Southpaw (7 page)

I feel another pull on
my hand and reluctantly let go of the rope, turning back to see the
disappointment in Olivia’s eyes. She furrows her eyebrows before she releases
my hand and shuffles over a step.

Shit. I didn’t ever
want Olivia to see me like this.

Johnny tosses Frank
headgear as Beyer shuffles in the ring, ducking and throwing punches.

“Maybe we should go,”
Olivia says.

“No way. I knocked that
guy out. I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of leaving.” I lean against
the platform of the ring and look up at her. She crosses her arms across her
chest and slowly nods her head, as if she’s suddenly come to a realization of
who’s standing next to her.

“Olivia.” I stand up
and lean toward her, lowering my voice. “We can go.”

She uncrosses her arms and
lets them hang by her side, studying me before she says, “I’ll stay as long as
you keep your shit together. The second you get into it with Beyer, I’m out. Got
it?”

“Got it. I’m - ” I reach
out to grab her arm, but she inches away.

“Don’t,” she interrupts
quietly. “Just make it right.”

I nod my head,
understanding every word. The look in her eyes tells me she wants to believe me,
and she wants to trust I’ll make things right, but there’s hesitation and doubt
and most of all, familiarity. Her eyes are heavy with experience, and I know in
this moment that Olivia’s been wronged more than once. I don’t want to add to
that pain.

“Let’s see what you
got, Frank!” Olivia calls, turning back to the ring. Frank’s got his headgear on
and is stretching his neck back and forth. He pounds his gloves together a few
times and throws a combination hook, jab.

“You got it, Badger
Girl,” he calls without looking back at Olivia. “Watch how it’s done.”

Frank steps toward
Beyer and begins the sparring match, bobbing and weaving punches with ease. He
moves quicker than most guys half his age. Somehow, Frank has transcended the
aging process and has remained light on his feet. He coaches Beyer, directing
him through quicker jabs and combinations. Olivia’s quiet at first, watching
Frank in admiration before she loosens up and grabs a hold of the rope. She
lets out a small whistle when Frank dodges a wide swing from Beyer.

“Close the gap,” Frank
barks as he pumps his gloves toward himself. “Come on. Don’t back down.”

Beyer approaches him
and throws a real punch at Frank, connecting with his nose. Frank stumbles back
a few steps and hunches over, putting his glove up to his face. Blood pours
down Frank’s nose.

“You bastard.” I duck
under the ropes and climb onto the platform before I can even think. I’m
rushing toward Beyer when Frank suddenly stands up and puts out his arm to stop
me. The guys around the ring are yelling, but I can’t make out any of their
words. All I can see is Beyer’s face and all I want to do is smash my fist into
it.

“It’s fine,” Frank
mutters as the blood spews down his lips and onto the platform.

“It’s not fine. Let me
at him,” I reply. Beyer laughs before he waves me forward.

Suddenly, Johnny is
standing next to me, saying something in my ear that doesn’t make sense. All I
see is red. He pulls me back, repeating words that I still don’t hear.

“Get the hell out of
here!” Frank yells to Beyer. “Never again in this gym. You’re done.”

Beyer unstraps his
headgear and throws down his gloves, staring at me long and hard. Then he ducks
under the rope and hops off the platform. He storms past the bags and kicks the
door, banging it hard against the brick before he walks through it.

“That little piece of
shit,” Frank curses as Johnny works to take off his gloves.

“Head back,” I command
as I pull off my shirt and hold it against Frank’s nose. Jorge appears with a
stool and slides it under the ropes. I grab the leg and prop it up next to
Frank. “Here, Frank, sit down.”

“Nah, I got it,” Frank
says, lifting his hand to release the strap of his headgear. He yanks it off
and slams it against the ground.

“You old shit, sit
down,” I order. Frank dutifully obeys and plops down.

“Damn, I should’ve seen
that coming.” Franks takes my shirt in his own hands. He shakes his head, “God
damn kids.”

“Beyer is an asshole,
Frank. He -” I start.

Frank interrupts, “It’s
you, too, kid. You can’t let someone like him get at you like that. It’s not
worth spending energy on that. You remind me of your pops. Too quick-tempered
and filled with rage, and you know how that turned out. He’s a good man and all,
but you don’t want to end up like him.”

