by K. S. Adkins
Say what you will, but Max runs one hell of a show. Yes, Kharma is the attraction, but his setup is genius. Everything is industrial quality. It gives it an edge in appearance but holds up under fire. Fire meaning fighting, because the second Venessa changes the track Macy grabs my hand and is practically jumping up and down. Looking up at Max I whisper in his ear, “I need to hit the pit.” Without a word he uses his finger to open my mouth then leans in and sticks his tongue in it. Okay so that was new. Yum.
When we part he smacks my ass and I give him a wink in return. The next several minutes are spent in the pit brawling. I need to blow off steam like everyone else, so a mosh pit works just fine. When Venessa throws on Battlecross, Macy and I look at each and start kicking ass. Sweaty, beat-up, and energized, we head to the bathroom but have to wait in line for it. Finger waving at Venessa, I realize how much I missed my friends. I missed this; I’ve missed so much.
Macy elbows me and points to the two women ahead of us; I was so distracted by my thoughts that I didn’t realize they were talking about me. Or Max.
“I thought he was gay,” says bitch muff.
“What a waste. Did you see that ginger he was all over? She looks like a total dyke,” says skank badge bending over to give the rest of us a view of her crooked skank stamp. Gross. Though all she said was gay and dyke it was the way she said it that had me wanting to react, violently. I do not now or in the past stand for mean people. Even if that means being mean back. Eye for an eye and all that.
“Oh shit,” says Macy. You know what? People call me Red for a reason.
Taking a step forward, Macy says, “A word of advice.” I nod, smiling. “I really like your shirt; blood is a bitch to get out.”
“Noted,” I say, moving from around Macy to stand in front of the two bitches who are about to learn a lesson about gossip. And it’s that I don’t fucking like it.
Kicking Number One in the back of the knees she buckles, going down with a shriek. Number Two turns, and when her eyes go wide but before she can move, I bitch slap her with the back of my hand. I haven’t been in a girl fight since ninth grade, and this is going to be hilarious.
“Get up,” I order Number One. When she tries crab-walking backwards Macy stands behind her, blocking her from going any further.
“You deaf, bitch? She said get up.” The troll doesn’t know what to do so she keeps looking around for help. Yeah, none is coming. Instead all the girls waiting to hit the head form a circle. Yeah, ninth grade all over again.
“You,” I say looking at Number Two. “You never leave a woman behind. Help her up.” Shaking her head no disappoints me. I look to the ceiling for patience. Does anyone have any honor anymore?
Instead of playing this game I pull the bitch up myself. Then when I put her against a wall I bring Number Two in to join the fun. When Venessa walks up and stands next to me she bumps my shoulder and says, “Uh oh. You gonna fuck shit up, Red?”
“Thinking about it,” I say. “Doesn’t seem fair, though. I mean, look how big they are next to me. That one,” I say pointing to Number One, “talked shit about my husband. That one”—I snap my head to Number Two— “Called me a dyke and she said it all cunty.”
When several women from the circle start pushing their way through, I can tell these two idiots are getting a whole lot more than the backs of my hands tonight.
“I don’t have a problem with dykes!” screeches Number Two.
“No? What exactly does a dyke look like? School me and be very careful on what you say and how you say it.”
I hear cheers like fuck that bitch up, stick a dildo up her ass, and my favorite, something’s fishy in here.
“I don’t know! I was just—”
“Talking shit,” I say, slapping her again. “I know. Guess what, bitch? I’m only going to fuck you up a little bit; then I’m leaving you for her. Maybe in the future you’ll consider the feelings of those around you before slinging insults. But then again you’re a cunt so maybe you won’t.”
Nodding my head to the left I see a rather glorious woman, likely a lesbian, itching for a turn. I can’t stand people who talk shit like that. There was a time I was almost positive Bishop was gay, but he never admitted it, so I let it go. I told him I supported him either way because I love him for who he is, period. He told me to fuck off, and that was that. I imagine in our line of work being attracted to the opposite sex was difficult, and that bummed me out. The military may have made strides in some areas but they haven’t caught up in others. I remember in the beginning at basic I didn’t fit in right away, kept myself apart. I was called every slur there was because no one man or woman could bother to take the time to get to know me. Because I didn’t wear dresses or makeup and liked hanging with the guys instead of the girls when we were on break, of course I was a “dyke.” I knocked out a lot of people for saying that for no other reason than it was cruel in its context. Dyke isn’t a bad word, it’s when it’s said in prejudice that its meaning hurts. I wasn’t even a lesbian, and it hurt me. A lot of women who serve are, and do not deserve that shit. Respect is respect. People are people. If I hear it, I react to it, simple.
“You,” I say, getting in Number One’s face again. “You still want to talk shit about my husband? Got anything else you want to say while I’m standing here?” She’s shaking and staying mute.
“Wait,” says Venessa, standing next to me clearly on break and not wanting to miss the big show. “She said shit about Max?” When I nod, she whistles “Oh, bitch, you are in for one hell of a ride, yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say, smiling. When she tries to push me away I give her one solid upper cut straight to her jaw. When she goes down like a sack of potatoes, Number Two starts screaming for help. Rolling my eyes I look at the crowd and ask them all at once, “The fuck is this world coming to?” Walking up to the glorious one I ask her, “What’s your name, doll?”
