Love Tap (5 page)

“Get off me!” he struggles in my hold.

“Take it back!”

“Never! You hit like a girl!”
He did not just say that!

“Oh yeah, well you hit like a boy!” I insult before punching him in the mouth.

My hit doesn’t seem to faze him, which distracts me. Why didn’t he cry?

Taking the opportunity he slips his arm around my body and wrestles for control. My head scrapes along the cemented porch and I cry out with pain.

“You going to cry?” He laughs.

“I don’t cry!” I try and jab my fist into his gut, but miss.

“Hey! Hey! Hey!” My momma scolds from behind us.

Suddenly I’m ripped from Camden, just as his mother pulls him from me.

“I’m so sorry about this Kelly!” my mother apologizes. “Her daddy boxes, and we’ve been having a really hard time teaching Tate it’s not okay to hit.”

“He started it first!” I point at Camden.

“No I didn’t, she did!” he lies, blood stinging his bottom lip. I smile at the victory.

“Camden!” His mother scolds. “It’s alright Marlow, Camden is no angel, he has a thing with fighting as well. He’s been expelled from school more times than I care to count.”

Momma pushes me in the lower back. “Go, get back home ‘for I give you a whipping!”

Glaring at Camden, I turn and head back home.

But not before sticking my tongue out at him first.

Chapter Three

Tate

Sitting on the steps of Chloe’s house I palm the cup of joe, and blow the steam swirling from it. It’s windy, and warm outside this morning. Sweat beads at the back of my legs as I embrace the quietness.

“‘Sup ho?” Chloe plops her ass right next to mine. “You going to see your dad this morning?”

Glancing up the street I spot my old man spraying bushes out front.
“Hell no.” I pick at the peeling paint of my nail polish. After our conversation last night, I think we both made it clear what we think of my being back.

Looking above the rim of my mug as I take another sip I eye the blue and white bungalow sitting next door.

“He still comes through here you know.”

My eyes snap to hers.

“What? Who?” I try to play off that I don’t know what she’s talking about.

“Camden, he comes through here a couple times a week. Checks on the house and things, some say he is renting the place out.” She looks down the street, her lips scrunched in thought. Hearing his name is a karate kick to my heart. Closing my eyes I see his face, his crooked grin, and perfect lips.

It hurts just as much today as it did four years ago. I miss him, and hate myself for leaving.

“He still lives here?” I point down to the ground. “Like in Chicago?”

“Yup. Ever since his falling out with the law. Did you hear about that?” She looks back at me, her perfectly plucked eyebrow raised. Camden Steel, my first love and first heartbreak. I tried hard to forget about him, but it was kind of hard when his face was plastered all over my TV as the next big thing that hit MMA. Last time I saw him, he wasn’t the little boy I left behind anymore. No, he was a beast that brought me to my knees in front of my television. I’d thud my head against the television screen while I chanted how stupid I was for walking away from that.

“Yeah, I heard he got in some trouble with the law and he hasn’t been in a match since… or something. Whatever.” I try to play it off like I don’t keep tabs on him, and stare into my coffee cup.

“Hmm.” Chloe doesn’t believe me, I can tell. “You sure about going pro?”

“I am. I have had a lot of time to think about it, and it’s what I want. If I don’t make it at least I can say I didn’t back down without a fight.”

She laughs.

“Takedown Tate’s still got it.”

I roll my eyes and laugh. Chloe and Camden gave me that name when I was twelve. We set up a makeshift ring made out of mattresses, pool noodles, and bungee cords one summer. Chloe charged five dollars a person to watch me take on anyone who was brave enough to step into the ring.

I won three out of four. Camden was the one I lost.

“I don’t know about all that,” I chuckle.

“Please, I saw you fight when you were popping those little titties,” she flicks my tit. “So don’t get all modest on me.”

Cupping my stinging breast, I glare at her. “I’d flick you back but I’m a little afraid of your chest.” I mock their impressive size.

