by Xyla Turner
The last thing I needed was ‘Bronx pity.’
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.” I looked another way. “You’ve done more than enough and I never said thank you for the other day.”
“No need to thank me, Shay.” He turned my chin back around towards him. “It was you.”
“What do you mean?” She asked.
“You were in danger.”
“But you could have gotten hurt. What if one of them would have pulled something on you or grabbed a gun or some shit?”
The side of his lip turned up, then he said, “I would have dealt with it.”
“Well, I should have dealt with it and not involve anyone else.” I looked at the side of his bruised lip and raised my hand to touch it, but stopped myself.
“I’m fine.” Bronx grabbed my wrist and placed my fingers on his lip. “See.”
I snatched it away from his smooth face and said, “Well, good. But you or no one else is going to persuade me not to get a gun.”
Bronx nodded his head and said, “Okay, fine. But first, can I show you something and then by that time Ed will be finished typing all of that paperwork in his old system, and the background check should be complete as well?”
My eyebrow rose as I contemplated him. What was his deal?
“Look, just come with me and until you get your gun, I’ll even let you hold one of mine.”
Well, that was a no-brainer.
“Fine.”
I led the way towards the door and headed for his truck. Bronx had that truck since I had known him. It was a beat-up piece of shit, but I guess it got him from point A to point B.
He didn’t say much on the short ride over to the gym that was renamed to RIGOR, but when I refused to get out of the car, he opened my door and said, “Come on. I just want you to try something out.”
Mentally, I was shaking my head. When were Bronx and I traveling together to try anything out?
What the fuck was going on?
We entered the gym, where everyone greeted him. A few guys asked, “Is that you?”
He didn’t respond, but each nodded their heads like he did. It smelled like sweaty, stinky men and not the type that was sexy.
More like repulsive.
Bronx walked into a room, pulled a pair of gloves and tape from a locker, then he went to another locker and pulled another pink pair. He turned to look at me, probably to see if what I was wearing would work.
“Can you put your hair in a ponytail?” He asked.
“Yeah, why?” I had gone along so far, but I wasn’t sure what he was trying to do.
He turned to face me fully and said, “You’re angry, upset, and feeling vulnerable. You go and want to get a gun, but a scared person with a gun is not someone who should have one.”
“I’m not scared,” I snapped back at him. “I’m trying to protect myself.”
“Fine,” he moved towards me. “I’m about to show you how to do that another way.”
“I do know how to defend myself.” I countered.
“Then, show me.” He held up the gloves.
He grabbed an overly huge tank top and gave it to me and threw some shorts from the folded list of shorts towards me.
“Those should fit?” he said.
“Whose stuff is this?”
“The clubs. We buy extra stuff and keep in here in storage.”
“We?” I asked.
“Yeah.” his eyes met mine. “I own the place.”
“How did I not know that?”
Bronx shook his head and said, “Get dressed and meet me in room five.”
What the fuck was I doing?
Oh well, I did not back down from a challenge, so I put those clothes on and walked swiftly to room five. The smell on the way there was so wretched, that I covered my nose.
When I entered, Bronx had changed into sweats and a tank top with no shoes or socks. I wanted to see his feet, which was stupid, but he kept moving around and clearing the floor of blue squares, long poles, and mats.
“Since you own this place, you should get an automatic air freshener, this place smells.” I closed the door.
“Noted. I'll get on that.” Bronx nodded. “Why did you want to buy a gun?”
His voice projected around the small room.
“To protect myself,” I said as I walked to the center where he was.
“Why a gun?” He asked.
“Because, Bronx. I want to ensure that I’ve hit my target, okay.” My agitation level rose. “You want me to beat them up like you did? I don’t have your fucking strength.”
“Shay, I’m not saying that. I’m saying, what happened to you on Saturday was traumatic, and I probably added to that trauma. I want you to deal with it and not let it consume you.”
“The fuck?” I moved towards him. “Are you my goddamn psychologist?”
“Nope.” He held up the tape. “Give me your wrist.”
“Fuck this; I’m outta here.”
I had enough.
Bronx was on some pyscho babbling shit, and I did not have time to be analyzed.
As I grabbed the door handle, Bronx said, “You show me, and I’ll leave it alone.”
“Show you what?” I asked.
“That you’re not angry. That you’re fine. That you are okay with walking these streets with a gun.”
AHHHH.
“Yes, I’m fucking angry,” I screamed. “I feel violated in my own goddamn town, Bronx. So, yes, I want to protect myself. There is nothing wrong with that. I need protection. A gun will protect me.”
“No, Shay. Guns don’t protect, people with guns can protect people, but they can also hurt people.”
I stormed over to him and got in his face. “Do you think I’d hurt someone that didn’t deserve to be hurt?”
“Not on purpose?” He answered.
He had a lot of nerve.
“You mean like you almost killed that guy on Saturday?” I raised an eyebrow.
He didn’t say anything, and then he bent down, so his nose was nearly touching mine. “Exactly like that.”
“So, it’s okay for you to be reckless and not me?” I was poking the bear, but I couldn’t stop.
