Undeclared (29 page)

But none of the details mattered now. I had two objectives as I saw it. The first one was to make sure Grace was okay. “Paulie, I’ve got something going on right now. I’ll be at the gym first thing tomorrow. Send me any tape you have of the guy I’m fighting.” I hung up before he could blurt out more instructions.

“Can you call Paulie back and find out what’s so important while I deal with this?” I asked Bo. He nodded. “Take my truck.”

He hefted the keys I tossed him. “How’ll you get back?”

“I’ll cab it or borrow Lana’s car. I’ll figure something out,” I told him. We walked out to the living room. Grace’s door was open. I viewed that as an invitation. I gave Bo a chin nod and walked into the bedroom.

Grace was sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked ragged, a completely different person than I had left this morning. Her shoulders drooped, and it looked like it was taking a super human effort to even hold her head up.

“It’s just one person’s opinion,” Lana said consolingly, rubbing Grace’s back.

“That opinion belongs to someone whose art hangs in the Smithsonian,” Grace replied, almost too softly for me to hear.

It all made sense now. Dr. Rossum must be the head of the art department and he must have rejected her hard. “State U isn’t going to pay five grand for pictures that suck, Grace,” I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice, I felt my body tense up into fight mode. I’d like to go and beat this Dr. Rossum into a bloody pulp.

I didn’t expect a response. Grace was too far gone inside her own head right now to listen to either Lana or me. I bent down and picked her up. She stiffened against me at first, but then collapsed against my chest.

At her surrender, I felt a flood of relief rush through me. Lana quietly shut the door behind her as I laid Grace on the bed and followed her down.

“Tell me,” I urged, holding her close. Her body felt like ice.

“Remember when I asked you what your greatest fear was?” Her head was on my chest and I could feel the faint movement of her jaw as she spoke.

“Yeah, it was water. The Marines beat it out of me.”

“My greatest fear wasn’t spiders like I told you.”

“No? You like them then?”

That didn’t even elicit a laugh, only a short shake of her head. “My biggest fear was that I wasn’t ever going to succeed at anything. Lana’s super beautiful and smart. Josh is great at sports. My Uncle Louis invented some great software program, which is why we live in a house you can’t see from the street. But me? I wasn’t anything. I’m a follower, Noah. The biggest chance I ever took was on you.” Left unsaid was that I had fucked that up by rejecting her advances because I was too screwed up to be around normal people when I got out.

“I always said I didn’t want to pursue photography, that it was just my hobby, because then it would never be judged as lacking,” she continued. I could see where this was going and my heart began to ache for her. I had pushed her into this. My goddamned big mouth about pursuit of money and success.

I felt the nod against my chest. I hugged her close. I tried not to give voice to the thousand platitudes that pushed against my tongue. My assessment of her work wasn’t going to matter right now because she was flayed open by the criticism of this Dr. Rossum, but I couldn’t keep quiet.

“Your vision of the world, Grace, of making the boring and simple objects seems so interesting is part of what makes you so amazing. If other people didn’t view your work as unique and special, no one would be asking you to take pictures. No one would be paying you real money. Real money, Grace, is the currency of criticism. Not words.”

Grace remained quiet, only the soft hiccupy sounds of her breath could be heard in the still room.

I didn’t know how to fix this. I wasn’t going to convince Grace that she was awesome at photography, so I did the one thing that I knew how to do.

Her sorrow had exhausted her. She watched me with big eyes, wet with her earlier tears, as I undressed her. I swept my hands in long, soothing motions down her body until I could hear her breath quicken and see her body flush in response. When she moved to reach for me, I looped her wrists lightly in my right hand. “Let me do all the work, honey.”

I slid down her body, running my mouth over her soft, rounded belly and lower still until I rested between her lush thighs. “I promise you won’t even notice the time passing.” Then I was too busy doing other things with my tongue and mouth to say another word.

Grace voiced no complaints. I knew that this was just a temporary fix, but it was all I could offer.

***

Leaving Grace sated and sweaty in bed, I padded to the kitchen to rummage around for something to eat. Grace’s apartment was the antithesis of our house. It was quiet and clean. At my house, the television was always on and there were always random people moving in and out to drink, play cards, or just hang out. Grace’s place was a sanctuary. I wanted to provide this kind of atmosphere for Grace and me; a place like this that could be a haven for both of us. I’d do anything to make that happen.

Chapter Sixteen

Grace

The next day, I felt wrung out, like day-old bread. All the soothing concern that Noah had lavished on me seemed to have dissipated with the rising sun. He didn’t want me to be alone that day and insisted that I go with him while he trained. I packed my books into my messenger bag and left the camera backpack lying in the corner. I wasn’t sure if I would ever feel the confidence to wield it again.

“Do you miss the Marines?” I asked, fiddling with the radio. I wondered if I would miss my camera. Sometimes I would forget I was even carrying it, since it was such a natural extension of my body. This morning when I picked up the camera bag, it felt like it weighed as much as a cement block and I could barely drag it into the closet. My portfolio was lying on the desk, and sitting on top was a mint tin emblazoned with the tilt shift photograph I had taken of the Alpha Phis. Lana must have left it for me last night. I assumed it was one of the many rush-related paraphernalia they had produced. Maybe it wasn’t true art, but I couldn’t deny a surge of pride when I looked at the tin with my photo printed on the lid.

“Sometimes, but not today,” he said, interrupting my reverie.

“Why not today?”

“Today is Field day. If I were still in the Marines, I would be cleaning today. Shining my shoes, cleaning the barracks. Everything.”

“But if today weren’t Field day?”

