Totaled (12 page)

Thankful that I stopped by the grocery store last night and stocked up on a few necessities, I blended myself my standard breakfast protein shake with six raw eggs, protein powder, a healthy scoop of peanut butter, almond milk, and ice. If I pretended, it almost tasted like a chocolate peanut butter cup in liquid form. Almost.

As if it was pulling me like a magnet, I headed out to the deck to enjoy the view while I drank my breakfast. The weather was perfect, warm with a cool sea breeze, not a cloud in the sky. There were a handful of people walking on the beach, but not many, and they were all pretty far down. I was definitely going to like it here. This morning routine would certainly take no getting used to. It occurred to me that I rented this place for an entire summer, and paid in full, without even checking out the gym Mick recommended. Well, I tried to check it out and got the shit kicked out of me. Finishing my shake, I resolved to return to the gym today, during business hours, and re-evaluate the situation. It was 8:20; plenty of time for me to take a shower and get on with it.

Not wanting to appear too eager to jump in with a workout, even though I was itching to get into a ring or octagon, I dressed in a black t-shirt, casual cargo shorts, and sneakers. I navigated my way back towards town and found the gym in no time. There were cars all over the parking lot, and since it was nearing 10:00 am at this point, I was confident that they were open.

I pulled the entrance door open and was instantly hit with a wave of ambient noise and the smell of sweat. People were sparring, the sound of leather meeting leather as bags collided with body parts music to my ears. I could close my eyes and picture exactly what size the fighter was by the sound of his fist striking the bag. I stood, calmly looking around, just taking it all in. A much younger skinny guy approached me and asked if he could help me.

“Yeah, I’m looking for Pat Murphy. Is he around?” I asked.

He turned his head and pointed to the center ring, where two guys were sparring. “He’s right over there. I’ll go tell him he has a visitor.”

“Thanks,” I responded. As I waited, I glanced around the gym, mentally running through a workout in my head.

It took about ten minutes for the guy who I assumed was Pat to come over from the ring. As he walked over and got closer to me, he started laughing. Laughing right at me.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Our Bree really did a number on you, huh? I’m Pat,” he said, offering me his right hand. “And you’ve already met my daughter, I guess. Right? That was you yesterday, right?”

“Uh, yes sir. Guilty as charged. I thought you were open. The door was unlocked. I tried to get her attention, but she had her earphones in and didn’t hear me. Next thing I knew, I was laid out on the floor, seeing stars, and she was gone,” I replied with a smile.

“Oh, no worries. She’s a little jumpy; you just scared her is all. Between having a brother and working here at the gym, she’s learned a thing or two about defending herself if she feels threatened. She was actually worried about you afterwards. And she’s a little embarrassed,” he confided.

“She shouldn’t be embarrassed at all. She’s got one hell of roundhouse kick, that’s for sure. I feel bad that I scared her. I would love to apologize if she is here,” I offered.

“She’s not, actually. She should be back later this afternoon. What brings you in anyway? You’re not from around here, right? I never forget a face, especially one attached to a fighter’s body,” he said, assessing me while he spoke.

“No sir, I’m from Arizona. I’m actually here for the summer and your gym, and you, were recommended to me by a friend. Mick Spaulding sent me.”

“Oh, you’re Mick’s guy. He called me about you. It’s nice to meet you. Mick is an old friend, and he spoke very highly of you.”

Thinking about Mick and recalling the conversation that I overheard between the two of them made me smile shyly. Pat was just as Mick described. He was jolly and funny, but serious when he needed to be. He was proud of his gym and spoke of his fighters like they were his own sons. He showed me around the gym and I was impressed. For a small town, they had quite the set up. All the latest equipment and gear and even some training instruments that I had never tried before. They had one area off to the side that looked more like a CrossFit training area than one designed for martial arts. I got a real positive vibe and had a good feeling about what I was seeing.

Pat asked about me and I gave him a rundown of my previous training, workout routine and regimens, my amateur record of 18-2, and my hopes and goals to turn pro. He had me fill out some paperwork, made a copy of my identification, and scheduled me for a complete health physical and blood work with the local physician he preferred to use. I signed up for a full membership without hesitation and filled out the form for automatic debit withdrawal of my monthly dues. He raised his eyebrows and got an optimistic, hopeful look on his face when I told him my height and weight.

