On the Ropes

by Christa Cervone

  She huffs at my response. “I want kids. I wouldn’t mind having four.”

  “Four! Shit, you better marry some rich dude if you want four kids,” Jase advises.

  “She is dating a rich dude,” I mumble under my breath.

  Salem shoots me a look from across the room. Apparently, I didn’t say it quietly enough.

  “I gotta jet. The kids’ll be waiting for me outside. You two okay, here alone?”

  “I think we can handle it,” Jase kids.

  “You wanna come with me Jase? I’d love for you to meet Frankie, my trainer.”

  “Nah, if you don’t mind, I’d rather chill here. Maybe catch a few more Zzzs. It’s been a while since I’ve slept in a bed.”

  “That’s cool. I should be home around tenish.”

  I grab my helmet and keys off the kitchen counter, and I’m walking to the door when I realize that I haven’t said goodbye to Salem; I stop. Should I hug her or kiss her? Turning around, I approach her, and she stands there watching me. Putting my hands on her hips, I whisper, “Are you gonna be here when I get back?”

  “No,” her response is barely audible.

  “I didn’t think so,” I let out a deep sigh. “When will I see you again?”

  “Gabriel…”

  “Don’t, Salem,” my index finger touches her lips to silence her, “I don’t regret one minute I’ve spent with you.”

  Her eyes scan my face.

  “I’d do it all again just to spend time with you.”

  As she’s about to speak, I kiss her; not a soft, gentle kiss, but a deep, passionate one. When we break apart, I look into her eyes one last time and murmur, “Goodbye, Salem,” then I turn on my heel and leave, racing down the stairs to the parking lot. I need to get out of my building and on my bike. I’m no longer worried about being late. I’m more concerned that I’m going to change my mind and run to her, pick her up, carry her into my room, and make love to her, which is something I know I can’t handle.

  With my helmet fastened, I rev the engine of my bike as I look up to the windows of my apartment. Fuck! I fly out of the parking lot, racing down the street weaving in and out of traffic. Cars honk at me as I pass them carelessly. I let her go. Why did I fucking let her go?

  Way to go Say, your very first walk of shame. What were you thinking spending the night there? Stupid, stupid, stupid. The disappointment in Salem’s face is clear as she glances into the rearview mirror and shakes her head. She’s sitting in her car outside Gabriel’s apartment in disbelief.

  A flash of memory from last night hits her. Closing her eyes she takes a deep breath, trying to shake it from her thoughts, but it’s unstoppable. God, his lips, felt so good on my skin and the way he looks at me… ah, Blaine has never looked at me like that! At that, Salem’s stomach does a somersault and parts of her body that she didn’t even know existed begin to tingle; the same way they did last night.

  She forces her eyes open and chastises herself out loud, “You need to stop this. This is wrong. You have a boyfriend.” He probably thinks you’re easy now with the way you threw yourself at him. He was the sensible one, actually saying no. Can you imagine if you actually slept with him?

  Again, her mind drifts to last night; remembering how his hand ran up her thigh, how tightly he clung to her, and his strength. Oh God, those muscles! His presence is so strong in her mind that it’s almost as if she’s back in his bed with him.

  Salem glances at herself again in the rearview mirror. You might as well call yourself Jocelyn. She’s been known to have a one-night stand or two and isn’t afraid to talk about it, even when the guy is still at the condo. Some of Jocelyn’s stories over the years have made Salem blush, while there have been other times when she’s envious that she isn’t quite that brave. Most of the time though, Salem is just happy to live the craziest moments vicariously through her friend. Jocey is Jocey, and I love her no matter what her faults are; she’s always had my back.

  Deciding she can’t go anther second without talking to Jocelyn about this; Salem quickly picks up her phone, dials her friend, and waits for the connection. In a panicked voice, she squeaks out, “Jocey, we need to talk.”

  “What happened? Are you okay? What did the prick do now? Do you want me to kick him in the nuts? Because, I’ve been dying to for years.”

