After a string of sixteen-hour days at the keyboard, I took a weekend off. Driving into town, I checked in at the gym for Kenny, only to be told he was at the Y. It turned out that Kenny volunteered to teach some of the boys at a YMCA how to defend themselves — with their fists instead of guns. They let me in on a guest pass, and I found him in a corner of a gym with two youths in gloves swinging at one another. Kenny was barking orders and pulling them apart when anger got in the way of self-discipline.
Just as he’d taught me, a boxer was only as good as his self-discipline. Losing your temper cost you concentration. Without that, the fight was already over.
I tossed him a wave of my hand, and he nodded. At one point, he pulled the boys apart and motioned me over, handing me a pair of gloves. “Here, give me a hand, Hawk. Let’s show these boys the difference between learning and brawling.”
Shrugging, I pulled on the gloves while the kids moved back, sitting on the gym bleachers. I was in socks since my street shoes couldn’t go on the gym’s wooden floor. Kenny and I fell into our routine, and it was hell to stay upright. I peeled off my socks, but it didn’t help much. I lost my focus and didn’t protect my face. Kenny got a punch in, and I went down.
I heard the boys cursing and realized there was blood on the wooden floor. Kenny peeled off his t-shirt and held it up to my face. The boys watched as the gladiators left the stadium, the blond one bloody and embarrassed.
Kenny walked me to the front desk. “Hey, Liane, get me the kit, would you?” he asked the girl behind the desk. She nodded and soon materialized with a blue metal box that contained medical supplies. Kenny worked on my bleeding nose with gauze and a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. “Jesus, sorry, man,” he said, his face filled with concern.
“Hey, no problem. It was my fault,” I said and heard a voice behind us. One of the boys had brought my street shoes.
I leaned against the counter to slip them on and looked up to find Liane watching me, her face filled with sympathy. “Are you alright?” she asked, her voice tinged with a British accent. “Shall I call someone for you?” she prompted me.
“No, no one. I’m fine. Just a little red,” I answered, looking into the deepest brown eyes I’d ever seen. They seemed almost molten, like spheres of compassion that drew you in without even being aware of it.
“Yes, indeed, red you are,” she laughed and covered her mouth quickly as though she’d been rude.
Her brown eyes were framed by voluminous chestnut hair that glowed with good health. It reminded me of a colt’s coat, well-brushed and yet to see its first molting. Someone tapped my hip, and I turned to see the other boy, holding out my sunglasses. I’d left them with my shoes. I grabbed them and slid them on quickly so that I might study her from the safe side of my subliminal wall.
Liane was smiling at me, and I looked at Kenny, who picked up on it. “Liane, this is Hawk. Don’t ask me his last name, we never got that far,” he said and then cocked his head as he realized the truth of his statement.
“Sansabri,” I provided. “Hawk Sansabri.”
“How do you do, Mr. Hawk Sansabri? I’m Liane Coventry. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She offered her hand, which I took, if only to feel the texture of her pale skin. She was as delicate as crystal, and there was a musical lilt to her voice that was more than her accent. It sounded like tinkling chimes in the breeze of a spring morning. It made me almost giddy.
“Sansabri… without a home in French,” she commented, and I knew she was as intelligent as she was beautiful. Her full lips were pursed in concentration. “I don’t believe I’ve ever met anyone with that name before.”
“You’re British?” I countered, unwilling to waste the opportunity to learn more about her.
“Well, in a manner of speaking — forgive the pun,” she laughed. “My dad is a vicar; a pastor of a local Methodist church and his accent is much stronger. I was born here, but naturally picked up some of his accent,” she explained, smiling and winking a bit wickedly.
I was enchanted. That may be the first time I’ve ever used the word enchanted. I’m standing here, fucking bleeding all over myself and using the word enchanted. What’s the matter with me?
“You work here?” I asked, trying to establish some sense of where I might find her again when I pulled my shit together.
“Volunteer,” she offered.
“Liane is great,” Kenny chimed in. “She volunteers here a couple of days every week to help the kids in the neighborhood. They all think she’s straight out of Harry Potter because of the way she talks.”
“She is something special,” I agreed and grinned at her.
“C’mon, man, let’s get you back to the gym.” Kenny patted me on the shoulder. “I’ve got the right stuff there to fix you up.”
I nodded and looked to Liane. She gave a small wave and a sweet, sweet smile. “Until next time,” she said, and I nearly floated out of the building into the bright sunlight.
“Jesus!” I said, and Kenny laughed.
“I’d say somebody’s got a crush.” I turned to look at him in surprise.
“Damn! You may be right,” I agreed and would say nothing further. I looked like a fucking ass in there.
Kenny read my mind. “Forget it, man. She’s not like the others. She’s real. She’s at the desk on Wednesdays and Saturdays, in case you’re interested.”
I nodded, and we got into my car and headed for the gym, his shirt still held against my nose.
***
I was back at work the next day, but all I could think about were those sweet, full lips and that glorious hair. It was driving me mad. My nose was swollen, and I had two black eyes so I contented myself with a ride on Diablo to get some exercise and perspective. I rode close to Carlos Acres and could see people moving around. I carried a small binocular and used it to watch from behind the leaves of a tree.
I had done my research. Carlos Acres was a training and breeding facility my mother built. It was made up of a central breeding barn and indoor show ring. There was a training barn that included a pool and a number of ten-acre hobby farms where owners could come and stay. Her clients were wealthy individuals who liked the idea of owning a Thoroughbred but lacked the knowledge and work to care for them. My mother’s staff took care of that for them, and they just dropped in when it sounded like fun — primarily at Derby time.
There was a small hotel on the grounds, and my parents had built a new farmhouse-style home where they lived with my younger siblings, Mark and Marga. I was fairly sure my grandparents lived on one of the hobby farms. My maternal grandfather and paternal grandmother married one another and all was wonderful in Easyville, I was sure.
I boiled inside as I looked down upon all that should have been mine someday, but would be parceled out between the twins instead. Not only had I been banished, they weren’t even sure I was alive. Not yet, anyway, but that would change when the time was right. I swore it.
I turned Diablo back toward my house and ran him, hard. It hurt my nose, and I even felt a bit of blood and soon tasted the metallic saltiness that lay on my upper lip. I pulled back the reins and walked Diablo, trying to focus on business before I returned home. It was no good. She was in my head, and I couldn’t shake her.