by T. L. Hayes
A Fighting Chance
Lou Silver is a stage combat instructor by day, and teaches Kung Fu on the weekends. When Lou meets Staff Sergeant Stephanie "Steve" Adams through one of her Kung Fu students, Lou can’t resist her instant attraction, even though Steve’s military background stirs old resentments. As Steve battles to break down the walls around Lou’s heart, Lou must come to terms with her past to give love a fighting chance.
Praise for T.L. Hayes
Sweet Boy and Wild One
“I love novels that make you think and consider issues outside of your normal personal stratosphere. Trans issues are of deep concern all over the world, so I commend T.L. Hayes for tackling an issue and making it into a beautiful and positive romance that I will remember for a long time…I highly recommend this to all of the LGBTQI community and hope that reading the book not only gives you the heart flutter but that you also learn a bit more about how important Trans issues are. I’ll be watching what comes next from T.L. Hayes and hope she continues the story into a sequel because this lesbian may have a little boy crush on Bobby, he melts hearts!”—Les Reveur
A Class Act
“What a beautiful, romantic and heart-warming love story! I really enjoyed being an onlooker in this well written and totally engrossing new relationship between Maggie and Rory.”—Inked Rainbow Reads
A Fighting Chance
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A Fighting Chance
© 2018 By T.L. Hayes. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-258-4
This Electronic Book is published by
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P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, NY 12185
First Edition: September 2018
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ruth Sternglantz
Production Design: Stacia Seaman
Cover Design By Jeanine Henning
By the Author
A Class Act
Sweet Boy and Wild One
A Fighting Chance
Acknowledgments
As always, the Bold Strokes team has my sincere thanks for continuing to publish my work. I’m glad they continue to take a chance with me and my story ideas, and I have plenty, so I hope to be working with them for a long time ahead. As always, Ruth Sternglantz does a great job making sure my words flow smoothly and that I am telling the best story possible. Thank you, Ruth, for your diligence on my behalf. Also, much thanks go to Jeanine Henning for the beautiful cover. She was able to take what was in my head and make it real, and it shines so well, Cassiopeia herself would be jealous.
As always seems to be the case, my main source of information for this novel, particularly in matters of kung fu, as well as the stray French translation, was my dear friend April Duncan. She just seems to know a lot about a lot, and I’m glad she does. She keeps me honest, she makes me laugh, and she is forever patient with my multitude of questions that usually start with the phrase “Current need: etc.” Thank you, April, for your knowledge, and your willingness to share it with me.
There were delicate matters in this novel concerning C-PTSD and childhood trauma as well as suicide and other related issues to these topics. Some of them have touched my life on a personal level, but I am not an expert in any of these areas. I wanted my characters’ experiences to be as realistic as possible, so I sought guidance from my friend, Maka Hansen, a sexual assault advocate with the Oklahoma City YWCA. Any truth I was able to represent for these matters is due to the information they provided; any inaccuracies are wholly my own doing. It should be noted that the reactions my characters have to their respective traumas and the treatments they seek are not meant to be representative of the whole. Meaning, I am not trying to speak for everyone who has suffered through these events, nor am I recommending any specific brand of treatment for all, only what was best for the characters I created and the outcome I foresaw for them.
I am not military, nor was I a military brat. Several times, I came upon questions that could not be answered simply by using government websites, though they were no great slouch in helping me with some of the rules and specific dates of things. For more obscure questions, I was able to get help from former military brat, and two-time military spouse, Suzanne Baker. She was right on the money with the things I put to her and she was quick with it, too.
A very brief part of this novel mentions Lawton, Oklahoma, home of Ft. Sill, a location I have my character Steve stationed at one point. I had questions about the local gay scene in Lawton in the mid-nineties, and Vicki Dilliard was quick to answer them for me. The information she was happy to provide me with was so rich in detail, I think she should write her own book. I would buy it.
I have several friends who work in academia, but one I go to more often than the others for questions about professorial life. Not only is she my token lesbian parent (which might come in handy later for future projects), but she is also my token professor friend. There’s a moment in the text where I mention lizards. Lara LaDage is that reason. I appreciate all the insights she gives me about academia, a profession I respect and admire, and should probably stay away from. I don’t know if I could sit through that many meetings without falling asleep or throwing things.
I have been fortunate to not suffer panic attacks, so I had to talk to others who have. I will not name them here, but I truly thank them for their candor and willingness to share. Again, how my character handles her panic attacks and the consequences thereto, are not meant to represent all those who deal with this issue on a regular basis or have in the past.
When it came to how to dress Steve for her first date with Lou, I consulted the two most fashionable humans I know, Stefanie Heinrich and Lena Tenney. They are dapper beyond compare and know how to wear a suit better than anyone I know.
