The Fight Club

by P. A. Jones

  Oh, my God, My breath exploded in my lungs every time he hit the punching bag with his gloves. The complete action was registering in my mind like a slow motion movie. I could even see every drop of sweat he was dripping on the floor.

  What it would be if I could just touch him once? Feel his muscles once. Dammit, what was I thinking? This man really had a bad effect on me, a bad and dark effect.

  He was wearing short boxer shorts, but I could see his chiseled thigh muscles with all of his actions and when he hit the bag with a side kick, I saw how ripped his thigh muscle was. This man could really pose for Playgirl magazine and wipe out the competition with just one look.

  I can’t think like this. What’s going on with me? I should have been thinking about my escape strategy, but all I was doing was looking at the eye candy in front of me.

  One odd thing I noticed was that he didn’t use his right hand much; most of the focus was on his left hand and kicks. I wondered how injured his right hand was ,and I felt a sudden urge to check his right hand and see if I could help him. I didn’t know at that time my wish was about to be granted.

  Chapter 5

  Tristan

  “I’m leaving for the day, Trisha. Please close the shop whenever you’re done with your work.” I walked out of the store. Trisha was a nice girl, and over the year she’d been working for me, she’d become one of the most trusted members of my team so I could let her manage the book store and do my other work. I completely trusted her.

  “Sure, Tristan. See you on Monday.” She waved good-bye as I walked out of the store.

  I smiled and started my car. A nice workout and laying down in the pool—that was my concept of relaxation and after work I deserved that. While driving back home, my mind again drifted to the incident that had happened four days ago. The club owner’s daughter, Nikki, and the bully, Chase, were coming to my mind again and again, specifically Nikki and her lush lips. The thing that bugged me was the girl. Why did she put me in the fight, only for refusing her request for help a couple of days earlier? And why was I so focused on that girl still, when I should hate her? Maybe I was completely desperate for girls. I should meet a girl; at least have sex with someone, or my mind will try to hook up with every girl I see.

  “What the heck? Why am I thinking about her? It’s not like I’ll ever see her again.”The chances of meeting a girl again among a million New Yorkers we're almost zero and when I thought about it, after the trouble she got me into, I didn’t even want to meet her again.

  A sound attracted my attention while opening the door, like someone was walking inside the house. How could that be possible? My house was locked on all sides, and even if someone broke in, he wouldn’t find anything valuable other than my fish. Heck, who cares? I just walked straight to my bedroom. I didn’t care if anyone was inside. Maybe it was just my mind playing games with me, anyway.

  I removed my clothes and put on boxing shorts. I was going to train for the first time in a long time, since after the incident in the club. For the last four days, my hand had been throbbing and I hadn’t felt like training. But there I was, feeling fresh and energetic. After my doctor ruled out any possibility of my playing in professional league a year-and-a-half ago, I’d reduced my training days to two a week. After that, training was meant for fitness only, but still, I enjoyed it. It kept my heart connected to the sport I loved most.

  Damn, I need to lose the fat around my thighs. I felt centimeter pinch of fat was building around my thighs. I took a mental note of doing some more yoga for thighs and a few plyometric moves later in the training.

  When I walked out of my bedroom, I thought I saw someone—a girl was standing by the fish tank. For a flash, I thought it looked like Nikki. But that wasn’t possible; how could someone just walk in my house and stand in front of my fish tank? I quickly crossed over to the fish tank, but nobody was there. Am I hallucinating?

  With a jerk, I shook my head to get the crazy ideas out of my mind. Really, there was no one and my mind was too much focused on the lush lips of that girl. Clearly, I was attracted to her; no, actually, I hated her for getting me into trouble. I pushed my hair back; Oh, come on Tristan, get over this girl. I rushed to my exercise room and grabbed my boxing gloves from the closet. Only training could get her out of my thoughts.

  I started punching the bag and, as it always did, the moment of failure occupied my mind, the win that changed my life altogether a year-and-a-half ago.

  Eighteen months ago: The final fight of the championship

  “Come on, Tristan. Just a few more hits. Pound him to the ground and the championship is yours,” my coach shouted from the corner, while the crowd went crazy.

  I was pushing my fist on the ground in a lunge position. My opponent was lying on the ground. His face was full of blood spilling from wounds I had given him.

  My right shoulder was in pain. A few moments ago when I managed to hit him with an axe kick on his chest, he somehow managed to pull me on the ground and I hit the canvas on my right shoulder very hard. I recovered quickly, but an intense pain was there.

  I was panting heavily; my right shoulder was radiating pain like someone had pierced a sword through it. Something had gone bad in my arm and I wasn’t sure if I could continue like this, but everything was at stake—one million dollars and my glory. It was my first championship final ever and I just couldn’t lose it to the injury. At least, not at the moment when my opponent was almost done.

  Only a few minutes were remaining for the end of the match and I was leading the point tally by a huge margin. I had to take a leap and hit him with whatever I got.