“I wasn’t reckless,” he sneered.
“You could have fucking died, Bronx. Meddling in somebody else affairs. It was five of them, and there you go, Mr. Big Shit, going to save the day.” I was beyond angry as the thoughts of what could have happened started to come at me from every angle. “You could have killed that man and worse, you could have been killed.”
“But you would still live.” He stood to his full height as if the conversation was over.
I planted both of my hands on his chest and pushed hard. He went absolutely nowhere.
Mother fucker.
I went to push again and this time, Bronx grabbed my hands put them near my ears and said, “Ball up your fist and cover your face.”
He did that on Saturday when he was fighting. This made me no difference because I kept attacking him with my hands.
“You’re angry,” he said. “Good. Now focus it and put it towards a target. Try to hit me.”
I could do that.
My feet planted, I swung and missed. I kept that up a few more times and missed. Then I tried to tackle him, but he moved me to the side, causing me to run passed him.
Fuck.
“Hit me, Shay. You already smacked me once. I know you want to hit me again. Focus.” He taunted, “Like all those clothes that you wear with ‘FOCUS’ tagged all over them. Now is your time to focus. Channel that anger.”
Fuck him and his goddamn logic. He even had the nerve to bring up me repping my cousin, Katina’s, clothing line. She has Fibromyalgia and the FOCUS clothing line name came about because her illness interfered with her not being able to focus on more than one thing at a time! So, I bought a bunch of her clothes and wore them all around Lancaster County. Those were the things I supported, not stupid men to broke women’s hearts.
I started watching his movements. He was going back and forth on his legs, which made him more agile and quick. The only way to land a hit was for me to trick him and have him think I was going to do one thing and then do the other. Moving my fist up to my ears, I circled around with him on the mat, then I acted like I was going to lunge for him again, but when he went to move me, I pivoted, grabbed his arm and punched him in the stomach.
YES.
He smiled and then swept his foot under my feet, sending me to the ground.
Son of a bitch.
“No time to celebrate.” He said, “Now get up and do it again.”
I wasn’t able to hit him again, but after he had put the tape on my wrist and gloves on my hands, he held the blue shield up to let me hit it until my heart was content.
Well, it was beyond content, as I wailed on it to the point that tears were coming down my face as I thought about what happened on Saturday, what happened to Kylie, what could have happened to Bronx and me.
I thought he was going to stop, but he kept pushing the mat my way, and I kept hitting it harder and harder. The tears poured down my face, and I felt ready to collapse. Instead, I leaned on the bars of the room, and Bronx dropped the mat and pulled me into his arms, where I continued to cry.
“Shay, it’s okay.” He rubbed my back. “You don’t have to be strong all the time.”
I pushed back and said, “Yes, I do. You don’t understand. I have to take care of myself.”
“No, Shay. You have an entire family that has your back.” He countered.
“No, Bronx. My parents are …”
“I was talking about the Guardians.” He interrupted me.
“The Guardians,” I scoffed. “They can’t go everywhere with me. I can’t be on their detail forever. I appreciate what you guys have done, but that is going to end. There is nothing wrong with needing to protect myself.”
Bronx looked at me and cursed under his breath.
Then he backed us up against the blue padded wall, and all the air in the room seemed to leave.
“Shay, I…” He paused. “I’ll protect you.”
“Bronx.” I looked up into his eyes. “No, you won’t. I’ll protect myself.”
He shook his head, “It’s the least I can do?”
“Why?” I was curious why he felt that was his burden to carry. “Because you broke my heart. You feel like you need to make amends.”
Yes, we were going there today. He wanted to box and hash shit out, and we’d do just that.
“You pulled a wham, bam, thank you, ma’am, and you knew I was head over heels for you. Got a call.” I made air quotes with my fingers, “And had to leave, right after we had sex.”
His eyes grew wider and his mouth slightly opened.
“Is that what you think happened?”
“It’s what I know happened.” I sneered. “You were never trying to start anything with me. I was gone for you. Like Lori was for Apollo, and you just fucked me and was done.”
His forehead hit mine, when he said, “Kitten, that’s not what happened.”
“It is,” I argued.
“No,” his hands landed on my hips as his body moved in closer. “Fuck. I didn’t know. I, uh, really did have a call that I needed to get to. My cousin, Trey, in Harrisburg was mugged, and the son of a bitch shot someone that night. I had to go and bail him out of jail. Of all the fucking nights, I could have shot him myself. Fuck me.”
His eyes were wide with disbelief as he rubbed his bald head.
What?
All this time.
I exhaled, and it felt like more weight had been lifted off of me.
“I thought you didn’t want me?” I looked at him. “You never said anything.”
“You wouldn’t hear me, Shay. I tried. Then I thought it was best that the both of us remained whatever we were. I had shit to deal with, and I figured you’d fall for some other guy, and he’d make you happy and give you babies. Little girls with your eyes, cheeks, and long hair. Sassy little ladies, like their mama. I prayed he’d take you around the world, show you every wonder and all the shit you deserve. I wanted that for you. I want that for you.”
