by Amity Cross
“No peeking,” he said, stepping behind me and covering my eyes.
Yeah, I liked playful Ash a lot. He was currently acting like a five year old in a toy store and I was content to roll with whatever he had up his sleeve. This had to be good.
We needed some good to counteract all the crap that was The Underground.
As far as I knew, Hammer never fought again. No one had seen him since he was taken away from the cage on a stretcher and word had it that he was still eating through a straw.
I could still remember that night as vividly as ever. The moment I realized what Ash was planning to do, I almost clawed my way through three bouncers to get into that cage. Nobody was raising a finger to stop it, which also brought another truth driving home…. More than one person wanted Hammer dead. The biggest realization was if Ash didn’t win, then that fight was ending with Ash on the receiving end. Only one man was coming out of that cage alive.
Ash wasn’t a murderer. I knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he’d gone through with it. He’d tried twice, but both times something had stopped him. Only he would ever know the answer to that one, but I liked to think it was the goodness inside him. The love he had for his family.
Ash Fuller was never a beast. He just loved too much.
“Let it be known that I hate surprises,” I declared as he walked me forward, his hands covering my eyes.
“Have a little patience Spitfire,” Ash murmured in my ear. “You’re gunna love this.”
He guided me down the street and into a building, telling me to step and turn as we went.
“Okay,” he said, stopping suddenly. “Are you ready?”
“Oh, just get it over with,” I declared with a laugh.
Ash let his hand drop from my eyes and I blinked hard at the sudden burst of light. We stood in the middle of a run-down building, a cold draft coming in from a broken window.
All I saw was an empty shell. A warehouse space with crumbling walls and a set of stairs leading to a second level.
I furrowed my brow. “What am I looking at?”
“It’s ours,” Ash declared and I turned to stare at him. “I know it’s not much to look at, but just you wait.”
I saw the pride in his features and my heart swelled and almost burst. Suddenly, I understood what he wanted to do.
“You—”
“I’m going to reno the whole place, smash out a couple of walls, invest and make this the best damn fighter gym in Australia.”
“Fuck that,” I declared. “How about the world?”
“That’s my Spitfire. Go hard or go home.”
He grabbed my hand and began leading me through the place, telling me his grand plan. A state of the art gym, a fully loaded kitchen, showers at the back, a ring on one side and upstairs… He said that upstairs he was going to make it into an apartment. It was mine to do whatever I wanted with. We could live there together or we could find our own place.
The future was looking finer and finer with every step we took through the warehouse.
“How the hell could you afford this?” I asked, my eyes widening with every corner he lead me around.
Ash shrugged, a stupid grin on his face. “Well, there’s this place—”
I launched myself forward and clamped a hand over his mouth and smiled. “Shut up.”
“First rule about The Underground, is don’t talk about The Underground?”
“Something like that.”
“I kept putting so much money in the bank they suggested I see a financial planner,” he said, wrapping his arms around me. “I told them how much I wanted and they gave me a twenty year plan, but that wasn’t good enough.”
“Did we step into the space time continuum?” I asked with a laugh.
“No, I won this thing.”
Pressing into him, I covered his mouth with mine and kissed him stupid.
“What are you going to call it?”
He looked thoughtful for a moment before saying, “Pulse Fitness.”
I cocked my head to the side. “Pulse?”
“Well, there’s Beat where you made my heart beat again…”
I laughed. “Soppy.”
“And,” he said, covering my mouth with his big paw, “there’s everything that came after. That’s the bit that gave me my pulse back.”
I felt like crying. The good kind of crying.
“I wanted to name it for us,” he whispered.
Pulling his hand from my lips I said, “It’s perfect.”
Because it was. It was perfect in every way.
* * *
The Beat and The Pulse.
CRASH
#3 The Beat and The Pulse
1
Violet
“And how does that make you feel?”
I stared up at the ceiling of my therapist’s office and scowled. Lying on Dr. Ormond’s posh leather couch was meant to make me feel calm. I didn’t feel calm. All I wanted to do was rebel, but even then, she recited some psychobabble to explain why I wanted to. Therapists had an answer for everything.
How did it make me feel? Fucked off.
“Violet?”
I turned my head, plastering a fake smile on my face. “Fucked. Off.”
Dr. Ormond didn’t flinch, her middle-aged, polished exterior schooled to thoughtfulness. We went through this every week. I was angry about what happened to me, but that part was a given. Also, I was pissed off at myself for allowing it to get to the point where fear of the outside world crippled me. Maybe I’d be better if my parents had stuck around…or my friends, or if Ash hadn’t been thrown in the slammer for protecting me.
I never asked to be raped, after all.
Ash was my big brother and the only man I trusted in my entire life. He’d made some money from his short time fighting in the pro AUFC circuit and had used the money to invest in a house…that became my home after everything fell apart. It was still my home and the only place I felt entirely safe.
In short, the world scared me. More than scared…it terrified me.
I’d struggled with the attack and still did, even though it was over five years ago. Things like that, terrible things, just didn’t go away simply because you wanted them to.
