Southpaw (8 page)

She springs back her
hands and starts punching again, but this time it’s softer and slower like she’s
going through the motions.

“Harder.”

“We don’t have to…”
Olivia says while she tightens her punches.

“It happened six years
ago. We were at an amateur boxing club, nothing major, but it was my first real
fight after I turned eighteen. I won the match in four rounds, but it was
close. We both got in some good shots. My dad and I were heading out of the
club when the guy’s brother followed me out. These guys were real scum of the
earth type guys. Muscle-head thugs, kind of like Beyer. The brother was
taunting me and getting in my face. I tried to stay out of it and just focus on
getting in the car. But something snapped in my dad. This rage that was
blinding and red,” I say, exhaling deeply. I hate thinking about this moment
and how out of control he was and how I
know
the rage I saw in his eyes
that night. “I saw that look a few times as a kid, but only in the boxing ring.
He hid that side pretty well, or at least he didn’t bring it home. He would
come home after a night out with a black eye or swollen fist. That was
standard. But this night my dad just lost it and ripped the guy away from me. I
tried to get him to stop after he landed a punch, but he wouldn’t. I pulled. I
shouted. Everything happened so fast. He was out of control. Then he landed a
second punch and knocked the guy out. The guy fell and hit his head on the
curb. And that was it. The guy was dead.”

Olivia slows her
punching, barely grazing the mitts. I hit my mitts together and nod at her. She
hits them harder, but I see trepidation in her eyes.

“My dad was convicted
of manslaughter and sentenced to ten years in prison. I didn’t fight after
that, at least not in any clubs or organized rings or anything. Six months
after he went to prison, my mom died of a heart attack, and I haven’t seen my
dad since. I blamed my dad for my mom’s death. I blamed myself for my mom’s
death. If it wasn’t for us, she’d be alive. She always worried about the
fighting. She hated it, but she loved us so she tolerated it.”

The words flow more easily
with every punch of Olivia’s hand. “During college, I tried to stay away from
the ring and fighting. I didn’t want anything to do with it, but I kept getting
into trouble. Nothing huge, but I was finding myself throwing punches in dark
alleys with guys after the bars. I didn’t want to, but it made me feel alive.
The last straw was about two years ago when I got arrested for a bar fight at
The Silver Dollar. That’s when I started seeing a therapist. She recommended
that I find another outlet. I started hitting the gym harder and then I ran
into Mick a few nights later and the rest is history. Kelly ‘The Dude’ Black
was born.”

Olivia stops again,
putting her hands at her waist. “I’m so sorry, Kelly. I had no idea. I mean,
I’m just so sorry. I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t be sorry. I’m
not telling you this to get your sympathy. I’m telling you this because I want
something different with you. I don’t want you to be like the other girls. And
I know that I probably scared you earlier tonight with Beyer, and I know I’m
probably freaking you out now, but you need to know who I really am, and you
need to know I’m working on it. I’m doing everything I can to make sure that I
don’t end up like my dad, like Frank said.”

“Kelly…” Olivia steps
toward me.

“I understand if you
want me to bring you home and never want to talk to me again.”

“That was the most
honest thing I’ve ever heard,” she whispers, trying to clumsily undo the Velcro
of the straps on her gloves. I slide off my training mitts and toss them on the
floor so I can help her out of the gloves. Then she goes up on her tiptoes,
leaning toward me to place a tender kiss on my lips. “And I don’t plan on going
anywhere. I want to finish this second date.”

Chapter 6

It’s Tuesday. Fight night.

Well, it’s supposed to
be fight night anyway. I told Olivia I wasn’t going to fight tonight, who in
turn told Piper, who then convinced me to come out for drinks. Olivia vehemently
agreed. I knew I shouldn’t have brought Olivia around Piper so soon, but I invited
Olivia over for dinner on Sunday, and Piper conveniently came home earlier than
she expected, in typical Piper “I’m going to fix you” fashion. She wanted to
make sure Olivia didn’t end up nailed against my bedroom wall.

I manage to make it
through my work day with no missteps and find myself waiting in silence on the
couch for Piper to get back from her classes. The rain pounds against the
windows, falling in sheets against the glass. The way the water cascades down
the window reminds me of sitting in my brother Max’s Impala, looking at our
mom’s burial site through the windshield. I’m in the passenger seat and Ted and
Jake are in the backseat. All four of us are staring at the cemetery, unable to
get out to say our final goodbyes. Whenever it rains like this in the summer, I
think of her funeral and her absent husband. Mom never deserved that.