“Then, do it.” I heard myself say.
Bronx lips crashed down on mine as he easily lifted me up against the padded wall. He completed invaded my mouth with his slippery tongue and the small nips from his teeth. My hands were all over his bald, sweaty head and his were gripping my ass while he moved his hard cock up and down my soaking center.
Holy fuck.
His large hands slid on the inside of my pants and underwear, so his scorching palm had direct skin-to-skin contact with my ass.
Bronx continued to explore my mouth with his tongue while I pressed into him harder as he surveyed familiar territory. He was growing and getting longer as we continued to grind against each other’s sensitive parts. Those thin shorts of his certainly didn’t stop the notion that we were closer to nakedness than being fully clothed. The bottom of my tank top had already started rising, and the strap was already falling off my shoulder.
“Bronx,” I moaned as I pulled back and grabbed on his ears.
“Fuck, Shay.” He quickly turned and laid me down on the blue mat. “Tell me to stop now.”
One side of my mouth lifted.
“Now, dammit. Tell me to stop.” He urged, but I said nothing.
Bronx ripped my shorts down, and his hand began to rub over my panty-covered crotch. His eyes remained on mine, as his fingers moved under my underwear to my wet folds and dripping opening. He started to rub my taut nub in slow rhythm with his eyes still on mine.
“Come, baby.” Bronx said, “All over my fingers.”
For the record, I was not the type of woman that believed in orgasms on demand. Actually, I always laughed at the notion that the man said a word or two and the woman, simply erupted.
Well, I was proven a liar that day. Bronx said six words and the surge raced down my spine, to my already moist center and the fireworks began. My ‘O’ shaped mouth started to scream as I pulled away from Bronx. I didn't get very far since his huge body covered mine and his lips seem to capture every noise, moan, and pant for more.
Bronx’s hand was no longer in my panties; now it was his raging cock rubbing against what felt like nothing between us.
A hard knock came on the door that echoed throughout the room.
“Occupied?” The muffled voice called.
Bronx lifted his top half off of me, but his fiery eyes remained on mine.
“Coming out. We’re done.” He yelled back.
My head fell back on the mat as I closed my eyes and huffed.
“This is not where I want to take you, Shay.” He shook his head. “I want to actually hear you screaming my name.”
Well, shit.
I moaned, and he moved his finger down my breast and to my stomach.
“Yeah, not here.” He reiterated.
“Okay, Bronx.”
We packed up and left so the class could get started.
I also had the distinct feeling that something else was about to get started too.
6
Amends
Bronx:
Holy shit!
Things just took a turn for the worse or, the better; I did not know.
Wow.
If we weren't interrupted, what would have happened? Fuck, I know where I'd taken her, right in my gym. Room five.
I dropped her off, and after Shay gave Ed a piece of her mind for calling me, he gave her the paperwork that she would need and everything she needed to do and could expect over the next few weeks since she wanted a custom gun.
As we left, she said, “So do my defense lessons continue or do I need to go to another gym?”
God, she was beautiful.
I craved to touch her skin again, but I really needed to fix some shit first.
“Whenever you want?” I moved her hair out of her face. “I'll be out of town for the next few
days, but when I return, lessons can resume.”
Her face fell momentarily and then she was back to normal.
“Hmm, right?” She said with a bit of sarcasm.
We were at her car where she was leaning against the open driver’s side door. I walked into the small space pushing her against the car.
“What I say?”
Her breath hitched, but I still invaded her space, standing inches away and bent down, so our noses were touching.
“What I say?” I repeated.
“You're going out of town,” she breathed.
“And,” I coaxed.
“We’ll resume then.”
“Okay,” I said. “I got to get some shit in order, so this can be right. It has to be right.”
“Okay.”
“Okay then. I'll see you when I get back. Surveillance will be on you and folks will be watching.”
“Kay, Bronx.”
My lips briefly caressed hers then I pulled away and opened her door wider.
Before I left town, I stopped by Razors to let him know where I was at. He was at home with Kylie cooking dinner. I was just over there yesterday where we simply hung out. Apparently, Shay had stayed the night and left earlier on Sunday. It made sense. Razor and Kylie, they were cool and familiar; there was no pressure, no fuss, just family eating dinner and drinking beers. Their love felt contagious as I'd been content with dealing with the occasional lay. But yearning for someone who was off limits was not a life I wanted to live anymore. It was one I deserved, and I was being selfish, but she was the only one I wanted.
“So you're headed out?” Razor asked as we drank our beer on the porch.
“Yeah, man. Just need to handle those things before I take what's mine.”
He chuckled, “Man, I'm happy for you, brother. Been a long time.”
I nodded. It was about to be four years.
Razor was showing his dimples which meant he was really happy.
“Yeah, also. Kylie and Shay have both gone through some foul shit. Kylie has it; Shay has some, but I'm thinking Guardians can sponsor sort of self-defense or mixed martial arts classes. We can have it at the gym, and the first few can be free or some shit like that. But they need to be prepared.”
