by Amelia Fox
“Yo, Blake, man,” the owner said. “What the fuck happened to you?”
The men in the gym may have treated me badly but it touched my heart to see how they treated Blake. I could see that he was like a father to those men. He was the daddy lion. Even to the big bad Wolf Brothers who, despite Blake’s tall size, towered over him, Blake was a leader. Blake smiled grimly as the young men clustered around him, raised their eyebrows, and put their hands on him.
“Badminton accident.” He growled.
Was that supposed to be a joke? A few of the guys sniggered but a few of them remained silent. I couldn’t imagine that some of them knew what badminton even was. Blake lurched forwards and rested his arm on the counter. It was clear that his right leg had received a serious injury.
“Just kidding,” he croaked. “I got jumped.”
There was uproar amongst the young men. Now every guy in the gym had stopped what they were doing and gathered around him. The air was filled with shouts and curses. Guys looked at each other in shock, shaking their heads. Some guys pounded a fist into their palms.
“Who were they?” The owner asked, placing a hand on Blake’s shoulder.
“Some gang,” Blake said. “I don’t know who they are.”
“We’re gonna find them,” one young man said. “And we’re gonna fucking kill them.”
An angry cheer went up. Every man in the gym was resolute. Blood had to be spilled for the crime of assaulting their leader. Timidly, with my heart in my throat, I padded across the gym towards Blake. I stood behind the crowd of guys. Blake noticed me and lifted his eyes in greeting. The guys huddled around moved and made way for me to come through.
“You definitely look like you need legal representation now.” I said.
“As a matter of fact,” he said. “I do. But not because of this.”
“Then for what?”
“We’ll talk,” he said. “But somewhere private.”
I nodded and moved away, allowing the brewing mob to get itself worked up. Blake moved himself over to a couch, wincing through the pain. He was clutching his ribs. I could almost feel that my own ribs were bruised just by looking at him. He was still gorgeous but it made my heart heave to think that someone would want to hurt Blake that badly.
Chapter Nine
Blake
The days passed slowly in hospital. I had recovered quickly but I needed to mask that fact. The police officers were passing my room like vultures. They just couldn’t wait for me to perk up so that they could slap some cuffs on me and cart me off to a hearing.
So, I kept my eyes shut. I didn’t open them fully until it was midnight and I could breathe without pain. I slipped on a pair of pants and my jacket. I peered out of my room and saw just one officer sitting next to a vending machine. He had his cap pulled low over his face and he was snoring like a bear in hibernation. I had to take my chance.
I opened the door gently and padded out into the corridor. I passed the officer swiftly and jogged down the stairs. I had learned some subtle body language tricks to avoid attracting attention from the army. One trick was to keep your body and head rigid whilst moving swiftly. Done correctly, you could walk past almost anyone without arousing suspicion.
I made my way past the prattling nurses at reception and burst out into the piercing New York air. It was icy and bracing. The cold air reminded me that I was alive. I had taken a beaten and would have been left for dead but I had survived. Nothing could kill me.
As I made my escape, thoughts of my desertion ran through my mind. I had gone a week without more than an hour or two of sleep each night. I hadn’t showered and I was starving. I had come close to being caught a couple of times as I managed to get myself smuggled over the border into Pakistan.
I jogged a small distance away from the hospital and came to a standstill when I saw a taxi. I reached into my pocket to confirm that my attackers hadn’t had enough time to rob me and I hailed the cab. In ten minutes I was back in my crummy neighborhood and opening the door to my apartment. I went to my bedroom and collapsed onto my bed, groaning in pain. My ribs were bruised like hell.
My first instinct was to grab a bag, stuff it with clothes and essentials, and flee again. There was no way I was going to prison. I left the army because it became a prison. Worse than that, it became a hell. The things I saw and the things we had to do had turned my mind into a torture room. I had no freedom out there. I’d be damned if I was going to lose my freedom again.
I quickly subdued the impulse to flee. I couldn’t keep running. Constantly needing to escape and stay hidden was its own kind of prison. I was constantly in the paper. Staying anonymous would prove to be more and more difficult as time went on. I needed to face up to the consequences. I needed to fight. I needed Emily.
I went to my dresser and picked up the card she had given me. I grabbed the phone and began dialing but couldn’t finish typing in the string of numbers. It was late. I couldn’t call her. I didn’t even know where to begin. I put the phone and the card back down and slumped into bed. I didn’t sleep one wink.
In the morning, I went for a brisk walk around the neighborhood before the sun came up. I walked as fast as I could with my injuries, wincing through the pain. As I walked, exhaling frosty air like a spirit, I thought about my plan of action. I would let them cuff me and take me. But first I needed to talk to Emily. She had extended her services to me and there was a glint in her eye that told me she would make a good lawyer. I needed to tell her everything before I got taken away. I needed to discuss what was going to happen before my freedom was taken. Once I had discussed everything with her, I would begin the fight.
As I walked around the neighborhood, I half hoped that I would run into one of the guys who had attacked me. Even with my bashes and bruises I would take them apart. But there was no one. Just a few drunks stumbling and snoozing in alleyways. And me alone with my thoughts.