“I can’t wait to get you in and see you in action. My son is a fighter as well. He’s in your same weight class and pretty close in size, so I’d love to pair you two up for a sparring session tomorrow. What are your other commitments? Do you have a job?” he asked.

“No sir. This is my job. I’m serious about this. I will be successful. This has to happen for me. Failure is not an option,” I confessed in a serious tone.

“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you prove it,” Pat said. “Now go get that physical and I’ll see you at 8:00 am sharp tomorrow!”

***

BREE

With four heavy plastic shopping bags on each wrist, I struggled to open the back door with it all in tow. It’s both comical and idiotic that women will nearly break our arms at the wrists to get all of the goods inside in one trip rather than dare walk back out to the car to retrieve another load. And yet, here I was, as usual, doing just that. My monthly trip to the office supply store took two hours too long today because some random computer glitch had wiped our account completely out of their system. I’d already completed a four mile run and skipped breakfast to “quickly knock out” the errand, so I was in a foul mood. I had just ripped open the plastic wrap from a granola bar I stashed in my top drawer when a knock sounded on the office door.

“Come in,” I called out, my mouth full of granola.

My father and Liam both walked in and sat down. They looked at me, then at each other, then back at me, not saying anything.

“What?” I asked, holding my arms up in question.

“Well, good morning to you too,” my father said. “You’ll never believe who came in to the gym today.”

“Who?” I questioned.

He hesitated, almost looking nervous to tell me. “Let’s just say we have a new member. Your ‘intruder’ from yesterday paid me a visit this morning. He’s interested in fighting for me,” he explained, handing me a folder, “so I signed him up. He got his physical and everything done already. He checks out clean and looks promising. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

I stared at the packet of paperwork in front of me with shock on my face and skepticism in my mind, almost scared to open it. Dad walked out of the office, reminding me that the new guy would be here tomorrow morning. Liam stayed behind, still in his chair, fidgeting in his seat.

“You okay with this, Bree?” he asked.

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t even know the guy. I’m just ashamed and embarrassed,” I said, hanging my head lower. I dreaded having to see this guy face to face after freaking out like I did. How humiliating.

Liam got up and came over to the other side of the desk to hug me. “It’ll be okay, Bree.
Tá grá agam duit
,” he whispered in my ear.

A few minutes after Liam left the office, I closed the door and opened the file. I read his new member questionnaire first. Drew Dougherty carried the elite rank of a first degree black belt in Brazilian jiu-jitsu, which I understood took more than ten years to earn on average. Yet he had only been training for seven years total. He was also quite accomplished at Muay Thai and listed his strengths in the ring as grappling and submission holds. He had an impressive amateur level record. He trained at a gym in Phoenix, Arizona, five to six days a week while helping at his family’s pub for employment. Interesting. He understands working for a family business. And an Irish name too. He was twenty-three years old, no college education, new to the area, currently unemployed, and left the emergency contact information blank. Goals were listed as going professional and to one day be successful in the UFC. I found myself staring at his ID photo. Most people are appalled by their driver’s license pictures, but his was quite attractive. Even his handwriting was attractive; masculine and confident and actually legible. I had to admit, I was intrigued. And nervous. And excited. I needed to get a grip.

Chapter Thirteen

DREW

After not stepping foot inside a gym for nearly two weeks, I should’ve been dead on my feet. I should’ve been winded, sluggish, my footwork dragging, and my reaction time slow. But it was the complete opposite. I felt alive. I felt on fire. The only physical activity I had seen recently was manual labor and novice horseback riding at Mick’s house, but my body’s muscle memory kicked into gear and it was truly like riding a bike. Pat certainly wasn’t holding back. He took me through what he called his introductory warm up session first thing this morning. It was on a whole different level from what I was used to. He put me through an exercise, stood back and watched, critiqued my form slightly or commented in a positive way, and then immediately redirected me to another movement or action. It was invigorating to be pushed so hard right away. I came in thinking that I had to go all out and show up ready to prove myself to Pat and his crew, but I was actually being driven to give one hundred percent without even having to think about it. Pat was in your face, loud, obnoxious, and harsh, but my body and mind had never responded so well to a coach before. I had never been exposed to a trainer like him before and in this moment, as I sat drinking my jug of room temperature half sports drink/half water, I was thankful for Mick. Thank God my truck broke down on the side of I-10 in front of him. Thank God he welcomed me into his home and into his life. Thank God he encouraged me to come to Fernandina Beach and meet Pat. Mysterious ways indeed.

