by Wyatt, Dani
With hair the color of shadowed bronze and brown eyes dappled with gold flecks, he made sure she was never far away. At least until six months ago.
She was here, now — somewhere inside this stinking icon of testosterone-dripping warrior training. There was no mistaking that he could feel her presence inside this unholy place where they spent the afternoons and weekends of their childhood.
While they worked, other kids were out riding bikes, getting candy from the corner store and sharpening sticks on the sidewalk for some battle that never seemed to come.
No, Cameron and Asher and Victoria were raised humping mats that weighed more than the three of them combined. Picking up dirty towels, sponging down mats covered with sweat and blood and who knows what else, and learning the intricate and beautiful dance of the fight.
“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son. Welcome back.” Roger came around the corner, leaned on his cane every other step and Cameron felt his chest tightening.
“Heya. Thanks.” Cameron looked at the same eyes that inhabited her face, having to shake away the eerie similarities of father and daughter.
“Where’d you go? You fighting somewhere? You didn’t go back to the big-house did ya? Mess up some cop’s daughter or somethin’?” Roger let out a roaring laugh.
Even sober he talked like a drunk. He wasn’t much better than Larry, but at least he knew his lips turned upward every once in a while.
“Naw. I just traveled around. Went and saw Ahmad out in Boulder for a while. Fought out there for a couple months. Nothing much.” Cameron felt like a predator, his eyes never staying in one place for long.
“Roger ‘n me been training Ash to take the Winter Regional middle weight, he’s fighting like a pro.” Larry said.
“Yeah?” Cameron could hear the contempt in Larry’s voice. “Good for him.”
“So, you staying on through the holidays and after graduation? Or you just gonna fly in and back out and not tell anybody anything? Leave us all wondering if you’re dead or what.” Larry sniffed.
The man that called himself their father leaned back to rest his forearms on the top of the rope around the floor ring, swaying slightly back and forth as he looked out the foggy glass of the front windows.
“I called Ash. He knew I was okay. Don’t start your bullshit. Just because I didn’t call you, doesn’t mean nobody knew where I was. Your pity party don’t work on me.” Cameron directed his remarks to Larry’s smirking grin.
“Well, it’s good you’re back. Ash missed you terrible. You gonna stay around?” Roger’s six feet leaned hard on his carved wood cane. Cameron stood a good five inches above him, and it was hard to see he’d changed so much in the short six months.
“Yeah, I think.”
“So you think you gonna just move back in? You just move out without a word, come back into town like some hero…” Larry just kept charging the brigade, daring Cameron to accept the gauntlet he kept throwing down.
Cameron watched his knuckles turn a ghostly shade of white, he could feel the sound in the room turn to a low buzz. Any semblance of control he held was quickly waning as Larry’s voice pitched into his ears in a bizarre irony of self-righteous piety.
The buzzing stopped, and Cameron knew he needed to leave, fast before the tightness in his shoulder turned into a released canon ball right into Larry’s sweaty, swollen red face. Cameron lurched to stand full, towering over both the men that had been his broken and misguided mentors and parental figures for as far back as his memory served.
“MAN!!”
Cameron’s trigger went off.
Someone jumped him from behind -- locking their arm around his neck, twisting his head to the side and in the split second it takes to decide whether or not to bring the hammer down, the voice resonated with familiarity.
“Fuck dude…relax! What the fuck! I thought you weren’t coming until Thanksgiving.” Asher’s enthusiasm broke the spell and Cameron felt himself come close to a smile.
He pulled around to the front of his brother, their bodies coming together in a hearty back pounding bro hug.
“Got out of Boulder a little early. Gotta spend some time, holidays and all. Then see my little bro get that diploma. Little smart ass like you graduating early. Can’t just hump along like the rest of the pack and walk across the stage in June?”
It was true, he was missing Asher and would have come back for his graduation in December. But it was also true that Cameron had almost lost his mind thinking about her the last six months. What she was doing, who she was with, if she was safe.
He practically jerked his cock right off every damn night laying in that empty apartment thinking about the curve of her ass, the twinkle in her eyes, how she would taste under his tongue, the noises she would make the first time the tip of his cock slipped inside her.
He’d fought it long enough; it was time to light this candle or end the war that raged in his head over the last fifteen years.
“Ha! Damn dude, what they been feeding you? You taking shots or what??”
Asher poked at Cameron’s chest, the broad pectoral muscles thicker by at least two inches of pure lean muscle since he left.
“No, I don’t fuck around with that shit. You know me better. Naw, just nothing else to do but work out.”
“No hot ring girls to fuck out there?” He chuckled along with his whisper.
Asher’s crooked smile showed the glimmer of his white teeth, and his eyes were lit from behind like someone had just given him a long wished for gift.
“Shut up. When did you get such a nasty mouth?”
Before Asher could answer, Cameron almost forgot where he was.
There she was, walking up from the back hallway, her glowing brown doe eyes already fixed on Cameron with a tilt of her head and a cynical smile on her ruby pink lips.