In the late afternoon, I went to the gym. The guys all crowded around me like I knew they would. They showed their support. They were dogs but they were my dogs. In the sea of angry faces I saw Emily, the soft saving grace. She made her way through the crowd with compassion and concern on her face and offered her support.
I didn’t know where to begin with her. I barely knew the woman but I knew that she was something special. I wasn’t sure if there was even a chance of anything happening between us but I still felt hesitant to tell her my story. What would she think of me when she learned that I was a deserter? I knew the way people could react to that sort of thing. People who thought themselves patriotic yet had never been in the midst of war were usually so quick to judge my type. I knew that people would be quick to point their fingers and look down their noses. It didn’t matter that they had never seen the smear of blood on the dusty ground after a car explosion.
“Blake,” Terrell said. “We are gonna go looking for them.”
“That’s nice of you,” I said. “But it’s not necessary.”
“Oh, it’s necessary.”
Terrell nodded and cracked his knuckles. He and his brother were packing heat. If they went looking for the thugs, they would go with a Glock and commit murder. I couldn’t be responsible for that. It wasn’t their fight.
I told the guys that I couldn’t stay and signalled for Emily to follow me out of the door. I caught the sight of a few raised eyebrows. No doubt they were curious. They wanted to know how this dainty little chick who had burst into tears so easily was going to help me. We left the gym and pounded the pavement. I tried to hide my limp, gritting my teeth through the pain.
“So, who did this to you?” She asked.
Emily was looking up at me with wide baby eyes. Truth be told, her expression made me want to burst into laughter. Her face was so fraught with seriousness. I didn’t laugh though. I kept a stoic look on my face.
“Some crack heads, I think. They wanted my wallet.”
“Why didn’t you give it to them?”
“Stubbor
n I guess.”
Emily sighed. She couldn’t take her eyes off of me. I wanted to reach out and touch her. Just squeeze her arm a little and tell her I was alright. But I still didn’t know how to do that and make it look natural.
“Where are we going?”
“My place,” I said. “Is that okay?”
“Sure.”
There was silence between us. I wondered if she felt comfortable coming over to my place. Perhaps she would have rather gone somewhere more public but I didn’t want to get busted before I had told her everything and had her confirmed as my lawyer.
“And your legal trouble has nothing to do with all this?”
“Correct,” I said. “Something else entirely. Something big.”
There was silence again. After a few minutes more we reached my front door. I turned the key in the lock and budged the door open with my good arm. I started to go inside but noticed that Emily was not following behind me. She hadn’t even climbed the stairs. She was just standing there, staring at me. I knew she was uncomfortable coming into my place.
“You know,” she said. “I was really worried when you didn’t turn up the other day. I was afraid that something like this had happened. Please promise me that you will be more careful from now on.”
Her words warmed my heart. I knew in that moment that she would not judge me for my desertion. I nodded and threw her a smile. A real smile. She climbed up the stairs and came inside.
Chapter Ten
Emily
When Blake said that we were going to talk at his place, my heart almost leapt right out of my chest. He may have been battered and bruised but he was still the most handsome man I had ever met. He was still my hero. I didn’t have the slightest idea what he had done in order to need a lawyer but in that moment I would have represented him in spite of anything. If he had told me he had just robbed a bank, I would have helped him.
“Can I get you a drink?” He asked.
We went into his kitchen. It was small but tidy and ordered. Its simplicity held the flavor of Blake’s masculinity. He pulled open the fridge, which was practically empty, and grabbed himself a beer. He wrenched the cap off and glugged down half the bottle. The way that he gasped and the way his eyes turned bloodshot, I got the sense that he didn’t drink much. I also got the sense that he needed the drink desperately.
“Green tea?” I asked.
He cocked his gorgeous bushy eyebrow. He was so sexy when he did that but it made me feel foolish. Of course he wouldn’t have any green tea. I shrugged and looked down.
“Water is fine.”
“How about regular tea?” He asked.
“Yeah, that would be good. Thank you.”
He reached up to a cupboard, wincing through the pain, tensing his thick biceps which bulged with muscles and tribal inkings. He pulled out a box of teabags but I changed my mind. My stomach was swirling so much with nerves that I needed something more than tea in order to make it through the evening. I needed a beer.
“Actually, sorry,” I said. “Can I have a beer too?”
“Sure thing.”
The fridge flew open again and he pulled the cap off a brew, handing it to me as the liquid frothed forth. I put my mouth around the tip to take the flow of beer and stop it from dropping on his floor. He smiled in amusement. Again, it looked like a real smile, just like he had smiled before we came in. Without saying anything, Blake walked out of the kitchen. He expected me to follow. He went into a living area and sat down on a couch. I sat in the armchair opposite him. Although I desperately wanted to be closer to him, I felt that he needed a lot of personal space so I kept my distance.
There was silence between us. It’s hard to explain but there was something weird about the silences between Blake and me. They were awkward, that’s for sure. But they were also strangely comfortable at the same time. It’s as if there was a river of tension flowing beneath our feet. I guess Blake was just an intense guy. In order to fill the awkward silence, I opened my mouth and blurted out the first thing that came to mind. I am always honest when I do that, which is rarely a good thing.
