners, and how her dimples pop.
I reach down and pick her up. She’s substantial, not the walking baby she was at two. Her legs dangle, and her arms are long enough to wrap around my neck. I look at her a second, and I’m so overcome with this beautiful, painful emotion that I can only pull her tight. Her little head tucks right against my neck, and I realize how wrong I’ve been. This sweet, lovely creature belongs to me, and I’ve done too little, way too little, to pay attention. I haven’t tried nearly hard enough.