by Renea Porter
“I wouldn’t have treated you any other way Cheyanne. You are worth it and you have to believe it. Now go get dressed and I’ll make this call.”
I watch as she grabs her bag and walks to the bathroom. My heart crushes into tiny fragments as I tried to think of what her life must have been like. Snapping myself back to the task at hand, I grab my phone and call my landlord.
“Bob, hey it’s Cash from Apt. B. Hi. I am wondering if you have an apartment available upstairs. Didn’t someone move out recently?”
I hear the sound of rustling papers as he tells me he would check. I wait.
“Oh that’s great. I have a friend that’s interested in it.”
“Yes, she’s reliable, I’ll vouch for her,” I tell him.
“Okay sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I hang up the phone just as Cheyanne comes back into the kitchen.
“You called already?”
“Yep, and the apartment is yours if you want it.”
Her eyes shine and her lips turn up into a huge grin. “Just like that?”
“Just like that. I vouched for you. I’ll help you out with the first month’s rent and the security deposit.”
“Cash, I cannot take your money,” she says, shaking her head. She is too darn cute.
“You will take it, and you don’t have to pay me back until you start making money. Which means we need to get you into fight shape, and schedule a fight, get you some money.”
“I need to go change,” she says, looking down at her jeans shorts and tank. I chuckle. I go to my room and change into a pair of track shorts and a tee shirt, and my tennis shoes. By the time I come back out into the living room Cheyanne is already dressed in a tight pair of workout pants and a matching black sports bra, and her hair is pulled back into a ponytail.
“Let’s go, we got some work to do,” I say, twirling my keys as we head to my car. Once we get in the car I gave her the rundown of what we will be working on. “Today we’ll work on your ground and pound. It’s going to be a full day of training.”
“I’m ready. I was born for this.” She smiles.
We arrive at the gym and I am in my full on trainer mode. She throws her bag in the locker and meets me back out in the main area already wearing her MMA gloves.
“Alright so you’ll be working with Vanita as she demonstrates some of the moves from my instruction. This is just to get you familiar with all the techniques. Now when you in the bottom position of your opponent you need to learn how to strike and gain momentum over them.”
Vanita positions herself on top of Cheyanne
“And whatever you do, you don’t want to put yourself in a situation where you are submitted, like an arm bar,” I command.
MMA is my specialty and I know how to make the fighters the best they can be. I know from experience. Granted I was never a professional fighter, but I fought for four years before becoming a trainer so I know all the ins and outs.
As I command the instructions Vanita demonstrates the moves and the placement of the feet and hands of those positions and gives some basic guidance as the moves were shown to Cheyanne.
I watch as Cheyanne catches on to everything I tell her, and what Vanita is showing her.
“Never ever let your guard down. Never let them see anything other than that hard exterior. Put the fear in them.”
We practice until one o’clock then we break for lunch. The three of us walk down the street to a healthy food restaurant, specializing in nothing but healthy stuff.
“What do you think so far?” Vanita asks Cheyanne as we are seated in a booth, both girls sitting opposite of me.
“I love it. I think that I’m catching on pretty well.”
“You’re doing great,” I tell her.
We all order a hearty lunch and the three of us enjoy a light conversation as we wait for the food. I try not to pay too much attention to Cheyanne over Vanita; I don’t need anyone getting suspicious of my feelings for her.
The food comes and we all share a few laughs in between bites. Once we finish our meal Vanita excuses herself, saying she has a few errands to run before we meet back up at the gym.
Now I get to look at Cheyanne, really look at her and we lock ourselves in a stare off until the other looks away, until finally she gives, and smiles.
“So you never told me about your parents,” I tell her, hoping she’ll give me a piece of her past, even though it may be rough for her to talk about.
“Not much to tell, my mom is dead and I don’t even know who my father is. My mother never wanted me that I remember.” She shrugs.
I swallow a hard lump, wishing she hadn’t told me, or maybe I shouldn’t have asked. How could a mother do that to their own flesh, make them feel unloved? It was a sickening thought. It stung knowing Cheyanne had such a rough upbringing, while I lived a nice cushy middle class life. Her life was ripped from her before she could even live it.
Part of my training is knowing my clients past or background, what the one thing was that made them tick. Cheyanne might have acted nonchalant about her parents but I knew otherwise. There was no way she wouldn’t be affected by those circumstances and not have scars marked on her heart. I dreaded this afternoon’s training session. She will hate me after, but I’m fine with that because I know it’ll be therapeutic for her to release that anger. I called it my version of tough love.
That was something I did with all my fighters. Everyone comes from different backgrounds; it was just about finding that one thing that made them tick, whether it was a bully, selfish parents or self-doubt. I make them tap into that. At first they are angry with me for doing it but eventually they get through it. Everyone has demons, it’s my job to reach in and grab them out.
My heart clenches knowing I’m going to be doing that to Cheyanne. I was about to make those walls she spent years putting up come tumbling down, one by one. And once I did that I’d help her be okay with that.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It was the only comforting words I can offer.
“Are we ready to head back?”
