Totaled (9 page)

He asked about my parents and I didn’t have a response at first. Sensing that I was uncomfortable, he broke the silence. “It’s okay, Drew. You don’t have to tell me anything. It’s really none of my business. But if you’re running away from somethin’ and scared, just know this… There is nothing you coulda done or said that would’ve made yer parents not love you. They may be disappointed or even mad as hell, but you’ll always be—”

“My parents are both dead.”

“Oh? I’m sorry. I shoulda let well enough alone,” he said somberly.

“It’s okay. You deserve to know.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“The short version is that my father was an abusive, alcoholic prick. He beat on me and my mother for years. I got big enough for him to stop being able to beat on me, so he took it out on my mom even worse. I had just about the worst childhood you could have. But it doesn’t matter now. They’re both gone,” I said all in one breath, as if saying everything all together in one fast sentence would make it easier.

“I’m sorry, Drew,” Mick said, his voice sincere, his kind eyes meeting mine. “I am so very sorry.”

I sat there, trying to get my composure, appreciating that Mick didn’t feed me some bullshit line about them being in a better place. He just sat with me, quietly and patiently, which was actually exactly what I needed him to do. It was nice to get it off of my chest, to have someone just listen and not have something philosophical or therapeutic to offer in response. There’s no response that makes it better. It just sucks. It will probably always suck until one day it’s just suddenly easier.

We rode the horses back across the field and back onto Mick’s property. We unsaddled them, brushed and fed them, and I thanked Ginger for the most special day I could ever remember having. When we walked back into the house, Joan was in the kitchen preparing a meal. It smelled mouthwatering. She told us that while we were out, Bubba had called and said that the truck was all fixed and ready to be picked up. I was happy to hear it but sad that my time here with my new pseudo family would be coming to an end.

Mick drove me up to the bank, and then over to Bubba’s. I handed him an envelope of cash with $500 more than he had originally quoted me. I was prepared for an argument, but he didn’t even count it. I felt trusted and it felt good. I followed Mick back to his house, my truck driving like a brand new vehicle. He insisted that I sleep there another night and leave in the morning. He didn’t want me to have to drive in the dark to an unfamiliar place and worry about finding a place to stay. It was a genuinely nice gesture and he made a good point, so I accepted.

I ate not just seconds but thirds of Joan’s lasagna and hit the sack. I slept soundly again and set my alarm for 4:00 am. It was a chicken shit move, but I didn’t want to do a sappy goodbye.

At 4:15, I plugged the address that Mick had given me the previous day into my GPS and drove east on I-10. Towards my new life.

Chapter Nine

BREE

I loved the monotony of prepping the gym. I could zone out to my music and sing my heart out while sanitizing the mats, hanging the bags, wiping the mirrors, cleaning and filling the coolers with fresh ice water, putting out fresh towels, all while singing Billie Holliday or The Civil Wars, crooning about the possibility of a one true love.

I preferred to get to the gym a couple hours early each day to prep everything alone. Plus, I’m a type A perfectionist and don’t really trust anyone else to do it correctly. At least not the way I like it all to be done. It’s my time to just be alone in my happy place, just me and my music, like my meditation time. No one’s there to interrupt me. No one’s around to bother me with inconsequential details or requests. It’s perfect. Some people wake up each morning and like to drink coffee while reading the newspaper. I liked to go for a morning jog and get to the gym before anyone else, be the first one there to flick those overhead lights on, and get lost in my thoughts.

I didn’t sleep very well last night. The stress of telling my father about taking college courses was weighing heavily on my conscience. After tossing back and forth for hours, I finally woke up an hour before my alarm was even supposed to go off and couldn’t get back to sleep. I figured I might as well get a head start on things; I had some bookkeeping to do and supplies to order anyway. When I arrived at the gym, it was barely after dawn. I opened the back doors and moseyed into the office to stow away my change of clothes and purse. It was always pretty warm in the gym—we kept it that way so people wouldn’t cramp up when they were working out—so I quickly shed my sweatshirt. I walked out to the main gym and flicked the light switch; with a soft hum, they all flickered on. I caught a glance of myself in the mirror and took a moment to stare. This morning, I chose a pair of black yoga pants with a royal blue racerback tank top and my most comfortable running sneakers. I had thrown the long waves of my hazelnut brown hair up in a high ponytail and had no makeup on yet. What was the point? No one was here this early to see me and who was I trying to impress anyway? The last person I wanted to notice me was one of Dad’s hotheaded, egotistical, short-tempered fighters. No thank you.

