In The Cage

by Sandy Kline

  “Taylor for starters.”

  “How long you been stalking me?” He asks.

  “Long enough to know you end up here most nights. I see your fighting on Surge’s card now. How long that been going on?”

  “Long enough. I’m one of their premiere fighters, me and Boomer.”

  “I guess pond scum sticks together doesn’t it?”

  “Any particular reason you’re stalking me Christine?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I guess I do owe ya. I believe we borrowed a couple grand that night. Here, let me just settle that debt now.”

  Then he actually reaches into his pocket and brings out a huge roll of bills, hundred dollar bills. One by one he begins stripping off bills and slapping them on the counter until he’s counted out twenty.

  “I guess I owe a bit of interest too.”

  He counts off another ten C-notes.

  “There, that ought to cover it. Happy? Ain’t that why you’re here bitch?”

  “What about for Ethan?” I ask him.

  “What about him?”

  “What do you think asshole? You think a couple grand is enough? Is that all his life was worth, a few bills peeled off the pile?”

  “What the fuck you talking about bitch. He was fine when we left. You kill your own kid or something? Wanna pin it on me and Boomer now? You’re one sick whore you know.”

  “You asshole!” I scream. “You son of a bitch! You’re the one that killed him when you smacked him across the head and broke his neck. He died in my arms mother fucker and you’re going to die tonight.”

  I reach into my purse and yank out my .38 revolver. The second he sees it he steps back away from the bar with his hands up.

  “What you gonna do bitch, shoot me? I don’t think so. You ain’t got the balls for that. I didn’t kill your kid and even if I did, you ain’t got the stones to-”

  The explosion is deafening! Fire shoots two feet out of the barrel and the first round strikes him in the chest and the second in the shoulder. As he falls to the ground people are scrambling to get out of my way. In seconds the entire bar has emptied into the parking lot. Well, everybody but King and the bar tender.

  Unbelievably, King is still alive.

  “You’re a lousy shot bitch.” He pants.

  “I’m not done yet.” I reply, aiming at his head this time.

  “No…you’re done Christine.” The handsome barkeep says.

  “I have to finish him off.” I reply. “He killed my kid. He has to die for it.”

  “I think you’ve done enough.” Jake says as he pulls a shotgun from beneath the counter.

  He aims the double steel barrels at my chest. I can tell from the look in his eyes that he is dead serious.

  “He has to die for what he did.” I repeat.

  “Maybe he does, but it’s not for you to decide. Put down your gun and take a seat at the bar. Your next three drinks are on me.”

  I look down at King, bleeding and pleading. I look back up at the shotgun levelled at my chest. It would be so easy to finish off King and let Jake do his duty. I’m sure I wouldn’t feel a thing. But I have Diego to think about so I set my gun on the counter. Jake takes it and puts it under the bar and proceeds to line up three drinks for me. I take a seat and down the first one without a thought. By the time I finish the last one I can hear sirens in the distance. I can no longer hear King though. He has fallen silent. I close my eyes waiting for the inevitable.

  “Christine…are you okay.”

  Slowly I open my eyes. I have to blink away the tears to see that I’m back in my doctor’s office.

  “How was it?” She asks me. “You look like you’ve been through a lot.”

  “Yeah…I just murdered my ex-husband so yeah…a lot.”

  “Would you like to talk about it? Do you really think you killed him?”

  “No!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because this supposed memory conflicts with the one where my ex kidnaps me and the kidnap memory goes along with what my son said about my disappearance for 3 days and my coming back with injuries consistent with having been tied up and escaped.”

  “That’s certainly a lot more believable than the, you killed him memory. If I had to make a professional judgment based on everything I know I’d say that you were kidnapped and held for 3 days before either being let go or escaped.”

  “I think you’re right. In my memory where I killed him I shot him at the bar before he kidnapped me so both can’t be a real memory.”

