The Will

by Kristen Ashley

  “Right,” Mick murmured but it was the odd mixture of both taunting and disbelieving.

  I wasn’t entirely certain what was happening. I just knew it was dangerous and I also knew I was the only one there who could do anything about it.

  Therefore, I did and I did this by turning to Jake and noting, “I think I’m warmed up, Jake. Can I punch a punching bag now?”

  Jake looked down at me and I saw his face was also tight, most specifically his strong, square jaw.

  Oh dear.

  It relaxed but only slightly when he replied, “Yeah, babe. I’ll show you how to work the bag then we’ll finish you up on the speed bag.”

  I had no idea what was what but I still said, “Excellent.”

  He jerked up his chin and stated, “Let’s move.” But he was the one who moved me, doing this by putting a hand in the small of my back and giving me a gentle shove.

  I got moving.

  Jake said over his shoulder, “Later, Mick.”

  “Later, Jake,” Mickey replied and then, clearly to me, “If you come to the match, I’ll have a ticket waiting for you, Josephine.”

  Jake made an annoyed noise low in his throat that was, like all things Jake, attractive. Intensely so.

  Even thinking this, I called noncommittally, “Thank you, Mickey, and nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise.” I heard him say as Jake stopped me at a long, cylindrical bag.

  I decided my best course of action was to leave my discourse with Mickey at that and turn my full attention to Jake.

  He still looked annoyed. Vastly so. He was also looking at the punching bag like he wanted to rip it from its chains and throw it out the window.

  To stop him from doing this, I said, “All right. What do I do now?”

  Jake looked down at me and it took a moment for his expression to clear, but finally it did and he gave me a small grin.

  “You ready to kick the shit outta that bag?”

  “Kicking is involved?” I inquired, somewhat surprised.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t know that bags such as that were used in that manner. It was just other types of fighters, not boxers, used it thus.

  “It will be the way you’re gonna use it.”

  I looked at the bag thinking this might be fun.

  So I looked back up at Jake, smiled and said, “Splendid.”

  Finally, Jake’s face totally cleared and he smiled back.

  Then he said, “Right, Slick. I’ll show you how it’s done and then it’s your turn.”

  At that point, Jake pushed me slightly back and commenced “showing me how it’s done.”

  And thus, at that point, watching Jake, I knew without any doubts why I’d allowed myself to be pulled from my bed and dragged to a boxer’s gym at an ungodly hour of the morning.

  I also knew I would allow the same to happen tomorrow.

  And the next day.

  And the next.

  Just as long as I got to watch Jake “showing me how it’s done.”

  * * * * *

  Although it was unnecessary, after our workout, when Jake took me home, he walked me to the front door of Lavender House as well as through it.

  I felt quite strange seeing as I was sweaty and I was never sweaty. My body also felt fatigued and my body never felt fatigued unless the day was a rather long one or the evening included dancing. And I was not in my usual attire which put me off-balance. Amber’s choices were lovely but they weren’t me.

  So when Jake closed the door against the chill of the morning and turned to me, feeling off-balance and having a morning that started with Jake waking me up by tickling my nose with a lock of my hair and ended with him and I both getting sweaty (alas, not in a way I would chose but it was far from bad, especially watching Jake do it), I had a near overwhelming desire to move into him. To curl my arms around his neck. To press my damp body to his then press my lips to his.

  Fortunately, before I gave into this urge, Jake spoke.

  “Amber’s done bein’ grounded today. You still good to look after Eath this afternoon?”

  I stared at him a moment in surprise.

  Had a week passed since we discussed this?

  It had.

  “Of course,” I replied.

  “He gets off school at two forty-five,” he told me. “I’ll text Amber and let her know she’s off-duty.”

  I nodded.

  “Got shit to do at the gym, got shit to do at the club,” Jake carried on. “And the kid’s league is startin’ up again so I got shit to do for that. You good to keep him for dinner?” he asked.