Frank’s words sear
through me, cutting me to the bone. No one has compared me to my father since I
was a little kid,
before
he was convicted. I don’t want to be anything
like him. I struggle to find the words to defend myself, but I’m at a loss.
There’s nothing to say.

That’s when I feel
Olivia next to me, standing in silence after hearing Frank’s comment. She’s
holding a white first-aid kit at her side.

“Let’s see where you’re
at, Frank,” I mumble and step toward him to take back my shirt so I can assess
the damage. “Getting clocked like that at your age is dangerous.
Seventy-year-old bodies don’t bounce back like twenty-year-olds.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles
and turns his body away from me. “This ain’t nothing.”

“Let me see, Frank. I’m
good at this kind of stuff.” Olivia moves closer toward Frank as he grumbles
again and pulls the shirt away. The blood streaming out of his nose has
stopped, but his skin is split on the bridge of his nose. Olivia examines the
cut before setting the kit on the floor. She pops it open and removes a few
alcohol wipes and a butterfly bandage. She works quickly, ripping open the
package and then lightly wiping the cut as she holds Frank’s chin in her hand.

The guys around the ring
clear out. No one likes to be around Frank when he’s in one of his pissy moods.
After a cheap shot like that, Frank’s going to be hot as hell. Only Johnny and
Jorge are leaned up against the bags now, watching as we finish up with Frank.

“We got this,” I call
to them.

“You sure?” Johnny
asks.

“Yeah, we’ll take care
of it. I’ll see you Monday night,” I say as I wave them off.

“We’ll make sure Beyer
is gone,” Jorge says as they both nod and amble out of the gym.

“I could get used to
this,” Frank says, giving Olivia a crooked grin. “I haven’t had a woman take
care of me like this in twenty years.”

“Maybe if you weren’t
such an asshole,” I reply. As much as I want to rip Frank a new one for his
comment about my dad, I know he’s only trying to help.

“Well, maybe that’s
something we ought to work on,” Olivia says in a low voice as she lets go of
his chin and opens up the bandage. She places the white strip lightly across
his nose. “There. Good as new.”

“Thanks, Badger Girl,”
Frank says. He presses his hands on his knees and eyes me carefully. “I don’t
know what you did to have someone like her hanging around you, but you better
hang on to this one. She seems like a real honey.” He grabs her hand and shakes
it before letting go.

“You’re sweet, Frank,”
Olivia says with a smile. “Stupid, but sweet.”

“Yeah, you got one of
those right,” I say.

“Thanks for your shirt,
kid.” Frank tosses the bloody shirt to me.

“No problem. I think we
should bring you to the hospital just to make sure your brain didn’t get
rattled. You seeing stars or anything?” I ask, holding the balled-up shirt in
my hand.

“No hospitals. No
fucking way am I going to the hospital for something as little as this.” Frank
gets up from his stool. A line of dried blood streaks from his neck down to his
chest, but he’s resolute and steady. “I lost more blood the time Mattie knocked
me in the nose.”

“Was Mattie your wife? Maybe
it was a good thing she swam away,” Olivia says.

I shake my head. “Mattie
is his four-year-old granddaughter.”

“Damn right,” Frank
says with a laugh as he hits my arm. “I’m going to clean myself up and then
head out. Rocco wanted me to close up tonight. I’ll leave the keys in the
locker room so you can leave whenever you want. I’ll get them back next week.”

“We should make sure
you get home okay,” Olivia offers.

“To hell with it,”
Frank says, waving his hand before taking a step toward her and leaning in. His
voice is quiet now but loud enough for me to hear. “Give that kid a break or
two. He needs it.”

I lift up the rope for
Frank as he crawls through and jumps to the floor.

“Do you want us to
clean up the blood?” Olivia asks.

“Don’t worry about it.
It’ll give Rocco something to do. He owes me one after tonight.” He winks and
then saunters out of the gym, leaving Olivia and me standing on the platform.

“So…” I say, unsure how
to even begin fixing this catastrophe of a non-date. It seems irreparable, and
as much as I don’t want Olivia to leave, I won’t blame her if she wants to.
Hell, I’m surprised she’s still standing here.

“So…” Olivia replies,
her hands clasped in front of her body. I know if I say the wrong thing, I’ll
find myself back on my motorcycle bringing Olivia home.