  “That’s right.” She says. “Now I think we should call it a day and let you get some rest and time to assimilate what has come up for you.”

  “No…one more time. I’m fine with what‘s coming up. I need to get this sorted out.”

  “I’m not sure another session is going to do that for you Christine.”

  “Please…just one more for today.”

  “Okay, but if I see you getting too stressed out I’m bringing you out right away.”

  “Do it.”

  “Alright, sit back and take a deep breath.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. Suddenly everything goes completely black! I open my eyes but I can’t see a thing on account of a smelly black bag over my head. I go to yank it off but my hands are bound painfully behind my back. I kick out violently but my legs seem to be bound just as tightly. Every time I breathe in I get a mouthful of canvas bag and it nearly chokes me every time. Panic begins to creep over me. I fight to keep from completely losing it but the more I kick and struggle, the more it feeds into my panic.

  “Please, I can’t breathe in this thing. Please…”

  But the bag just gets tighter and tighter and the less oxygen I get the more it makes me panic. Suddenly a pair of hands grab at the bottom my skirt and starts pulling and yanking. I try to kick but now someone’s grabbing my feet. I feel the cool air across my ass and it takes me a full two seconds before I realize they’ve got my skirt and panties around my ankles. I’m about to be raped!

  “Stop!” I scream. “Stop, you don’t have to do this. I’ll leave…I’ll go back home and forget what happened. Don’t do this.” I plead.

  “Christine its okay. Christine its okay…wake up!”

  Suddenly a bright light explodes around me. I open my eyes and for a second my being in the office makes no sense to me. Where are Boomer and King? Where’s the white van and the black canvas bag?

  “Christine it’s over now.”

  I look around me again. I’m literally on my hand and knees on the floor by the chair I was sitting on. Holy crap that was bad.

  “Are you okay Christine?” Doctor Frazer asks.

  “Yeah…I am now.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Unexpected Company

  Several Days Later…

  I’m avoiding Jake. I know I should be talking to him about my memories but I just couldn’t force myself to do it. I want to believe that he didn’t see anything happen to me and that’s why he hasn’t come forward to tell me what he saw and ask if I am alright. Supposedly he’s got another fight coming up but I haven’t been invited yet. I’m pretty sure Jake is working out all day every day just to get ready. He only has so many tries left in him so he has to get signed soon. I’m completely lost thoughts when there’s a knock on my door. Diego jumps up to answer the door but I hiss at him waving him back. I stand to the side of the door and peer through the peephole. To my surprise it’s Jake and his trainer Jamarcus. This is highly unusual. I open the door and let them in.

  “Well this is quite an honor.” I say to Jake. “You have what 40 hours to prepare? This must be pretty darn important.”

  “Hi to you too.” Jake says, and then gives me a brief kiss.

  I hug Jamarcus and receive a peck on the cheek.

  “Wow,” Jake remarks. I think Jamarcus got a longer kiss than I did. Something wrong Christine?”

  “Sorry, it’s been a rough couple days and then
you guys just showing up here makes me wonder what is wrong.”

  “There’s nothing wrong at all.” Jake begins. “I was hoping that if I brought my own sitter I might be able to convince you to go to dinner tonight.”

  “Oh cool, can he teach me how to box?”

  “Why don’t you ask him yourself little man?” Jake replies.

  “There’s no need to ask, young man. Of course I’ll teach you as long as your mother is fine with it.”

  “Please mom!”

  “I think that would be a great idea sweetie. Maybe he can teach you how to deal with school bullies as well.”

  “Absolutely,”

  Jake hangs around for a few minutes playing with Diego before he suggests we get going. I really like how he interacts with my son. Not only does he seem genuinely interested in Diego, but he’s really good at playing and interacting with kids. Not everyone is as comfortable around children as Jake appears to be. Clearly Diego is quite enamored with him too. Let’s just hope my latest memories don’t ruin what Jake and I have together, but I can already feel myself getting stressed about being around him. Jake picks up on it almost immediately.

