Close-up: Take 1 of the Kanyon and Daylen Series

by K. B. Draper

  Kanyon groaned, then pulled her pillow over her head.

  Her mother promptly walked over, yanked the pillow from her grip, and struck her with it. “Geez, Mom.”

  “Well, get your lazy butt out of bed. I thought we talked about this.” Katherine gasped when she caught sight of her daughter’s bruised and cut face. “My God, Kanyon! What happened to you?”

  Crap. “I’m fine, Mom.” She tried to slap at her mother’s hands which were running all over her face. “Mom, stop.”

  “You don’t look fine. My baby’s beautiful face.”

  “Your baby’s face is fine.” Kanyon threw off the sheets, spun out of her mother’s grasp and the bed, and headed to the bathroom.

  “Kanyon, why do you have yellow feathers in your bed? And why do you smell like a 1980’s department store fragrance counter?”

  “I had a one night stand with an aging stripper.” Kanyon yelled from the bathroom. “The cuts and bruises are from us falling off the stripper pole.”

  “Oh Kanyon, be serious.”

  “Fine. There were two strippers.”

  “Kanyon.”

  “It’s nothing. I’m fine. I just … fell.” Kanyon said as she came out of the bathroom.

  Katherine gave her well-practiced, motherly I-know-you-are-lying stare. “We’re going shopping.”

  “But I don’t want to go shopping. I don’t need anything.”

  Katherine stood. “You have two options.” She held up a well-manicured index finger. “One, you can go shopping and we can have meaningless yet blissful conversations about clothes and accessories all day.” She lifted her middle finger adding it to the first. “Or two, we can stay here and you can explain to me how you really got those bruises, and then we can spend the rest of the day trying to figure out how it’s possible that I, being such a wonderful, sophisticated, and beautiful mother, birthed such a difficult, smart-mouthed child.”

  “So.” Kanyon held up a mocking, not-so-well manicured index finger. “One, death by retail torture?” She added her middle finger. “Or two, death by verbal torture?”

  Katherine twirled a feather in her fingers. “Your choice.”

  Kanyon sighed heavily. “Fine. Just let me take a shower.”

  “And use some of that concealer I bought you.” Katherine paused, then added because she knew her daughter all to well, “On your face. We don’t want people thinking you’re abused,” Katherine yelled after her.

  “That crap was for my face? I thought it was putty to fill nail holes?”

  They returned home after dark, loaded down with bags of face creams she’d never use, clothes she’d never wear, and girlie underwear which would never see the light of day or dark of night. All of which would join the other items in her “never going to happen” wardrobe in the back of her closet where she kept items from shopping trips with her mother.

  “See, that wasn’t too bad, was it?” Katherine asked as she pulled out a dress and held it up in front of Kanyon.

  “It ranked somewhere between a root canal and a pap smear.”

  “Whatever. Now tell me what happened to your face and why you were on the big TV at that fighting thing.”

  “Ah, I thought I didn’t have to explain anything if I went through the 7th ring of retail hell with you today.”

  “I lied,” Katherine replied flatly, holding out another outfit and squinting as she pictured Kanyon in it. “I think this one would look much better on me,” she said to herself as she added it to her pile.

  “You lied?” Kanyon faked shock. “But you’re my mother. You’re supposed to be my moral compass, pointing me to true and ethical north; my positive role model teaching me right from wrong; an example of purity and high moral standards unto which I strive each day to mimic in my own life.”

  “Pleassse.” Katherine rolled her eyes. “And you’re my daughter. You’re supposed to like shopping, go gaga over Kate Spade handbags, and have just one thing in your closet that’s pink. We’re both dealing with disappointment. Now make me a drink and tell me why your face looks like you’re dating a rapper.”

  Kanyon brought her mother a drink and dropped down on the couch while still putting together the final details to a believable, but completely untrue, explanation for her cuts and bruises versus the completely unbelievable, yet true explanation.

