by K. B. Draper
Kanyon didn’t have to look up to know who had just slid onto the barstool next to her. She had sensed his presence the moment he entered the bar. Kanyon didn’t have a reason for the special connection she had with Kiyoshi “Dodge” Moran. Just like she knew who sat down, she knew why he was there. She sighed heavily. “Not interested in what you’re selling, unless you have something stronger than this beer under your coat.”
Dodge was a nickname he acquired some thirty years ago after a bar fight. Rumors were the fight had been seven against one, and though Dodge had been the “one” he had been the only one who had walked out unscathed. He had successfully “dodged” the fury of fists, bar furniture, and if you listened to all the stories, some even said bullets. Dodge could only be described as strikingly handsome with his mixed-race heritage. He received the best of what both races had to offer; the coal black hair, long eyelashes, and light mocha skin of his Japanese mother mixed with the 6’4 height, strong athletic stature, and deep blue eyes of his American father. The studio had hired Dodge, a 4th degree Dan of Goju-Ryu karate, to be the show’s martial arts and weapons expert and trainer. For the last five years, he trained and transformed Kanyon’s natural athletic abilities into the honed skills of the famed Dark Savior.
Dodge signaled the bartender to bring him what Kanyon was drinking. “So, are we drowning our problems with beer tonight?”
“Trying. But apparently, my problems come equipped with self-contained floatation devices. They’re floaty little suckers,” Kanyon said, taking a long drink of her beer.
“I see you haven’t successfully drowned your charm and quick wit either.”
“Oh no, give me another couple of beers and my wit will be the life of the party and my charm might just get up and do a drunken striptease.”
Dodge let out a soft chuckle then let a long stillness settle between them. It was Dodge who broke the silence. “So, Kanyon, are you ready to talk about what you’re doing?”
“I thought we already established that? My charm and wit are getting drunk and trying to drown my apparently overly buoyant problems.” She downed the rest of her beer and signaled for another.
He laid his hand on Kanyon’s shoulder. “Kanyon, it’s been two weeks. I don’t think this–”
Kanyon spun in her seat. “If you came here prepared to spew your infamous words of wisdom; what doesn’t kill us, get back on the horse that kicked you,” she mocked, “then SAVE IT. ‘Cause if you haven’t read the papers lately, news flash, the horse didn’t buck me off, I was drunk and fell off the fucking thing, allowing the ever-so-eager Lexi to hop right on and ride off into the sunset. Oh wait, and the uber awesome part was my boyfriend, Vance, was riding bitch!” She grabbed the new beer from the bartender before he could set it down, took several long swallows, then slammed it down on the bar.
“Well, that was a very well-delivered poor pitiful me story. Too bad they don’t hand out any of those fancy awards for solo pity party performances. Tell me, did you study a long time for this role or does it just come naturally?”
Kanyon took another chug of beer and then turned slowly back to Dodge. “Comes naturally. Oh, and screw you. Why are you even here? The Dark Savior is dead.”
Dodge picked up Kanyon’s hand. “Kanyon, I care about you. I’m your ... friend.”
“Friend?” Kanyon laughed. “I’m not really doing the friend thing right now, thanks though.” She pulled her hand away, stood, and threw down more bills than needed.
Dodge grabbed her arm, stopping her. His voice lowered to a commanding tone. “Friend or not, trainer or not, I’m still your Sensei. I expect you at my dojo tomorrow at noon and if you’re not I WILL come after you.”
Kanyon looked into Dodge’s demanding eyes. “It’s over. The Dark Savior’s gone. She’s dead,” she repeated coldly.
“Yes, but you aren’t,” he replied harshly. Kanyon jerked from his grasp and headed for the door. “I hope you’re taking a taxi home, not a horse!” Dodge yelled at her retreating back. He got a raised arm and an outstretched middle finger as a reply. Chuckling to himself, he turned to finish his beer. She’d be there. She’d be late of course, just to remind him that no one told her what to do, but she would be there.
At precisely 1:08 p.m. Kanyon dropped her equipment bag with a loud thud on the floor of Dodge’s dojo.
