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“Hey Dad, how was work?” I miss the good old days, the days I talked to him and we had good conversations.
“Cut the shit, Raegan. Why have you been cooped up in your damn room? James smarten up and leave you?”
I so badly want to scream at Dad that this is all his fault, but I can’t because I know it’ll trigger his violence.
“I broke up with him, Dad.” Blinking away the tears, I give him a fake smile, and I immediately regret the sarcasm lacing my words.
The back of his hand connects with my cheek and I draw in a deep breath as I run to my room and lock the door behind me. I can’t sit here and let this happen. Maybe I should have forgiven James. I could have let him take me away like he wanted to. But I couldn’t be that girl.
I’ve never worked a day in my life but I think it’s about time I start. The math in my head makes sense; if I can get a decent paying job and save all my checks, I can get out of this once-happy home in a reasonable amount of time. Living here has become a complete nightmare.
When I wake in the morning, I notice how quiet the house is and I’m excited to know he’s at work so he can’t hurt me right now. I really should start looking for a job so I can put my plan into motion.
When I should be slipping into a nice pair of slacks and a button-up shirt for a job search, instead I throw on a dark gray t-shirt and a pair of pink exercise shorts. After I lace up my tennis shoes and throw my hair into a ponytail, I’m good to go. With my keys in my hand, I head out the door to the freedom that awaits me. Once I start my truck, I throw that damn Mumford and Sons CD on the floor because right now all those songs do is make me think of James. I catch myself laughing when the radio comes on and the first song I hear is “Back When” by Tim McGraw. Shit, if he only knew how much I miss back when, but it’s over and I keep telling myself it’s time to move on.
The first place I go is to my kickboxing class. Everything about it is liberating. I work myself up into a thick sweat, panting as I try to catch my breath before I decide to call it quits for the day. I’m feeling a little better about things but it’s not enough to make it completely better again. I don’t think there’s anything that could completely fix it. I find myself letting out a heavy breath as I climb back into my truck.
I’m not quite sure where I’m going once I start driving. I get back on the interstate and drive until the highway splits and I head toward downtown. I hate the downtown traffic. No one uses blinkers and no one cares. I’ve witnessed this a few times and Dad used to tell me stories about accidents he saw. Lucky for me, not that many people are out and traffic seems to be flowing smoothly. I take an exit that shows hope of a Starbucks, and soon I’m holding a wonderfully delicious Grande java chip frappucino.
An old, tacky sign with letters that need to be repainted catches my eye before I can leave the Starbucks parking lot, and I’m drawn toward the squat building below it. I don’t normally go to places like that, but Lou’s Gym seems promising. Surely someone in this sweat-fest can teach me some self-defense moves. I have kickboxing, but I want more. I sit in the parking lot staring at the building, nervous. If anyone in here laughs at me, I’ll just run out crying, but somehow I feel this is the place I need to be.
I inhale a sip or two of the drink before taking a deep breath. As I step out of the truck, I begin sizing the building up. I squint my eyes trying to see inside, but the windows area too dark. Within five seconds, I muster the courage to walk toward the door. I pull it open and the smell of sweat travels up my nostrils. I crinkle my nose trying to adjust to it. The gym I kick-box in smells heavenly compared to this. You can practically smell the testosterone in the air. A number of men turn and look at me, probably wondering what I’m doing there. Hell, I don’t even know.
The office sits off to the left and looks as if it can barely hold five people inside. The door is open so I poke my head in to see a man with broad shoulders and crew cut blond hair sitting at a desk talking on the phone. He looks like he’s in his thirties, and could knock anybody on their ass in a hurry.
It doesn’t seem like he notices me so the thought to turn and leave crosses my mind. I can easily go back home and change into job hunting attire. I turn my head and gaze out the large tinted window in front. I can see outside, but no one can see me. I’m taken away from my thoughts when I hear a voice beside me.
“Hey, can I help you with something?”
I turn and find a girl who appears to be about my age but built a little stockier. Her almost jet black hair is pulled back into a sleek ponytail and her forehead has little beads of sweat like she’s been kicking it with the boys over there. She looks familiar; it takes me a moment before I realize I saw her at the fights.
“I, uh, I was looking to maybe join and get some training under my belt.” Part of me feels stupid for even walking in here, but her warm welcoming smile helps me relax.
“Awesome, it sucks being the only girl in this place. As soon as Howard gets off the phone he can help get you set up. I’m Whitney by the way.”
For the briefest of moments, I wonder what I should call myself. James is the only one who ever called me Raegan, but when I call myself that, a sense of empowerment flows through me and it’s as if I can accomplish anything. As Rae, I was a punching bag. I don’t want to be a coward, or a doormat, so I reply in a clipped tone, “I’m Raegan.”
Whitney’s blue eyes sparkle as she links her arm in mine and pulls me into the office where Howard just hung up the phone. Memories of her in the ring flash back to me and I almost tense at her touch.
“Hey, babe, this is Raegan and she wants to join. I won’t be the only girl anymore!” She practically squeals with delight, and Howard just rolls his eyes at her.
“Aren’t you supposed to be spotting Garrett? I can take care of this, go back out there.”
She doesn’t seem to mind his stern attitude—which would’ve sent me running off to cry—and she turns and leaves, heading back into the gym area.
“So, Raegan, right? What brings you down here today?” Howard rests his elbows on the ink blotter and glances over the paperwork on his desk, maybe looking for a new membership form or something. He’s built so large, I thought the puny little desk would have cracked from him resting on it, but it doesn’t.
“I, I want to learn how to defend myself better.” I rub my sweaty palms against my shorts.
“Sweetie, please don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think this is where you want to be. Those guys out there, well…and Whitney, they don’t just know how to defend themselves. They’re trained fighters. This isn’t some bullshit self-defense class the cops teach. This is real.”
“Howard, I need this.” My chin trembles, and I stand. “You don’t understand, I can’t—”
“Sit back down, Raegan, I’m sorry.” He reaches out and touches my arm, his gaze soft. “I only wanted to make sure you realize what you’re getting into. Lou’s used to be a regular gym but in the last few years it’s become more of a training facility. Not everyone out there fights in matches, but, well…I don’t think it’s what you think it is.”
I sit in the chair, and draw in a deep breath, my back ramrod straight. “Howard, I’m not a princess. I can handle myself. I take kickboxing classes already. Please just take a chance on me.”
When he exhales, he gestures toward the wooden door that looks like its hinges have seen better days. “Shut the door, Raegan.” Once it’s shut, I sit back down and meet his gaze. “I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but something is clearly going on here. Before I let you join this gym and all those hooligans out there, I’d like you to be honest with me. Girls like you don’t just come into a place like this and want to start training.”