I knew I was decently attractive, but I never really put much effort into my appearance. Sue was trying desperately to change that, constantly attempting to make me over. Lately, I was actually enjoying her efforts.

I thought about what Sue had said to me at the beach, days before, and wondered if I would ever find my one true someone and whether love was in the cards for me. Certainly not here in Fernandina Beach. But where? I would never leave my family and the business that we had inherited and built up into a success. I couldn’t. And what about Liam? As much as I felt that he couldn’t and wouldn’t ever survive without me around to watch out for him, I knew it was just as bad on my end. I could not and would not ever be away from my twin.

With a curt sigh, I looked once more at myself and decided to just get to it. With my music player secured to my arm and my earphones in, I selected my Booty Shake playlist. A few seconds later I was jamming out to Salt-n-Pepa’s “Push It,” grabbing wipes and a pair of latex gloves to get started on the equipment counters. I didn’t particularly enjoy cleaning rank, nasty sparring gloves and headgear, but it had to be done. Meticulously wiping down every nook and cranny of the headgear with sanitizing bleach wipes, I belted out the lyrics at the top if my lungs.

Loving this song, loving that I knew every word, I sang and danced with no thought or care of what I looked like. I was alone and having a blast. Getting into it, I rolled my hips left and right, gyrating to the beat and rhythmically pelvic thrusting to the song.

“Hiss-ahh-hiss. PUSH IT... Push it good. Puh-push it real good.”

***

DREW

I parked my car in front of the building Mick had directed me to and walked over to what I assumed was the front door. Unsure if I was even in the right place, since there wasn’t a sign posted anywhere, I paused. The building looked more like some sort of warehouse than a gym. I knocked loudly on the door twice with no response. Just as I was about to turn and leave, I thought to try the door handle just in case. What do you know—it was unlocked. As I slowly entered, I saw that the gym lights were all on, but it was quiet. It was just after 6:00 am. I assumed they would be open. Most fighters I knew back home liked to get training early. I’d never heard of a gym not being open by six, but this was a small town and I knew nothing about this place. It appeared no one was there yet. And then I heard her from across the room.

“Hiss-ahh-hiss. PUSH IT... Push it good. Hiss-ahh-hiss, push it... PUSH IT REAL GOOD!” she sang out.

What the hell?

“Excuse me, miss?” I called out.

No answer.

“Hello?”

No response.

I slowly approached and continued to call out to her. “Ma’am? Excuse me? Miss?”

No response.

I finally got close enough to touch her and caught a whiff of the sweetest smell, like vanilla and sunshine, but flowery, when her hair moved as she danced. All the while she was singing, rapping, and belting it out at the top of her lungs with no reservation. “Ooh baybuh baybay. Buh-baybuh baybay,” she crooned. It was hilarious and beautiful. And holy Christ, her body. She was tall, maybe 5′9″, and fit, dancing and singing like it was her job, obviously unaware that someone else was there. Watching her perfectly round ass bounce in those black spandex pants, her hips swaying back and forth to the music playing in her earphones, was enough to make me start to get a hard on right there where I stood. She had the most beautiful creamy, pale skin and her arms were toned, like she actually gave a damn about physical fitness. I guessed she had to work out a little being employed in a gym, which I assumed she was since she was cleaning nasty headgear.

I couldn’t hold back my laughter when she yelled, “GET UP ON THIS!”