Everyone but Ash had abandoned me, even my own parents. Sucky, right?
Ash was the only one who stuck around after things went bad. We were always inseparable as kids, and as we grew up, he felt it was his duty to protect me. Once he found out that his rival in the AUFC, Hammer, was behind my rape… Well, it wasn’t pretty. They used me to lure him into a trap, which got him kicked out of pro and was sentenced to five years in prison for aggravated assault. He was released after four for good behavior, but his life had already been ruined. His and mine.
Without Ash around, I was alone. I withdrew from everything and everyone, hiding away because it was easier to deal with the fear that way. I saw Hammer’s face every time I closed my eyes. I saw him in the shadows and I saw him in my dreams. I’d rebelled against going to therapy, shied away from talking about the attack, lashed out at Ash, and I’d even refused to go see him in jail for months.
It’s easy to blame yourself when you’re the victim. That’s what happens. You think because you were weak, because you didn’t see it coming, that it was all your fault. Ash blamed himself, I’m sure he still did, but I blamed myself more. My therapist said that was ‘normal’. I’m not even sure what that word meant anymore.
Dr. Ormond watched me for a moment and replied, “Yes, I imagine it would make you feel…fucked off.”
“I’m just frustrated.” I sighed heavily, feeling a little bad for saying the word ‘fuck’ to my prim and proper therapist.
“How is your study going?” she asked, thankfully steering the conversation onto a new path.
At her advisement, I’d taken an online course in Business Management and Accounting to get some ‘real world skills’ and had been working on it over the last six months. It was a year
course, but I had a lot of time on my hands, so I’d blazed through the assignments.
“I finished last week,” I said. “I have to wait for my grade, then I can apply for the certificate.” A pointless piece of paper to hang on my wall. I let my gaze wander over the office, taking in the framed Diplomas, Bachelors, Doctorates, Masters and PHD’s with good old Dr. Ormond’s name scrawled on them. It must take a lot of important paper to become a shrink.
“We talked about the need to venture outside the house,” she said, watching my perusal of her office. “Small trips. How are you going with that?”
“Okay.” I’d gone to the shop on the corner the other day to buy a Mars bar and didn’t hyperventilate.
“You didn’t have an anxiety attack?”
I shook my head. “It’s getting better.” I supposed the trick was to get used to new places little by little.
“Perhaps it’s time to start going a little bigger,” Dr. Ormond declared. “Since you have a qualification now, you should try applying for some employment.”
“A job?” I began to pale. A job required an interview and going to an unknown place with lots of people.
“It’s just a suggestion, Violet. You can start by putting together your resume and a covering letter. You don’t have to send them straight away.”
I sat up on the couch and bending at the waist, I rested my forehead against my knees. Taking deep breaths, I felt the panic begin to subside.
“Small steps,” she said, patting me on the shoulder.
I raised my head and took a deep breath. “I can write a resume,” I said after a moment. “It’s a little thing.”
Dr. Ormond smiled, pushing her glasses up her nose. “Give it a try. I can look over it if you like. Bring it along to our next appointment.”
I knew I was a bitch to her more often than not. I’d rebelled against therapy early on and dropped it entirely, convinced that it was all rubbish. I’d been going back for a year now, and things were slightly improving, but I still had a long way to go. I guess I still believed nothing was going to fix what was broken that night, no matter how many small steps I took.
Nodding, I said, “Sure.”
Dr. Ormond smiled. “You’re doing great, Violet.”
“Am I? Because I don’t feel it.”
“You know that shampoo commercial?” she asked with a smile. “It doesn’t happen overnight, but it will happen? Recovery from an ordeal like yours takes time. Small steps.”
Always with the small steps. I smiled and nodded, giving her what she wanted. My heart wasn’t in it.
Small steps.
The only thing that settled me after a visit to the therapist’s office was something soft to sit on and a good book.
I was curled up on the couch in the living room when I heard my big brother come home. No doubt the questioning would start the moment he saw me. I was used to it, but I never really liked it.
“Hey, Violet.”
I glanced up from my book as Ash sauntered into the lounge room. At a glance, you could tell we were brother and sister. We had the same dark, almost black hair, the same green eyes and fair skin, but that’s where the similarities ended. He was tall, totally buff, outgoing and tattooed while I was slim, shorter by a whole head and meek. I was a tiny little mouse who shied away at the slightest glance. He was the MMA fighter, and I was the bookworm.
“Hey. You’re home early.”
Flicking the cover of my book with a thick finger, he squinted and read the title. “Beautiful Bastard.”
I rolled my eyes as he sat next to me.
“Obviously it’s about me,” he said with a laugh.
“It’s about an asshole who doesn’t know how to have a proper relationship, so I guess it is.”
“Oh, burn.” He held his hand to his chest like he was wounded. “I’ll have you know Ren took care of that.”
“Thank god,” I retorted. “You were getting suffocating.”
Ash grinned lopsidedly and kicked his feet up onto the coffee table. “How was your date with Dr. What’s-her-name?”
“Dr. Ormond,” I said, correcting him. “It was okay.”