“Right on time,” Dodge mocked.
“I’m only here because I want to hit something.”
“Well, then get changed and I’ll meet you in the middle of the floor.” Dodge waved a hand toward the area behind him.
Changed into her traditional gi, Kanyon lowered her head in respect before stepping onto the dojo’s wooden floor. Dodge was already waiting for her. No words were spoken. They bowed then began to circle each other in their familiar dance. Kanyon moved first, attempting to land two quick strikes to Dodge’s center. He easily sidestepped and gave her an open-hand knife strike just below her ribs as she passed him. She immediately lowered her stance and retaliated with a jumping, spinning back kick. Again, he blocked, sweeping her back foot out from underneath her as soon as she landed. Kanyon hit the floor hard but got quickly back to her feet. She came at him again and again. He could tell each time he diverted her attacks her anger came boiling closer and closer to the surface. She punished herself, taking blow after blow for nearly an hour until her arms and legs finally betrayed her by refusing to help her get up after a kick to the back of her knees.
“Finished?” he asked.
“I don’t think I landed a single strike,” she said taking the hand Dodge offered.
“Your anger blinded you. It drove you and controlled you versus you controlling it and the fight in front of you. It took you away from the warrior’s calm I taught you.”
She sighed, knowing he was right. Since day one, he had taught her to completely clear her mind. There was no room for thoughts or emotions when engaged in a fight. It should only be you and your opponent. Emotions weakened and outside thoughts distracted. The only thought that should be allowed to exist in a warrior’s mind is survival. But I’m not a warrior anymore.
“Do you even know who or what you’re so angry at?” he questioned as he handed her a bottle of water.
“Everyone. Everything,” she replied curtly.
“Angry at everyone, everything. That’s an awful lot of anger to be holding on to.”
“Okay, maybe not everything. And everyone …” She thought for a second. “I still like my gardener but he doesn’t speak English and never talks to me, only smiles and nods.” She paused for another second. “I’m not mad at Betty White or the barista where I get my coffee every morning, but she did skimp on the whipped cream today sooo there’s still potential there …” She trailed off, knowing she was being ridiculous.
She looked around suddenly realizing Dodge had guided her to an area of his dojo which he reserved for meditation and enlightenment. In this case however, she believed he had more punitive reasons for the area. She sighed heavily. He was so going to use this as her adult timeout corner. She had spent a good amount of time in the area, kneeling in seiza position for hours at a time when she began her training. She’d been sent there frequently for disrespect, not paying attention, and not performing her katas, joking that they were just the Asian version of a bad line dance. Of course, this was before she realized the hidden fighting moves which flowed seamlessly from one movement to the next. Once she understood them, they became quite useful and an imperative part of her training.
Sighing again, she dropped her head in resignation. “Why?” she asked, although she could come up with a long list of reasons she should be punished.
“You need to find answers. This is a battle you can’t afford to lose. Figure out who or what is the true source of your anger. Then, and only then, can you begin to deal with it.” He gestured for her to take a position in front of the wall where candles and incense were already lit and then he turned to leave.
“Fine Mr. Mi
yagi, wax on, wax off, catch a fly with some chopsticks, blah, blah, blah,” she mumbled to herself as she pulled over a pillow.
“I heard that. No pillow. Put it back,” he called over his shoulder.
Damn. She tossed the pillow back and knelt bare kneed on the bamboo floor, resting her butt on the backs of her heels. Well, this completely sucks. The last thing she wanted to do was kneel here and think about her anger. She liked her anger. She and her anger were getting along famously. They hung out together, drank together, and slept together. Anger was like the pet her mother would never let her have as a kid. What’s a good name for anger? Humm… Fluffy? No, too sweet and would probably ask me to put a bow in its hair and carry it around in a little pink purse. Spot? Boring. Reginald? Way boring and I’d feel like I’d have to dress him in a sweater vest. I need something tougher and mean. Leather collar with spikes kind of mean, like… Titan or Maximus or ohhh… LUCIFER. Yeah, Lucifer. Lu for short.
