by Susanne Beck
Ice looked down at me with a look of almost infinite patience and a faint sparkle of amusement shining in those magnificent eyes.
I swallowed. Hard. "Is there . . .something I can get for you?" Finally! My first coherent sentence of the day. And none too soon either, my shrunken ego was more than happy to point out.
Ice appeared to consider the question, as if as surprised as I was that I’d actually managed to get it out. She met my gaze directly. "Do you know anything about Bonsai?"
Well, it was fun while it lasted. "Um . . .unless you’re talking about the oath those Kamikaze pilots used to shout out before crashing into the Pacific, then I’m afraid I don’t."
The dark head nodded. "Not many people do," she allowed. "Bonsai is . . .a sort of art." Her wonderful hands fanned out, describing her words. "You start with a tree. A small one. And you prune and shape and train it until it becomes like a vision you see in your mind."
"It sounds beautiful."
"I suppose."
Clearly, speaking of beauty made her uncomfortable. My mind was busy making mental notes. "So . . .you want me to get you, what. A tree?"
My tone must have sounded dubious, because she spoke up quickly to correct me. "No. I’m having some of mine sent over. I’ve already cleared it with Sandra Pierce. What I need is something called a bonsai rake."
"A rake?"
"Yes."
"How big a rake?"
"It’s about ten inches long and has a three-pronged metal piece at one end. It sort of looks like one of those cultivating tools you would use for gardening to break up the soil. Only thinner. And the prongs are smaller."
Looking away for a moment, I tried to picture what she was describing in my mind without the distraction of her nearness clouding my thoughts. "I think you should know," I said after a moment, "I don’t get anything that might possibly be used as a weapon. That’s a line I won’t cross."
Her eyes narrowed for a moment and I’ll freely admit to a fine thrill of fear shooting down my back at the look. Then she smiled that cocky half-grin again and I breathed out a silent sigh of relief. "I assure you, I have no intention of using it as a weapon. It’s a tool, nothing more."
"But still . . . ." I knew I was taking a big risk, questioning her like this, but like I said, there was a line I wouldn’t cross. For anyone.
"Tell you what. Why don’t you take some time and think about it. I’ll give you the money and the catalogue number and if you decide to go ahead and purchase it for me, great. If not, you can keep the money. No questions asked, no harm done."
"But . . . ."
She held up her hand, silencing my protestations. "And if you do decide to buy it, you can take a look at it when it comes in. If it looks like something I’d use as a weapon, then you can keep it, or throw it away. Again, no questions asked, no harm done. Sound fair?"
"But . . . ."
The hand she held up came down, approaching me, palm out. "Deal?"
We locked eyes again. Her gaze was direct and unassuming and I fell into it once again. That strange sense of drowning overwhelmed me and I felt my hand reach out to grasp hers. The touch of her warm palm to mine galvanized me and brought that image of touching an electrified fence blazing from that dark corner of my mind where it had managed to lay dormant until that moment.
Though I don’t really remember, I must have stiffened, because she released me after a perfunctory handclasp and looked down at me curiously. "Are you alright?"
Several moments passed as I knelt there, looking stupidly at the money she’d cleverly pressed into my palm. Licking my lips, I desperately cast about for something to say. If there was anything I was definitely not, it was ‘alright’. Such a mundane adjective didn’t even come close to describing what I was feeling. Still . . . . "Yes. I’m just fine."
After a final, appraising look, she smiled faintly again, then stood, smoothing the wrinkles out of her jumpsuit with her palms. "Good. Thanks for your time." With a final nod of her head, she turned and left, striding that long-limbed, cocky walk of hers over toward the free weight area.
My eyes followed her every step while I tried to find the most dignified way of gathering my jaw up off the grass at my knees.
Pony looked at me from behind Ice, giving me her rakish grin and winking at my obvious discomfiture. Then she laughed as Ice pushed her out of the way and commandeered the chest press bench, lifting an ungodly amount of weight with fluid ease.
My eyeballs joined my jaw on the ground as I watched her impressive chest and arms flex and relax against the weight of the iron she was lifting.
I was caught in a definite quandary. Those were my friends over there as well. Surely they wouldn’t object if I were to join them. The problem was, however, how to make it from where I was to where I wanted to be without managing to lose the last shred of dignity I had managed to hang onto.
To give myself some time, I decided that a full body appraisal was in order. One head, complete with befuddled brain and wide eyes. Check. Shoulders: sagging but still there. Chest: one heart beating three times its normal rate but in otherwise good condition. Arms: weak but present. Hips: let’s just not go there right now. Legs: definitely the weak point of this assessment.
Placing my hands firmly on the grass and absorbing some of the solid, sure strength of the earth through my flesh, I pushed myself up onto my feet, wildly pleased that my body seemed to bearing up well under its own weight. Alright. We’ve got standing down pretty good here. Now, let’s try out that walking thing, shall we?
One step turned into two, which turned into three, and before I knew it, I was making steady progress toward the weight lifting area where a large crowd had gathered to cheer the object of my attention on in what looked to be a prison record amount of weight to be lifted. As more inmates gathered around, blocking my sight of the event, I once again cursed my parents for tossing me into the shallow end of the gene pool.
A huge cheer rang out and though I couldn’t see anything, I imagined Ice had just managed to break whatever record she was trying for. As I stared at the inmates, trying to find a way through the sea of orange, something strange hit me. Whereas before, the exercise yard had always been rigidly segregated along racial boundaries, women from every culture were gathered around Ice, cheering her on. There was no sign of the tensions that usually permeated such gatherings. The yard was united in a common cause, to cheer a fellow inmate to victory. And somehow, by doing nothing more than pitting herself against several pieces of unyielding metal, this intense woman had managed to bring a harmony that was otherwise absent in the day to day running of the home we all shared.