“I was looking forward to grappling with you.”
I blushed as Blake cocked his head to the side and looked deep into my eyes. He looked confused.
“You like being thrown about on a mat?”
The image of a sweaty muscular Blake, with his shirt off, exposing his tattooed torso, filled my mind. I thought about him on top of me, pinning me into submission, grinding his crotch into my ass.
“No,” I said. “Just I was looking forward to training with you.”
“I see.”
“I was disappointed when you didn’t show up.”
“But you stayed?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I didn’t learn any grapples. One of the trainers taught me some strikes and punches.”
“Oh, yeah?” Blake huffed, puffing out his chest. “Show me what you learned.”
“Don’t you wanna talk about the legal stuff?”
“Of course I do,” he said. “But I’m also curious to see what the guy taught you.”
“Okay,” I felt my cheeks color even more. “You want me to stand up and do it?”
“Yes.”
I took a big swig of beer. I wasn’t used to drinking. All the other lawyers at college would drink every night. I was the only one that I knew who didn’t. I put the beer down on the table and stood up. I felt the alcohol hit me and go straight to my head. I decided to take another quick swig and then I clenched my hands into fists.
“Ah, see,” he said. “Already a mistake.”
“What do you mean?”
Blake stood up and came in front of me. He truly was a hulking mass of man goodness. What I wouldn’t do to have him lie on top of me even for just a second. He grabbed my fists roughly and pulled my thumb out, forcibly wrapping it around my fingers.
“Never keep your thumb in your fist,” he said. “That’s a good way to break it.”
“Damn it,” I said. “I knew that. They told me.”
“Okay, come on then. Punch.”
Blake held out his meaty hands, taking a wide stance. He locked his eyes on mine. It was difficult to meet his piercing gaze but also impossible to pull away. I was like a moth to a flame. The beer was really going to my head now and I had no hesitation in throwing a punch into his palm. I giggled like a schoolgirl as my fist made a slapping sound against his hand. His hand didn’t budge.
“Come on,” he said. “Try again.”
I threw another punch. It was pathetic. I knew it. He knew it. Blake nodded at me to throw another one so I did. And then another. And another. I caught a whiff of his shower gel. It smelled like musky citrus. How could I punch someone who smelled so good?
“Throw from your hips,” he instructed. “They told you that, right?”
“Yes.”
“Here, like this. I don't think they showed you well enough.”
Blake walked around and positioned himself behind me. He pushed his body up against mine and wrapped his arms around me, taking hold of one of my wrists and one of my fists. I could feel his hot breath on the back of my neck. It made my hairs, and nipples, stand up. I ached for him to put his mouth around the nape of my neck, however roughly he wanted, and take me from behind.
“Relax and move with my body.” He said.
Blake moved slowly. He threw his hips against mine and controlled where my hands went. Then he repeated the motion, picking up the pace. He did this a couple more times and then, to my disappointment, took his hands off of me and stepped away. He went back in front of me and watched as I reenacted his movement.
“Excellent,” he said. “Much better.”
“Thank you.”
I smiled and threw more punches, repeating the same movement over and over again. Blake folded his arms, exposing a delicious bulge in his biceps and a thick set of veins running through them. He nodded and smiled. Then he lifted his hands up once again and implored me
to hit them.
I felt bold, empowered by the new movement Blake had taught me, and threw a punch as hard as I could, pushing through my heels and my hips. My aim was off. I swung too wildly and missed his palm completely. My knuckles collided against Blake’s temple, just above his eyebrow, where a cut was healing. He barely moved but my punch burst the cut open and blood poured forth.
“Oh my God!” I screamed. “I’m so sorry!”
I rushed forward. Blake raised his hand to his face and dabbed where the cut was fresh. He drew his fingers back and looked at the blood. His expression didn’t change. He didn’t seem to care. But I was positively hysterical. I cupped his face and looked at the cut. Then I took him by the hand and led him away from the living room.
“Where is your bathroom?”
“Emily,” he said. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not fine,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
I opened a door next to the kitchen and found the bathroom myself. I dragged Blake over to the side of the bath and pushed into his heavy shoulders, forcing him to take a seat. I went underneath his sink and rooted around in his cabinet for cleansing lotions and cotton wool. Luckily he had some. I knew that he would, being a fighter. I soaked a piece of cotton wool in sterilizer.
“This is gonna sting.” I said.
“I know.”
I winced myself, feeling his pain, as I applied the pad to the open cut. Blake’s expression remained the same. His threshold for pain was clearly ridiculously high. I sighed and dabbed up the blood with precision. Blake was looking down between his feet, not making eye contact, consumed in thought. Then he lifted those deep sexy eyes of his and met my gaze. There was a sea of endless melancholy in his eyes. I had to know what caused it. Everything was still. Looking into his gorgeous face, I felt like I was stranded on a raft on an ocean of calm. All I could hear was the thumping of my heart in my ears. My throat went dry. I had to kiss him.