  “I almost forgot,” Katherine said, turning to grab her purse. “I found this god-awful thing in my closet this morning,” she said as she dug through her purse. “It was the weirdest thing. I don’t know how it got there ‘cause I could’ve sworn I threw it away. Anyway,” she felt around the bottom of her bag, “I remember you throwing the biggest brat fit over it.” She pulled her hand out of her purse. “Here it is.” She dropped what she was clutching into Kanyon’s hand. “I thought you might want it, though God only knows why you would.”

  Kanyon stared down in disbelief. “It’s my … my Quick Draw McGraw watch.”

  Chapter 10

  The next morning Kanyon walked into Dodge’s dojo with a new purpose. She knew there were classes every day, but she couldn’t remember exactly what time, so she figured she’d just workout until he was available.

  Dodge was teaching a young group of men and women when Kanyon arrived, but it didn’t stop him from catching a glimpse of her battered and bruised face as she moved quickly and quietly down the open hall to the practice room. Her efforts were fruitless since she was a walking, talking distraction no matter how she tried to avoid it. He reprimanded his students sharply at their loss of focus, but he too had nearly broken his own stern rules by walking off the floor, in mid-kata, at the sight of her injuries. He refrained however, but did shorten the lesson, letting one of his black belt students take the rest of the class through their cool down routine.

  He found her beating the hide off one of the punching bags. “Glad that bag doesn’t have a pulse or we’d be disposing of a body and looking for a good defense attorney.”

  Kanyon stopped her physical assault and turned to him. “Real quick, I should probably tell you–”

  “Why your mother thinks I run a sadistic house of torture? I believe that’s what she called it. But it’s hard to know for sure, the message kind of got lost between her cussing, hitting, and telling me a few hundred things I could do to myself, none of which I think are physically possible even with my flexibility.”

  “Okay good.” She took a half-hearted swing at the punching bag. “You’re up to date on that little issue. Now I want to–”

  He held up a hand. “Now you want to explain why my dojo and I were the focus of her little rant.” When she rolled her eyes heavenward, he knew she was going to lead this battle with a verbal evade technique. “Now,” he reiterated, cutting off the option.

  She huffed loudly. “Fine. Okay, so maybe she kind of, ummm, left my house yesterday under the misunderstanding that I received these,” she waved a hand over her face, “beauty marks during a vigorous training session,” she punched again at the bag and then mumbled, “in your little sadistic house of torture.”

  “I see. And how did she come to this unfortunate misunderstanding?”

  “Well, she might have read in to a comment I made.” She took another strike at the bag.

  Dodge walked over to Kanyon, lifted her elbow, tweaked her wrist slightly, and then simulated a proper strike. “And what comment was that exactly?”

  “I received these beauty marks from a vigorous training session at Dodge’s dojo,” Kanyon admitted. “But I, in no way, said sadistic house of torture. That was totally her.” She struck the bag as Dodge demonstrated.

  He nodded approval for her improved technique. “Well then, I have no idea how she jumped to such an illogical conclusion.”

  “I know, right? Between you and me, I kind of think the elevator isn’t hitting the top floor anymore. One card short of a full deck.” Kanyon made circles at her temples. “C to the razy, if you know what I’m saying.”

  Dodge moved behind the b
ag to hold it in place. “Do you want to tell me what really happened?”

  “Not really.” Kanyon got into a fighting stance.

  “Do it anyway.” Dodge leaned his shoulder into the bag and braced his feet.

  Kanyon straightened out of her stance. “Why do you even ask then? Why don’t you just say ‘Tell me what happened’ if I really don’t have a choice in the matter.”

  “Tell me what happened,” Dodge said flatly. “And demonstrate ten perfect strikes.”

  She lowered her stance, delivered ten strikes to the bag, and then stood again. “See? Much better. Clear communication, no disillusions that I have a real choice, like a true dictatorship.” She eyed him warily. “Are you a comm–”

  “Kanyon.”

  “Fine.” Kanyon walked over to the wall and sat on the floor next to her bottle of water and towel. She took a drink and wiped her face free of the sweat she’d already worked up. “Let’s start with, getting hit in the face really sucks, so we need to talk about my training.” She continued when Dodge didn’t respond. “I mean, I think you did a fair enough job.”

