Chapter 2
Chapter Two
CESAR
The gym was blasting Christmas music when I entered after saying goodbye to Kieran in the park. I enjoyed some holiday songs, and might even hum along on occasion, but Christmas songs in a gym built for fighting? Fuck no. I scowled at Gus, the manager of the place, who pretended not to see me. “Holly Jolly Christmas” was playing. Like I could beat the shit out of somebody to that song?
Thank God for earbuds. I quickly shoved mine in and began a Tai Chi warmup. I didn’t do it to meditate or any of that. I did Tai Chi to remind myself not to rush. Many fighters skipped any stretching, much less yoga or Tai Chi moves. But I loved this monk from YouTube. I did his workout at home, and in the gym I used most of his basic moves from memory. It loosened my muscles and breathing. In truth, it also helped my anxiety that I struggled to control. Anxiety and a temper. Or, more accurately, my temper masked the truth of my anxiety. Either way… lucky me.
Raising my arms, I released a breath, then hooked one hand behind my head, the other at my lower back, and twisted. Physical movement had always helped me. I had trouble sitting still without horrible self-doubts or low-key anger drifting in. Anger at my father for leaving, at cancer for hurting my mother, at myself for all my flaws. Why couldn’t I give myself a break? The best I have found for that was through exercise. As I moved, more thoughts of the past returned to me.
As Mami got better last year, I wasn’t sure how to meet another person after Joey. Gay bars intimidated me. And the few times I tried, the blowjobs in the bathroom left me restless more than happy. Even if he hadn’t dumped me while my mother was ill, I doubt we’d have remained buddies, so I couldn’t ask Joey what to do.
Elias was a good, solid choice. I wanted to be loved, but I’d settle for getting some more dating experience. I know Elias wasn’t a long-term type, but he might agree to dating for a while. We could stay friends when we stopped dating. I was pretty sure of that. And I’d stay close to the Coburn family’s orbit either way.
My mother’s remission made it possible for me to scheme again. I wanted to quit fighting. Take time out. Go night swimming. Get off all social media. Learn to make sourdough bread. Return to college. Stop being in love with Kieran.
I halted all the Tai Chi. Even the monk’s routine wasn’t working for me.
A tap on the shoulder had me whirling around. “Oh.” I immediately stopped scowling and gave a genuine smile. “How are you, Morris?”
“Good. Just wanted to say how much you visiting our class helped me learn to fight.”
Morris was in the Silver Sneakers class at the gym. They usually did aerobics of some type, but I’d gone in last month and demonstrated some moves. It had been more fun than work, and I planned to go back after the holidays.
“My doctor says light boxing helps my Parkinson’s, as long as I don’t overdo it. And I have seen improvements.” He rested one age-spotted hand on my shoulder. “I can’t wait to show my grandson that I can do a real uppercut! Or my daughter how much my balance is holding strong.”
“That’s great.”
“Yes.” Morris’s kind face lit up. “I’ve never fought before, not once in all my life. Can you believe it? Not even as a youth.”
I nodded. Not surprised. Morris seemed a gentle type through and through.
“Thank you for teaching me!” He half hugged me. “It made me feel powerful. Not sick and feeble. But strong.”
“Sure.” I fought a blush, my smile fading a little. I never knew how to handle compliments.
Ending the hug, Morris simply patted me, as if he understood how awkward I felt, and moved on.
Man, I needed to punch something. The morning sparring hadn’t satisfied me and Morris had made me feel… soft. Only a select few got to see that side of me. I usually presented myself as a tough motherfucker. Hell, I was tough.
Except with Mami.
And Kieran.
And Silver Sneaker octogenarians, apparently.
I searched the gym once more until my eyes locked with a guy my height. I gestured to him toward the ring. I’d seen him a few other times, but didn’t catch his name. He had a shaved head and small lips. His body was fit, but I knew I’d take him. Not that we’d really fight or anything. Mostly, I was concentrating on my footwork.
Mouth guards in, we knocked gloves and began. Wham . I socked the side of his ribcage. I’d left Kieran in a hurry, promising to give him the details of my Secret Santa plan later.
Here was the issue. Elias was only my solution, not my problem. A different Coburn brother had that honor. Smack . My sparring partner got a jab near my chest. I hung in, rebounding, focusing on my speed. I wouldn’t quit until he did or until I was exhausted.
I hit him back with a jaw-rattling move. He didn’t dodge it in time. But bounced away enough to have it miss the full impact. We grappled with each other, exchanging some more strikes, each of us getting in some solid technique. He jabbed. I caught some punches but stayed relaxed. I went for one of my favorite combinations. Cross-lead uppercut.
Kick . The kick was my secret. A rear low one that was unexpected.
He went down and it was over. I gestured to go again, but he shook his head. Shrugging, I stayed in the ring a moment, practicing more kicks. I loved throwing a front kick, so I did a few of them, imagining digging right at my opponent’s midsection. It was a move I planned to use in my real upcoming fight. Sometimes I aimed for an opponent’s bladder or solar plexus, soft areas.
Not like me. I was hard in a fight and in life. But maybe that could change, outside of the UFC. Maybe… I will fall for Elias. He was handsome and sophisticated. Most importantly, he was gay. Unlike his brother. With our sparring over, I went to get out of the ring.
“Kieran!” I heard somebody call.
My legs buckled, tangling in the ropes.
“Kevin!” the same voice called.
Fuck. It wasn’t even him. Why would Kieran be here? And yet, just hearing his almost name had me tangled. Literally. I’d just kicked ass and taken no prisoners, but the wrong name and the ropes took me down. My ankle immediately began to swell.
“Need some help?” my sparring partner asked.
“I’m good,” I snapped. Hauling my ass up, I tried to ignore the pain shooting through my ankle.
“All right, shit, man. Just trying to help.”
As he walked away, I felt ashamed. Why was I so defensive? I had to learn to be chill. Was that teachable?
People in the gym stared at me as I hobbled toward the front. I would have preferred to be invisible. I already regretted being a hothead with my sparring partner. I tended to snap when embarrassed. It was really just me being socially awkward and shy, but it was often the reason I lacked many friends. Kieran was my exception, my North Star. With other people, I wanted their friendship, but there was a frayed connection or something.
As I walked to the door, nobody talked to me. And I felt bad, damn it, even though I created this situation. Kieran was the only one I could be real with, or silly with, or just… me. No wonder I couldn’t tell him how I felt. Or why I was so desperate to shut the door on that possibility.
I held a tight-lipped face and kept on moving. Not happy, not chill. The opposite of chill.