As I mentioned earlier, there are several delicate topics that are mentioned in this novel. I tried my best to handle them with care, and I hope I did my characters justice. If you or someone you know is under the age of eighteen and a victim of child abuse, one of the many available resources, besides local state hotlines and help centers, is the Childhelp National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-4-A-CHILD (1-800-422-4453). If you or someone you know is contemplating suicide and just needs someone to talk to, there are several options available. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline is a 24 / 7 hotline which is part of a network of 161 crisis centers across the country, and they are always there to help. They can be reached at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Also, there is the Crisis Text Line, which provides 24 / 7 crisis intervention for those contemplating suicide. They can be reached by texting 741741. For better understanding of C-PTSD, what it is, and how to live with it, Complex PTSD: From Surviving To Thriving by Pete Walker, as well as other articles by Walker, were invaluable tools.
And for the readers who continue to read me, as well as the new ones who have just found me with this book, thank you for your interest in my stories. And if you’ve found me in your local library, that makes me happy, as some of the topics I write about are underrepresented in public libraries, and I’m glad if they count me among their LGBT
collections.
Feel free to reach out to me on Facebook at T.L. Hayes, or via my website at TLHayesweb.com. Watch the website for deleted scenes, song links, and short stories, and Facebook for new book release information, as well as event announcements.
For my favorite warrior—her armor may be scarred, but she keeps fighting. She gives me strength and she is my hero.
You didn’t expect this, but it’s yours.
Even though I take a step back, it is only to touch the ground and lay palimpsest at your feet
Chapter One
Lou Silver thought burnt orange was such an odd color choice for the walls of her favorite coffee shop. Granted, it gave the place warmth, but it also seemed almost too warm and maybe just a bit pretentious. She sat alone in the back at a table for two near a power strip with her laptop open and a cup of coffee beside her. She knew she was going to be there for hours, so she had ordered what she always ordered—a bottomless cup of Seattle dark roast, not because she was particularly fond of Seattle coffee, but because that was the darkest coffee they currently had on tap.
The conversation level in the café was never intrusive regardless of the size of the crowd, and it all blended into white noise for her. She was happy to be away from her office and the knocks on her door that were a constant distraction, office hours or not. She loved her job and was happy with the progress of her career. She was on tenure track at a big university in a good-sized town, just two hundred miles from Chicago, her favorite city and a place she escaped to as often as she could. But sometimes, the demands from the students became too much and she had to get away. She was sure there were students in the café—it was a college town, after all—but none of them were her students, so they left her alone.
She had brought her laptop with the sole purpose of writing her novel, the same one no one knew she was working on. Growing up, she had been a fan of Tolkien and fantasy novels in general and had always wanted to create her own world inhabited by the strange creatures of her imagination. In the world she was creating, people walked into each other’s dreams and changed things for the dreamer, sometimes for the better, other times not—it depended on the dream walker and whether they were good or if they had been manipulated by an as-yet-unnamed force who was using them to do their bidding. The book was a special passion of hers that she had been writing and rewriting for years. She hadn’t completed it yet, between life intruding on her writing time or just not being satisfied with the revisions. The book had been such a constant in her life that it had lasted longer than her previous two relationships and had even, barely, survived a flood. It was constant and invincible, it seemed to her, and she knew the book really wanted to be written, as odd as that might sound to some. Now her novel was reaching chapter twelve and her coffee cup had been refilled three times in the last two hours. She was thoroughly caffeinated but figured she would end up drinking at least two more cups before she left.
She looked up from her writing and noticed a man in uniform had taken the table in front of her. He was wearing army fatigues and khaki-colored boots and his sandy blond hair was cut in a high and tight that made his ears stick out. There wasn’t a military base around for miles, so she figured he must be a student in the ROTC program on campus. When she realized she was staring at the back of his head she shifted her gaze back to her laptop and her mostly empty cup, thinking that if she was going to be this easily distracted, she should probably call it a day.
Just as she was packing everything in her satchel and was standing to leave, the young man in uniform stood too and smiled at her when he noticed she was looking. When Lou smiled back, she realized her mistake: the soldier wasn’t a young man at all but a young woman. Over the girl’s left breast pocket was emblazoned US Army and over the right was Bolen. She actually had the audacity to blatantly look Lou over and nodded and grinned. Lou tried not to roll her eyes at the girl’s boldness. She had no desire to flirt with, much less date, someone who didn’t even look old enough to drink. Lou just gave her a weak smile, then quickly left, lest she give the girl a chance to ask her out, which she would have to politely refuse, for many reasons. Just the same, it was nice to know she could still get such looks from girls half her age. It definitely did a lot for her ego, if not her libido.