  “Fair enough job?” he retorted, curious where this conversation was going. Dodge had grown use to Kanyon’s active avoidance, so he lowered himself to sit in front of her, knowing this would take a while.

  “But I feel like it might have been a little soft.”

  “Soft?” he repeated.

  “Okay, maybe not soft. I held my own. Well, actually, I kicked some serious ass in the end, but I really have never been hit before.”

  “I feel like you may have skipped some essential details. Why don’t you back up to sometime after you received inadequate training and move to the point where you kicked some serious ass.”

  “Right. Daylen’s got this whole family P.I. gig she’s doing now and I kind of got involved … accidently.”

  “Accidently?” He scoffed.

  “Annnyway, she got her car stolen by a hairy, sweaty chia pet with a gambling problem and I wanted to help her get it back so we found out where the guy was going to be and talked to him. All was going okay,” minus the small riot, “until we ran into a steroid-enhanced, debt collection gang with some serious anger issues. They just so happened to be after the same hairy chia pet, collecting on a bad bet. Anyway … we had an unfortunate encounter with them. They got a few licks in, hence the new facial enhancements.” She waved a hand over her face again. “I mean, they only got them in because one of them was holding Daylen by the throat and they wanted to play a really screwed up version of red light, green light with me.”

  “Red light? Green light?”

  “Yeah, you know … Don’t move. Move. Don’t move.” She incorporated hand signals into her explanation. “If I moved, they choked Daylen. And, well …” She pointed to her face again.

  Kanyon replayed the scene over in her mind like she had a hundred times the night before. Each time she came up with the same conclusion; sure, she’d kicked the guys’ asses in the end, but only because they had time restraints. She’d been completely helpless when Daylen was held captive. She shook the images from her head.

  Dodge watched as Kanyon drifted in and out of her own thoughts. He hadn’t quite followed Kanyon’s rushed story, but he clearly recognized the passion and frustration in Kanyon’s eyes. More so, he understood the need to fight and protect, only to be defeated by the feeling of helplessness. “Why are you here?”

  “A couple reasons: I was going to warn you about my mother, but obviously, I’m too late. Sorry about that by the way.” Dodge gave her a slight bow in forgiveness. “And I want to ask if we can train harder? Not just pretty, movie set pity-pat fighting. I want to know,” determination flared in her eyes, “if you’ll train me to be a real fighter, a true warrior?” A Guardian.

  Dodge was intrigued by the new vigor he saw in his student’s eyes. For months, he’d watched Kanyon just go through the motions of life with no real direction or purpose, but when she spoke of Daylen, there was inspiration. He thought maybe he understood the cause of this new drive and he was excited to see Kanyon want to work for something, anything, again. So, if training her harder, in a more traditional manner, would get her back amongst the living, then he was more than willing to do so. He stood and stretched out a hand to Kanyon.

  When they were eye to eye she asked, “Will you train me? Really train me?”

  He tightened his gaze. “Two conditions.”

  Kanyon sighed. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to convince him that easily. “What?”

  “No Mr. Miyagi references,” Kanyon opened her mouth, but Dodge cut her off, “from any of the movies.”

  “Fine.” She sighed elaborately. “What’s the second unreasonable and un-fun condition?”

  “You will do what I say, when I say it, without questions or complaints. If you question my methods or complain about the training, the training ceases.” He challenged her with a glare, testing her conviction.

  Kanyon met his challenge with a respectful bow. He grinned his approval, but wiped it from his lips before she raised her head.

  “Good.” He pointed to the punching bag. “Five hundred front, side, crescent, and back kicks, each leg. Then five hundred, jabs, hooks, and upper cuts, each hand. Then go home and I will see you back here at five a.m.”

  “Five a.m.?” Kanyon whined.

  “Problem with five a.m.?” Dodge quirked an eyebrow, daring her to test him already.

  “No, just wondering why so late? You’re the boss. I’m not questioning or complaining.”

  “Oh, well in that case, see you at four thirty.” Dodge grinned at her dropped jaw.

  She closed her mouth and forced a smile. “Four thirty it is.”

