I hated how weak my feelings for her had made me. I was not a sniveling child. I hated the way I felt empty when she wasn’t around. I loathed waiting in my hotel room for her to get out of school or off work. I thought of her as mine. She was mine, and yet I couldn’t touch her where it mattered. I couldn’t touch her heart and force her to give me the things I had stupidly come to need. For a moment… I hated her. I hated loving her.
I’d meant to return to my hotel, but my thoughts took me elsewhere. I’d seen the gym a few times and had even considered going inside, but I ultimately decided against it. I was a violent person. I didn’t think it was a good idea to be around violence. I had apparently changed my mind. My violence needed to be let out.
I parked the vehicle and went inside. I was immediately assaulted by the smell of male sweat. The room practically teemed with body odor. There was no air conditioning, or escalators, or walls lined with treadmills and circuit training machines. This was a real gym. This was a place where men went to commune with the beast that lives in all of us.
Adrenaline found me at last. My heart pounded with it, my fists clenched, my muscles yawned and flexed. I was practically lusting for a fight. I searched the room for someone who might be willing and able to take me on.
“Can I sign you up?” someone asked in Spanish. I turned and glared at the man behind me. He wasn’t particularly tall, but he carried himself with extreme confidence. He was perhaps a little younger than me too, and I thought that added to his demeanor. I took my measure slowly and decided the man was likely a martial artist of some kind—his legs looked capable of snapping bones.
“I’d like to fight,” I said as calmly as I was able. I must not have been very successful in portraying calm because he eyed me somewhat suspiciously.
“English? Okay. I speak little bit. You need…” He struggled for a word but ended up tugging on his clothes.
“I didn’t bring any,” I said. “I don’t need any. Just like this.” I swept my hand across my t-shirt and jeans. I didn’t bother explaining I could speak Spanish. I wasn’t in the mood for conversation. He smiled and shook his head.
“Fighter? What style?” He walked back toward the front door and into a room on the left. I assumed it was the office. I stepped inside, somewhat annoyed I couldn’t just jump into the action.
“I’m trained.” Rafiq had been a military officer and had given me quite the education. One of my favorite memories was the day I’d finally bested him in hand to hand. He’d taken a big risk teaching me all that he did. Without him I’d have been an illiterate, defenseless whore. It was ironic that the very skills he’d taught me had aided in his demise.
The man at the desk rolled his eyes and muttered about me in Spanish. He thought I was an idiot who’d come to get his ass kicked. He seemed amused by the idea. He grabbed some papers from a printer behind him and placed them in front of me.
“Please to write all your information and sign the bottom. Need identification and money for membership.”
I filled in the necessary information and took out all the cash in my wallet. It was enough to cover my membership for three months. The man at the desk seemed pleased with my payment and stood to shake my hand.
“Carlos.”
Seeing no reason to make a new enemy, I shook his hand and tried out my name.
“James.” I dropped my hand and looked toward the ring. “Can I fight now?”
Carlos shook his head, somewhat exasperated.
“Okay. You fight.” He walked beyond me and I followed him toward the ring. He called out to a nearby fighter. I listened while he informed the man of my intentions. The fighter sized me up and smirked before he informed Carlos he was willing to take me on. Neither of them seemed to think I had any talent.
I paid them little mind as I removed my socks, shoes, and shirt. I didn’t care how the fight was going to go. I only cared about hitting. I accepted the ill-fitting mouth guard handed to me and put it in my mouth. I also took heed and wore the required headgear.
Within minutes, I stood in the ring across from Fernando. I thought we were fairly matched. He was a touch shorter than me, but his muscles were bulkier and more defined. I knew his fighting style involved the use of his legs as he stretched them, bending his feet toward his ass.
I rolled my head and shoulders, shaking my arms out. I bounced on the balls of my feet, warming my muscles as much as I could in the short span of time I’d given myself to prepare. I held no illusions about not getting hit. In fact, I craved the blows that would soon land on me. I knew they would incense me. I knew they would trigger the rage I’d been keeping locked inside. I knew once the rage took over, all thoughts of Livvie would cease. I knew the pain inside would yield to the pain on the outside.