There was nothing more beautiful in the world than what he saw right then. It occurred to him that he hadn’t gone more than a couple weeks without her since they were carrying lunch boxes to school everyday.
Fuck, Cameron felt his blood boil, thick and searing hot and his heart buckled under the pressure.
“Look who wandered back from the rockies…” Asher’s voice was light as he slapped Cameron on the back, but he could barely feel anything outside of the already raging thoughts of how badly he needed her.
“Hey, big brother.” Victoria lit up as she slipped her arms up and around Cameron’s neck.
The way her softness molded into him did nothing for his balance, and it took every iota of his will to give her a quick hug and then let her go. His cock had no shame and quickly jerked up about three inches in his pants as she pressed her body against his.
Six months of trying to shake her from his thoughts, to prove to himself that he could be away. After a month Cameron knew the only way to break the hold she had on him would be to put him in his grave.
“Quite the fucking family reunion, huh?” Larry grumbled like a thunderstorm.
Never one to find enjoyment in anything besides his own special kind of cruelty, he gave a nod of his head and turned on his heel to walk back toward the training room.
“You gotta suit up. Devon’s waiting for you.” Roger tilted his head for Asher to get moving.
“So, you just here ‘til graduation? Or are you stayin’?” Asher tried to disguise the hopefulness in his voice.
“Not sure. I’ll be around for a while. Graduation isn’t for another six weeks. I’m gonna train over with Reggie.”
For self-preservation, years ago Cameron split his training time between Southside and Tyson’s gym owned by his old friend Reggie.
There was one thing his father knew how to do, and that was train fighters. Unfortunately for Cameron it had come to pass that he’d almost killed his own father with a single punch after a lost training bout and a particularly vicious verbal assault from a drunken Larry.
Having a break from Larry worked out for both of them because Larry was still alive and Cam
eron wasn’t in prison.
“Go Asher. Get dressed and warmed up. You have ring time in 25. GO.” Roger growled.
Cameron didn’t hear anything.
Victoria crossed her arms over her chest, her chestnut hair hanging in two pigtails on each shoulder and Cameron knew as much as he ever did, that she was meant for him as much as blue was meant for the sky.
She filled out her jeans with the same ripe curves that flooded his memory every night since he left.
“Well, glad you’re back Cam.” Roger put his hand on Cameron’s shoulder. “You gonna come and spar now and then? Asher’s moved up — he might not be able to take you, but he’d give you a run. You’re always welcome here, you know that right?”
Roger wasn’t much better than Larry in the fathering department, but there were moments when he was far more human. Still, a shadow of something dark hovered around him and Cameron hated all the years she had to live with him after Emily was gone.
“Yeah. Thanks.”
Roger gave a tip of his head, leaned on his cane and started back toward the front desk leaving her standing just inches away. He could smell her, and it may as well have been nerve gas because Cameron felt his brain lock down and his cock roar from down low.
Cameron played over and over in his mind every way he wanted to touch her, to taste her, to feel her from the inside. But now that the time was here to call this shit real, he felt like he was in for the fight of his life, and he couldn’t be sure how she was going to take it.
There was no doubt in his worldly mind that Victoria was his, always had been, always would be, he just needed to clear her head of whatever the world was telling her about what they should or shouldn’t be — and get her to be fucking real about it.
“So, Boulder, huh? You train with Ahmad?”
She was too smart for her own good. Cameron hadn’t even told Asher what he was doing out there, just that he was training and doing okay and not to worry.
“Maybe.” He saw that flicker in her eyes; he knew she would need a push, but it was there, and he needed to light that fire so there was no way she could turn back.
“Maybe? Right. I know you. You come walking back in here after six months; you’re harder and thicker than when you left. There’s only one reason you went to Boulder instead of a thousand other places. I’m glad you’re back.” The golden flecks in her eyes looked like embers ready to spark.
With the tip of her finger on the string of his hoodie, Cameron felt like a heavyweight hit him with a throat punch.
“Come on. Let’s take a walk.” Cameron was done playing.
It was now or fucking never, and if he didn’t start moving, there would be no way to hide the thick shaft gaining momentum under the fabric of his jeans. He needed to tame that beast, but there was no way he could take a man break right now.
He would just have to try to walk it off.
6
Victoria couldn’t decide how mad she was at him or exactly why. He was a grown man, what did it matter to her that he decided to take a break and live eight states away without even a goodbye?
He looks taller. He smells really good. Shut up, what’s wrong with you? He smells good? Jeez, I’ve lost my damn mind.
Victoria felt like kicking him in the shin and hugging him around the waist until he picked her up and carried her off somewhere.
As far back as she could remember, even when Roger was at his best, it was never all that good.
Some days at the gym — when her mom was off working nights and weekends to keep milk in the refrigerator because Roger enjoyed his Jack Daniels and the thrill of a sure-to-lose bet more than his family — he expected a little girl of six to fit into the world of a fighter’s gym and when she didn’t, he was free with the belt and short on understanding.
Not Cameron. He always seemed to be there, lurking in the corners, those crazy blue eyes darting away as soon as she caught him looking.