  My opponent somehow gathered the strength to get up on his legs. I pushed my left hand on the mat and jumped to my feet. A slight jerk to my right shoulder shot pain through my entire body. Hitting him with my right hand is not an option for me today. He charged at me; I moved left and dodged him. I had to make sure that I got in the right position before I hit him. He charged at me again; this time I took him on my left.

  He was breathing heavily. He didn't have a lot of stamina either, and as he struggled to save himself, his right side was wide open for my right arm. If I could have hit him with my right hand, I’d have won the match that moment. But I couldn’t move my right hand. I could only push him to the ropes using my left hand. My right was tucked to my torso like it was stuck to it with glue.

  His eyes lit up as he looked at my right hand. He understood my condition and he charged at me again, but this time throwing jabs on my right side. I had no other option but to take him on my right. He swung his jab fast on my right shoulder, and a pain seemed to emerge from the earth, shaking me to my core. But I took that moment of pain and converted it into the strike with my conviction and will power. I hit him hard with my left hand on his skull and he fell to the ground. Still on the verge of passing out from the pain, I jumped on him, hitting him with my right elbow and getting a K.O.

  It was a marvelous win for my career, but it also finished it on the same day. I got my million-dollar reward, but I was declared incapable of playing in any further championship matches. My shoulder and back ligaments were torn in that fight and I only aggravated the condition by continuing to the finish. The doctor ordered me to complete a full year of recovery from the injury and no more MMA for a lifetime.

  Present Day

  “Fuck you,” I muttered, while hitting the punching bag with my right hand. A sharp pain shot from my right shoulder. The pain was a signal for me to stop practicing, so I pushed the bag away in disappointment. Whenever I tried to use my right hand pasta certain threshold, it started throbbing.

  I took out my yoga mat and tossed it on the ground. I’d been trying a few new things like Crane and Half Moon from last few days and I decided to focus on that.

  I did some forward falls at first and then went into Down Dog. My right hand was hurting slightly, but I ignored that and went straight into the Crane after Down Dog.

  Unfortunately, it was too mu
ch for my right hand. The moment I put pressure on it, something tore apart inside and I roared in pain as I felt like someone just tore apart my right hand from my body. I fell down on the ground, the pain choking my every sensation. I laid there thinking about my own doom.

  “I think you need some help.” A woman’s voice came out of nowhere. And surprisingly she sounded like Nikki. My mind had really started to play games with me. How could Nikki be in my house? Still, I turned to the origin of sound. Nikki was standing there looking at me.

  “You…”” I tried to ask, but couldn’t complete it due to pain.

  I stood up, and my pain was still going in my head, but the anger was pushing me, too. She was the reason I had to fight with that jerk and get injured again, and now she was standing in my house without my permission.

  I pushed her back on the wall with my left hand. I was so angry that I thought I would hurt her. But then excruciating pain shot through me again and I fell back on the ground.

  Chapter 6

  Nikki

  I watched him in silence from the little gap between the closet doors. He moved his body swiftly from Down Dog to Crane. That was a hard position to achieve and he must have worked for months to get that wrist and lower body flexibility.

  But he shouldn’t have been doing that with his injured hand. He was putting pressure on his injury and it showed in a couple of seconds; he fell on the ground with a twisted face. Pain was flowing all over him. I couldn’t sit there watching him in pain; I took an oath when I first entered in the college that I would help all the needy without considering the reward. The therapist inside me was crying to help him. I thought for a second and then opened the closet door..That man really needed my help and it could be my little redemption for putting him through all the trouble.

  “I think you need some help.”I said as I walked out of the closet.

  He looked at me with surprise, his eyes widening. “You…”” His jaw dropped.

  He got up and pushed me against the wall with his left elbow; it was almost touching my neck. I felt like my worst nightmare had come true, that he might just kill me for being there. “Please don’t hurt me,” I screamed.

  But he couldn’t reply—he fell back on the ground holding his right hand. He was in no condition to hurt me. It was a golden opportunity for me to get out of the house, as he was lying down on the floor, and I could just walk out, leaving him there in pain.

  “No, I can’t.” I can’t leave him in pain like this.

  “Let me see it. And don’t worry, I have training in physical rehabilitation and I can help you,” I said.

  “No, What…”” His mouth shut in pain. A slight groan slipped from his mouth. He must have been feeling excruciating pain.

  It was so different than the incident four days ago. There, he was the hunter and today he was a wounded animal. My heart broke just seeing him in such pain. I was never good at seeing people in pain, and here the man was in pain because of me.

  I ignored him and sat on the ground near him. I took his right arm in my hand. A dark heat passed through my body the moment I touched him. There was something else going on inside me without my consent. Very dark desire was building inside me. I ignored it and pressed his forearm. There was no knot and he remained silent, so there was no pain there. I slowly started pressing his hand further, checking for knots, moving to his biceps and then his triceps. But everything was good; no knots there.

  “Don’t tell me it’s your shoulder.” If it was his shoulder, then he was in trouble. Such pain because in his shoulder wasn’t a good sign. His hand looked just fine.

  “It is,” he replied, his eyebrows tightening together in pain.