The door opens and Piper
tramples through, throwing her keys in the dish. Clink. She shakes out her head
and throws her bag on the floor with a thud. She’s drenched head to toe.
“Goddamn rain.”

“Goddamn rain is
right,” I reply, putting my feet up on the coffee table. Seeing the state Piper
is in, I realize it’s going to be a while before we leave. Even though she’s
quick as hell for a girl, it’s going to take her some time to come back from
that. “Haven’t you heard of an umbrella?”

“Haven’t you heard of
picking your friend up after class because she has to walk seven blocks in the
rain?”

“You can’t get picked
up if you don’t call.”

She shrugs and waves
her hand at me. “Move over. You’re on some of my stuff.” I stand and move to the
chair, watching her gather a pink t-shirt and pair of jeans. I’ve never seen a
girl have that many articles of clothing all in the same color. Piper never
goes anywhere without some sort of pink on her body. I found out why the same
night I told her about my dad. Her mom died of cancer when she was two. The
pink is homage to cancer survivors, victims, and those left behind, like her.

“We should get a
two-bedroom place,” I say, watching her lift a couch cushion in search of God
knows what. “I know a great place that’s available. It’s just down the street.”

“I don’t know, Kelly. I
think we’re moving too fast.” She spins her head toward me, holding the cushion
up. “What about Olivia?”

“What about Olivia? I’m
taking things slow. I don’t want to mess this one up. As long as you promise
not to get in between us, I’m good. Plus, this way you’d have your own room,
and I can do whatever and whomever I want in my bedroom.”

“And there it is,” she
says, putting down the cushion without finding anything. “I knew you had an ulterior
motive. Men always do.”

“Whatever. Just get
ready.”

“Are
you
ready?
This is a big night for you. You’re breaking the cycle of Tuesday nights.” She looks
over my jeans and fitted black t-shirt. “I can’t believe Olivia comes in and a
few days later, she’s already got you quitting. I badgered you for weeks. This
Olivia must really be something. You have me to thank for that, you know.” She
throws the t-shirt and jeans over her shoulder.

“I know.” I mull over
the fact that I have Piper to thank for a lot of things. I don’t like having
outstanding debt and now I owe both Piper and Mick for bringing Olivia into my
life.

Piper studies me before
she says, “Why don’t I just meet you there? That way your options are open at
the end of the night, if you know what I mean. No third wheel here.” She holds
up her hands before she turns toward the bathroom.

“I know what you mean.”
I smile as she shuts the door.

***

We meet at the Nitty Gritty, gobbling
down burgers and beer while half watching a Brewer game on the big screen TVs.
It’s not exactly what I had in mind when I thought about going for drinks with
Olivia, but she doesn’t bat an eye when we walk in. In fact, the girls are
talking away, leaning toward each other across the table and laughing.

Somehow we’re three
hours in and working on our second pitcher when I finally notice the bar is
packed for a Tuesday night. Piper pours another beer for me and smiles.

“You think Mick is
pissed?” I ask Olivia. “You know, I owe him one now.”

“Owe him for what?”
Piper asks.

“He put in a good word
for me,” I say. “Mick is Olivia’s cousin.”

“Screw Mick. He’ll find
someone else to make him money,” Olivia says as she takes a gulp of beer.
There’s nothing I like better than a woman who actually enjoys and can handle
her beer. I admire the way her blue tank top curves just above her breasts,
classy yet tempting as hell.

“When the hell did all
these people happen?” I ask, nodding toward the crowd.

Suddenly, a chorus
bursts out in
Happy Birthday
and a waitress comes out from the back
carrying a large cake with flaming candles.

“That explains it,”
Piper says, turning the pitcher toward her own glass. “I hate birthdays.”

“Who hates birthdays?”
Olivia asks. “How can you possibly hate birthdays? It’s like hating puppies or
babies or winning a new car. You can’t inherently hate birthdays. That’s not
right.”

“Okay, whatever. I hate
my own birthday then,” she pouts, spinning the glass in her hands.

