Southpaw (6 page)

She blinks her eyes,
brushing away the tears. “Just don’t fuck this up, Kelly. I divine
interventioned you when I brought you to that yoga class. Hell, just because I
can’t find true love doesn’t mean that the universe can’t be righted. Real love
deserves a win. Give it a shot. For both of us.”

Chapter 5

I kill the engine of my motorcycle,
press down the kickstand, and hesitate for a second on the seat as I look up at
Olivia’s apartment building across the street. In the few minutes that it took
to get here, Dr. Denise’s words ran through my head at least a dozen times:
Don’t
let her be
. I can’t let Olivia become one of the girls that I don’t
remember. I want to be
with
Olivia. The distinction is unsettling as I
try to gather myself and not ruin the potential that I have with her. I look
down at my sneakers and athletic shorts and think bringing her to the gym is a
big mistake.

When I pull my helmet
off, Olivia glides down the steps in an outfit similar to the one she wore in
yoga class two nights ago. All I see is tightness. Her blonde ponytail swings
back in forth as she gives a friendly wave and smiles at me. I nod back as I
stand up and set the helmet on the seat, waiting for a car to pass so I can
cross the street. But the car slows down instead, idling between us. It’s a
black Mercedes with tinted windows that only offers the silhouettes of two individuals
in the driver and passenger seats. I can’t make out if they’re male or female,
but something about this car makes me tense. My fists clench and adrenaline
pumps through my body. I won’t let anything happen to Olivia.

She walks into the
street and bends down to the driver side window. The sheen of her blonde hair
bobs near the top of the car. Finally, the red taillights release and the
Mercedes slowly pulls away and turns the corner. I unclench my fists.

“Hey!” Olivia calls as
she jogs toward me.

There it is again. That
damn falter in my heart.

“Hey. I was about to
come get you, but you beat me to it. If it wasn’t for that car…” I start as I
offer her a helmet.

“Those are my neighbors
down the hall. Nice guys and everything but nerdy as hell. They’re some
software geniuses who spend way too much time in that apartment building.
They’re building some state of the art application or something.” She pulls out
her ponytail and shakes out her hair. “Anyway, I was waiting for you. I’m
usually a very punctual person, plus I thought I should make up for yesterday.
It’s good to see you.” She leans toward me and brushes her lips against mine.
The kiss is soft and unexpected, and just as I’m about to pull her closer, she
steps back, leaving me begging for more. She winks before she slides the helmet
over her head.

“It’s good to see you
too,” I say, fumbling with my helmet. I want to tear off her helmet and get
back to those lips.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty
more where that came from.” She laughs at my hesitation to put on my helmet.

“You ready?” I reluctantly
pull my own helmet down and climb onto the bike.

“Ready.” She climbs on
behind me and wraps her arms around my torso. I feel her hands graze my stomach
beneath the cotton of my t-shirt before she makes a small noise.

“Not bad for a dude
with a girl’s name,” she says as she presses her body against mine. “Not bad at
all.”

***

Olivia’s hands loosen around my torso as
I pull the bike around the back of the red-bricked building of Rocco’s Gym. The
fifteen minute ride was more exciting than any other ride I’ve taken, and I
thought about taking a slight detour just to feel her arms wrapped around me
longer. But it’s getting late so I pull the bike around the back of the building
near a row of white warehouses. I kill the engine and pop off my helmet.

A train horn blows and
the resounding screeches assault my ears. Olivia’s hands finally retreat from my stomach as
she reaches up to pull off her own helmet. The warmth of her body leaves me as
she gets off the bike and holds the helmet between her legs. She shakes out her
hair and winds the hair tie around to achieve the same bouncing ponytail as
before. Finally, the horn stops and the rattling fades as the train disappears
down the line.

“Should I be nervous
right now?” Olivia asks as she hands the helmet to me and points to the line of
dilapidated warehouses. “This seems like a great place to dispose a body.”

“God, you’re just like
Piper,” I say, tucking her helmet into my arm. “She would’ve said the exact
same thing.”

“Well?” She puts her
hands on her hips.

“You both have watched
too much
Dateline
or
Unsolved Mysteries
or whatever the hell you
watch.” I rock the bike back and hop off.

