by Shey Stahl
“Yeah, I’m really sore.”
“From working out?”
“Well, no. I had sex with Destry for like two hours this morning.”
Jared’s eyebrows drew together. “Two hours? Is that even possible and not cramp up?”
“Apparently so. We did.”
He gave me another pouty face, his bottom lip stuck out. “I’m jealous.”
“Why? You’re sleeping with Catie.”
“I haven’t in weeks.” Jared looked up from the blanket he’d been fidgeting with for the last few minutes but didn’t focus on anything in particular. “She’s in a relationship with someone she works with.”
“What? No way. She never said anything to me about it.”
“Did you think she would?”
“Well, yeah. We’re friends.”
He brought his hands up to his face, ran them through his hair, and then brought them back to his face where they stayed for a moment. He sighed harshly. “Nah, she wouldn’t. She knows we’re good friends.”
I had to pee so I got up and changed into my yoga pants and a hoodie instead of my shorts and tank top and then grabbed my cell phone from my nightstand. There was a text message from a number I didn’t recognize.
Tallan it’s me Silas. Wanted to make sure you got the ticket.
I didn’t reply but I took my phone with me back into the living room and sat down next to Jared. He’d poured himself a bowl of cereal.
“Silas sent me a text.” Jared raised an eyebrow but continued eating his cereal. “I thought I wouldn’t care as much but for some reason I’m excited to see him. A little.”
“It’s because you never got over him.” He said, then shoved another bite of cereal. When he was done chewing, he added, “First loves are that way.”
“And who was your first love?”
Jared smiled, milk dripping on his chin. “Becky Thompson. She pushed me off the big toy when I was eight.”
“And you still think about her?”
“I do.” He admitted.
“You’re a cop. Track her down.”
“Don’t need to.” He finished his last bite of cereal and then drank the milk that remained in the bowl. “She lives next door to my parents. She’s married and has two little boys now.”
“Wow.”
He gave me that look and sighed. “That wasn’t the point of my story, Tallan. What I meant was if I had the chance to talk to her, I would.”
“So you get it?”
“I’ve always understood why you wanted to see him. What I didn’t get was changing who you are to do so.”
He had a point. There was a good part of me that understood I wasn’t doing this for Silas anymore. It was about me. It didn’t stop the fact that I had to know why Silas left. A girl like me needed the answer to that why. I had to have an answer.
“Have you told Destry?” Jared gave me that look. The fatherly one he had every now and then.
“About Silas?”
“About the article.”
“No.”
“If you want whatever this is to be something, tell him. The longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be to tell him.”
There was a sadness to Jared’s tone right then. I think he felt more for Catie than he led on. I’d been so wrapped up in my own Silas/Destry troubles that I hadn’t even noticed Catie wasn’t hanging around much. I’d have to tackle this conversation with Jared when I knew what in the hell I was going to do about my own relationship problems.
A hook is an inside power punch. It's a short sideways punch delivered with the elbow bent so the arm forms sort of a hook. The temple, side of the jaw, ribs and liver is the target.
In four weeks, I’d lost fifteen pounds. Destry was good. I can’t say it was all from working out, my newfound sexual life had something to do with it.
I was in the basement with Destry, beaming over my results and the new yoga pants and tank top I was wearing. “I can’t believe I’ve lost fifteen pounds already!”
“You look good.” He winked picking up a weight from the mat where we were just doing lunges.
“So I didn’t before?”
Why did you just ask that? What the hell?
He raised an eyebrow at me. “No, I didn’t say that. I would have fucked you even if you hadn’t lost anything. You looked good. You looked healthy.”
“You say that now but when we first met, you hated me.”
“So? That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t have sex with you. And I did. A few times now.”
“So you did hate me?”
“No. I didn’t. I don’t. But I wasn’t friendly and I know that. Sorry. You have to understand that everyone in my life has screwed me over.” My heart started pounding in my chest, pulsing in my ears. “Besides my dad. Don’t you think anyone in their right mind would be a little apprehensive to meet someone?”
“Point taken.”
Fuck, Tallan. Tell him about the article. Tell him now before you’re in too deep. The problem was, it was already too late. It was too late the minute I had sex with him. It was too late the moment I agreed to do the article. I should have asked him first.
“Good.” He nodded toward the wall. “Time for squats. So get to them and I’ll sit over here and imagine those beautiful thighs wrapped around me.”
And I was supposed to somehow concentrate on my form with that visual in my brain? Way to go, Destry.
A week passed and I still hadn’t told him. A week. But really, I’ve had five weeks and I hadn’t told him. I had the plan that I would finish the article, show it to him, and then ask his permission before giving it to Marcus. That way, if he was upset, I wouldn’t publish it.
There comes a point when you know you’re past the point of no return. That point was weeks ago but it became even more apparent when Adam, Destry’s trainer, spoke to me for the first time. Usually he gave me a nod, nothing else. Didn’t even say hello.
Destry knows that I’m a freelance writer. He’s never asked much more than that. So it was a little strange having Adam ask me questions like this.