Kanyon stopped herself with a groan. She knew she was just avoiding things again. Every time she was faced with something difficult, something real, she tended to avoid it. She was also well aware that on-screen wasn’t the only place she acted, she tended to do her best work in real- life. Her best tactic had always been to avoid and deflect with a smile and humor. Dodge was right. She was angry and she better start facing it before she got completely lost in it.
So, who or what am I angry with? She decided to start with an easy one, Vance, her whimp-ass, whore-sniffing, dishrag of an ex-boyfriend. It wasn’t like she really loved or even liked him most of the time. But really, he dumped her for that conniving, lying, role-stealing bitch, Lexi? And right after all the tabloid scandals of “why” she was killed off. The truth had been bad enough, but the tabloids completely exploited the situation and claimed everything from a near drug overdose to over the top diva behavior with abusive rants aimed at the casts and crew. Then Vance broke the news of their break up to the media, failing to mention that little fact to her first. The saga spun off into stories of drunken rages where she physically assaulted him. Of course, that’s when Vance strategically decided to shut his mouth and “no comment” all their questions. Yep, she was definitely angry with him.
Next obvious source of anger, but not such an easy one, was Lexi. She knew now that Lexi had manipulated her from the beginning. Lexi befriended her under the guise of getting to know each other for the show’s sake. Then for her sake she wanted Kanyon to show her around and help her get to know people. Kanyon broke into the business at a young age with the famous last name of her mother, so she hadn’t experienced the same struggles making a name for herself like most actresses. She knew that was a difficult and sometimes impossible task. Kanyon usually liked people better at a distance but Lexi worked herself into Kanyon’s life and Kanyon had let her, which was rare. She’d begun to believe that Lexi … No, she didn’t want to go there again. She felt stupid for letting someone use and manipulate her. She knew this business. She knew there were cold, callous, cut-throat people everywhere. Her mother warned her from childhood to not trust anyone. But she hadn’t listened to her mother’s advice, hadn’t done the typical smile at a distance thing, because she thought … Well, she hadn’t thought, she had simply let it happen.
The anger felt good so she searched for another source and quickly found it; her father. If you could call an unknown, faceless man a father. He’d never been a part of her life. She didn’t know anything about him, she had never met him, and her mother refused to speak his name, if she even knew it. For years, she watched the movies her mother starred in around the time she would’ve been conceived. At that time, her mother was at the peak of her career so it was very likely that one of the leading men was her father. She looked for her black hair and blue eyes. There were a few possibilities, but her mother refused to confirm or deny.
This brought another source of anger; her mother, the famous or to Kanyon, infamous, Katherine McKane. Her mother was, well she was just … too much. Too much of everything. Kanyon was the complete opposite of her mother, the legendary actress of the big screen. Where Kanyon was usually reserved, her mother was vivacious. Where Kanyon was uncomfortable in the limelight, Katherine lived for it. Kanyon had always been comfortable in or out of a relationship, but Katherine always had a man in her life. Though Kanyon had been told repeatedly she was beautiful, she thought she paled in comparison to her blonde-haired mother with her pale blue eyes and her classic womanly figure. Even now, her mother still radiated a surreal beauty.
She knew her mother loved her, but ever since she’d been killed off, her mother was either chastising her for the embarrassment or nagging her to find another role, maybe something softer this time. Katherine never really liked, well except for the residual fame she received from it, that Kanyon had played a tough, self-sufficient warrior who didn’t need a man to rescue her. Kanyon felt her mother was still trying to direct her career. Katherine had accepted, on Kanyon’s behalf, every cutesy, sappy, girly role that was offered. That was probably why she loved playing the Dark Savior so much. She wanted to be the self-created hero, a strong powerful warrior with a mission and purpose in life, someone in charge of her own fate.