“Should I be worried
about Piper? What’s your relationship with her?” Olivia asks.

“We’re roommates. The
day I met her she moved into my place. She stayed on my couch that night a
little over two months ago and hasn’t left since. Trust me, she’s like a
sister,” I say, reveling in the fact that Olivia is worried about her
competition. As far as I’m concerned, Olivia doesn’t have any competition. “A
loveable, rude little sister that punches me and has now established a
life-long mission to either ruin or fix me. I’m not really sure which one yet.”

“What kind of fixing do
you need? We should go over your baggage before we get too deep, and I have to
return damaged goods. What’s the return policy?” she asks as we walk to the
back of the building.

“No returns allowed.” I
pull open the door for her, juggling the helmets in the other hand. “Ladies
first.”

“I never purchase
without a solid return policy.” She winks, highlighting a small dimple near her
left eye, before she goes through the door. She stops just after the door and
lets me lead the way through the back room filled with extra bags and gloves. I
toss the helmets on a stack of mats.

“The girl with a famous
last name has quite the tongue on her.” I laugh as I pull the next door open.

“You have no idea.”

I’m about to find out
exactly what she means by leaning down and swallowing those plump lips of hers
when a man nearing his seventies with a gray, thinning comb-over emerges. He’s
shirtless with boxing shorts pulled high to the middle of his torso like the
classic, old-school guy he is. His pale skin is freckled and pulled taut across
his small frame. He slams his boxing gloves together in front of my face before
he lets out a low chuckle.

“Kelly Black,” he says.
“You come to see how it’s done, you little shit?”

“You old shit, I didn’t
expect to see you here.” I clap Frank on the shoulder. He punches me in the gut
harder than I expect him to, and I flinch back, doubling over momentarily. I
pop back up, clench my hands in front of my face, and then dodge left and
right.

“I’m on tonight instead
of next week. I’ll show you a thing or two. Put you in your place, eh?” Frank
says, jabbing the air with his gloved hands. The gloves whizz by my face before
I catch a right hook with my hand. He finally drops his gloves and laughs
again.

“Who’s this pretty
girl?” he asks as he turns his attention to Olivia. “Don’t tell me this little
shit’s convinced you that he’s a catch. It couldn’t be further from the truth.
You’re too pretty to be hanging around this guy. This guy here - ”

“Easy now, Frank,” I
interrupt. “Isn’t it time to take your meds?”

“Well, I ought to,”
Frank sputters and pretends to use my stomach as a punching bag, throwing jabs
like a machine gun. He finally finishes, stands up and then clears his throat,
waiting for the introduction.

“This is Frank. I’ve
known him since I was a kid. He’s a family friend,” I say carefully. I don’t
want to get into Frank’s back story because I don’t want Olivia asking more
questions than I’m ready to answer. I glance back at the door we came through,
realizing it would be too late and awkward to leave now.

“I used to watch this
little shit run around in diapers, squawking like a girl when his older
brothers picked on him. That’s when I stepped in and showed him a few tricks to
ward off the bigger kids.”

“Like quick jabs in the
kidneys and kicks in the balls. Yeah, I was the lucky recipient of a giant
bull’s-eye on my back and time off of school because of you,” I say, shoving my
index finger into his bare chest.

“Hey, my tricks came
with a warning. They always do,” Frank replies. “And you still haven’t
introduced us. Manners, you little shit. ”

“This is Olivia,” I
reply, putting my hand on Olivia’s shoulder. “I’m going to show her a thing or
two. She’s a huge fan of fighting.”

“Really, I’m not at
all. But if this whole fighting thing includes you,” she points to Frank, “Then
I’m in. I think you could kick The Dude’s ass.”

“That’s what I’ve been
telling him,” Franks says with a wide mouth and even wider eyes. “I think you
and I could get along pretty well, Olivia. You a college girl?” Frank puts his
arm around her shoulders and starts walking toward the gym.

“Senior at UW,
graduating next year,” she says.