  “Good, now get to kicking,” he instructed before leaving the room.

  “Geez. Why couldn’t I have gotten a guy that just wants me to paint a fence or wax a car?” she mumbled as she began to kick the bag.

  It had been a week, five days, and twelve hours since she crawled into the taxi outside Kanyon’s house. She looked at the digital clock and watched as the minutes changed from nineteen to twenty. And twenty minutes. Not that she was counting. She was sitting at her desk trying to proof read a report she had written, but the words blurred together and she gave up. What would it hurt if she just called to check on Kanyon? Make sure she was doing okay and see if her injuries healed up; just an innocent check in and nothing more? She pulled her cell phone out of her pocket. It didn’t have to lead to the whole Guardian soul mate thing, just a casual “I wanted to see if you were doing okay? I’m thinking about you.” Thinking about you standing in front of me, thinking about looking into your eyes, thinking about you holding me … She trembled with desire. Okay, not a good idea. She put her phone back into her pocket.

  “You should call her,” her aunt suggested from the doorway.

  Daylen dropped her forehead to the desk. “I can’t.”

  Ruby moved to sit on the corner of Daylen’s desk. “Why? Did you suddenly become deaf, mute, or are your hands paralyzed? No, that can’t be it since you heard me, spoke to me, and by the little rude finger gesture you’re giving me right now, I know you still have the use of at least your middle finger.”

  Daylen dropped the rude finger gesture back on the desk. “Aunt Ruby, you don’t understand. I just can’t.”

  “I understand you’re hurting right now, I understand this has to do with your feelings for Kanyon, and I understand you’ve been moping around for two weeks.”

  “One week, five days, twelve hours, and …” she raised her head to look at the clock, “twenty-one minutes.” She whimpered then dropped her head back down on her desk.

  “I understand you’re being a hardheaded dodo bird. I understand it’s Friday night and you’re sitting here with your aunt instead of being with your–”

  “Stop.” Daylen lifted her head. “Don’t even say it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because.”

  “Daylen,
avoiding it doesn’t make it untrue. Kanyon is your Guardian and your soul mate. You need to let her into your life and begin accepting and enjoying your fate.” She added a little suggestive eyebrow wiggle.

  “Please don’t ever do that again.” Daylen gave her a hardened stare, but didn’t have the energy to sustain it. “Aunt Ruby, I can’t let her in my life. She was hurt when I let her into this world, not to mention the damage the media did. I refuse to let that happen again.” Flashes of Kanyon being struck to the ground and then kicked fueled her defenses again. “No one asked me about this whole Guardian thing. I didn’t ask for a Guardian, I don’t need a Guardian, and I won’t let Kanyon be my Guardian. I can handle this whole fated Seeker gig. I’m fine by myself.”

  “Daylen,” Ruby said, reaching out to her niece.

  “No, Aunt Ruby.” She stood, avoiding her aunt’s touch and firmed her convictions. “My decision is final. No Guardian, period. So just drop it, okay?”

  “Fine.” Ruby raised her hands in defeat. “No Guardian.”

  Daylen eyed her aunt suspiciously, then glanced to see if her fingers were crossed. “Good, okay then. I’ll see you Monday.”

  Still sore from her four thirty a.m. workout, Kanyon sat waiting in Ruby’s office rolling her neck from side to side trying to stretch out a kink from getting tossed around unmercifully by Dodge. The last two and a half weeks of training had been brutal. Her body was slowly adjusting, or at least it was finally allowing her to walk somewhat upright as opposed to her hunched over stance after the first few days.

  “I want a job,” Kanyon blurted out as soon as Ruby entered her office.

  Taken off guard, Ruby jumped a little, her coffee sloshing over the rim of her cup. “Well, good morning to you too, Kanyon. This is quite the early, before I’ve even had my coffee, surprise.” Ruby sat her mug on her desk while she grabbed a tissue to wipe the burning coffee off her hand.

  “Sorry. Good morning. I want a job,” Kanyon proclaimed, placing her hands on the edge of Ruby’s desk and leaning in to meet Ruby at eye level.