She scoffed inwardly. Crap. There it was. Sure, she was irritated with a few people in her life, but the only real anger she had was directed at herself. Playing the Dark Savior had been important to her, not because of the fame, she had too much of that for her liking already, but because it let her be someone she wasn’t allowed to be in real-life. Not that she wanted to be a real-life hero, yielding swords and protecting people from the mean streets of Hollywood, but she simply wanted to be in control of her own life, her own fate. She wanted to live a life she created, not one driven by an image, the media, her mother, her agent, her fans, the paparazzi, or anyone else. But she had given it all away. She let Lexi cloud her judgment. She became someone she never wanted to be and though Lexi was out of her life, what really irritated her was that she continued to be that person.
She took in a slow deep breath and opened her eyes, the first movement she had made in nearly an hour. Okay, so the first step is to realize you have a problem … done. So, Captain-of-your-own-fate, now what? She slowly uncurled her legs and stretched them out. Owww. Owww. Owww. Holy crap, I’m paralyzed. She looked toward the ceiling. “When I decided to take control of my life, I didn’t mean via the joystick of my wheelchair. Holy Christ,” she cried as she attempted to rub the feeling back into her legs.
Chapter 3
Three months later, Kanyon knocked as she entered her mother’s house. “Mom. I’m here. Where are you?” Kanyon yelled from the foyer. She had long ago learned to announce herself as she entered and to never ever go looking because you just might find her in the kitchen wearing nothing more than whipped cream lingerie and a twenty-something pool boy.
“I’m in the kitchen.”
“Are you dressed?” She paused for a second then added, “In actual clothes made of some kind of non-edible material?”
“Yes! Geeez, Kanyon. That whipped cream thing was years ago,” she retorted. “And only for a brief second last Saturday,” she said in a stage whisper to the other occupants of the kitchen. “I think it’s time you get over it,” finishing out loud as her daughter entered the room.
“That’s what my therapist says too,” Kanyon replied sarcastically before she noticed it wasn’t just her mother in the room.
Dodge was sitting at the table with his head down, holding his hands over his ears, and shaking his head slowly from side to side. He was chanting something indistinguishable. Kanyon was pretty sure it was a prayer asking Buddha or some other Godly entity to cast out the visual demons. She should probably ask him to teach her that prayer sometime.
Kanyon glanced around and saw her agent, Rosilyn L. Robbins, Roz, as she called her. Roz was standing next to her mother, staring at Katherine through a narrowed gaze and gritted teeth. Since Roz’s lips were moving, but no words were actually coming
out, Kanyon figured Roz was muttering a chant of her own. Knowing Roz, her chant went something more like, “Ewww, woman, I should pop you on the back of that loose-fitting, white head of yours.”
Taking a second visual drive-by at the selected attendees, Kanyon couldn’t figure out what exactly would cause them all to come together, but whatever it was, it was so not going to be good. Every time Dodge and her mother were in the same space for more than a few minutes it inevitably ended with one of them leaving in a huff. Kanyon assumed Katherine had thrown herself at Dodge and apparently Dodge, being the only man on earth that possessed Katherine kryptonite, had turned her down. She remembered one time walking in just as her mother was storming out, throwing petty insults about Dodge’s manhood over her shoulder.
But this was nothing compared to Roz and Katherine’s relationship, which was a pure mutual distaste for one another. Her mother, after Roz replaced her as Kanyon’s manager, had disliked Roz instantly and it only took Roz about thirty seconds to return the feeling. Then to add insult to injury, Katherine quickly realized her … charm, which was only slightly less potent on women, had absolutely no effect on Roz. Roz simply didn’t have any tolerance or respect for someone that chose to use their physical attributes over their mental ones. Kanyon had never been brave enough to tell Roz that, yes, her mother used her physical attributes successfully, but she was also one of the smartest and hardest working women she knew.
Roz was a powerful African American woman with a sharp business sense and an even sharper tongue. Roz stood six inches shorter than Kanyon and Katherine’s height of 5’11 and some would say she was thirty pounds overweight if measured in Hollywood standards. Roz was beautiful in her own right. She had light creamy brown eyes which stood out against her dark skin. Combined with her strong and unwavering work ethic, Kanyon found her no less stunning than her mother.