  “No, no, no, Jocey,” Salem can’t help but laugh, “it’s nothing like that. It’s actually not Blaine at all. It’s…” she takes a deep breath, trying to find the courage to say his name out loud.

  “It’s who, Say? Spill it!”

  “It’s Gabriel.”

  “Gabriel?!” her voice rises. “The guy from yesterday? Say, where the hell are you?”

  “I’m coming home now. I should be there in twenty minutes.”

  “Say! Where… are… you?” Jocelyn draws her words out.

  “I’m hanging up now, see you in twenty,” she ends the call and puts her car into gear. It’s time to spill it and get some advice!

  A few kids are standing in front of Frankie’s when I pull up. I quickly jump off my bike and open the door as Tyler runs up to me, “How’d your fight go?”

  “Saint, we saw you on TV!” a few of the other kids throw in as they rush over.

  I’m getting bombarded by questions, and I haven’t even turned on the lights.

  “Guys, guys, guys,” I hold my hands up, “one at a time. I’ll answer all your questions,” I laugh.

  I see Frankie walk in the front door as all the kids are crowded around me. I nod my head at him. He smiles and continues into his office.

  “Is everyone’s homework done?” I redirect them; they all moan. “No fight talk until I see that all your homework is done.”

  A while later, I’m checking their papers when Frankie comes out and asks, “How’d they do this weekend?”

  “It looks pretty darn good, Frankie. I think everyone did it,” I smile proudly at them. Getting these kids to do their homework on the weekends is like pulling teeth. Frankie finally had to resort to bribing them with sparring time for the kids that get it done. Sparring time is a huge deal because Frankie never used to let kids in the ring until they’re older and ready to actually have a real match. Looks like Frankie’s relaxing a little on his rules in his old age.

  “Nice work, kids!” they’re all lining up at the door. “You know the drill when you get here after school, homework and then get your gear on. You’re getting in the ring!” Frankie announces proudly.

  They all begin to cheer.

  Salem no sooner pulls into the driveway of her condo than Jocelyn is rushing to her car. “Girl, you better give me all the deets and don’t you spare any juicy tidbits,” she’s smiling through the driver’s side window.

  “Jesus, Jocey, can you at least let me park my car?”

  “I take it your dinner date went well?” she’s full of excitement, and it looks like she’s about to burst at the seams.

  “I wouldn’t get too carried away, Jocey, things didn’t end very well,” Salem responds, taking her friend by the arm and leading her into their condo.

  “What? No,” Jocelyn whines. “Why? I thought you were finally going to be free of HIM!”

  Salem shoots her friend a defeated look. “Jocey,” she sighs.

  “Salem, you know how I feel about him.”

  “That I do. And, you know how I feel about him,” Salem looks at her friend.

  “Tell me everything,” Jocelyn says impatiently.

  “Okay, okay,” Salem finally gives in as she takes a seat at their kitchen table, “he took me to his old neighborhood.”

  “Where’s he from?”

  “Are you going to let me talk,” she laughs, “or should I just have you interrogate me?”

  “Fine,” Jocelyn huffs. “Continue.”

  “Thank you,” Salem’s tone is condescending. “He took me to his old neighborhood to a Puerto Rican festival. I’m not going to lie, I wasn’t comfortable there at first. But, after a w
hile, I really started to have fun. He even taught me how to Salsa!”

  “Mmmm… I bet he can move his hips,” Jocelyn adds with a little eyebrow wiggle. “He can fight and dance,” she rests her chin in the palm of her hand; looking off dreamily.

  Salem rolls her eyes and continues, “Anyways, we did end up kissing.”

  “Shut the front door! My innocent little Say kissed a boy?!”

  “Shhhh…” Salem’s face instantly turns bright red in embarrassment.

  “Why are you shushing me? We’re the only ones here,” Jocelyn looks around the room.

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want to hear it out loud.”

  “You’re a freakin’ weirdo, Say,” getting up from her seat, she walks into the kitchen. “You want a cup of coffee?”

  “Yes, please. I may need a shot in my coffee to finish telling you the rest of night.”