My pulse had just about settled back to a normal rate when I heard Pat calling me over to the ring. I jogged over to where he was standing with another fighter, a blonde guy who was obviously a heavyweight as well. With only an inch or two in height difference and what I gauged to be less than ten pounds difference in weight, I looked eye level into the face of the guy, waiting for introductions to be made.

“Drew, this is Liam, my son. Hopefully he’ll be your new sparring partner,” Pat said.

“Hey, Liam, nice to meet you man,” I responded, offering my right hand to shake.

“Yeah, nice to meet you, man,” Liam said back, almost like an echo. He also left me hanging, so I put my hand down after a few seconds.

“Liam’s been training for years and has acquired his brown belt in jiu-jitsu, but hasn’t had many fights outside of our gym here,” Pat explained.

Liam hung his head down and stared at the floor. “I want to fight. You’re the one who always comes up with a reason for me not to,” Liam mumbled in his father’s direction.

There was something off about Liam. I didn’t know what his deal was yet but he was definitely…different.

“Well, I’d love to spar if you’re up to it. I haven’t been in the ring with someone in weeks and I’m dying to grapple a little,” I said lightheartedly, gently jabbing my fist into Liam’s shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re okay to fight? Dad said that Bree broke your nose,” he said slowly. He was looking up at me excitedly, eager.

“I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding. It’s not the first time I’ve fought with a broken nose,” I replied dismissively.

“I’ve never had a broken nose,” Liam commented and climbed into the ring, putting his headgear on.

After our headgear and gloves were all fastened and checked, Pat ranted something about us being slower than the second coming of God and urged us to get on with it.

“I want you sparring at fifty percent right now. Just getting loose, warming up, and learning each other. Don’t anybody piss me off and get hurt today,” Pat warned.

We pounded fists and started out circling each other. I let Liam’s left jab land, just to feel how hard he was punching. His immediate attempts to kick my legs out from under me caught me off guard and raised the flag. The gauntlet was thrown down.

You wanna go to the mat, big boy? Come and get some!

I tried to get him to the mat, but he was evading every punch and kick I threw his way. No wonder the motherfucker had never had a broken nose. He was fast as hell, had excellent footwork, and blocked everything. I pulled back a little to see if he would be the aggressor and I could capitalize on him making a mistake. Plus, I was sick of chasing him around. As soon as he heard Pat yell from the ropes for somebody to do something, he clicked into gear and sure enough, I was able to duck under a right hook, shoving my shoulder into his chest. I hooked my right arm under his left knee and drove us both to the ground.

Show time, baby. Let’s see what you got.

***

BREE

Hearing commotion in the gym was no new thing. All I ever heard was commotion. But something about the energy today was different. I’d been there for about thirty minutes already, jotting down voicemail messages, checking emails, and clearing off my desk inbox when I kept hearing turmoil. I opened the door to see two regulars rushing down the hall towards the gym.

“What’s going on?” I asked them.

“Liam’s sparring in the ring!” one of them shouted as they turned the corner and disappeared from view.

Liam? Sparring? With who? There isn’t anyone even close to his size to spar with.

And then it hit me. I had completely forgotten about it being the new guy’s first day. That had to be who my father paired him with. Part of me worried for my brother, who I always wanted to protect from harm, but the other part of me was curious to see the new guy in action. I made my way down the hall to check it out for myself. Sure as shit, there he was. They were on the mat, grappling around, both vying for the advantage. It didn’t look like either of them had an advantage at that point in the fight. My father was on the side, coaching and yelling directions, but to whom, I wasn’t sure. He was excited, though. I hadn’t seen him this into a sparring match in, well, ever. I stood back, out of view, and watched. When they got back up to their feet was when I really was able to get a good look at him.