“Well, I’ll be damned.
Just fresh off the Badger Train,” he replies. “I’ve always had a thing for
Badger girls. My first wife was a two-time national swimming champion. After
five years with me, she jumped off a boat on Lake Monona and showed me how she
earned her medals. Haven’t seen her since.”

Olivia laughs as they turn
right through the bright red door into the main area that houses the ring. The
thumping sounds of fists against the vinyl bags echoes against the bricked
walls. The rapid swing and thud of the speed bag rings in my ears. It smells
like blood and sweat. The room smells like home.

Heads turn as Olivia
walks in the room with Frank, his arm still draped around her shoulders. If
didn’t know any better, I would think Olivia would be turning all these heads.
But I know that Frank is a goddamn legend here and gets in the ring only once a
month. The biggest and most talented guys in the gym sign up to work one-on-one
with Frank in a sparring session that always turns out to be more intense than
they anticipate.

Back in the early
seventies, Frank won ten professional fights and fought in a championship match
during the golden age of heavyweight boxers. His heyday ended, according to
Frank, because of a conspiracy to oust him. After leaving the ring himself,
Frank took to training and working with other boxers in Madison at a gym across
town that has since closed its doors. That’s where he met my dad.

Frank trained my dad and
moved him up into the amateur ranks where he started his career. That was
before my dad met my mom, before they had four boys, a mortgage and a responsibility
to feed the mouths they created. By the time I was old enough to remember, my
dad was long gone from the throes of late Friday nights, stitches, and the
possibility of making real money. Instead, he hit the ring one or two nights a
week, bringing my brothers and me along to watch. I used to hang on the ropes, watching
as my dad pummeled a guy half his age. But that was a long time ago at a time
when my dad was my hero, a time when I didn’t know any better. I was too young
to know that my dad hit the bottles hard when I was buried deep underneath the
blankets of my bottom bunk.

The thumps of the speed
bag stop and snap me out of the memory of hanging on the ropes. Olivia is
standing next to the ring, looking back at me while Frank lifts the rope to
duck his head under. The guys who were hitting the bags stopped and are now congregated
around the ring. I scan the faces, finding some familiar ones like Jorge
Gonzalez and Johnny Knox. We exchange nods before I stand next to Olivia and
wrap my arm around her waist. You know, in case.

“We’ll watch Frank for
a little bit and then work on some bags,” I say turning my attention back to
the ring. “I wonder who - ”

“Oh, shit,” Olivia interrupts
as she turns her head to the right. The face is undeniable, but the last time I
saw it, it was slacked with a blank stare.

We both watch ‘No
Crier’ Beyer lift the rope and climb into the ring, scars and all. He puts on his
head gear and is strapping the chin when he sees me. His eyes harden and his
jaw tenses, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns to a guy who throws
him some gloves. As Beyer’s wrapping the velcro around his wrists, he stares me
down and asks, “You want a rematch after that lame-ass shot?”

I open my mouth, about
to throw an insult out I’ll regret in front of Olivia, but instead say, “Nah.
Not tonight. Next time.” I pull Olivia tighter against me.

“Pussy,” he calls,
strapping the gloves tight. “No fucking cheap shots tonight, huh?” Beyer starts
shuffling around, throwing punches in the air. “You know you can’t handle me.
I’ll knock your ass out.”

I release Olivia and
grab the ropes. “Fuck you. How was your headache Wednesday morning?”

He stops throwing
punches and stalks toward us with long strides. I tug at the ropes, about to
duck my head under and kick the shit out of this guy, again, when I feel a pull
on my hand. Olivia.

“Come on, guys,” Frank
interrupts, stepping in front of Beyer and warding him off with a shove. “I’m
not going to sit here all night listening to this bullshit back and forth. Your
goddamn egos were supposed to be checked at the door. I’m too old for this
shit. Either you’re here to spar or not. I got a recliner and an ice cold
Miller waiting for me at home.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Beyer
mumbles, nose-to-nose with Frank. Neither backs down, and I’ve got my hand
steady on the rope, ready to jump at any second. Beyer finally takes a step
back and gives me one last stare down before pounding his gloves together.

Adrenaline courses
through my body, the fight within me attempting to burst. I’d have no greater
pleasure than to use Beyer’s scarred face as a punching bag.