  “Something wrong, Christine?”

  “No. I just said I had a hard week and I have a lot to work through. I uprooted my son; pulled him out of school two months ago and I don’t have a single memory of it. I would never take my son out of school that long. I don’t even live in California anymore and I can’t figure out why I came back. So yeah, I’m a bit stressed.”

  “You know, we don’t have to eat out. We can go to my place and order in. Watch a movie…have some wine…”

  “Alright alright but let’s be clear, I’m not on the menu tonight.”

  “Really? Not even as an appetizer…or desert maybe?”

  “Do I need to spray you down with a hose Mister?”

  “Relax; I only have the best intentions in mind.”

  “Yeah I’m sure you’ve got something going on in that head of yours but I’m not sure it’s in my best intentions that you have in mind right now. And if the road to hell is paved with good intentions where’s the road headed that’s paved with your dubious best intentions?”

  “Wanna come in and find out?” Jake asks with a sly smile.

  I was all prepared to be angry with him next time we met but I just can’t stay that way. For a hardcore MMA fighter he has a surprisingly easy going personality. Guess I was too used to King and his steroid enhanced personality flaws. The more time I spend with Jake the more I grow too really like him and I’m pretty sure the feelings are mutual.

  Our pizza dinner is relaxing and enjoyable. We even manage to stay away from any shop talk or past personal baggage talk. After a couple glasses of wine we finally get around to Jake’s best intentions when he moves in for a kiss.

  “Thought you’d never get around to that.” I say after we break off the kiss.

  “I don’t always do everything fast.”

  “Name one other thing outside the bedroom that you take your time at.” I challenge him.

  “Umm…well…I don’t know…” He says.

  “Never mind.” I reply. “I just figured it out.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Your mind babe, I think you’ve taken one too many knocks on the noggin my dear.”

  “You’re right. At one time I was in school studying astrophysics and cosmology. I was going for a duel degree at Stanford University until I lost my first pro fight to a TKO. Now I’m at a junior college studying waste management.”

  “Oh my god really? That is tragic. You should sue the organization you were fighting for. That last fight basically ruined your life.”

  “Is that really how you feel?” He asks. “That something I love, MMA is worthless by comparison to a real profession like Cosmology?”

  “I didn’t really mean it that way.” I say backpedaling. “I just meant that…that…”

  “Just meant what?”

  “I mean wow, you were on track to an amazingly difficult degree and the rug just got pulled out from underneath you. That must have pissed you off.”

  “I wasn’t nearly as pissed as I am at you now that I know how you feel about my chosen profession.”

  “What?” I seem to be missing something here. “What are you talking about?”

  “It was just a joke Christine. I was just bullshitting you. I never went to college for more than a semester or two at a junior college and then it was something about the science of mixing alcoholic drinks.”

  “Oh my god, you baited me!” Now I’m pissed. “Why’d you go and bait me like that?”

  “It wasn’t intentional. I really thought I was just making a lame ass joke, nothing more.”

  “For your information I don’t dislike MMA and boxing and all that stuff. Hello, I was married to an MMA fighter for seven years. I married young. If I didn’t like the scene I wouldn’t have married the guy and I certainly wouldn’t be spending time with you like this. The issue with my ex-husband is that he was a steroid abuser and eventually an alcoholic. He didn’t start mean but when he was finished with me he was a six foot seven inch three hundred pound Pit Bull!”

  “”Lotta guys go that route. You see any of the top competitors that are young; you know they’re using steroids. If you don’t use steroids it takes twice as long to get there. I’m thirty-one and on the fucking bottom. Your ex-husband, he didn’t start using that shit until the last few years you guys were together right? Yeah and you know because…I get it. It’s because of his age. Otherwise he’d be a 24 year old fighter for Surge and not a 36 year old. He probably saw the writing on the wall. All the big contracts going to dudes ten, twelve years younger and he had to do something to catch up.”

