He does a good job of stifling his grin, but I notice the twitch around his eyes before he launches at her. Not too fast, yet enough for her to flinch before she remembers herself.
“Noooooo! Stop, you big creep,” she yells as loud as she can, her arms outstretched in front of her. She hesitates a second, then throws her tiny right fist at Grady’s shoulder as hard as her body allows. It’s enough to nudge her off balance, but Grady catches her.
“Nice job, kiddo,” he praises. “But this is how I want you to make a fist.” He shows her how to tuck her fingers under her thumb instead of the other way around. Even though I know that already, I mimic her. Then, he tells her to take a small step back with her right foot, putting her weight on it and using it to lunge as she punches. She practices several times before he moves her to the large hanging bag, telling her tobeat the heck out of it.
Now, he stands in front of me, face serious, gaze lingering on where I looked different the first time he saw me. What was purple and yellow has vanished. Outwardly, anyway.
“No left hand,” he reminds me. “Same stance I showed Paige. The only difference is I want you to aim for my throat.”
“What?”
“You fucking heard me,” he says low enough that Paige can’t hear over her yelling at her imaginary enemy. “You aim for the windpipe. I’ll block it, you won’t hurt me. But that’s your target. Muscle memory is what we’re going for, so you don’t punch anywhere but there, for now. Do it, do it hard, it will give you the chance to move away.”
“Okay,” I say weakly, and he raises an eyebrow. So, I take a deep breath and say with more conviction, “I’m ready, buddy.”
Without warning, he lunges toward me, and I punch the air where his shoulder would be if he hadn’t moved away quickly.
“Focus on my throat, move faster,” he says. I try again, and this time, he catches my fist in his chest. “Better. Again.”
We do this until my brow is drenched in sweat, and I land a dozen or more fists in the right location. He only stops because Paige interrupts.
“Dad, I have to go poo,” she whispers.
“I’m not going to stop you from doing that, kiddo,” he says, suppressing his laugh as she runs off, the door that leads into the house slamming shut behind her. “Are you going to lose more jobs because of him?”
“It’s likely.”
“Is there anything you can do about that? Again.”
I punch and let the question ping-pong around my head. This is why I hired Vivian. I shouldn’t be afraid to use her. But I am.
“Again.”
If I let the tabloids know, if I let his carefully kept secrets out, he’ll retaliate.
“Again.”
Pierre will do everything in his power to ruin me.
“Again.”
He could thoroughly bury my career if enough people act like Shania did.
“Again.”
If they all take his side, what’s left for me?
“Again.”
A sob comes unbidden when I take aim next.
“Let me hear it, Lou. Let it out. Again.”
“If I fight back,” I say through clenched teeth, “he’ll try to ruin me.”
“Isn’t he already trying that?” That makes me pause. It’s so obvious. When you’re used to ignoring it, it’s hard to see, even when you’re ready to stop ignoring it. “If you don’t fight back, he wins. If you do, maybe he won’t.”
“I’m scared.”