  Sharing dinner with Ethan.

  I would very much enjoy that.

  “Certainly,” I answered.

  “It’ll help a lot, Slick,” he shared.

  “Ethan’s very good company therefore this is hardly a bother, Jake,” I assured him with complete honesty.

  He grinned then said, “I’ll pick him up around seven thirty.”

  Hmm.

  Another early dinner.

  Oh well.

  “All right,” I replied.

  “Tomorrow night, we’re goin’ to the football game.”

  I blinked before I asked, “Pardon?”

  “Friday night high school football. You, me and Ethan are goin’.”

  My heart made a flutter and not at the prospect of going to a high school football game. “That sounds fun,” I partly lied because football would likely bore me silly.

  Being with Jake was another story.

  And knowing I’d be spending even more time with him was yet another story.

  He grinned again and moved closer.

  My heart fluttered again.

  “You pick up Eath after school. I’ll pick you both up later. We’ll grab some food and go.”

  I forced myself to speak normally when I asked, “Amber and Conner aren’t going with us?”

  “Amber’s goin’ with her friends. Conner is either goin’ with one of his girls or he’s goin’ with his buds. They’re in high school. They don’t hang with their old man. But their old man goes to games to keep an eye on them, specifically Amber, who’d probably be under the bleachers doin’ shit that even thinkin’ about it for a nanosecond makes my gut twist and my mouth taste like acid so I try not to think about it. I also fail.”

  “Is she…well,” I started carefully and finished with, “promiscuous?”

  “I hope not,” he replied immediately, sounding like he very much meant those three words. “That said, she wants to be popular, she wants to be liked, she wants boys to notice her and this Noah kid is a senior and he shares the title of the big man at school with Con. He’s a hotshot basketball player so he doesn’t play football but he goes to the games. With the way she wants all of that shit and the fact she got her hooks in Noah, who she’s had her sights set on since she was a freshman, it means anything can happen.”

  I was not surprised that Conner was the high school “big man.” However, it was my experience when I was in school, and my understanding it was still true, that the athletes were the ones who earned that honor.

  “Does Conner play sport?” I asked.

  “He boxes like his dad,” Jake answered.

  “Is he good at it?” I went on.

  “In his current league he’s undefeated three years running,” Jake stated without even attempting to hide the pride.

  And there was the reason he was the high school “big man.”

  I grinned at Jake. “Good for him.”

  Jake grinned back but said, “Not good. He works at it. You see those quotes on the walls of the gym?”

  “Indeed.” I nodded. “I meant to mention that they were all very inspirational and I thought it was very clever that you had them painted on your walls.”

  He was grinning bigger when he replied, “Glad you think so, Slick, but those quotes, Con lives them. He’s hungry for the learning but he’s got the soul of a fighter. I started the junior league for him hopin’ th
at would be the way. When I started it, he was too young to be in it. He got old enough, he took to it better than I’d hoped. And if he’s not with one of his girls or at work, he’s at the gym.”

  I watched with some fascination as his face changed and listened with even more fascination as his voice roughened when he finished.

  “Makes what Lydie did for me and my family even better, knowing she made it so I could give my boy a place to train. A place that’s mine to give him. A place that’ll be his one day if he wants it.”

  “Yes, Jake,” I said softly, at his words, his look and his tone, again having an overwhelming urge. But this one was to touch him, take his hand or lay mine on his chest or his jaw. It didn’t matter how, I just wanted that connection. Any connection. Or all of them.

  I couldn’t have it so I didn’t take it.

  But I wanted it.

  “Right, so I’ll see you tonight at seven-thirty,” Jake declared. “You wanna hit the gym tomorrow, let me know and I’ll pick you up at seven. Tomorrow night, I’ll pick you and Eath up at five-thirty. And Saturday, the matches are at the arena in Blakeley. Got a lot of matches to get through so they start at nine in the morning with the flyweights. I fight heavyweight, which’ll be one of the last, so my match’ll be around eight at night. You can come and watch as much as you want. I’ll have a ticket waitin’ for you at the office.”