  “You really going to sit here and justify his steroid use?”

  “Hell no! Makes my life ten times harder. I gotta work ten times harder for a tenth of the money. No, I hate steroids!”

  I smile and take a deep breath. “You know, I’m glad this whole thing about steroids came up because I was starting to get paranoid. You got this amazingly hot body and it just seems impossible to get that fit without help.”

  “You did talk to Jamarcus did you not?”

  “Yeah I did. I know it’s been a long haul for you and no overnight successes. You don’t fit the pattern of a steroid abuser. And besides, you’re way to freaking virile for a guy on any kind of performance enhancing drugs.”

  “You like my virile…ness, do ya?”

  “It’s adequate…for a man your height and weight.”

  “Oh so now you’re saying I’m just…how does that saying go; height and weight proportionate? That’s how everybody describes themselves after they’ve let themselves go a bit.”

  “Don’t worry,” I begin. “You got a good two or three more years before you slide down into that category. At least three years…”

  “Is that when you trade me in for a newer model? I thought it was us guys that did that. Are you going to turn into one of those cougars in a few years?”

  “Youth does have its advantages…”

  “Yeah you won’t be saying that when I’m leaving you to rob the cradle.”

  “So long as it’s not ours.” I reply.

  “Now that’s just plain gross.” Jake says.

  “Yeah sorry about that one. It just slipped out.” I wasn’t even thinkin’.”

  “Don’t even worry about that.” Jake replies as he leans in for a kiss.

  “How’d you just do that?” I ask him.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’re talking about cougars and cradle robbing and you just got a green light for sex out of that? Man, your mind works in mysterious ways Jake.”

  “Sorry…every time I get around you my mind goes right to the gutter.”

  “I don’t know if I should be offended or take that as a compliment.”

  “Take it whichever way gets you out of your panties baby.”

  “Houdin
i wouldn’t be able to do that tonight buster, what makes you think you’ve got half a chance.”

  “You ever see Houdini?” Jake asks with a smile.

  “He was ugly wasn’t he?”

  Jake gets up and walks over to the stereo, turns it on and out comes Bono and the boys singing Miracle (of Joey Ramone).

  “You gotta be kidding me.” I begin. “This is the music you’re going to use to set the mood tonight? I mean, I love U2 but their music doesn’t exactly inspire one to drop her panties.”

  “But it’s the new one.”

  “Songs of Innocence? The one that has their shirtless drummer on his knees hugging another shirtless man? Are you trying to tell me something here Jake?”

  “It’s a good CD, they’re a great band.”

  “And so are Marvin Gaye, Lionel Richie, Anita Baker, and the Temptations.”

  “So you’re old school then…I get it.”

  “Yeah it’s one of the few redeemable qualities of my dad.”

  “Sorry ‘bout that.”

  “So what else you got?”

  “Oh no…we’re in my house and it’s U2 tonight.”

  “Yeah and these are my pants and they’re staying on tonight.”

  “Damn girl, do you really have to play hard to get?”

  Suddenly it occurs to me. I don’t have to play hard to get. I really like Jake and I don’t want to mess this up. It won’t hurt to be easy once in a while. For his answer I stand up, turn around and take off my top, but leave my bra on. He has to work a little. I walk about half way down the hall before I pause to loosen my skirt. I take two more steps and it’s down around my ankles. I can feel my ass burning from his eyes boring into me and it’s starting to get my juices flowing.

  “Uh…unless you’re planning on doing this in the bathroom you might want to back up to the other door. It’s not that I’m against the bathroom or anything but I already took one shower this evening and I don’t want parts of me looking like a prune or worse a peanut.”

  I like his sense of humor. Before tonight I really hadn’t seen it. I back up and open the door that I thought was a closet or bathroom. If the old adage clean desk cluttered mind applied to his room, the guy’s brain must be in chaos.