She laughs and readjusts her top. “Yeah I thought about getting a reduction but that’d take a lot of tips from the spa. Plus, they get me out of a lot of shit.” Chloe has always been a daredevil, which has gotten her in trouble a couple times growing up. I doubt it’s any different now.

“I’m sure they do.” I shake my head, and go inside to get ready.

Throwing my hair into a top knot. I dress in a white sleeveless shirt, and some black spandex capri pants. It’s all about being comfortable to me. Maybe that’s why I’m single. I’d rather be in exercise gear and comfortable underwear, than wear high heels, and a maxi dresses with butt floss. I tried it once and was picking my butt all day. I don’t know how girls do it.

So… single I’ll be. Maybe I should take Fiona’s advice and buy a vibrator.

“I’ll be back later!” I holler heading out the front door.

“Good luck!” Fiona shouts from the kitchen. “Knock ‘em dead!”

Getting in my car I punch in the address Fiona gave me into my phone’s GPS. It’s about thirty minutes away.

Heading that way I jam out to some old school Beyoncé. Looking at my phone I notice I’m getting close to the location so I slow down. There are several small businesses on each side of the road, but nothing resembling a gym of any sort.

I look at the paper Fiona gave me. Hoping for a name of a business to help indicate where the hell I might be going. There’s nothing though. Just the address.

“Shit,” I murmur.

Glancing all around for anything gym related I spot an older building across the intersection. The siding is made up of gray metal, and above the windows that line the front of the building there’s sun faded letters reading ‘GYM’.

Exhaling a breath I drive that way.

Pulling into the parking lot I find an older Range Rover parked up front and couple of other nice looking cars next to it. I raise my brows in question. I wonder how much a coach is going to cost me by the looks of these nice cars.

Unbuckling my seatbelt I grab my pink gym bag and get out.

Shit. I’m really doing this. My back sweats and my heart thuds in my chest while I look the old building over.

“I can do this. I can do this.” I reassure myself.

Throwing my duffle bag over my shoulder I pull the front door open to the establishment.

Instantly I’m greeted with the smell of sweat and leather. Grunts sound from all over as various muscled men slam their fists and bodies into each other, or bags.

It’s not a huge gym, but it’s spacious enough. Walking in there’s a desk with nobody behind it. Bottles of vitamins and fighting gear line the shelves behind it. Looking left there is a giant ring taking up most of the space with numerous fighting bags and equipment surrounding it. Swallowing hard, my throat is suddenly dry.

“Look, I said I was sorry!” A squeaky voice catches my attention. Looking over my shoulder I find a short young man with dark unruly hair. He looks to be maybe sixteen.

“Johnny, I’m sorry but it’s the third time you’ve done this. I can’t keep replacing these damn things.” An older man looking to be about fifty stands in front of the kid, displaying a pink jockstrap in one hand and an old gym rag in the other. “You know how superstitious these guys are over their stuff. Go down on 5
th
Street where the ice cream parlor is, the owner is my brother. He’ll give you a job.”

“FINE!” Johnny turns around, nearly slamming into me before sprinting out.

The older man grumbles under his breath as he looks the pink jock strap over. I clear my throat to catch his attention.

His eyes snap to mine before he does a double take. They’re gray, matching the sweaty shirt he’s wearing. He’s scrawny looking, surely not a coach or trainer.

“Yes?” his gravelly voice cuts me. Adjusting my bag over my shoulder I head toward him.

“Hi, I’m Tate.” I hold my trembling hand out. He looks it over, his curly eyebrows narrowing.

“I’m Thomas. What do you want?” He gets to the point, and doesn’t shake my hand.

Lowering my hand, I tuck it behind me and look anywhere but at him. Maybe, I should leave. No, I can’t cower. This is my dream.