Lou threw her satchel into the back seat of her Jeep Wrangler and climbed in behind the wheel. Her car was pushing twenty years old but she was reluctant to get a new one, even if she could now afford it. The blue Jeep was holding up well, despite how much she abused it. When she turned the key the Check Engine light came on and her mileage readout reminded her that she was desperately in need of an oil change. But her tank was full, and considering how much gas the Jeep ate, that was saying something. The satchel sat on the back seat amongst empty paper coffee cups from a fast food place near her little house and her gym bag. Seeing it reminded her that she needed to take it inside and wash the contents—she’d be teaching at the Wushuguan that weekend, and it wouldn’t do to show up smelling like used sweat socks.
* * *
With her gear slung over her shoulder, Lou was about to leave the Wushuguan after the class she taught on Saturdays when she heard one of her students call her name—a retired librarian in her sixties who wanted to learn kung fu for kicks, she had said, before laughing at her own joke. Lou had laughed with her, liking the older woman instantly. Now, at the sound of her name, Lou turned around with a smile. “Yes, Mrs. Adams?”
The tiny gray-haired woman was pulling a taller, younger woman along beside her. “Louise, I wanted to introduce you to my daughter. She just retired from the service, so I’ll actually get to see her more often.” Mrs. Adams smiled and then said, “This is Stephanie.”
Stephanie looked Lou over. “Nice to meet you. Mom talks about you a lot. I mean, how much she likes your class.”
Stephanie smiled, somewhat shyly, Lou thought. Lou checked her out as she was shaking her hand. She was about her height, so that would make her about five seven. She was slender and athletic looking with good definition. There was a lot of power in her handshake. Lou liked that show of strength. Her hair was cropped short, not a high and tight exactly, but close. Lou knew the military only required that enlisted women keep their hair neat and trim and pulled back, so the short style was all Stephanie’s choice. Lou immediately pegged Stephanie as gay—not just because of her hairstyle, although some lesbian clichés were true, but for the way she had cruised Lou a few seconds ago. Stephanie apparently liked what she saw, which was flattering, but Lou couldn’t say the same.
Butch women, no matter how much she appreciated them for their strength of character, their physical prowess, and their ability to fix things that she herself could not…well, she had never been attracted to them.
“Nice to meet you too, Stephanie. And”—she turned to Mrs. Adams—“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
“Oh, I am. You are such a good teacher. You have a lot of patience for clumsy old ladies like me.” Mrs. Adams lightly touched Lou’s arm in emphasis. Stephanie just looked indulgently at her mother.
“Mrs. Adams, you’re not clumsy. We all learn at our own pace and you’re doing very well. You’ll be kung fu fighting in no time.” Lou smiled at them both. Mrs. Adams was one of her favorite students.
“That’s what I tell her, but she won’t listen to me.” Stephanie directed her words at her mother while glancing at Lou. “Mom, you just have to be more confident in your own abilities. You’ll get it in time.”
Lou laughed. “And that’s what I tell her but it hasn’t sunk in yet.”
“With you two in my corner, maybe I can take on Rocky.” Mrs. Adams did a fake fighting hand gesture and a kick, making Lou and Stephanie laugh.
“And you would probably win. He didn’t know kung fu.”
“Quite true. Well, it was good talking with you, but we need to get. I just wanted to brag about my firstborn.”
“As you should.” Lou bowed to Mrs. Adams, who returned the g
esture, then turned to Stephanie. “And sorry I forgot to mention it earlier, but thank you for your service.” She offered her hand.
Stephanie shook her hand and gave her another smile, this one with more confidence. “That’s okay. It’s almost hard to hear sometimes, as it isn’t always meant sincerely, just something people say. But I think you actually mean it.”
“I do mean it. My father was a veteran of two wars, and I’ve always had a deep respect for our troops, whether I believed in the war they were sent to fight or not.”
Stephanie rolled her eyes. “Don’t get me started. I agree with you. I love my country and was proud to serve it, and would die for it if I had to, but I wanted it to be for a good reason. I’m not the only person in uniform who feels that way. Listen to me—I said don’t get me started.”
“It’s okay. I understand.”
“If you two want to discuss politics,” Mrs. Adams interjected, “do it some other time. We still have to stop by the store. See you tomorrow, Louise.” Mrs. Adams smiled and waved, then grabbed her daughter’s sleeve and made to walk toward the door, but Stephanie stayed where she was.
Stephanie looked at Lou and quickly said, “I would like that, actually. To do this again. Can I buy you a cup of coffee sometime? And you can call me Steve.”
Lou hesitated. Stephanie seemed nice and she had been a bit lonely in the past year since starting the job at Prairieland State. She wasn’t in the market for a girlfriend, but someone to have coffee and talk politics with might be a welcome find. Why not? Sometimes coffee was just coffee, right? “Sure, I’m free Tuesday afternoons, if that works for you. And call me Lou.”