The apology didn’t seem
to work the first time around so I say, “Worst second non-date ever.”

“Maybe,” she says with
a small laugh, knocking the tension between us down a few levels.

“If you’re up for it,
I’d like you to stay.”

She hesitates, not
saying anything at first. I’m pissed at myself for letting Beyer get to me like
that. And I’m pissed at myself for not controlling the rage I’ve struggled with
my whole life. I clench my fists, fighting the temptation to hop off the ring
and slam my fists into the bags.

“I’d like that,” she
replies slowly, contemplating her next words as she turns to me. “I think. Mick
told me you’re one of the good guys, and I tend to trust family. As long as you
explain what the hell that was all about, I’ll stay.”

I exhale, unclenching
my fists. I want her here, but I don’t know how to tell her about my past. I don’t
want her to know I’m my father’s son. But I also don’t want Olivia to be just
like all the other girls. The girls I don’t remember. The girls I can’t call. Dr.
Denise’s words echo in my head,
Don’t let her be.

I decide to do what I
never did with any of the other girls. I’ll tell her.

“Alright. I guess we
both owe Mick then.” I grab the gloves Frank was using and hold them out to her.
“You said the other night you owed Mick. What do you owe him for?”

“He protected me from a
bad boyfriend who turned out to be a possessive jerk. I’m wary of guys who
pretend to be someone they’re not.” Her face falls, before she takes a long
look at me. “I like to remind Mick how grateful I am for his help. But I don’t
want to talk about that. I want to talk about what just happened.”

“I’ll explain, but you
have to promise to keep an open mind, and you have to wear boxing gloves.” I
hold up the gloves.

“Okay…” She holds out
her hands and lets me put the gloves on her. I strap them tight, then tap them
softly with my fists. “As long as I don’t end up like Frank, I’m good.”

Then she lets out a
soft laugh.

“Jesus, I’m glad you
laughed. You have nothing to worry about,” I say, relieved. “I’d do
anything
to make sure you don’t end up like Frank.”

I climb through the
ropes and grab a pair of punch mitts lying on the floor. I slip them over my
hands, climb back through the ropes, and face Olivia with my hands held up near
my chest.

“Maybe we should turn
this around. I think you’re the one who needs to release some anger,” she says,
holding up her gloves near her face. Her arms are tucked against her body and
her core is tight as she gets into a fighting stance. She’s done this before.

“I thought you were a
lover?” I raise my eyebrows at her.

“I’ve got two brothers.
One older, one younger. They both wrestled, and I was smack dab in the middle
of them so I learned to keep my hands up. Plus Mick and his brother spent a few
summers with us when I was young. Hanging around four boys who steal your Barbies
and cut off their hair makes you quick to retaliate.” She throws a punch at my
right mitt that I’m not prepared for. My arm springs back when she connects.
“Not bad, right?”

“Not bad at all.” I
plant my feet and strengthen my arms to absorb her hits. “I guess I won’t be
teaching you the beginner stuff.”

“I’m definitely not a
beginner,” she says as she lands a cross-jab combo. She kicks her right leg up
and slams her shoe into my ribs. “I also teach kick-boxing.”

“Not a fighter my ass.”
I rub my ribs and put my hands back up for her to punch. “I guess I’ve got to
look alive out here.”

She throws another
combo and then says, “So, you have some explaining to do.”

“Before I even get into
this, I want you to know barely anyone knows this about me. It’s not something
I like to talk about. At all.” I continue to absorb Olivia’s punches and
swallow hard, deciding to go for the abbreviated version. I’ll hit her hard
with it and then she can decide whether or not to run. “My dad is in prison for
killing someone.”

She stops punching and
lets her hands fall to her sides. She studies me for a second, her eyes
searching for more. I expect her to throw off her gloves and walk through the door
and out of my life for good, but instead, she just stands there.

“And it was my fault.”
I rest my mitts at my side and wait for her reaction.

“Maybe we should sit
down,” she says slowly.

“No, keep punching. It
makes it easier. I’ll tell you everything.” I hold up my mitts against my
chest.

“Kelly,” she starts,
trying to reach out to me.

“Please.” I keep the
mitts between us. I hate telling the story, but somehow, it’s ready to spill
over. “Just punch.”