  Jocelyn spins back around, “Did you sleep with him?” her eyes are bulging out of her head.

  “Well…”

  “There’s no, ‘Well.’ You either did, or you didn’t.”

  “Oh God, you’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?” guilt is written all over Salem’s face.

  “Salem, how long have we been friends? Nothing you’re going to tell me is going to make me think any less of you. Hell, I can’t stand Blaine, and I barely tolerate him. Believe me, if it was anyone but you involved, I would’ve told him to eat shit and die years ago.”

  Salem takes a deep breath in and then exhales, “Ok, we slept in the same bed, but we didn’t have sex.”

  “Then you didn’t do anything wrong. I fail to see why you’re beating yourself up over this, Say,” Jocelyn places Salem’s cup of coffee in front of her.

  Salem looks down at her cup. “I wanted to,” the words are all but a whisper, “and we came really close. He’s the one that stopped, not me. At first, anyways,” Salem drops her head into her hands.

  “But you didn’t,” Jocelyn emphasizes.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said? I said I wanted to. What does that say about me?”

  “It says you’re human. People make mistakes.”

  “It was definitely a mistake, and I won’t be seeing him again, that’s for sure,” Salem says confidently. “I can’t trust myself.”

  “If that’s what you want, then I’ll stand by your decision. You know I’ll never tell a soul. It’ll go with me to the grave,” Jocelyn smiles warmly.

  “Thank you, Jocey.”

  “No need to thank me, you know I’m always here for you. Why don’t you go take a nice, relaxing bath and then take a nap? Seems to always help clear my head when I’m in a mess.”

  “That sounds like a great idea,” Salem takes a sip of her coffee. “But, then I have to study,” her voice is very determined. “My exam is at two-thirty today. Thank God, I’ve put weeks of studying in before the shit hit the fan. You know I can’t afford to fail!”

  “How was your weekend, kid?” Frankie asks as soon as I walk through the door from dropping the kids off at school.

  “Jesus, Frankie,” I jump, “you scared the shit out of me.”

  “Why you so jumpy, kid? You hidin’ something from me?”

  “No, what would I be hiding from you?”

  “I dunno, you tell me,” he crosses his arms, giving me “the look.”

  Frankie can read me like a book. He always knows when I’m lying, and it drives me crazy. “Nothing happened, Frankie,” I’m trying to hide the smile that’s breaking through.

  “Let me guess, you got laid this weekend? Was it the ring girl? She had her eye on you the entire fight.”

  “Actually, I didn’t.”

  Frankie’s face is that of surprise. “Something wrong with it?” he glances down at my crotch.

  “No,” I laugh. “Damn Frankie, since when are you so concerned about my sex life?”

  “I’m just lookin’ out for you. I know how you get.”

  I roll my eyes at him, “Yah, yah, yah.”

  “Did you go out and celebrate?”

  “Yes, Blaine invited us out.”

  “Well then, you must’ve partied in style.”

  “The club was pretty amazing, but I wasn’t there too long. Jimmy, Steph, and Adrian were there longer than I was.”

  “So, you did get lucky this weekend.”

  “I already told you I didn’t. Get off my jock, will you?” I begin walking away.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he follows me.

  “You’re imagining things, old man.”

  “Fine, be that way, Gabriel. But, you know I’ll find out,” he warns as he walks into his office.

  I do a quick walk through the gym to make sure everything is in its place, even poking my head into the locker room. Then I swing by Frankie’s office. He’s crunching numbers again on his adding machine. “I’m gonna cut out.”

  “Okay, kid,” he answers without even looking up.

  I stand at the doorway for a moment wondering if everything is okay. Then it dawns on me that if I stand here and start asking questions, he’ll turn the tables and start asking me about my weekend again. There are some things that are on a need-to-know basis. This is definitely one of them, besides, nothing happened between Salem and I. He’ll just get pissed off for nothing.

  “I’ll see you at two fifteen.”

  “Sounds good,” he waves, then momentarily looks up from his desk. “Hey, don’t forget we’re going to TKO tonight.”

  “Got it.”