“Beth,” she says, smiling at me.
“So, Beth, you want hold her while I teach her a lesson, or vice versa?”
Jumping in Macy offers, “Maybe you two should take turns?”
Laughing I look back at Beth while Number Two bawls. “Your call, Beth,” I offer.
“She insulted your man, you go first. If shit gets outta hand I got your back.”
“You’re my kind of woman, Beth.”
She lets her go and the girl is all but pissing herself, begging, pleading, and apologizing. Like I give a shit. Needing to pee as well I put the girl out of her misery, at least from me. I give her a straight shot to the eye. With an oomph she stumbles into Beth, who along with three of her glorious friends gets ahold of her. None of them are actually getting physical with her, just tossing her around a bit, and it’s awesome. Venessa and Macy both shoulder bump me while I leave some advice with both women.
“Watch your fucking mouths,” I advise them both while Beth’s friends pick up Number One. “You’re in my husband’s place. You give him your respect, and if you have nothing polite to say about another human, keep your fucking mouth closed. Beth and company here are about to share some knowledge with you. Take it away, doll.”
When Venessa and Macy flank me, Beth walks up, giving me a hug. “Married, hey?” she asks.
“Happily.” I tell her beaming.
“It’s a shame you ain’t into women, gorgeous,” she says.
“You got a cock?”
“Not one attached to a man, no,” she says, laughing.
“Then it wasn’t mean to be.”
“We’ll only hurt these two a little bit,”
“Don’t hold back on my account,” I tell her. “I’d stick around, but I have to pee.”
“You’ve had training, I can see it.”
“Army.”
“Air Force,” she tells, me slapping me on the ass. “Get back to your man, Army.”
“Fuck it up, Air Force.” I say returning the favor and slapping her ass.
My girls each take an arm while we pass th
e screaming crowd of banshees so we can pee and laugh our fucking asses off. It was just like old times, and it felt really good. Had I known my husband was watching all this go down from his office with a stiffy, I’d have put on more of a show. Oh well, there’s always next time.
“They trained you to fight?”
“They train me to do everything,” she says, laughing. “Would you care for a demonstration?”
“Ah, no,” I laugh as well. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I learned how to fight when I was in second grade; they just made me better at it. A lot better at it.”
With my jaw open and my palm rubbing the chubby in my jeans, I stare at the screen watching my wife. This almost shocks me more than the other shit I’ve seen, because she was having fun. She could have really hurt them too, but she didn’t. With her training I expected her to do more damage, but knowing my wife, she didn’t, because she knew they couldn’t defend themselves. The other chicks in the circle had no problem taking over, and at that point I turned away and decided to let security handle it. I wanted to finish in here so I could take her home and finish her there.
Clearing his throat after watching the monitor I look over to see Rafe as awed as I was. “There’s girl power, then there’s those three,” he says. “Although if the fourth ever shows, Detroit won’t know what hit it.”
“I think it’s only fair to say yours was the cheerleader in this one.”
Laughing and taking a seat he says, “She usually is.”
“In a fight, who would you pick?”
“To win?” he asks. “Or most likely to offer anal?”
“To win,” I say rolling my eyes. “Who?”
“It never leaves this office,” he says, and I nod in agreement. “Jules, all day.”
“Why not Venessa?”
“Venessa can fight, we know that, but she fights from a dark place. Jules don’t. She’s five moves ahead of you, she toys with you and shit. Take a street kid and give her years of training. Man, not many could fuck with her.”
“She’s not a street kid,” I growl.
“She is a street kid. Ain’t nothing wrong with that, so chill the fuck out. It wasn’t an insult, dick.”
When I stay quiet he keeps going. “Well, that part was, calling you a dick. You caught that, right?”
“I caught it,” I tell him. “What brings you back here?”
“She tell you a uniform was responsible for the attack?”
“She did.”
“She tell you she’s looking into your old man?”
“She did.”
“She tell you if she’s staying or leaving when this is over?”
“If she goes, I go with her,” I explain, shrugging. “If she stays, then we make a life here. Either way, I’m happy.”
“Yeah, I bet,” he says, standing up. “How’s it feeling her going up against your old man though? Gonna have to choose, you know. Jules says he’s dirty, then he’s dirty, but he’s your old man. Tough choice.”
“There is no choice.”
“There fucking is when it’s your wife’s life on the line here.”
“I choose my wife. Every time. Therefore, there is no choice. Because she’s it, period.”
“Good answer, Max,” he says. “Glad to fucking hear it.”
Once he leaves I roll back in my chair, grab the joystick, and search out my wife in the bar. Seeing her talk, laugh, dance, and let go for once it pleases me that it’s happening here, in my place. Until she came back I told myself I was getting by, that I had some happiness, but that was all bullshit. That women out there having fun is my happiness, and it’s time I got back to it.
“Let me buy you a diamond,” he pleads with me. “I want the world to know that you’re taken.”
“I love my band,” I tell him, twisting it around. “I know I’m taken, so screw the world.”
