Quake: #8 The Beat and The Pulse

by Amity Cross

  “I, um… I…” I stammered.

  She peered at the screen, a sad look in her eyes, and said, “I knew a fighter once.”

  Then she turned and disappeared down the hall.

  Tuesday came, and I sucked it up and went back to Beat.

  The day before, I’d gone down to the cheap clothing stores on Swanston Street and bought myself a pair of knee-length lycra leggings with a black and white design, a sports bra, and a black Everlast racerback tank. Cue me getting changed in the toilets at work, and then riding the tram all the way to the gym. I wasn’t exactly fashionable, but boy, I was comfortable.

  The roller door was open just like it’d been the other day. Glancing at the clock on my phone, I was still ten minutes early, so I hovered outside, pretending to text on my phone as other women turned up. They all went in without hesitation, gathering in the same place Caleb said they would. Peering inside, I saw the instructor setting up a row of padded bags and gloves. Everyone was oblivious to my anxiety. Everyone, that was, except me.

  No one was going to hold my hand, so I slunk inside, praying for invisibility until I got my bearings. Setting my bag against the wall, I slipped my shoes off, mirroring what the other women were doing.

  No one seemed to have noticed me appear, so I glanced around the studio, taking in the parts I’d missed the other day. Beat was bigger than I thought it would be. Beyond the scary roller door, there was a fully kitted out gym with a boxing ring, weight and cardio rooms, and an upstairs area. Further back were entrances to male and female change rooms and another door that led someplace else.

  A quick look around made me realize we were pretty much the only people here. The beefy fighters who’d stared at me on Saturday were nowhere to be seen, and just as I’d expected, Caleb was absent along with them, and I heaved a sigh of relief. Was it relief, though? I certainly felt more comfortable, but I couldn’t help wondering where he was.

  Did I really need a guy in my life? No, probably not. What about a harmless crush? No, not that, either. I knew what I was like when I fawned over a guy. Soon, I’d make myself fall in love with the idea of being with him without knowing who he was at all. It would be nothing more than a fantasy. Besides, a guy like that was already taken. Guaranteed.

  “Hey,” a deep voice rumbled beside me.

  Startled, I twisted around and smacked into a hard muscled chest. Big hands grasped my shoulders, righting me, and I glanced up into the face of the instructor. I remembered him from my most embarrassing moment.

  “Careful there,” he said and let me go once he was satisfied I wasn’t going to fall ass over tit. “Class hasn’t started yet.”

  “Sorry,” I mumbled. “You… You startled me.”

  He smiled, his brown eyes reminding me of chocolate. Damn, what a weird thing to think.

  “I’m Tommy, the instructor,” he explained, not seeming to care about my awkwardness. “I saw you here on Saturday, right? Talking to Caleb?”

  “I…ah… I was. I’m new here and…”

  “You’re new in Melbourne?” he asked, and I nodded. “Well, we’ve got a great town here. What’s your name? I can’t call you blue eyes, though I like giving people nicknames.”

  I stared at him, completely bewildered for a moment. When I found my tongue, I said, “Juliette.”

  “Well, Juliette,” he said with a bright smile, “have you done self-defense before?”

  I shook my head.

  “Any fitness classes?”

  I shook my head again.

  He chuckled, his eyes crinkling in the corners. “No worries. We always start each class by running through the basics, so don’t worry about not knowing much. I’ll be here to help, and…” He turned, looking around at the assembled women and gestured to a tall brunette who bounded over, her ponytail swishing from side to side. “Ellen, this is Juliette. It’s her first time with us. Would you mind partnering up with her?”

  “Sure thing,” she said, her confidence shining so bright it dulled my itty bitty spark and almost extinguished it. Turning to me, she said, “I’ve been coming here for a few months now. I’ll help you out, no problems.”

  I looked at her and was immediately jealous, but I nodded and attempted a smile. “Thanks.”

  Tommy left us to go stand at the front of the group, and as I listened to his instructions, I hoped to God I was actually half-decent. I needed a boost.