“It’s nice not to have every aspect of your life under someone else’s control. I don’t miss walking in the desert and disrobing in order to take a—well, you know. I don’t miss getting shot at. But I miss my brothers. I think that’s why Bo and I enjoy living with all the guys. There’s a sense of community there that we had in the Marines. Plus, you know, you were paid to shoot stuff up. It’s unreal in some ways. But every day was like a challenge, a competition between yourself and the elements or the insurgents.”

***

The Spartan gym looked like its name. There were mirrors along one wall, but there were no machines like you would see at a health club. Bags hung from the ceiling, old huge tires were stacked in one corner, and long ropes coiled on the floor. Racks of free weights lined the wall opposite of the mirrors. The place smelled of sour sweat.

Noah led me through the front room where everyone seemed to stop what they were doing and stare at us. In the back was a larger room that resembled the warehouse where Noah had fought for his ten thousand dollars. Except this room had large fluorescent lights that hung down over a raised boxing platform. To one side sat a long bench like you’d see in a schoolyard. Noah led me over to it and gave me a hard, long kiss that left me blushing from the tips of my ears to the soles of my feet.

“Be right back,” he said.

When he returned, he and Bo were dressed only in loose shorts. They climbed into the ring and a couple of other guys came to help them suit up with protective gear, red on Noah and blue on Bo. They looked a little like the kid’s game of Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots. My trigger finger twitched involuntarily. If I stood up on the rafters and looked down, the bright colors contrasting against the dull gray walls would’ve made an amazing photograph. Dr. Rossum’s jeers about my trick photography killed the thought off quickly. I shook my head to rid myself of his taunts. I didn’t want to dwell on it. I resolved to just live in the moment.

A crowd of thickly muscled men filtered in from the front room and soon it seemed like everyone was standing or sitting around the platform.

This was different from the warehouse fight. Bo and Noah circled each other, their arms outstretched as if measuring the distance between them. When one moved in, the other feinted. They danced like that for a minute before Bo sprang toward Noah with a punch across the jaw. Noah’s head snapped back, but he responded with a quick kick to the side that pushed Bo away.

For two friends, the blows they exchanged seemed fierce. A flurry of punches, kicks, and parries followed, and a few of the blows elicited shouts of delight from the audience. Noah was on his back with Bo atop him, Noah’s legs snug around Bo’s torso.

With a quick movement, Noah rolled Bo onto his back, his arms around Bo’s neck and his legs around Bo’s arms. Bo tapped his hand to the side and Noah let go immediately. He rose easily and leaned down to help Bo to his feet. They hugged each other. When someone came to remove Noah’s helmet, I could see him grinning.

He said he fought for money, but it was clear by the expressions on both faces that they enjoyed this exertion of testosterone quite a bit.

Noah was breathing hard when he came to the edge of the ring. Leaning on the ropes, he motioned me over. I resisted the urge to look behind me, but I did see out of my periphery about a dozen heads swivel toward me. I have to admit the feeling that welled up inside me wasn’t pretty or nice. It was possessive with a tinge of pride. Yes, that guy up there all sweaty and gorgeous who just fought the crap out of the other guy? That guy was gesturing toward me.

Someone, I’m not sure who it was, gave me a boost at the same time Noah reached down to grab my hands. I stood on the outside with the ropes of the boxing ring between us. They were soft and springy.

“What’d you think?” Noah asked me, holding my arms so I didn’t fall backward. “Different from the other night?”

“I’m a little afraid of what I think,” I admitted.

“Oh,” he said, one eyebrow rising.

“It’s very primitive,” I said, “and evokes a primitive response.”

He laughed low, and I felt my stomach tighten in response. “I don’t think this is the place for the discussion I’d like to have. Let me shower and change, and we can get out of here.”

“Shower,” I said plaintively. I wanted to finger paint the sweat all over those defined muscles from his chest down to his low-riding gym shorts. His hands tightened on my arms, and I wondered if he was going to haul me over the ropes. He just looked at me, his nostrils flaring.

“Don’t push it, sister,” he said, growling a little. “Pull up on the top rope.” And he ducked under the raised rope and came out on my side. He jumped down and held up his arms for me. I leaned forward, and he effortlessly lifted me down.

“Why is your nose still unbroken? Or your face rarely bruised?” I patted his face.

“It’s the face masks, but sometimes I can get a bloody nose. Bo wasn’t aiming for that though.”

“Aiming?”

“Yeah,” Bo’s voice came from above us. He jumped down from the ring to land softly beside Noah and me. “Noah has a glass jaw, so I couldn’t hit him too hard, or I’d mess up his photo shoot.”

“I don’t like getting hit in the face, so I try to avoid it,” Noah admitted.

“Does that mean if you get hit in the face you’re knocked out?” I asked.

“Nah, it just means I can’t take too many of them. And I’ve developed very good duck and jab instincts.”

“So this is like the swimming thing,” I said to Noah. “Exposure is like an antidote.”

“You told her you were scared of the water?” Bo asked, surprised.

“He wrote to me about it,” I replied. Bo gave Noah a strange look and then slapped him on the back.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said and took Noah off to the locker room.

The mini high that I had been on faded, and discomfort set in as I looked around the room as it emptied. A big barrel-chested man who had been standing in Noah’s corner during most of the fight came over.

“Paulie,” he said, holding out a giant hand, which could have engulfed two of mine.

“Grace.” I watched as my hand was swallowed up. Where Noah was lean and muscled, this man’s physique screamed steroided body builder. I shrank away at the menace in his gaze, but he didn’t release my hand.

“My boy Noah’s got a chance to be a big name in this sport. You gonna help him or mess with his mind?”

“Um, I think Noah decides what he wants to do without much input from others.” Paulie must not have had a good understanding of Noah’s mentality if he thought I was going to influence Noah one way or another.

“There’re two kinds of girls for a kid like him: The hometown girl and the ring girl. One is going to do everything she can to propel her man up the ladder to the title.”