  Shit, shit, shit. I’d totally forgotten about our meeting with Blaine tonight. On the drive back to my apartment, I begin wondering if Salem will be there. Of course she’ll be there, she’s always there. I start thinking about how I can possibly back out of it. If Jase is still around that’ll be an easy out. I’ll just tell Frankie that my brother showed up, and I can’t make it. I’m not sure if I’m ready to see her again so soon. My heart all but broke this morning when she said she wasn’t going to be there when I get back. How is she going to react to seeing me in the presence of Blaine? Does he even care that she hasn’t been around the last twenty-four hours? So many questions are running through my head.

  “Jase!” I call to him as I walk through the door. There’s no answer. Hopefully he was able to go back to bed for a few more hours, he certainly looked like he could use the sleep. I hear the shower running as I walk past the bathroom. “Jase?” I open the door and hear a girl moaning. Adrian’s face appears from behind the shower curtain, “Your brother’s gone, man. He wasn’t looking too good when I got here; he had the shakes and shit. I spotted him twenty bucks and he split.”

  “You gave him money?” I ask, aggravated. “Christ, Adrian, he’s a dope fiend.”

  “How the hell was I supposed to know?”

  “You weren’t, Adrian. I’m sorry,” I close the door.

  God dammit, Jason. I should’ve known he wasn’t going to just stop. How could he? He’s a junkie and junkies don’t just stop. I pace my apartment trying to come up with some kind of solution. I can search the streets for him or maybe go back to Pablo’s and see if anyone has seen him. But, how would he even get back to Pablo’s over thirty miles from here? I decide on option number one.

  Grabbing my helmet and keys, I head back out. I hop back on my bike and drive aimlessly through the streets looking for him. I stop and ask people who are standing on the street corners and maneuver my bike down alleyways in hopes I may find him, but he’s nowhere to be found. I wind up in the parking lot of TKO. Why am I here? This is the last place I want to be. Fuck it! I put the kickstand down and head in. There are only about a handful of people here and most of them are occupying the cardio equipment. “Hey, Saint!” Charlie, the gym manager, greets me. “Are you here to work out?”

  “Yeah,” I say as I walk past him, not stopping to exchange pleasantries. The last thing I wanna do is pretend I give a rat’s ass about him or this fuckin’ place. All I wanna do right now is beat the s
hit out of a heavy bag.

  With anger and fury I begin pounding blindly on the first bag I come to. By the time, I come back to reality and feel any pain; blood is running down my forearms. I’ve managed to split open several of my knuckles while hitting the bag. “Jesus Christ, Saint, are you alright?” Blaine’s voice comes out of nowhere. I was in such a zone that I didn’t even notice anyone else around. “Can someone get me a towel?!” Blaine yells.

  “I’ll be fine,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “I just got some shit going on right now,” I take off my shirt and wrap my right hand with it to soak up the blood.

  “Let me see your hands,” he instructs with concern.

  Wearily, I extend them out to him, cringing as he unwraps the shirt. “Christ,” he inspects my right hand closely, “I think you may have broken something and you’re definitely going to need stitches either way. We should get you to the hospital.”

  I look down at my hands to see that my knuckles are swollen, the redness is quickly turning to a deep shade of purple, and the cuts are deep; almost to the bone.

  “I’ll be fine,” I shrug it off.

  “I’m not so sure about that,” a female voice joins our conversation.

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell him Stacy,” Blaine insists.

  “Let me take a look,” she takes Blaine’s place next to me as she raises her glasses to the top of her head. “We need to clean you up so I can see exactly how deep these cuts are. I don’t believe we’ve actually met yet,” she looks up at me.

  “No, we haven’t.”

  “I’m Stacy, one of the athletic trainers.”

  Stacy appears to be in her mid to late thirties. She stands about five feet seven and her dark brown hair is cut short. She’s very attractive and in great shape for her age.

  “Saint, and the cuts are only superficial,” I try to convince them.

  “Let’s go into the locker room so we can clean them out,” Blaine suggests, moving towards the locker room.