“How’s things?”
I sighed, closing my book. He was prodding…again. “Where’s Ren? I thought you were planning a holiday.”
“No avoiding the question, squirt.”
I pretended to throw up. “You know how filthy that sounds? I’m your sister.”
Ash laughed, poking me in the ribs. “Now, if you just start talking to everyone else like you do me and Ren, then we’re getting somewhere.”
Instinctively, I hugged my arms around myself, the book tight against my chest. It was a protective move on my part, something that had been hardwired into my brain—or so said the shrink.
“I wanna try. It’s just…” I trailed off with a shrug.
“Scary?”
I glanced up at my brother and nodded. “Dr. Ormond thinks it might be a good idea if I start looking for a job.”
His face contorted into thought. “A job, huh?”
“I finished my course last week,” I said. “I should get my final mark back by Friday.”
“I could use some help with the admin at Pulse,” he said. “Pens and paper aren’t my style.”
Ash’d earned his fortune at The Underground, an illegal cage fighting ring that was held in an abandoned warehouse in Abbotsford, an inner suburb of Melbourne, not too far from where he opened Pulse. He didn’t want to go back to pro or stay long-term in underground fighting—he didn’t want that kind of spotlight anymore—so he used his winnings to open up his own fighter gym. He said he wanted to help screw-ups like him.
At the thought of going back to that world, I felt my throat constrict. I’d been Ash’s biggest cheerleader before everything fell apart. When he made pro, I was so happy for him. I went to all his qualifiers, talked him up all over the Internet and I even went to Sydney for some of his matches. When Mum and Dad let me, that was. It was another time and all the things I’d loved about it now gave me nightmares. He took that away from me, and I was yet to get it back. I wasn’t sure I wanted it.
“They’re good blokes there, Vee,” he said, noticing that I’d begun to shut down. “I wouldn’t make the offer if I didn’t trust the fuckers with my little sister.”
I swallowed hard. “I know.”
“You can stay in the office and do your shit. You don’t need to come down into the gym. Not until you’re ready.”
I let the idea roll around in my brain for a moment. I couldn’t see myself going out to job interviews. Prospective employers would take one look at scared, little, Violet Fuller and consider her a flight risk.
“You can start on Monday,” he said, watching me think. “No pressure. Take the weekend to think about it.”
“Really?” I asked, beginning to think it might be a good idea since he was my brother and all. Working for someone I knew and trusted was a good idea…
“Fuckin’ really,” he said with a chuckle. “Ren could use the help. She’s not much for office work.”
I smiled, beginning to get used to the idea. “No, she isn’t.”
My brother’s girlfriend was a fighter through and through. The thought of the lean, muscled cage fighter sitting at a computer typing out budget reports was almost comical.
“I do have one condition.”
I groaned, already knowing where this was headed. “What?”
“You have to come to the opening party Friday night.”
“Ash.” Parties equaled dresses, eyes, people…cameras. I felt like hyperventilating at the thought. Who knew what would happen once I was actually there.
“Please, Violet,” he said. “It’d mean a lot to me. You know how much work I put into the gym. I want you to be there. You can even cut the bloody ribbon.”
I drew my knees up to my chest. “Can I think about it?” I didn’t want to disappoint him if my anxiety got too much for me to handle.
He lea
ned against me, throwing a big arm around my shoulders. “Sure thing. Like I said, no pressure.”
Letting my head fall against his shoulder, I sighed. “Thanks.”
“You know I won’t let it slide for long,” he murmured. “Remember that time you went to face Ren at Beat? You stared down an angry as fuck Spitfire to get her to come see me.”
I smiled, knowing it was past time that he had brought it up. When he was stuck here on house arrest, he’d spiraled into depression, and I’d known the only thing that would get him out was Ren, so I’d sucked it up and ventured to Beat in Brunswick and sought her out. She’d been pissed alright. Ash had hurt her by trying to do the right thing, and she was as wild as anything. If I could face a broken-hearted cage fighter, maybe I could do this.
I pushed away from him, and his arm dropped. “I…I just need to think about it a little. Get used to the idea is all.”
Ash frowned and peered at me for a moment before he pushed to his feet. “Sure thing, squirt.”
“Fucking puke,” I retorted.
He laughed before shoving a hand through his hair. “I’m going to hit the gym for a while.”
I waved him off, opening my book again. “Alright, piss off then. I’m up to a good bit.”
Ash shook his head and sauntered from the room. I knew he always had my best interests at heart, but sometimes he laid it on a bit thick.
When I heard the door to the gym close, I rose from the couch and went upstairs to my room. This was my safe haven, these four walls. I had a large bookshelf along one wall, filled with paperbacks of all my favorite authors. I liked the rows upon rows of spines, the colors and names all lined up… Ash had brought me an e-reader, but it wasn’t the same as flicking through the pages.
I had a TV on the wall at the foot of the bed, all hooked up to the Internet so I could watch Netflix until my eyes bled. Windows lined the other wall and a door at the opposite end led to the en suite and a walk-in wardrobe. As I said, it was my safe haven.