If only she knew what would be lurking there around the corner once we got there.
“Sure,” I respond, paying for the lunch. We walk outside and the afternoon sun beams down on us.
We walk down the sidewalk when Cheyanne turns to me. “You seem awfully quiet,” she says.
I shove my hands in my pants pockets. “Promise me something,” I ask.
“Sure. What is it?”
“Promise me you won’t be mad at me later today. Promise you won’t hate me.”
“I promise. I could never hate you Cash, you saved me.” She smiles.
“Just remember those words a little later on,” I say.
I wasn’t sure how long it would take to break her, but once she did, I’d be right there to put the pieces back together, to make her feel whole. I said a silent prayer, praying she wouldn’t run, I hoped she would stay and fight her demons.
Once we were back at the gym, I was in full trainer mode. It was just me and Cheyanne this round. Vanita was training for an upcoming fight in the cage with another trainer, but she’d also be on hand in case I needed reinforcement.
I toss Cheyanne a bottle of water. “Now we are going to try another technique,” I say, wrapping her hands and then squeezing them into boxing gloves. “Remember what I said,” I tell her looking into her blue eyes.
She nods nervously.
I position myself behind the punching bag to steady it. Most of the fighters were heading out for the day. Once I knew we didn’t have an audience I readied myself for Cheyanne.
“Let’s get some punches in,” I duck my head to the side.
She starts alternating her punches. “Doesn’t it make you mad knowing no one wanted you, not even your own mother?”
She stops for a second and gives me a blank stare, like she is in shock.
“Does it?” I bark.
“Yes!” she shouts, punching hard int
o the bag.
“Is that all you got? Is that all you can give knowing your mother tossed you aside like you were yesterday’s trash?”
She pounds the bag even harder, throwing me slightly off balance.
“Get that aggression out Cheyanne. That’s what I want to see,” I shout.
She throws punch after punch and my heart clenches.
“Are you pissed yet? Have you had enough?” I taunt her.
She gives the bag a few more punches before relenting. I hate myself for breaking her like this, for using her story against her. It was killing me a slow death. That’s when I see her tears start to shed. I want to wrap my arms around her but couldn’t.
“Fuck you, Cash.” She takes several steps back, placing her gloved hands on her hips until she catches her breath. But the tears keep coming, like they had been veering on the edge for a long time.
“Don’t be pissed,” I say, almost afraid to approach her, afraid she’ll lash out or worse, slap me.
“You’re an asshole,” she barks.
Vanita comes over and guides them outside. I feel like the asshole she accused me of being.
Chapter Eight
Cheyanne
“Why does he have to say such hurtful things?” I ask, letting the sun bask over me.
“He does it to make you a better fighter, to get that last ounce of strength. He knows what you are capable of; you just need to see that. Don’t be mad at him. He’s done it with all of us. He’s good at his job, Cheyanne. Now you just have to embrace it,” Vanita states.
After I get over the initial shock, Cash pissed me off with his comments. I wanted to punch him instead of the punching bag. Trying to put my emotions in check I wiped the tears from my face, but they keep falling. My emotions are getting the best of me and I am finding it hard to stop. And seeing him like this is out of the question. I’m not ready to face him.
He doesn’t know why my mother didn’t want me; he doesn’t know the despair that lies just beneath the surface, the torture that sometimes chokes me half to death. And he will never know, if I have any say in it.
Vanita sits with me until I calm down, until I am ready to face him without feeling the need to slap him.
***
It’s been four weeks since my break through, since Cash last made such hurtful comments about my mother, but now we are past that. It’s the night of my first fight. I just witnessed Vanita win her fight and I am about to go on. I am jogging in place to get my body loosened. I never felt more alive than this moment. Cash is in my corner, telling me I can do this and that he believes in me. I am introduced first into the cage. Granted, this is not the big leagues but the crowd’s energy is euphoric. My opponent is announced as Angel Cuttingham, and it’s the red headed bitch coming for a fight in the cage. I should have known.
I wish they would have at least given me a challenge. The bell rings for the first five minute round. I keep it standing, as I stalk her like she was my prey. Once I get close enough I throw a punch to her face, reminding her of our little street fight. But now I am hitting harder than I was before. My physique is showing some muscle definition from the training.
The first round ends and we have to go to our corners. Cash keeps up his pep talk, telling me to knock her out. He doesn’t know about the little street fight we had, that was left on the street.
The second round starts and I gun for her full force. I had just been toying with her during the first round. I pin her against the cage, remaining in control, kneeing her and stomping her feet and punching her. Angel gets caught as soon as she leans down trying to take me to the ground I wrapped my arm around her neck and squeeze while I grip my other hand around her and I am able to choke her out, pulling the guillotine.
She taps before she passes out from the move. I win! I’m the winner of my first fight! And Cash is the first one to get to me to congratulate me, and then Vanita almost tackles me.
“Congrats!” She holds her hand up for me to high five it. I slap her hand with mine.
“Your fight was amazing.”
“Celebrate tonight?” she asks.
I scrunch my face. “I’d love to but I really just want to go home and relax and not think about anything.”
