by Kyoko M
“That’s what Planet Fitness is for,” he groused, saving their data on the laptop and then closing it. “I’m not a martial arts instructor. I’m a scientist.”
“You don’t need to be a martial arts instructor. She just needs the basics. She’s out by herself all the time.”
“So, buy her a can of pepper spray.”
“It’s not the same.”
He whirled on her. “Why are you pushing this?”
Kamala met his gaze, lowering her voice. “Because she broke up with her boyfriend a week ago. He got rough with her.”
Jack fell silent.
“What’s his name?” he asked very quietly.
“James McGruder. Not that it matters. She took care of him.”
“How so?”
Kamala arched an eyebrow. “Let’s just say he’ll be singing soprano for a while.”
Jack nodded. “Good girl.”
He exhaled and rubbed his sinuses. “Well, you said we had two weeks until the egg’s matured. I guess I can spend some time teaching her a few things.”
“Thank you. I know you two don’t exactly get along, but she could use your help. You’re a good man, Jack. She hasn’t had a lot of positive male influences in her life, which is why her taste in men is so poor.”
“I suppose that explains why she took an interest in me.”
“Clearly.”
“Hey! You’re not supposed to agree!”
~ * ~
Two days later, Jack sent Faye a simple text: Alright, Daniel-san, meet me at my place at six o’clock. You’ll owe me 50 pushups if you’re late. Though part of him wished she wouldn’t show, sure enough, at 6:35 p.m., Faye’s burgundy Honda Civic parked itself in his driveway. Jack rolled his shoulders and blew out air between pursed lips. “You’re an adult. You can handle this.”
He opened the door when she knocked. “You’re late.”
“Up yours, Miyagi. I got stuck in traffic,” she said, shoving past him to walk inside. She’d dressed appropriately for once: electric blue tank top, yoga pants, and New Balance tennis shoes. Her hair was already up in a high ponytail and she didn’t have any makeup on. She hung up her coat on a hanger in the hallway closet, noticing the den. He’d shoved the couch to the right wall, blocking the dining room table, and laid a plain black mat on the center of the floor. There were a couple of pairs of boxing gloves and punch mitts beside it, as well as two unopened bottles of orange Gatorade.
Jack himself wore a red sleeveless shirt and loose black basketball shorts. Cords of muscle ran down his long arms, but the shirt swallowed up any indication of musculature in his chest and abs. He considered it to be a mix between a swimmer’s build and a basketball player’s build—speed, but awkwardly so; strength, but poor balance.
Faye’s gaze roved over him briefly. “So, this is what you look like with your hair down. Want to explain why I’m here and not at the fitness center on campus?”
“Too many distractions,” he said frankly. “Plus, we won’t have to shout over the noise. I’ll go over the basics and then we can work on teaching you how to throw a proper punch.”
She grinned. “Will you teach me that nifty arm-lock maneuver?”
He finally relaxed into a lazy smile. “If I do that, how else am I gonna subdue you?”
“Ooh,” she purred, her eyes sparkling. “Subdue. I like where this is going.”
Jack snorted and gestured towards the mat. “Warm up and then we’ll get started.”
He gave her the rundown of optimal soft targets to hit an opponent: ears, eyes, nose, groin, and feet, as well as how to do a hip-toss. Afterward, he helped her strap on the boxing gloves.
“In case you’re wondering why we’re doing boxing, it’s because it’s the easiest for a beginner to start with and it’s a full body workout. You’re small and you don’t weigh a lot, so your speed is your biggest strength. It’s also great for building endurance and relieving stress.”
“Right. And it means I get to punch you a lot, which I’ve been dying to do.”
“That as well. First, you have to get in the right stance.” He adjusted her arms, the height of her hands relative to her eye line, her arms, and the width her feet were apart. He started with her footwork, instructing her to always step forward with her leading foot and bring her rear foot with her to keep balance. He continued with how to exhale as she threw a punch, and how to turn into it, and the difference in each type of punch. Once she’d gotten the hang of it, he put on the punch mitts to let her test out how it felt to land them.
“So,” Jack said slowly, “James McGruder, huh?”
Faye sighed, though it came out more like a hiss. “Kamala just had to tell you, didn’t she? Is that why you decided to help me? Out of pity?”
She punched the right mitt. Hard. Jack felt his palm stinging slightly. “I pity the fool that is stupid enough to pity you.”
She barked out a laugh, shaking her head. “God, why is it so hard to stay mad at you?”
Jack shrugged. “It’s the big doe eyes. And I don’t feel sorry for you. That’s not why I did this.”
“Why else, then?” she asked, throwing a quick combo. “Did Kam wax on about the lack of positive male role models in my life?”
