By Degrees (15 page)

“Fine.
 
Don’t hit her,” says Charlie.
 
The glee in his voice is impossible to miss.
 
I know he’s hoping Tarin won’t, just so he can enjoy the show.

“You worry me, old man,” says Tarin.

“It’s not me you should be worried about,” Charlie says, patting my wrist now that he’s finished closing up my glove.
 
“Go get ‘im, girly.”

I climb into the ring, coming easily to my feet.
 
I do some light bouncing to get the blood flowing, reminding myself of Scott. I nod at him and he smiles at me, giving me a thumbs up.

He and Ricky are standing ringside, both of them with arms folded across their chests now. Ricky seems nervous, but Scott has seen me at the gym before.
 
This is almost as much fun for him as video games.
 
I think the only thing that would make it better for him would be to have me hooked to a game controller he was holding.

Tarin rolls under the ropes awkwardly and gets on his feet.
 
He walks around the ring, like he’s getting the lay of the land or something.
 
I can see him warming to the idea of doing this, but not necessarily against me.
 
Every time he looks in my direction, he acts guilty, his shoulders hunching and his eyes darting away.

“Gloves up!” orders Charlie.

Mine go up automatically.
 
They feel natural there, like I should always be walking around protecting myself this way.
 
Tarin’s come up slower; he’s watching me and mirroring my actions. He’s wary, and I admire him for having such good instincts.

“Engage!” is Charlie’s next order.
 
He bangs the bell once with a tiny hammer that rests near it.

I wait for Tarin to follow Charlie’s call.

He walks around the ring in a circle, like he’s taking a stroll. I side step, keeping my gloves between us.
 
I’m on my toes at all times, just like I’ve been taught.

Tarin’s nervous, full of anxiety.
 
I’m sure it’s all about the idea of hitting a girl. It’s good to know he doesn’t relish the idea, but he needs to get busy.
 
I have other things to do today besides dance in circles.
 
I close the distance between us and throw out one easy punch, catching him in the shoulder.

“Hey! Watch it, now.
 
I don’t want to have to hurt you.”
 
He moves out of the way, watching me over his shoulder as he retreats.

Charlie’s frustrated.
 
“Get back over there, boy!
 
What’s wrong with you?
 
She’s throwing down the gauntlet and you’re walking away!
 
What are you, a pussy?”

Tarin stops in his tracks.
 
“Say what, man?
 
Did you just call me a pussy because I don’t want to hit a girl?”

He’s so busy bitching at Charlie, he doesn’t realize I’m there until it’s too late.
 
I land a solid punch to his shoulder, knocking him sideways a few steps.
 
I dance out of the way.

“What the …?”
 
He turns around and stares at me.
 
“Did you just hit me?”

“Of course she hit you!
 
That’s what you do in the boxing ring for crying out loud! Whaddya think this is, a beauty parlor? Now get over there and give her a tap!”

Tarin snorts a laugh and then takes a tentative step in my direction.
 
“Give her a tap,” he mumbles under his breath, “I’ll give her a tap…”

I wave him towards me.
 
“Come on then, Tear-It-Up Kilgour.
 
Let’s see what you got.”
 
I’m grinning like a fool, the adrenaline coursing through my veins.
 
I’m probably enjoying this too much, but I don’t care.
 
I haven’t punched anyone in the head in way too many weeks.

“Oh, you wanna see what I got, huh?”
 
He raises his gloves up and takes a few more steps in my direction.
 
“You sure about that?”

I rush him and give him three quick jabs in his chest, easily knocking away his gloves.
 
I dance away and laugh.
 
“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Hey! Cut that out!” He’s moving more assuredly now, walking sideways, reminding me of a caged tiger the way he’s watching me.
 
“No sneak attacks allowed.”

I let out a whoop because I have too much energy built up inside me.
 
I punch my gloves together to aggravate him.
 
“Come on, sissy boy … bring it.”

“That’s not a sneak attack, that’s boxing!” yells Charlie.
 
“Now get in there and throw some punches before I get so old waiting for it I fall over dead.”
 
Charlie uses a towel to snap Tarin in the ankle when he gets close.
 
“Go!
 
Fight!”

Tarin jumps.
 
“Shit!
 
What the hell!”
 
He turns around to scowl at Charlie, and I take the opening he provides.

I jump in and pummel him.
 
Chest, shoulders, abs, and then when he turns around, his jaw.
 
He flies back into the ropes and I dance away again.

As he bounces down the ropes to land on his ass, Ricky and Scott are laughing loudly.

“Damn, girl,” says Ricky, his joy echoing around the gym, “you ain’t gotta kill the poor boy his first day.”

Tarin shakes his head a few times and then scrambles to his feet, his face beet red under his pads.
 
“You are so going down right now,” he growls.

“You wish,” I say before I can stop myself.

“You
wish,” he says, advancing on me.

He takes a swing at me, but it’s sloppy and obvious.
 
I lean back just the slightest bit to let it breeze by and then cut in with a quick jab to his ribs.
 
When he leans over his injured parts, I give him a left hook to his other side and then move away again, avoiding getting too near the corner of the ring.

Ricky’s laughing like a lunatic now and Scott’s right there with him, adding some hoots and hollers for good measure.
 
It’s having the desired effect on Tarin, making him angry and frustrated.
 
I smile, knowing he’s about to live up to his nickname.
 
I’m totally ready for him.

Tarin lets out a roar and comes for me like a bull, head down, planning to tackle me.

I wait until he’s almost on me before jumping to the side and slamming his upper back first with the back side of my left fist and then a roundhouse from my right.
 