“How can you possibly
hate your own birthday?” Olivia asks.

I shake my head at
Olivia, and she finally shuts up. I know Piper’s not going to get into how much
she hates her birthday with Olivia. Every time she has a birthday, she thinks
of Cash Rowland and how she can’t be with him.

“So, how about that
yoga class? You teaching tomorrow, Olivia?” I ask, changing the subject. It’s a
lame attempt at veering Piper off course, and it doesn’t work.

“Bathroom,” Piper
mutters as she abruptly gets up and begins to snake her way through the sea of
party-goers.

“Shit, what did I say?”
Olivia asks as she slides down the booth toward the opening.

“Long story.” I slide
down as well.

“I’ll get her,” she
says as she stands up. “Bathrooms are a girl’s territory.”

“Just don’t say
anything about a birthday,” I call as Olivia’s head disappears into the crowd. I
dig into my back pocket to retrieve my wallet and throw a handful of bills on
the table. I know there’s no coming back for Piper tonight. Birthdays equate to
incredible self-loathing and sadness for Piper Sullivan. Nitty Gritty was fun
while it lasted.

I emerge from the
booth, surveying the crowd of unfamiliar faces, and then head toward the
bathrooms, but before I get there, Piper is bumping past me toward the door. Her
face is streaked with tears. Olivia soon follows, grabbing my arm as she
beelines for the door and Piper.

“What is it?” I yell,
but Olivia doesn’t hear me. We weave through the crowd and swing open the door
to see Piper standing under the awning on the sidewalk. The rain drips down the
awning in heavy drops, splattering on the already soaked concrete. Piper’s
pressed against the wall with her arms hugged around her body.

“I’m sorry, Piper,”
Olivia says. I shake my head and press Olivia’s arm down, letting her know that
I’ll take care of it.

“I’ll go grab the car,
Piper. I’ll bring you home,” I say, digging in my pocket for the keys.

“I saw him,” she says
with her head down. “I saw him.”

“Saw who?” I ask.

“Cash,” she says
through sniffles. “I saw him in there. He had his arms around another girl.”

“Cash Rowland?” I ask
in disbelief.

“What other Cashes do
you know?” Piper asks, finally lifting her head up. Her eyes are red with tears
and her mascara bled black streaks under her eyes. She quickly wipes them away.
“He was kissing her.”

“Piper,” I say as I
wrap my arms around her. She buries her head in my chest and her body shakes
with a few sobs. I’ve never seen her like this before. I’m used to the witty
girl who punches me every chance she gets. Olivia puts her hand on Piper’s back
and mouths, “Who’s Cash?”

“Long story,” I mouth
back.

“Do you want me to go
in there and talk to him? I will. I can knock some sense into him,” I offer. I
hate seeing Piper like this; it’s so uncharacteristic of her, and I’m willing
to confront this guy. No one messes with Piper.

“No,” she groans into
my chest. She lifts her head and takes a hard look at me before winding up and
punching me in the gut. I barely flinch and this aggravates her even more. She
goes full gusto on me, rapid firing punches into my gut until she finally
shakes out her hand. “Damn it, that hurts.”

Olivia and I are
silent, waiting for a reaction from Piper. I’m not sure if she’s going to laugh
or cry. She chokes out a small laugh and then takes two big steps toward the
edge of the awning. She’s standing on the cusp as the rain splatters onto her
shins.

“Piper,” I say, but
it’s too late. Her mind is set; she steps back into the downpour, letting the
rain soak into her pink shirt. She holds out her hands and aims her palms
toward the sky as if she is summoning a God I’m not sure she believes in.

“It’s raining,” she
says. The rain’s streaming down her face, washing away the tears and leaving
more black streaks on her cheeks. She spins around, dancing in the puddles with
big splashes. “IT’S RAINING!”

Olivia and I exchange
glances, a silent understanding passing between us beneath the awning. We both
step forward and duck our heads as we join Piper on the sidewalk. The cool
splashes of liquid soak through my skin and clothes, each drip pushing me
further and further into the memories of my mom and the hurt of Piper’s pain. I
lift my palms up like Piper, letting the splashes bounce against my skin. Piper
and Olivia are holding hands now, spinning around as the rain drenches them
both. They’re laughing and squealing as I stand in silence, feeling every drop
pelt me.