  As much as I wanted was not very much. I didn’t even know if I wanted to watch Jake box, I certainly didn’t want to watch anyone else. I knew by then that I’d watch Jake do practically anything, but I wasn’t eager to watch someone hitting him.

  But it seemed he wanted me to go.

  So I would go.

  Thus I again nodded.

  “We’ve got a plan,” Jake murmured and got even closer. “And you gotta get to the Weavers.”

  I sighed and nodded. My sigh was not only about the fact that Jake was soon to leave, it was also about seeing Eliza Weaver and knowing she would be worse than yesterday, and worse still tomorrow.

  Jake read my sigh and I knew this when he said gently, “You can give up any time.”

  “I’m there until Mr. Weaver no longer needs me,” I replied.

  He held my eyes a moment before his warmed in a way that warmed me all the way through and then it was his turn to nod.

  After he did that, he lifted a hand and I braced, waiting for it, delighted he was going to give it to me and he didn’t disappoint.

  He cupped my jaw and bent in, brushing his lips against the skin that was mere centimeters away from the corner of my mouth.

  He drew back only mere centimeters as well so I could feel his breath on my lips. Thus, my breath stopped altogether.

  “See you later, Slick,” he whispered.

  “Later, Jake,” I pushed out.

  I watched his eyes smile.

  Seeing the smile in the stormy gray of his eyes in my dimly lit foyer, my belly dipped.

  Then he bent in again and gave me another brush of his lips against the corner of my mouth before he added something new. He moved his hand from my jaw and tugged gently and playfully at my ponytail before he moved away and I watched him walk out my front door.

  * * * * *

  It was after school and Ethan and I were at Wayfarer’s.

  I had picked him up from school, or, more accurately, he’d seen me in my Cayenne and nearly given me a heart attack by dashing across the road with extreme excitement (and not checking the street before he did so), throwing open the passenger door and shouting, “I can’t wait to get a ride in this totally awesome ride!”

  He did not delay in achieving his purpose, climbed up and buckled in. I set us on the road while I allowed him time to get his “ride in this totally awesome ride” before I used measured words to explain he should always scan the street before crossing it.

  “Whoops,” was his reply.

  I decided to take that as him having heard me then I shared our afternoon endeavors were that we were going to make cream puffs from scratch.

  To that, a yelled, “Awesome!” was his reply.

  And to that, I’d smiled at the windshield.

  Ethan chattered to me while we moved through the aisles at Wayfarer’s, picking up what we needed. But when we approached the checkout counter, Conner came in the front doors.

  “Con!” Ethan cried and Conner’s head turned our way.

  He spied us and moved in our direction while smiling.

  “What’s up?” he asked when he arrived.

  “Cream puffs, dude,” was Ethan’s answer.

  “Awesome, little dude,” was Conner’s response, still smiling at his younger brother.

  “Hello, Conner,” I greeted.

  “Yo, Josie,” he replied, turning his smile to me. “You doin’ good?”

  “I am, indeed,” I answered. “And you?”

  “Nothin’ gets me down,” he stated breezily and I couldn’t help but smile at his words and tone. “Love to rap but gotta clock in,” he told us.

  “Later, bro,” Ethan said.

  “Good-bye, Conner,” I said.

  He jerked up his chin, so very much like his father, gave us a low wave (also like his father) and moved away.

  “Amber’s a pain in the butt but Con is the bomb,” Ethan told me and I looked down at him.

  “Amber is a teenaged girl who’s trying to understand her place in this world and is erroneously assuming that that place is dependent on how many boys find her attractive and how popular she is at school. Your brother has a good deal of confidence due to his good looks and, likely, his prowess in the boxing ring. When Amber finds what she excels at, she’ll cease being a pain in the behind.”

  “I hope she finds what she excels at soon,” Ethan muttered.

  “I do too,” I murmured back.