“What kind of articles do you write?” he asked, looking away from me to his left at Destry standing near the wall talking on his cell phone.
I’m a writer. I look for details where others wouldn’t. I pick up on questions and how and why they’re asked. That’s just me.
“Everything from politics to cosmetics.” I answered knowing damn well he would sense my apprehension. Fuck. You’re screwed, Tallan.
He nodded, his eyes on Destry, and then he looked at me, eyes accessing. “Sports?”
“I do write sports.”
I’m dead. I’m fucking dead. He knows.
“Does he know that?”
“No.” I admitted taking a deep breath. I’m fucked.
“You better tell him.”
“I’m all he has left.” Adam gave a nod to Destry. “Everyone else has fucked him over, including his manager. Don’t add your name to that list because once you’re on it with him, you’ll never get off it.” He walked past me without another word.
I couldn’t just blurt this out. It would take some time to explain to Destry.
When I looked at Destry, his mood seemed off but he smiled. I felt like his mood had something to do with Adam. Maybe he already told him. But did I have the guts to say anything to him that night?
No. I was scared of him. If he was in a bad mood, I didn’t want to make it worse. If he was in a good mood, I didn’t want to ruin it.
The thing was, I believed wholeheartedly that I could make a difference for Destry. The world had an image of him and it was the wrong one. Hell, I had an image of him when I first met him and it wasn’t anything like what my initial assessment was now. Maybe it was my way of justifying my indiscretions, maybe not.
Not a lot was said between us that night. His mood was definitely off. Sidelong looks sent my way that didn’t quite meet his eyes, just glances. I couldn’t distinguish from my own paranoia abou
t keeping the article a secret and if there was something more personal going on with Destry. His eyes were the giveaway, a lack of emotion as he looked at me on and off all night.
Maybe he had some shit going on with his dad he didn’t want to talk about. I don’t know but his mood change threw me off. Adam’s remarks were also the fuel to my paranoid fire. I felt like I was working out and was the only one in the room. Not much was said, and in that silence, the message I was getting was loud and clear.
After our workout, we parted ways and not a lot was said. That night I sat down and decided I was going to finish the article. Maybe I wouldn’t submit it, but I had to finish it. Around midnight, I got a text from Destry.
Come over?
Here’s the thing. The shitty thing if you asked me. I could have told him that night. I should have. I didn’t because I wanted what this was for as long as I could have it. I knew once he knew, it was over.
I went to him though. It took me around twenty minutes to get over to his apartment. When I did, he smiled, his mood still tense and gave a nod into his apartment. I walked past him and stood in the kitchen, waiting for him after setting my bag on the counter.
The door slammed, startling me. And then I was being lifted off the ground. My legs wrapped around him on instinct. There wasn’t a lot of words said and I understood there wouldn’t be tonight. He needed something and I was going to give him what he needed. In fact, nothing was said.
His lips crashed into mine, warm, relentless and unyielding and so fucking perfect. I matched him with everything I had, wanting everything he was going to give me. Laid on the center of his bed, hovering over me, he took a shaky breath and moaned into my mouth pressing his weight into me. It felt like the first breath he had taken since we got in here, labored and needy. His hand slipped from my cheek and down the valley between my breasts, eyes remaining locked with mine.
Without saying anything, I brought his mouth back to mine wanting more of those intense kisses. They were so different and consuming, I had to have them.
This time was slow, every movement was in slow motion, each one thought out and deliberate. Our breathing was low, but ragged, our movements dawdling but extremely passionate. Our kisses, deep, but tender.
Something threw me about his motions. Like this was some sort of a goodbye?
Why would he be this gentle with me? This isn’t us. We’re rough. We fuck. We don’t do gentle.
My eyes went to his, only he wasn’t looking at me. Instead his eyes were closed, his left hand was behind the nape of my neck, his right resting against my thigh he wrapped around his waist, and then he began to move a little faster. Never breaking his steely gaze from mine, my lips moved from his to kiss his shoulders, memorizing how the muscles felt against the sensitive skin of my lips. His warm breath washed over me, overriding any coherent thought I had. He looked down at me, and I gasped. There was some concentration in his features, sure, but there was something more there that I couldn’t place.
With the way this felt, I never wanted it to end. I was finally feeling what I was meant to feel. This was so completely different from anything we’d experienced before. His hands that were wrapped around my waist moved to my ass, fisting the flesh in his strong hands and driving into me a little harder than before. His mouth, hot and heavy, moved from my neck and found my lips. His left hand reached down and adjusted my leg allowing him to go deeper, exactly where I needed him as his mouth tenderly sought out mine. The kissing was unreal. So much emotion, hurt and need brought forth with it.
What the hell did all this mean? I was so confused.
It didn’t take long before our desire gave way, and our movements were driven. Destry’s hand was still wrapped around the back of my neck, his fingers digging into my skin. His right hand was on my hip, securing me to him as his movements sped. A handful of thrusts later, his body jerked in time with his release, his head buried in my shoulder groaning, his hands on my ass cheeks squeezing harder.