  “Don’t worry,” Ellen whispered into my ear. “I fell over a million times when I first started coming here, now I could flip a knife-wielding man twice the size of Tommy without even messing up my mascara.”

  “Really?” Despite my raging jealousy, there was something likable about her, and I felt myself soften.

  “Oh, sure,” she said, waving her hand. “You’ll be doing the same in no time. You’ll see.”

  “Oh, man, I hope so,” I said with a moan.

  Then the class started, and I immediately fell on my ass.

  6

  Caleb

  Your girl is here.

  I stared at Tommy’s message on my phone and cursed under my breath. She’d come back, and I wasn’t there.

  “Caleb.”

  Glancing up at the woman sitting across from me at the table adorned with plates of artfully sculpted food with fancy names I could hardly pronounce, I grimaced.

  “Sorry, Mum.”

  She shook her head and pouted, her head of full strawberry blonde hair fluttering around her shoulders. Shit, she’d had her hair done for tonight, and here I was staring at my phone and swearing in front of her. She hated it when I swore.

  “I said I was sorry,” I said, putting my phone back into my pocket.

  “Your father could have had the decency to say he was going to be late,” she declared, reaching for her glass of Pinot Noir.

  At the age of sixty-five, Lilly Carmichael was well versed in the comings and goings of her rich and asshole-ish husband. Why she was surprised he hadn’t turned up to the dinner he arranged was beyond me. I’d expected it, which was why I’d shown up in the first place.

  I loved my mum, but after thirty years of marriage, I thought she knew the guy. He’d been pulling this shit my entire life. Birthdays, school recitals, sports days, Christmas. He always had someplace better to be…except when I was in the ring. That was the only time he gave a shit about me. When I was upholding the Carmichael legacy.

  “You know he’s not coming,” I said. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let me order.”

  She sighed, her eyes rolling. “You’re right. I don’t know why I keep hoping he’ll take some time off. I’ve been trying to convince him for years.”

  “Do you know he came by Beat the other day, demanding changes.”

  “Oh, honey, just let him be. It makes him happy.”

  “It’s not his business to change,” I retorted.

  She shrugged and took another sip of her wine. Glancing at her plate, I noticed she’d hardly touched her salmon. She was pissed at him, too.

  “Did you know he was planning to convince me to go back into training?” I asked. “That all of this is his way of annoying the shit out of me to the point I’ll just do it so he can shut up?”

  Mum narrowed her eyes, the only indicator my cursing bothered her. “Darling, you know he hasn’t fought in a long time, and boxing is his entire life. He was devastated when you were injured and gave it all away. Seeing you up there just like he’d been, gave him meaning again. You know being a businessman isn’t his idea of a well-earned paycheck. You can’t blame him for wanting to get you back in the ring.”

  I scowled, my temper rising. “I can when he blatantly ignores the fact I may never walk again. I’m pretty sure wheelchair boxing isn’t a thing, Mum.”

  “It is actually.”

  “Mum, seriously? You’re just as bad as him, which means you’re in on it.”

  “You’re working at that little gym,” she said, her tone confirming it. Even without the lip curl, I could tell she
thought I was slumming it.

  “He never came to see me once while I was flat on my back. I was such a fucking disappointment for allowing a cheat to take me down.”

  “Caleb!” she exclaimed, glancing nervously around the restaurant. “Language!”

  “It’s the truth,” I went on, my temper beginning to boil over. “When I could’ve been crippled, he dropped me like a ton of bricks. When I got up and walked, he was all over me for a day. You know why he dismissed me yet again? Because the doctors said I could never fight again.”

  “But you can fight, Caleb,” she argued.

  “Not without taking a hell of a risk.”

  “He came to see you last week…” she said. Even she didn’t sound convinced.

  “Is that meant to be some kind of comfort? A grand gesture of love?”

  “I came to see you all the time,” she went on, attempting to calm me, but I was beyond it.