  I touched his shoulder. there was a big knot below his right facial muscle. I pressed it slowly.

  He roared in pain. “Fuck!””

  “Easy, Tristan, easy,” I replied. Initially, I continued pushing my thumb on the knot slowly and then putting all of my force into it later. It wasn’t going away in five minutes or half an hour. I knew it was going to take many sessions. But the recovery was apparent. , His pain was easing and I could see it in his reaction. First, he relaxed his muscles and then his roaring stopped. Finally, his facial muscles relaxed after almost half an hour of massaging.

  “Thanks,” he said, his first plain word in the last half-hour.

  “It’s not done. It will need more care than you think and doing a Crane isn’t the way to treat it. Try moving your hand, please, but slowly.”

  With some pain, he moved his hand, but it looked easier than before. His face twisted in pain slightly, but it wasn’t near what he had been facing previously.“Thanks,” he said, with a calmness covering his entire face. He relaxed a bit after that.

  I checked the other parts of his back muscles; they were stiff and had many knots. He clearly hadn’t had a therapy session in ages, and that was surely killing his body. “It’s not good. You’re going to need many sessions on your back,” I said.

  He opened his eyes, and now the calmness spread across his entire face. He rolled on his back to question me.“Thanks, but again, why are you here? Sneaking in my house without permission? “His voice wasn’t threatening, but warm and gentle.

  As I’d just broken into his house and had no good answer, I decided to ignore the question and change the subject. ““Let me check your lower back as well.” The therapist in me had taken control and his body was nothing other than a patient's body for me. Damn, I miss being in college.

  With ease, he rolled back on his stomach. His bare back was in front of me again, but this time his muscle definition attracted my gaze. His back was trimmed to the waist. Every muscle of his oblique and upper back was popping out.

  I touched his lower back slowly and massaged it from the middle of his back to his lower back, down to the line where his waist met his hips. That was a sexy line—I’d never worked on such a beautiful back. seen and treated many patients when I was in college, but only on normal people—nobody like this. Even touching it ignited something deep inside my core. I felt like I could just continue massaging his back for hours and then maybe rub his sexy thighs and legs. Dammit, what is happening with me? I had never felt such erotic feelings while massaging any patient's back.

  I rubbed his back again and again, feeling it with my soft hands, but you have to stop at some point, and I didn't’ have any pain relief gel to use so it was almost futile for him. I took his exercise towel and cleaned my hands on it. “That’s it,” I said.

  He rolled on his back; a smile covered on his face. “Do you know magic?” he asked.

  “What?” I asked with surprise.

  “Nothing. I’m really feeling pain-free right now.” He grinned.“This feeling is awesome.”

  I hadn’t expected such gratitude from him. Surprised at his response, I decided that now was the time to ask him for what I really wanted. “Will you teach me to fight?”

  “Nope. I won’t.” He replied in a fraction of a second.

  “Why?”

  “That’s none of your business. Please close the door when you leave.” He rolled back on his stomach and started stretching himself in the superman position.

  Did he just insult me? My blood started boiling inside and I frowned. I wanted to hit him with a dumbbell or something heavy. No man until now had behaved like this with me. I wanted to kick his butt right then and there, but I controlled myself. I had to get some work done from him, and for that I was ready to do whatever he asked for. Anything for you, Stephen.

  I turned and walked out of his house; Carrie was still sitting in my car, waiting for me. She jumped out of the car as soon as she saw me. “Thank God you are alright,” She hugged me tightly.”And how did you came out of the front door and what happened to your cell? I’ve been calling you for the last hour.”

  “What?” I took out my cell and there were fifteen missed call alerts from Carrie. My face flushed; it was my mistake.”“I’m sorry, I must have forgotten to turn it
off silent.”

  “Never mind. The only thing that matters is that you’re safe. If you hadn’t come back in five more minutes, I was going to call your dad…”

  I quickly cut her off; she was saying something we had agreed was forbidden to talk about.. “Never, ever think about it. He would kill Tristan and then ground me for rest of my life.” Calling him was like poking a sleeping dragon.

  “Okay, I won’t,” she replied.“But I was so worried. What happened inside? How come you came out the front door?”

  “That’s a long story, but he is really an ass.” I looked at his home with a mouth full of curses. “He insulted me and told me to get out.”

  “Wait a second. You just broke into his house an hour ago and now you’re saying he asked you to leave? What else should he have done. Thanked you for breaking into his house?” She shook my shoulders hard, shaking her head. “Is he mad? I thought he would call the police or kick you out as soon as he found you.”

  “That was the plan, but then he fell.” I smiled; I had a way to get to him.

  “What’s really going on in your heart and what do you really want from him?”

  “I need some time to come up with the whole plan, and you’ll be the first to know when I do. Just know that he is the key to get to Stephen.” I smiled.

  Chapter 7

  Tristan

  “Good evening, Tristan,” Trisha smiled at me with her eyebrows raised. She looked like a cute baby with her surprised expressions.“How come you’re book store here before me?”