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20
Bobby
To Kill Another Man
“Okay, try it again.” Aiden stands over us and watches me run Jim against the padded wall. We’re working on take downs, but I’m just getting pissed off. “Again!” He tweaks my every move. He perfects the positioning of every single muscle I possess, then he shouts, “Again! If your technique’s wrong here, then it’ll be worse in the octagon. Fix it. Go again.”
I don’t know what the time is, but it’s dark out, and I’m pretty fucking hungry. Despite the falling snow outside, Jim and I sweat like a couple of whores in church. Our skin slides off each other’s and makes takedowns that much harder.
“Alright.” Aiden stops us. “You need to work on your sprawl, B. If Thomlassen’s arms go around you, you need to drop your weight. Spread your legs and drop. He’s gonna fuck you up if you keep your weight up, and once he gets you to the ground, you’re screwed. Don’t be that guy, Bobby. Don’t get fucked on national television. Don’t get fucked in front of your girlfriend.”
I snap my glare to him. He’s trying to be an asshole. And I’m so tired, I’m biting.
“Come here, Jimmy.” Aiden pulls him forward and gets into position. “Watch me, B. Copy me.” He sprawls over Jim in slow motion, so I walk around them and eyeball every single angle.
I catalog exactly where Aiden’s feet are, what angle they’re on, which part of his foot is touching the floor, how far from the floor his knees are, where his hands are, and whether they’re locked together. I commit every detail to memory, and I promise myself I won’t fuck this up on national TV. Especially not in front of Kit.
I sip my water and lay the icy bottle against my brow. Nausea rolls in my gut from being overheated, overworked… and I’m in withdrawals from my girl.
A loud commotion down the hall has our heads snapping up in curiosity. We look at each other with narrowed eyes, but realizing that three-quarters of the gym management team are all in this room, we move to investigate. I groan and swing my left arm in circles as we walk, but at the sounds of panicked voices, our walk turns to a sprint.
Jim and I reach the door at the same time, and letting out a deep roar I’ve never heard pass his lips before, Jimmy pushes past me and bolts to Izzy’s unconscious body as she lies limp in the arms of one of our regular members. “Bubs? What the fuck’s going on?” He snatches her from him and lays her on the floor. She’s unconscious. And blue!She’s fucking blue.
“Call an ambulance, now!” I shout to the milling crowd. “And blankets. Someone get the first aid kit and blankets.” I drop to my knees opposite Jim as his hands skim across her small body.
I reach out in search of her pulse, but Jimmy’s hand slams down on mine and pushes me away. “Don’t fucking touch her.”
“Jim, let me touch her. We need to find her pulse.”
“I’ll do it.” His shaking hand skims along her chest and up to her throat, and the whole room silences as we wait for him. “She’s okay, she has a pulse.” His voice cracks on a sob. “Blankets? Where are the blankets? She’s so cold.”
“What the hell’s going on in here?” Jon steps into the room curiously, but at the sight of me and Jim leaning over his sister, his face contorts in rage as he sprints the rest of the way. “Sissy? Get the fuck off her. Sissy? Wake up, baby. Why’s she unconscious?”
“She’s breathing.” I press my hand to his trembling shoulder and squeeze. “Ambulance is coming, blankets are coming. She’ll be okay.”
“What happened?” He runs his shaking hands along her skin. “She’s so cold.”
“I dunno. Steve just raised the alarm. He was carrying her in. That’s all we know.”
Jon looks toward Steve with murder in his eyes, but I squeeze that shoulder again. Steve’s a big guy – fucking huge, actually. He works hard, he has a promising fighting future, but he’s a pussycat with two kittens and a wife at home. He didn’t hurt her.
Sirens wail into the night and head toward us while Jon silently studies Iz, brushing the hair off her face; touching her as though to reassure himself she’s alive. Blankets are brought to us and the three of us rip them open and lay them over her as fast as we can.
No one else dares touch her. Even though this whole gym is a family, they know it’s us guys and Izzy who are true family. And Jack and Kit.
My stomach drops again. “Where’s Kit and Jack?”
“I’m here.” Jack edges through the crowd and comes closer. Like he was too scared to intrude on our circle, he moves shakily. “And Kit’s with Tink tonight.”
“Yeah, Tink. I forgot.” He’s right, she’s with Tink tonight. That’s what she told me this morning, but still…
Paramedics rush through the doors and shove us out of the way.
* * *
Aiden, Jack, and I sit on hard as fuck plastic chairs in the hospital emergency waiting room, while Jimmy and Jon prowl and vibrate like caged and pissed off lions. None of us wear more than training shorts and tanks.
No shoes, no wallets, no nothing.