“Right, to the point. Got it. I’m looking for a coach. I wanna—”

“Oh god, not another one. Look, we aren’t open to the public, and even if we were, look around.” He holds his hand out, gesturing toward the gym. Looking around I find a bunch of sweaty men.

“So?” I shrug.

He draws his eyes together.

“So, it’s all men.” He smirks as if I didn’t get what he was referring to.

“Yeah, I got that.” My jaw clenches.

“So, we don’t train women,” he chuckles, looking me up and down as if I’m clearly in the wrong place.

“That’s a little sexist,” my tone sharp.

His face loses his humor.

“It’s not sexist, it’s just we’re not the kind of gym you’re looking for,” he continues, before walking away from me and dismissing me. He’s crazy if he thinks I’m giving up that easy.

“How do you know what I want, you won’t let me talk,” I snap.

He stops, lowers his head back and sighs irritated.

“I do actually. I get at least one of you in a week. You and your girlfriends want to exercise and then go for coffee afterwards. This is a gym for professional fighters, this is their life in here,” he explains hatefully.

“I assure you I’m not here to exercise.” I can’t help the chuckle that spills from my mouth. “I am here for professional training, to become a professional fighter. I want to learn MMA, and am very much serious,” I inform. Anger bites at the tip of my tongue, pissed that he assumes he knows me.

“Look sweetheart, they all say that. They are all serious about whatever it is they are looking for in life. This isn’t it though, you know where the door is,” Thomas dismisses.

I roll my eyes at his term of endearment. Maybe if I punch him in the mouth for that one he’ll take me serious. “Don’t call me sweetheart,” I clip bitterly.

“He’s definitely a sexist!” a female informs from behind him.

Looking around him I find a young woman sitting at a counter I didn’t notice before. She has long brown hair, and her feet kicked up on the counter as she looks a magazine over. There’s shakes and blenders lining the back wall. Nutritionist maybe?

“Goddamn it, Cate.” The older man schools, placing his hands on his hips.

“I agree with her, it’s bullshit you don’t let women in here.” She shrugs, not even looking at him as she flips a page. “Your theory that men hit harder is as much trash as the inspirational quotes you feed your fighters.” She rolls her eyes. I look the other way, not sure what I walked into. Clearly there is some tension between the two.

“Look, I’m sure you look tough in the mirror, but this is no place for a girl,” he groans. “Why don’t you try swimming, or gymnastics?” My mouth nearly hits the floor it drops so fast. My insecurities are yelling at me to turn around, but my pride tells me not to back down so easily.

Fiona told me not to leave until I showed them what I could do. What if this is the only place in Chicago that trains? If I don’t do this, I’ll always wonder what if.

“I’m- I’m not leaving until you let me prove I have what it takes.” I nod, as if I’m reassuring myself I got this. I know I do, it’s just been so long since I’ve fought another person, what if I get in there and freeze?

“Excuse me?” Thomas tilts his head to the side in question.

“You heard me. Let me fight and show you I belong here.” An uncontrollable flush of heat ripples up my limbs from a sudden surge of confidence.

“And if I let you into my ring and you tap out, what do I get?” Thomas asks.

I blink slowly, not sure how to answer that.

“Um…”

He holds the pink jock strap up, a gleam in his eye. “You’re my cleaning lady.”

This asshole. Pursing my lips, I cross my arms in front of my chest. I have to win this bet, I have to show this sexist asshole that a pissed off woman is more to fear than any man.

“Alright, but if I don’t tap out, you have to train me... For free!” I point at him angrily.

He laughs as if there’s no way that’s happening and then holds his hand out.

“Deal.”

Shaking his hand, I accept.

“Deal.”

“Cate, grab her some gloves.”

“You got it, Thomas.” Cate jumps over the counter. Seeing her body for the first time I can tell she works out. She’s not ripped, but is well toned.

Dropping my bag, I stretch. Bouncing on the balls of my feet, and rolling my neck to loosen up. Berating thoughts slamming into my head one after another.