“It was mentioned, but trust me, I’m not interested in being your role model. You really shouldn’t stand next to me on a cliff, for future reference.”
She grinned again. “Wow, you seriously don’t like me, huh?”
“You’re not my favorite person right now, no. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.”
Faye blinked at him a couple times. She couldn’t see through the careful neutrality in his gaze, but his tone had been enough.
He let the words sink in before continuing. “We don’t have to see eye-to-eye or be best friends, but you’re important to Kamala. She wants you around. That’s why I’m here. If our project is successful, things are going to change. Drastically. You won’t see her as much. So, I guess you were sort of right before, about needing to be able to take care of yourself.”
Faye settled into a cool, distant stare, lowering her arms. “You are smarter than you look.”
“I should hope so.”
“You want to know why I never liked you?”
“Not particularly.”
She snorted. “I called you the Stiff because of your focus. It’s so single-minded. Nothing turns your head. I don’t think you really know what you have here, with your project. It’s going to change the world. The world, Jack. Not just my relationship with Kam. Everything will be different. Are you ready for that?”
“I wouldn’t have started the project if I wasn’t.”
“You say that, but I’ve seen the world turn nasty on a dime. I hope I’m wrong.”
“So do I.”
She sank back into her stance and worked through combination punches. He gave her tips here and there, until it was well after nine o’clock. They cooled down and drank the Gatorade together, leaning against the back of the couch.
“So,” Faye said, “I take it you don’t do casual sex.”
Jack choked mid-sip. “Goddammit, Faye, you did that on purpose!”
She grinned. “Sorry, it was too easy.”
He glared at her for a moment and then returned his gaze to the room. “No. I don’t.”
“Any particular reason why?”
He shrugged. “Just not how I am. I want sex to mean something.”
“Been in a relationship before?”
He nodded. “High school. Couple girls in undergrad. One at the beginning of my doctorate program, but it went sour so badly that I wanted some space from dating for a while. Accidentally got used to being on my own, so it’s been years since the last one.”
He cut his eyes over at her. “What about you?”
Faye shrugged. “Sex is a sport. Play hard, win some, lose some,
keep on truckin.’ Not too keen on one-night stands, though I’ve had a few, but I don’t see anything wrong with enjoying someone’s company if you’re attracted to them.”
“That I understand, but why me? Especially since you know I, uh…” He cleared his throat, “…have a thing for Kamala.”
She faced him, leaning one arm on the back of the couch, her posture relaxed. “Because you’re secretly fun. I like you better when you’re all worked up and frustrated, not when you’re calm and collected and bookish. In my experience, it’s those kinds of guys who are fantastic in bed.”
Jack paused. “Kind of like the gender-flipped librarian chick fetish?”
Faye laughed. “Guess that’s about right.”
She sipped her Gatorade, the smile fading. “Look… if you want me to lay off, I will. I’m not stupid. If I were a guy laying it on this thick, you’d have me arrested. If you say no, I respect that and I will live with your decision, however misguided I think it might be.”
“And it wouldn’t bother you to sleep with me knowing that I’ve got a crush on your roommate?”
“Nope.”
He crossed his arms. “What if she ends up reciprocating? Won’t she be pissed I was sleeping with you while pining for her?”
“I don’t think she would, not since she knows it’s just physical. It would bother her more if I were in love with you.”
“I see.” He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “To be completely honest here… yeah, I’ve thought about it. More than once. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been with someone and I miss having that level of intimacy.”
Jack glanced at her. “But I’m also kind of a mess. I can’t keep sex and relationships separate. If I were with you, I’d be with you. You’d have to put up with me as a person, not just as a—” He snorted, “—fellow athlete, I guess. And I’m not what you want, so it wouldn’t be fair. I appreciate the offer, but I think we should just keep things the way they are.”
Faye nodded. “Okay. Mutual disdain and thinly veiled flirting it is.”
“Sounds like a plan. And while we’re on the subject… why won’t you tell Kamala how you feel? Why push me instead?”
Faye winced ever so slightly. Jack almost apologized, but then she answered, though rather quietly. “Because I’m not ready for whatever she’s going to say. We’ve been friends for a couple years now. She trusts me. She depends on me, in some ways. I’m kind of like her safety net. I’m not sure it’s worth it to wreck that whole thing over some undefined feelings.”
She took a deep breath and the worried lines in her face vanished behind a shield of good humor and beauty. “Besides, as much as I don’t care for you, I think you’d be good for her. You’re loyal and sweet. She needs that more than she needs…whatever the hell I am.”
“Isn’t that her decision?” he asked softly.
“Probably, but…” Faye shook her head. “Like I said. I’m not ready.”