I finally reached out and tapped her shoulder with my finger. I knew I startled her, her shoulder flinched underneath my touch, but I never expected what happened next. Before I could even react, I felt my wrist immediately gripped in her hand, my arm twisting uncomfortably. She stepped back hard onto my instep with her foot, thrusting her elbow back as hard as she could into my solar plexus, eliciting instant pain. She quickly spun around, leading with her right hand, jabbing the heel of her hand directly at my nose in an upward motion. I felt and heard it break under the impact. As I saw stars, I tasted and felt the warm blood begin to seep out from my now broken nose. This will make the fourth time.
Fuck, that hurt.
I went to hold my hands up in a surrendering pose of mercy, but with that motion, I left my body open for her left knee to swiftly meet my balls in the worst possible, most awful, painful kick to the groin I’ve ever suffered. I fell to my knees with a groan, blood dripping from my face and nausea overtaking my stomach. I tried to glance up at my attacker only to see a blurred image of what I knew had to be her right foot abruptly kicking me upside the face. The room went black.

***

BREE

Once I saw that he was down, I ran as fast as I could into the office, slammed and locked the door, and called the police. I was pretty sure I’d never seen this man before, the gym was closed, and I was alone and scared to death. My heart was beating so hard and fast that I could hear my pulse in my ears. It was going a mile a minute. My thoughts were racing.

How did he get in? Holy shit, he’s HUGE!

Oh my God! I just successfully subdued my attacker!

Holy.

Shit.

Did I kill him?

When the 911 operator came over the line, it broke my train of rampant thoughts. “911, what is the nature of your emergency?”

“This is Brianne Murphy at 14 North Front Street. I’ve just been attacked. Well, not really. I’m not hurt. I think I actually may have hurt him. Someone broke into the gym and surprised me and I defended myself. Oh God, can you just send someone over as fast as possible? I’m all alone. I’ve locked myself in the office but I just left him lying there!”

“Do you know who attacked you, ma’am? Was there just one person? Can you describe him to me?” she asked.

“Yes, I mean no. I don’t know him. I’ve never seen him before. He was gigantic! He had to be 6′5″ at least, maybe 250 pounds. He was bigger than Liam. God, you don’t even know Liam,” I rambled.
Focus.
“White guy, light brown hair, cut short, I’m not sure what color eyes. I don’t really know. It happened so fast. I just sort of reacted. Oh God, I think I broke his nose. I don’t even know if he’s breathing. Please hurry,” I pleaded.

“We have an officer on the way, ma’am. Just stay in the office and keep talking to me,” she tried to reassure me.

I tried to slow my breathing down. I’d never been so scared in all my life, and yet I felt empowered at the same time. I just single-handedly brought down a giant ox of a man all by myself. And it felt amazing. Maybe there was something to this fighting thing.

Who the hell was he and what was he doing sneaking up on me like that? Jesus H. Christ, what if he wasn’t even trying to attack me? I had my music turned up full blast and was singing at the top of my lungs and didn’t hear anyone even come in. But the doors should’ve still been locked. So he broke in. Yeah! He must’ve broken in. And he must’ve been trying to attack me. Right? Oh, crap on a stick.

It seemed like it took forever for the police to get there. I finally heard voices outside the office door shouting, “Hello? Is anyone here?”

I waited until I heard them right outside the office door. They knocked loudly, making me jump.

“Who’s there? Identify yourselves!”

“Ma’am, it is Officers Butler and Schirmer from the Sherriff’s Office. We got a call about a break in and attack. Are you hurt?”

I opened the door slowly. “I’m not hurt, but I think he may be hurt. My attacker, I mean. He snuck up behind me and I defended myself. I’m pretty confident that I broke his nose.”

“Ma’am, we have done a preliminary search of the building and parking lot. We found no one in here and no signs of forced entry. Are you feeling okay?” he had the audacity to ask, looking at me as if I was having some sort of mental breakdown or something.
Dick.

“What? What do you mean there’s no one here?” I asked, surprised. “I took him down. Hold up, are you suggesting that I made this all up? What, for attention? Are you even serious right now?” I was beyond annoyed.

“Can you tell us what happened, Miss Murphy?” the other cop said a little condescendingly.

“My family and I
own
this gym,” I said, almost yelling. “I work here. I got here early and started with my daily duties prepping the equipment. I had my headphones on. We’re closed, so no one should have been in here with me, yet I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned around to be greeted by the biggest guy I’ve ever seen face to face and I took him down,” I explained proudly.