Her first vivid memory of Cameron still raised the hairs on her arms, wondering how her life would have changed had he not been there that day.
Roger must have lost a huge bet and probably topped that off with a few too many shots of his amber colored medicine, because he was particularly inattentive that day to his little daughter.
Victoria knew no better than to keep her mouth shut and toddle along behind the grumbling man.
He dragged her silently behind him to the gym, dropping himself into the chair behind the desk and ordering her to do the rounds and pick up dirty towels and drop off clean ones to the members as needed. It was something a little girl could do, but whether or not she should be doing it, was another question.
It wasn’t a time or place where you did background checks or even asked questions. When someone came to the gym, they gave their name, an emergency contact and $20 a month. That was it, no other questions. What was there to ask? You want to fight and you got $20 a month? Good, you’re part of the brotherhood, welcome, come on in.
Victoria dragged the broken white plastic laundry basket behind her. As it filled with the damp, sweaty towels, it quickly outweighed her slight form. There was no reprieve, no asking for help. Any questions or complaints to her father were answered by a cruel word and a variety of red marks and bruises.
There were six short years between them, but Cameron seemed so much older. His soul smeared with age from a life playing father to a younger brother and bobbing and weaving around Larry as his version of child rearing included a belt and not much else.
“Come ‘ere.”
Victoria looked up to see a mountain of a man, his eyes dark and his lips curved to show off the few teeth he had managed to keep.
She didn’t know his name. The grunting, sweating men came and went every day, and she did her best to be invisible.
Over the years, some faces became regulars; men she recognized and some gave her a kind glance or word as she toiled under her father’s instructions. This man was not at all familiar.
The white basket slowed her down as she walked toward the giant, his eyes never leaving her face.
“I got dirty towels back ‘ere…” He pointed to the back corner of the gym behind the line of heavy bags swaying slightly.
“Okay…” Her tiny voice barely made it upward to the giant.
Victoria felt the muscles in her shoulders pull as the basket made a scraping sound on the faded, chipped linoleum floor.
As she moved, so did he. Even a child has a sixth sense, a danger monitor and Victoria could feel the fear creeping up inside.
Her heart beat faster; she felt funny.
The men usually ignored her, and that was the safest way. This one — with his strange accent and torso scared and tattooed with fancy letters and a picture of a lion across his rippled belly – looked down at her with eyes like a snake, narrow and penetrating as he glanced behind them with each step.
“Right here. Follow me.” He stepped to the front, his red silk short shorts moving past her face as he worked his way behind the heavy bags and toward the back hallway.
A riot of fear was already rising inside Victoria, she turned around to try to catch someone’s eye. For once she wished her father might actually be concerned about where she was or what she was doing.
But, the gym was almost empty. The soft sounds of a couple fighters sparing in the opposite end of the cavernous space were the only other noise besides the shuffling of their feet and the scraping of the basket.
“Where are they?” Victoria could hear her blood rushing like whitewater through her ears.
“Over ‘ere, a pile of ‘em, just down the hall. I don’ know who left them back here, I’ll help you pick them up, there are too many for you. Your basket is already getting full.”
The hallway light was off, the red on his shorts began to soften in the dim light with each step forward. Her eyes squinted in the darkness for a pile of white, something to focus on, to let her know that the fear that was rising up in her was unnecessary.
“Ssssshhhh…I’m a friend. But, if you tell anyone, I will kill you. Do you understand? I could kill you right now.”
Like a wrench cranking down, his fingers tightened around her tiny neck. Her body shook uncontrollably, and all she could think of was her stuffed rabbit left in the backseat of her daddy’s Buick and how badly she wished it was with her right now.
“Did you hear me? You’re not going to tell anyone are you? I’ll kill you, and then I’ll kill your Dad if you tell. Nod your head if you promise not to tell anyone and you promise not to scream.”
Victoria smelled the same sour, sweet smell her father had after he had been out at the bar. The stink of the giant’s breath warming her cheek as he leaned down and whispered his threats into her ear.
For a moment, Victoria thought about what it would be like to die. How would it feel? Who would cry for her if she were gone?
Even as she pondered the thoughts that should never cross the mind of a six year old, she nodded. Her desire to live inherent and the animal with its paw around her neck seemed as real as a lion with its jaws clenched into the jugular of a baby gazelle.
“Good girl.” The lion’s fingers loosened.
She knew she should take a breath, but none would come. Victoria felt like she was floating, disappearing, and suddenly, the only sound she could hear was the racing of her heartbeat. Her skin felt like hot, as though someone had doused her in scalding water.
“Pretty girl. You like it…trust me. It will feel good…open your mouth…” The monster’s Russian accent thickening as he voice lowered.
Her eyes focused on the red silk shorts and as the hand of the monster pulled down the thick white belt of elastic. He stepped closer, moved her small body to stand in front of him. His one hand reached inside his shorts as Victoria felt her belly come up in her throat.
She thought about her bunny, how scared it must be in the backseat of the car all alone.