She tossed him the empty Gatorade bottle, then scooped up her purse and coat, throwing a smile over her shoulder. “Thanks for the lesson, Miyagi. See you tomorrow.”
“You still owe me fifty pushups.”
“How about I walk out of the door slowly and you get a look at my ass in these yoga pants and we call it even?”
“…deal.”
~ * ~
Fourteen days crawled by. The pair of scientists had fully thrown themselves into the new avenue of their work, spending night and day examining every inch of information, data, and research, to perfect what they hoped would be the successful implantation. Through vigorous favors and negotiations, they managed to find a viable candidate for the IVF: a Komodo dragon named Sarah, loaned to them from a wildlife reservation. Once she checked out, the procedure was scheduled for early morning on the sixteenth day at the veterinary hospital.
They stood behind the observation glass; Jack gnawing straight through his thumbnail, Kamala pacing back and forth behind him, muttering things in Hindi. They watched and listened to the procedure without any commentary between each other, mostly because they were on the same trepidatious page.
After a few grueling hours, the head surgeon strolled over to the mic, his face unreadable through the mask. Jack absently reached over and Kamala took his free hand without hesitation as he pressed down on the intercom.
“What’s the verdict?”
“Mazel tov. The implantation was successful. It’s all up to Sarah from here.”
“Yes!” Kamala pounced into Jack’s arms, hugging him tight. He spun her around once and then hit the intercom button again, gushing his thanks into it.
“Well,” Jack beamed at his partner afterward. “I think it’s time to get rip-roaring drunk in celebration.”
She chuckled, her cheeks burning from the smile she couldn’t wipe off her face. “Our job isn’t done yet. The parthenogenesis still has to take place. Plus, there’s tons of data to log since the procedure went well. Matt’s going to want an update.”
“Yeah, I’ll get on that. Once I’m sober again.”
She smacked him in the arm. “One drink. Then we get back to work, Dr. Jackson.”
“Yes ma’am, Dr. Anjali.”
After they filled in the P.I. on their progress, Kamala bought them both beers at a nearby gas station and they sat on the rear of her car, legs swinging, drinking and watching their alcohol-laced breath fog up the cold morning air.
“So, what are you going to do with your millions after we’re rich and famous?” Jack asked.
“I’m buying a castle.”
He sputtered, glancing at her in shock. “Pardon?”
She arched an eyebrow. “Have you seen how much those go for? Pennies compared to the penthouses in Los Angeles or New York. I’m thinking Scotland, Italy, or France. Somewhere I can be left alone.”
“Castles get drafty. You sure about that?”
“Yeah,” she said, her brown eyes slightly distant. “I’ll have all the space I need to roar. To read. To write. To learn. Find out who I really am when I’m not buried under all this work.”
A brief silence fell. She realized he hadn’t said anything and glanced at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he said, staring at his shoes. “I just wanted a Lamborghini. Now I feel shallow. Can’t believe you’re gonna ditch me to live overseas.”
She patted his knee. “Don’t worry. I’ll look for an adjacent castle so that we can be neighbors.”
“Ha. You’ll regret that when I walk outside on the parapet in the nude.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Mm. I’ll make sure it’s not too close then. We’ll have morning walks with our pet dragons and then take some tea with the in-laws.”
“Right. Not sure you could get my father on a plane to Europe. Ma wouldn’t mind, though. She’s always wanted to travel.”
Kamala squeezed his arm. “I still want you to invite her out here for the birth.”
He tensed. “Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Jack. This is your life’s work. She’d love to see it.”
“It’s not her. It’s my Dad. He and I are potassium and water. She won’t want to go without him. We can’t be in the same room without it turning into a verbal UFC match.”
“Then feed him to the dragon and be done with it.”
Jack smirked wryly, finishing his beer. “Maybe if we bred Baba Yaga. Otherwise, poor thing won’t have a chance.”
She tried to say more, but he slid off the car and then helped her down, nodding towards the street. “Let’s get going. We can’t spit in the face of Mother Nature if we’re schnockered.”
The pair grabbed breakfast on the way to the lab and found yet another unexpected guest accompanying Dr. Yagami. Like Jack, Yagami wore mostly button-up shirts, slacks, and dress shoes. His companion stood out stark against the pristine halls at six-foot-three, his broad shoulders encased in a black
leather trench coat, his hair rakishly oiled back into spikes except for a stray cowlick. Beneath his left arm was a suspicious bulge—and Jack immediately strode a couple steps in front of Kamala when he noticed—and a black t-shirt with a white kanji dripping down the front. Strong muscular legs in leather pants that matched the coat and combat boots finished the ensemble. He didn’t appear to be older than Yagami; a couple of years younger, in fact. His grizzled jaw was square and clenched tight as he exchanged terse words with Yagami in between puffs of a cigarette.