He falls to his face on the mat with a loud boom.

I expect him to stay there and catch his breath, so it takes me by complete surprise when his hand shoots out and grabs my ankle.
 
One quick yank and I’m on my back on the mat next to him.
 
He reaches for me, his gloved hand landing on my thigh and squeezing.

I panic.
 
His hand is way too close to places it shouldn’t be, and his face isn’t too far behind. This isn’t boxing, it’s wrestling, and we’re sweating and breathing heavily.
 
I can’t be here like this.
 
Too close!
 
Too close!

I sit up in an instant and bash him in the arm several times before hitting him in the head.
 
When his hand finally falls away, I scramble back and jump to my feet.

Shaking my arms and head, I dance to the opposite side of the ring.
 
I’m totally amped up now, a little afraid of what I’ll do to him if he gets up and comes after me.
 
The fight or flight instinct is raging inside me right now, and the ropes are keeping me trapped in here with him. He’s got me backed into a corner, and it goes against everything I know to leave the ring and not keep fighting.
 
The smart thing would be to slide under the ropes and end the match.
 
I am not always smart.

Tarin gets up, his heavy breathing sounding like a freight train.
 
He stumbles towards me, his body language telegraphing his plans.
 
He’s against hitting girls, but apparently has no problem with wrestling them to the ground.

As soon as he’s close enough, I hit him with a volley of quick jabs to the chest and face.
 
He holds up his gloves, avoiding the worst of it, but I still get a couple taps in.
 
At first he responds with some weak moves, but with egging-on from the guys, they become stronger, more assured.

“Come on, come on, show us what you got!” yells Charlie.
 
“I’ve seen ten-year-old girls fight better than that!”

Tarin finally gives me something decent to look at, but I block it easily.
 
Swatting his attempts away like flies, I land another couple solid punches to his abs.
 
This is how I motivate men to do crunches.
 
Now he knows I go for the soft parts.

“Short, sharp, quick!
 
Jab!
 
Gloves up!
 
Jab!”

Tarin quickly gets into the rhythm Charlie’s calling out for him.
 
I’m impressed with how easily it’s coming for him now.
 
He’s got a certain grace to his moves, reminding me of a professional boxer.
 
Raw, yes, but with a certain natural talent.
 
He’d be a hell of a street fighter if he had any finesse.

“Left, left, right!
 
Go! Sharper!
 
Harder!
 
Right, right, left!”

Tarin will never beat me with this kind of workout, since Charlie’s giving me the entire playbook through the natural megaphone that is his mouth, but it doesn’t matter.
 
The goal is to get Tarin interested, and I can tell we’ve won.
 
He’s on his toes, he’s moving, he’s swinging with abandon but listening.
 
I let him get a few punches in so he doesn’t lose hope entirely.

Tarin backs away when Charlie takes a break from yelling.
 
He grins at me.
 
“You had enough yet?”
 
He asks me.
 
He can barely get the words out he’s breathing so hard.

I smile evilly.
 
“The question is, have you had enough yet?”

He shakes his head and dances closer.
 
“Enough?
 
Please.
 
I haven’t even gotten a taste yet.”
 
And then he launches some of his own moves on me.

I block all but one, taking a hit to the chin.
 
I bend over and turn partially away, pretending to be hurt.
 
Waiting… waiting…

He stops immediately and comes to my side.
 
“Oh, shit.
 
Did that hurt?
 
I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..”

I wait until he places a hand on my back before turning around and punching him right in the gut.
 
As he bends over I meet him with a solid uppercut and then a combination, left-right-left.
 
He’s on his back staring up at the ceiling about three seconds later.

Applause erupts around the gym.
 
Several of the regulars have come in and are giving me thumbs up.
 
I wave to my fans before sticking my right glove in my left armpit to yank it off.
 
I walk over to Tarin and hold my bare hand out.
 
“Need some help?”

He reaches up, his gloved hand limp.
 
His head lolls to the side a little.
 
“Yeah.
 
Help … me.”
 
He’s exhausted.

I smile, triumph feeling especially good for some reason.
 
As soon as his wrist clamps around mine, though, I know I’ve been foolish.
 
Oh, you silly, gullible girl…

One second I’m standing on my feet, and the next, I’m on my back with his heavy, sweaty, smelly body on top of mine.
 
I struggle to get away, but he’s got more energy and strength left than I would have thought possible.

“Say uncle,” he demands, his sweet breath blowing into my face. It doesn’t smell like cigarettes for a change.
 
I can feel his heartbeat pounding into my breasts.

“Screw you,” I grunt, trying to wiggle out from under him.

The people in the gym are hooting like teenagers.

I punch him in the back of the head with my gloved fist as best I can, but he traps my arm with a strong grip, pressing his chest harder into mine.
 
His face is even closer. I can feel a hard-on starting for him, as his crotch settles in on top of my leg.
 
“I wrestled in high school,” he says, his hot breath washing over me and giving me shivers.
 
“You’re not getting away until you say uncle and admit I am the champion of all champions.”
 
The more I wiggle, the harder he presses into me.

Panic level nine.
 
Get out! Get away!
 
The feel of his body this close to mine is freaking me out.
 
I don’t know why, I just know it has to stop.

“I guess you had different rules in high school wrestling than I have,” I say, sweating coming out of my every pore, my pulse going so hard I can feel it pounding in my neck.
 
I’m giving him fair warning, but he doesn’t get it.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I bring my knee up into his crotch only half as hard as my fear wants me to, immediately immobilizing him. His expression goes from smug to surprise and then to pained in the space of a single second.