  “Wow, thanks, Mum. At least you were around once a month when I was laid up in the hospital,” I said, scraping the chair back. “You couldn’t face your disappointment, either.”

  “Caleb, honey, don’t leave.”

  “I shouldn’t have come in the first place,” I said, rising to my feet.

  Ignoring the hurt in my mother’s features, I turned, strode across the trendy restaurant, and pushed out onto the street.

  Outside, the sun was low in the sky, the long summer day still sweltering over the city. It wouldn’t be fully dark until at least nine p.m., and the balmy evening saw hundreds of people packing restaurants along the promenade outside Crown Casino. The Melbourne CBD towered before me, the skyscrapers lit up like Christmas trees.

  Turning back into the Crown complex, I found the valet and waited for them to return my car.

  Thousands of people, laughing, smiling, and having a great time with their loved ones, walked back and forth, disappearing in and out of the casino. It only made my mood sourer, knowing my life was so devoid of happiness. I couldn’t stomach it.

  As far as I was concerned, I didn’t have much of a future to look forward to. At least, not the one I’d envisioned growing up. I’d idolized my father, bought into his bullshit, did the training, fought my way up, valued integrity and hard work. Then it all came crashing down. When it was obvious I was damaged goods, I’d been cast aside like a fucking loser. A taint on the Carmichael name.

  When my car arrived, I slid in and slammed the door closed, thumping my fists on the steering wheel in complete and utter frustration. I couldn’t fight, but perhaps there was still something out there for me. Could I be satisfied with being a coach and seeing other guys take out the titles I’d so desperately wanted to win myself? I didn’t know.

  My thoughts went to the woman—the blue eyed, black haired beauty—and I could see the fear in her features as clear as if she were sitting beside me. If I could help her, could she show me a new path?

  Glancing at my watch, I saw it was already a quarter to seven. If I hurried, I might be there in time to catch the last few minutes of class.

  Gunning the engine, I pulled out into traffic, heading toward Brunswick and the studio.

  But by the time I got back to Beat, the class was already over, and everyone was gone.

  The woman came back on Thursday. Then she was there on Saturday. Then the following Tuesday.

  I lingered after hours, hiding in the office and stuffing around with paperwork that I’d usually leave until the next morning.

  That first day, I happened to be looking out of the office window as she ghosted through the roller door and lingered at the back of the class. Her posture was hunched, her gaze averted, but she was striking, even in a group of women who were far more athletic and confident than she was.

  She’d scraped her black hair back into a messy ponytail, pulling it away from her heart-shaped face, and she looked entirely different wearing a tight pair of leggings and a singlet. I could hardly remember what she’d worn the other day since her shattering eyes had overshadowed everything else until it was all I remembered.

  After a week, I was so transfixed with the notion of keeping an eye on her progress, I’d forgotten all about my meddling parents. I guess something good had come out of my unusual fascination so far. What was it about this woman?

  I stayed in the office for the entire duration of each class, not wanting to intimidate the poor girl, and watched how she was doing, which wasn’t very good. I didn’t expect her to be a ninja, but some sense of the basics should’ve been there after a few sessions, especially since Tommy had paired her with one of the regulars.

  She was falling behind, and I didn’t like it. I didn’t like it at all.

  Thursday came around, and I was staring out of the office window at the studio below when Tommy came in and began messing with the filing cabinet.

  “Juliette,” he said, watching me watching the goings-on below.

  “Huh?”

  “That’s her name.” He raised an eyebrow at me. “You interested in her?”

  “I’m interested in helping her,” I shot back.

  “Really? I’ve never seen you show an interest in helping any woman who’s come in here looking for training in self-defense. Even when it is bloody obvious there would be a line out of the door…if you know what I’m sayin’.”

  Scowling, I turned my attention back to the woman—Juliette—and I immediately found myself looking at her tits. I hadn’t thought the notion of asking her out had crossed my mind, but maybe it had. Did I even want to ask her out? Or was it just physical? I didn’t know, but it was truly more about helping her overcome whatever had her scared. I looked at her and saw all those other things, but the look in her eyes that day…I’d never forget it.