He collapsed his entire weight on me, his breath hot and rapid on my neck as he panted. I let my hands that were on his shoulders fall away to the mattress, my own breathing just as rough.
I lifted slightly so he could remove his hands from under me. He did and sighed heavily, gasping as if he couldn’t catch his breath. That’s when the weariness settled over us, and he rolled to the side away from me. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he hesitated and then looked over at me, he gave me a tentative but uneasy smile.
“Sleep well,” he breathed, parting his lips over mine.
Brushing the side of his face against my hair, his nose ran along my ear. Staring at each other like this, I could see this being my future, our future, but this cloud hanging over us… over me… was this unspoken burden that couldn’t be voiced without serious repercussions. Not only the burden of the article but merely the burden of me seeing Silas in a few days was hanging like a thundercloud over this place, over us, and left me in a state of flux, leaning one way one minute and wanting to spill my guts and tell him everything and another way another minute with the silence I kept to myself like an imaginary friend I couldn’t tell anyone about.
Destry continued to focus on me as my eyes slowly drifted, the physical and emotional baggage becoming almost too much to bear for me.
As I drifted closer to sleep, right now I saw it in his eyes, in his touch, he felt something more than sex but he was holding back. Maybe this was even his way of letting go.
I stayed with him that night, his arms wrapped around me. When I woke up around four, my back was pressed to his chest, his breathing light. I turned my head with one eye open to see that he was still sleeping.
I laid awake for probably an hour wondering what that was that we did a few hours ago. It was so completely different than what we had ever done before.
Destry’s bedroom window was open, the steady rain that fell created a hissing sound as cars passed by.
As careful as I could I removed myself from the bed.
When I got outside his apartment the spring morning was cool, a thick cloud cover and a gentle breeze blew over the city bringing with it the salty ocean smell. The rain had let up, the streets still streaming with water. My feet drug on the pavement as I trudged my way up the hill to my apartment. I felt like I hadn’t slept in days, a heaviness rooting my steps.
When I got back to my apartment I opened my lap top and finished the article and I have to say it felt good. My hands were literally shaking when I finished it because I knew what it meant.
The Trainer by Tallan Spencer
Did Destry Stone throw the fight?
That’s the question on everyone’s minds these days.
He’s said to be the biggest upset in heavyweight history. They say he walked away at the first knock out.
A lot of people want to know more about the man who shuns the media.
Who is he?
He’s the only child of heavyweight champion boxer James Stone. Born in Boise, Idaho, he moved to Seattle with his father in 1998 when his parents split up. He grew up shadowing his father in the basement of his uncle’s bar.
His father, James, describes Destry as a happy boy, but with something to prove. “He told me when he was three he’d be a champion of the world. I believed him. He was the greatest part of my life.”
It’s no question that Destry is described as an angry child, always getting in fights.
I’ve personally heard people say he’s always so aggressive. But why?
“He’s always been that way from what I could gather. So full of hate and no one knows why.” Said his uncle as he leans into the bar, his eyes distant and far away. “That boy has been through more than any kid should have to.”
Having grown up in a ring, it was no surprise this boxer prodigy would find his way into the professional boxing association. At only eighteen years of age, he fought in his first sanctioned fight as a heavyweight boxer on November 11, 2004, winning with a second round knock-out. Two
years later, on his twentieth birthday, he fought Stefan Aksakov in Japan with a third round knock out to become the WBO World Heavyweight Champion. He’d hold the title for four years, still undefeated with an impressive, if not unheard of, knockout record until December 18, 2010, shortly after his twenty-fourth birthday, when he went down in the fifth round by knock-out in the fight against Ray Lucas.
So was the fight fixed?
That question is not easily answered.
I met Destry when I decided I needed to get in my own fighting shape. And while he wasn’t the nicest person, he helped me. From the first moment I met him, I knew there was something more. What you notice first is that guard he has, never letting himself feel too much. The second, the scowl, like he’s trying to figure you out.
Only spend five minutes around the guy and his eyes tend to give him away. At first, I didn’t see that. I saw the arrogance he displayed. What I did see was a man who had been used. What I saw was a man who was so much more than the gloves he wore.
These days you can find Destry in the basement of that same bar his father trained at. What is he training for?
After all he lost the title, right?
“I’m training for a fight I know I’ll win.”
So that leaves many to speculate what fight is he referring to? Although he was obtuse about why he still trained every day, he did insinuate that what people’s perceptions of how that fight went down will change in the near future. “People have no idea what was going through my mind that night...until you walk in my shoes, you just cannot understand.” Stone said staring at the brick wall in the basement with a poster of his father holding a championship belt.
So can we expect this redemption of a man wronged? Destry was pretty mum on any details only saying that, “time was definitely on his side and all will be made right.”
I, for one, cannot wait to see how this plays out and based on the times I witnessed him training in his basement gym, he’s in it to win it…whatever that means.