“You said screw,” he says, tagging me around the waist. “My mind has one track, Blue: you.”
Slowly undressing for him, I toss each piece of my uniform in his direction. “Thank fuck camo hides that body,” he says, growling. “I don’t want anyone else seeing what’s mine.”
“Come and get what’s yours, then.”
He did.
Twice.
Venessa is back up there doing what she does best, driving the crowd crazy. Rogan is behind her keeping an eye, and I even catch him tapping his foot a few times. When she turns to smile at him his face lights up. He doesn’t exactly give her a smile back; it’s the way his whole face changes for her. You’d have to know him to see it, otherwise he’s just fucking scary but, it’s there. Those two love each other with ferocity. My friend met her match, and I couldn’t be happier for her.
Rafe has him arm around Macy and even though it’s too loud to talk in here, when you have what those two do, you don’t need the words. My heart fills up for all of them; my friends found happiness. All these years we kept in touch, I never mentioned Max to them, and looking back on it I’m ashamed of myself. He is something to be proud of, not to keep hidden. But when we married I was so young I didn’t think they would understand why I couldn’t be without him. Over time it became habit. He was my best secret.
My pocket buzzes and when I grab it I see that it’s Bishop. Excusing myself I point to my phone and head out the back exit to talk where I can hear him. Heading out the back door I keep it wedged open so I can get back in.
“Yo,” I tell him.
“Words out,” he says. “Duffy’s coming, and if you don’t play this shit right you ain’t got a job.”
“Fuck,” I say. “How much time do I have?”
“Days, tops,” he says. “I tried to hold them off, but the guys are pissed they weren’t invited. I tried to tell them it’s because I’m your favorite but, Duffy did some digging to see why you wanted to head back to the place you ran from and found out about Max. He’s coming in hot, Boss.”
“Outside of Duffy and the guys does anyone else know?”
“Duffy got in my shit about it,” he says. “Pissed we went solo, that you’re doing something personal without him. Found out I was injured and took over. Don’t know if he spread the word, but I do know he’s gearing up for war, so I hope you’re fucking ready to handle him, cuz he wants you back here where you’re safe.”
“Thanks for the heads up,” I say. “How are you feeling?”
“If I could get cleared I’d fucking be there, right up front and shit.”
“I know. Thanks, Bishop.”
“Watch that back, Boss,” he says disconnecting.
Closing my eyes, I lean back against the brick wall, planning my next move. If I can’t get this done before the team arrives it’s going to spin out of control, and any protection I can offer Max is out the fucking window. The evidence is stacked against him, but until I get Hank to play his hand, I’m fucked. “Shit,” I say to myself. “I just need more time.”
“Time’s up.” I hear. Then like someone flipped the lights on pain rocketed upside my head and all I saw were stars. Thrown off balance, I can’t get up fast enough. Just like that, he’s on me. Picking me up like I weigh nothing, I’m thrown back into the wall, and all the air leaves me.
Holding me up by my throat, the uniform issues his threat. “Being paid to kill you,” he says with his thumb on my windpipe. “I’d rather not, but I got orders. Get the fuck back to where you came from or I’ll kill him first then pick your friends off one by one. You can’t win this; odds are against you. This is bigger than you and you know it. Cut your losses, or next time I cut your throat. Remember, I got orders. It’s you or me.”
When he releases me, I go down to my knees hard. I try to get up, but I can’t. Trying to get my head in the game to follow is useless, because he’s already gone. Getting up on shaky legs, I lamely attempt to dust myself off and wait for round two when Max, followed by Rafe, comes flying out the back door.
When my eyes focus I see Max standing there l
ooking like a gladiator with that .40 in his hand. He’s ready for battle, except the fight just left. Taking my first deep breath, I had to ask myself, was he ready for this?
“Blue,” he says, looking me over and touching me everywhere. “Where does it hurt?”
“My head a little,” I whisper. “I’m okay, Max.”
“I wasn’t fast enough.” He growls, pulling me to him.
“Neither was I,” I whisper into his chest, wondering what in the fuck I’d gotten him into, and why the uniform didn’t kill me when he had the chance, twice.
“Clear,” says Rafe. “Let’s get her back inside.”
So with a man on either side, I walk back in while the uniform’s threat bounces around my aching head. He would kill Max, then the others, and I simply will not allow that. After tonight, I have a lot of things to think about. At the top of that list is how close I allow myself to get with my husband. Deep down I feel the closer I get, the more danger he’s in, and in that moment I decide I will give him every tool at my disposal. In the event I am not able to protect him, he can protect himself.
After he puts me to bed with an ice pack on my head and a hand full of ibuprofen, my sleep is fitful at best. My memories of our time together caused a real pain in my heart. One memory in particular causes me to wake up holding my stomach.
He was buried deep inside of me. Touching every inch of my exposed skin, kissing my earlobe even as he whispered into it. He promised me that one day we would have the family we always wanted, the house full of kids that caused trouble but we loved beyond reason. We promised each other we would give them unconditional love and support. Max would mold his sons into honorable men, and I would teach our daughters to be confident and demand respect. The two of us wanted to give them what we never had. Stability, safety, and freedom.