“Okay; soon, though.”
“Absolutely,” I tell her. I grab my gym bag to head out with Cash.
The parking lot is almost bare by the time we make it out and Cash throws his arm across my shoulder. “You did great out there, and you did everything I told you to do.”
“I learned from the best,” I say, smiling.
He takes my bag, throwing it in the trunk, and opens the passenger door for me. I slide into the passenger seat, buckle up the seatbelt and enjoy the darkness as he drives to the apartment.
“Now you have to take a day or so of rest before you get back into training,” Cash states.
“Okay,” I say with a lazy grin.
We make it to the apartment I’m still crashing at his place until tomorrow. My apartment will be ready, thank goodness. I’ve had to wait while they got it furnished with everything. Inside his apartment, I drop my bag by the door and head straight for the couch. The tension between us is at an all-time high and I’m not sure how much longer I’ll be able to hold out. Part of me knows it’s a bad idea; we both could get in trouble if anyone found out, my fighting career could end as quickly as it started. I know he feels it, too.
Cash just has to be wearing jeans that hang just right on his hips and showcase his gorgeous ass tonight. My mouth is practically watering as I watch him strut around the apartment. I am still coming down from the high of my fight. Cash reappears from the back and hands me an envelope.
“What’s this?”
“It’s your first check,” he says.
I slide my finger under the flap and pull the check out and it reads one thousand, five hundred dollars.
“I think there is one too many zeroes on here,” I state.
“Nope; it’s your first check and you win which means bigger money. You’ll have to take your dues out and pay my father, but then the rest is yours. You can pay me back with your next check. I just want you to be ahead with the bills and stuff.”
“Okay, thanks.”
“You earned it,” he says.
I’m more conflicted with what I want and need that very moment as it stood in front of me. “Cash.” I motion with my finger to come over to me. I am sitting on the couch and he comes and stands in front of me. I see the hunger that invades Cash’s eyes as he looks down at me. My fingers latch onto his belt buckle as I undo it. Holding the belt away, I start to unbutton his jeans. I am so close I can smell him. But his hands grip my wrists to stop me.
“We can’t, Cheyanne. I already told you this,” he growls. He releases the grip he has over me.
“But you hesitated; you want this as much as I do. No one would even know.”
God this is infuriating. Why did he let me get that far? I’m not used to being the aggressor, but when it comes to Cash, it is all I can do to contain myself.
“Don’t you want me, Cash?” I ask. I am starting to believe the chemistry between us is just one sided.
“Want you? Yes I want you. I want you so fucking bad, that I was jealous of the guy at the club. I wanted to deck him for taking something I wanted so badly.”
I hadn’t dreamed all that up after all. I just stare at him.
“Did you enjoy torturing me like that, that night? Huh?”
I did. I enjoyed it, but I would not admit it. I shake my head.
“It literally kills me that I can’t touch you the way I want, and be inside you,” he barks.
Oh god, oh god. If he is going to take me this very moment I need a cold shower. I know this argument wouldn’t get us anywhere and I stand to face him.
“I know the rules, but I’m not much for obeying them when it comes to you,” I say looking up at him before stalking past him. His hand grips tightly on my arm and forces me to turn to hi
m, causing our faces to be so close, so close I can smell his sweet breath.
His face is merely an inch from mine and he holds my stare, he lips press onto mine, so sensual. My legs almost give out on me then Cash grabs my other arm. His kiss is forceful yet erotic against mine. I’m afraid to move, fearing he will pull away. But my fears are confirmed when he pulls away and walks away from where were just standing. I am tortured and confused by him, which is like every day but this is… I don’t know, I need more, more of him.
His bedroom door is open when I walk through the hallway. I lean against the door frame, watching him. “I can get another trainer, if having me around is too much,” I tell him.
“Do whatever you want, Cheyanne; I’m not going to stop you,” he huffs. “You do whatever you want anyway.” He seems just as conflicted as me.
“So that’s it. You don’t even care?”
He comes over to me. “Of course I care. No matter what you do I’m still going to want this,” he says, touching my lips with his index finger.
“Whatever this is between us, we can figure it out as we go,” I tell him. “Well, we had a long day; I’ll let you get some rest.” I know we won’t get anywhere tonight. But I feel too strongly to just let this go as it is.
Wasn’t love worth fighting for? I have to believe it is. We have to fight for this, and I have enough fighting in me for the both of us. I see love every day and wish I could be like that. I hear it in song lyrics wishing those words were true, and I tasted it right on my tongue not even ten minutes ago. And it tasted like heaven. I want to feel it all with Cash. I know one day it will come and it’ll be worth the wait.
I close Cash’s door behind me as I make my way to the shower. He’s kissed me twice and I know he won’t be able to hold out much longer, it is only a matter of time before he caves. But it isn’t just about the sex that I need; I feel a deeper connection with him than I have ever felt with any one. It is just that something that is there, that existed between us. I wish I had a girlfriend to talk this through with, to make sense of how I am feeling, but I can’t risk Cash’s job or even my fighting career.