  “You’re overlooking her,” I snapped, not wanting to discuss with an employee the ins and outs of what my dick wanted, no matter how much I liked the guy. “She’s falling behind even with that girl partnering her. She’s shy, so she won’t come forward and complain or ask for help. You need to open your eyes, Tommy.”

  “She’s a perfect candidate for personal training,” he said with a smirk.

  “Don’t look at me like that, you fuck,” I growled. “Do your fucking job.”

  “Feedback taken with a grain of salt,” he shot back. “But I still think it’s worth askin’ her. I’ve got the time. Do I get points for initiative, boss?”

  I narrowed my eyes, not liking the twist of jealousy that was poisoning my guts. It was his job, and he was taking the initiative, but I didn’t like it. I knew Tommy’s game. He wanted to train Juliette, butter her up, make her attached to him, and then fuck her. Take advantage of her vulnerability. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d overlooked her on purpose for this very reason.

  “No,” I declared. “I’ll train her.”

  “You don’t train with clients,” he complained, raising an eyebrow. “You only train the fighters.”

  “So fucking what?” I asked, bristling.

  “I’ve already built a report with her,” he said, his hackles rising. “She’ll agree. She’s into me.”

  “We’re an inclusive place here, Tommy,” I said, staring him down. I didn’t give a shit that he was twice my size and could knock me out with one punch. I cared about his attitude. “No matter age, weight, ability, or gender. Beat is not a place to cruise for a quick fuck. Especially not when it could genuinely harm a vulnerable woman. If your balls are itchy, then go scratch them someplace else, and with someone who truly wants it. Manipulation doesn’t make you a man. You’re a great teacher, mate, but don’t let your prick do the thinking for you.”

  Tommy looked as if he wanted to throttle me, and I didn’t blame him, but when he calmed down, he would see I shaved a foot off his ego for his own good. He was amazing at his job and had a natural ability for teaching, but work and play—meaning sex and objectifying the women who sought sanctuary here—didn’t go hand in hand. Not at Beat.

  “Don’t you have a class to teach?”r />
  He scowled, an unmistakable flare of rage in his eyes. Not good when he was about to go downstairs and teach a class of impressionable young women, Juliette included.

  Before I could reign him in, Tommy strode from the office, forcing me to follow and blow my cover. He thundered down the stairs with me on his tail, and when we reached the bottom, I pulled him up.

  “Hey.” I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Just a friendly reminder.”

  “Sure thing, boss,” he said, some of the tension leaving his jaw. “Can’t get anythin’ by you, you asshole.”

  Luckily, I knew he was taking the piss, and I laughed. “Don’t forget it.”

  He shook me off and grunted before striding off toward the group of women assembled and waiting.

  As I followed his progress, my gaze met Juliette’s, and her eyes widened slightly. Her cheeks began to turn red, and she turned away, her slender hand rising and wrapping around the end of her ponytail.

  Juliette.

  Realizing I was staring, I averted my gaze and turned my thoughts to how I was going to approach her. After class, when everyone was leaving. She wouldn’t feel so singled out then, and there would be minimal attention from the other women.

  Going back to the office, I watched another class unfold and saw nothing had changed. Tommy ignored her same as always, likely a deliberate act after my reprimand.

  When the clock flicked over to seven, I went downstairs. The class was dispersing, and Tommy was already nowhere to be seen, so I approached the dwindling group, my hands shoved into my pockets. She stood apart, gathering her things while the others talked among themselves.

  “Hey,” I said, approaching her with a smile. “Juliette?”

  She turned, her eyes wide with panic. “Uh… Yeah?”

  “Caleb,” I said, pointing to myself. “We spoke the other week, remember?”

  She nodded. “I remember. How could I forget.”

  The last part was muttered under her breath, but I heard her loud and clear.