  “What’s erroneous?” he asked and I grinned down at him.

  “Mistaken,” I explained.

  “Right.” He grinned up at me then went on, “So what’s prowess?”

  “Ability. Skill,” I told him.

  “Right,” he repeated, still grinning.

  At this point, the cashier told me my total.

  I paid for the groceries and Ethan insisted on getting two of the three handled brown paper bags (also, it would appear, like his father). I took the remaining one and we left the store.

  Cross Street had been (and still was) rather busy when we arrived at Wayfarer’s and thus we’d needed to park well down from the store. We set off on our journey, carrying our bags, Ethan again chattering.

  “They got cream puffs at the bakery but I bet yours will be better,” he noted.

  “As Americans often put sweetened whipped cream or vanilla pudding between the choux pastry, and we’ll be making crème patisserie, this is indeed a fact.”

  “What’s crème patisserie?” Ethan asked.

  “Proof there is a God,” I answered.

  He burst out laughing and I liked the sound so much, not to mention liking that it was me who gave it to him, I smiled down at him just as I heard, “Yo! Josephine!”

  I stopped and saw that we were standing in front of one of the two large opened bays of the Firehouse. I peered into the shadows beyond the shiny red fire truck and out came Mickey from the gym.

  And I saw that this time, Mickey from the gym was not in workout clothes, which suited him greatly, but instead in dark blue trousers and a lighter blue t-shirt with an insignia over his heart. As these were the apparel of a firefighter not actually fighting a fire, but still being a firefighter, they suited him even better.

  “Mickey!” Ethan exclaimed, clearly knowing the man.

  “Yo, Eath,” Mickey replied on a grin at Ethan and his grin, like it had been that morning, was also quite nice.

  “You know Josie?” Ethan asked and Mickey moved his grin to me.

  “We met at the gym this morning,” Mickey explained.

  I felt Ethan’s eyes and looked down at him just as he was inquiring, “You wer
e at the gym this morning?”

  “Your dad and I worked out together,” I shared and Ethan smiled big.

  “Cool,” he said in approval.

  “Wanna check out the firehouse, little man?” Mickey surprisingly asked at this juncture and my eyes shot to him.

  “Seriously?” Ethan breathed.

  Before I could get a word in, Mickey gave him a head jerk toward the firehouse and replied, “Absolutely. I’ll look after your bags. You go in.”

  Without delay, Ethan dropped his grocery bags by Mickey’s feet and raced into the firehouse.

  He did this so quickly, I lost sight of him immediately.

  I looked to Mickey. “Um…Mickey, Ethan’s my charge and I’m uncomfortable with him being out of sight.”

  To that, Mickey twisted his torso and bellowed, “Yo! Jimbo! My boy Eath is in there. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

  And then I heard shouted back, “Got it!”

  Mickey turned back to me and opened his mouth to speak but I spoke before he could say a word.

  “I appreciate Jimbo’s assistance but as I don’t know Jimbo, I still would prefer it if I was aware of Ethan’s activities and by that I mean that I could actually see him.”

  Mickey’s (not unattractive, to say the least) lips were spread in a wide smile by the time I was finished speaking and when I was done, he assured me, “Ethan’ll be good.”

  “But—”

  “Listen,” he interrupted me. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

  I closed my mouth.

  Oh my.

  Was yet another man in Magdalene going to ask me out?

  I’d been there but a week and a half, having attended Gran’s funeral on a Monday, and if Mickey was indeed asking me out, that made him the second man to do so in that short period of time.

  It was not lost on me that I was attractive. I was no beauty, I’d spent my life around raving beauties so I knew beauty and I did not have that. But that didn’t mean I was unattractive. I also received my fair share of attention and partook of that attention when the spirit moved me.

  But this was ridiculous.

  And what made it worse was the fact that the one man I wanted to give me more than a fair share of attention was, indeed, giving me more than my fair share, just not the way I would wish.

  “I—” I started.