A loud bell, signaling the end of the exercise period, freed me from my musings. With a sad sigh, I broke off my stroll toward the cheering crowd and made my escape back into the prison.
As I walked into the library, Corinne was there, as always, to greet me. The enigmatic smile creased her lips once again as she gestured, with her pen, toward one of the tables where a large book lay, its cover shining in the dim lighting like a beacon. Drawn toward it, my curiosity on full alert, I glanced at the shining cover, then back at my friend, my jaw once again becoming unhinged. "How did you know?"
She smirked, well pleased with herself. "I have my ways, Angel."
Shaking my head, I looked back down at the book waiting smugly for me on the table. My fingertips traced the title, my mind spinning with a sense of the macabre: The Art of Bonsai.
The next morning dawned gray and dreary and, as it was a Saturday, I elected to spend most of it camped out in my bunk exploring the wonderful world of bonsai. Reading of its history gave me valuable new insight into the woman known as Ice and I was drawn up into it, passing many hours in pleasant solitude as life continued on around me.
By mid afternoon, I had finished the book and as my body was beginning to get a bit stiff and sore from lying against the scratchy sheets, I decided to go down to take a shower, secure in the belief that I wouldn’t be m
olested.
The prison was rather quiet for a rainy Saturday afternoon and, as I walked past the cavernous laundry room on my way to the showers, I heard a soft, almost whimpering sound, followed by harsh whispering and the sound of flesh beating against flesh. Dropping my clean uniform to the tiled floor, I stepped around the corner, ready for action.
With the incapacitation of Mouse, the leadership of the white gang had been taken over by a huge mountain of a woman who went by the name of Derby. So named because she once was a queen of the roller derby, the woman was, not to put too fine a point on it, immense. Her face had the look of lumpy bread dough and her nose was so mashed that I wondered how she ever breathed through it. She didn’t smile often, which was a blessing, because most of her front teeth were either missing entirely, or had blackened stumps to mark what could have been. Standing close to six feet tall (and, in the prison, only Ice was taller) she weighed in at least two fifty, easy. Most of that looked to be that hard, solid kind of fat you see in the pictures of hard working peasant women that decorate National Geographic from time to time. I knew from experience that she was as strong as an ox and twice as mean.
As I slipped between two industrial washers, taking care not to be heard or seen just yet, I peeked around the corner at the scene before me. A young woman, no older than myself, knelt on the floor, terrified. A piece of duct tape had been plastered over her mouth and her arms had been bound behind her back with what looked to be a still-wet bedsheet. Her jumpsuit had been rent at the neck and pulled back over her shoulders, exposing her heaving breasts. Her face was bloody from multiple blows and her eyes were beginning to blacken and swell. My mind flashed back to the time that I was in the exact same position and, again, I snapped as I watched Derby’s coarse, blunt hands reach down to cruelly twist the young woman’s nipples, earning another whimper. The gang leader’s three companions, none of whom I recognized on sight, snickered and elbowed one another.
After a quick and fruitless visual search told me I’d have to go into this with no weapons but my wits, I stepped from my hiding place, body tensed and ready. "That’s enough, Derby. Let her go." My voice echoed in the cavernous room, bouncing back at me from all angles.
Slowly turning her head, Derby’s thick, rubbery lips split into a sneer as she spied me. "Well, well, well. If it isn’t the Amazons’ little fuck toy. How ya doin, fishie?"
"Let her go, Derby." Keeping alert, I shifted position, determined not to let myself be backed into a corner.
The other three women looked to their leader for direction.
"You just mind your own business, fish, or I’ll forget that Mouse asked me to leave you for her to deal with."
"I’m asking you one more time, Derby. Let the girl go."
She sneered again. "Fuck you."
As the woman turned back to her prey, I took the opportunity presented and made a running leap, jumping on her broad back and latching a strong arm around her throat. Slightly unbalanced, she staggered back a step, but before I could reinforce my choke hold, the other three came at me from three different directions.
It was like being hit by a semi. Derby’s knees collapsed from the pounding, and I went down with her, hitting the floor hard but refusing to release my now shaky hold. Brutal hands grabbed at me, but I used the newly developed strength in my legs to kick them away, listening with no small satisfaction as they grunted out their pain.
Reaching up, Derby wrapped a massive paw around my own hand and jerked it away from her neck, almost breaking my wrist in the process. Bellowing, she flung me away and I landed, slightly stunned, against one of the dryers. Ignoring the pain, I rolled to my feet quickly, my body still ready and balancing lightly on the balls of my feet as the Amazons had taught me.
"You little bitch," the giant said as she rubbed the rawness at her neck. "Fuck Mouse. I’m gonna kill you myself!"
She rushed at me, arms wide open as if meaning to give me a hug. Huge she might have been, but I was agile, and quick. As she lumbered at me, I simply ducked under one massive arm, spinning quickly and almost breaking into laughter as her momentum carried her into the dryer I had landed against just a moment before.
The air became blue with her curses as she turned around, holding her massive gut with one arm. "You’re dead, fish. Do you hear me? Dead!!"
"You’ll have to catch me before you can kill me, tubby."
Sometimes my mouth has a mind of its own, and this was certainly one of those times. Derby’s face turned a shade of red I’d never seen before and veins sprung like garden hoses from the thickness of her neck.
With a roar that shook the foundations of the room, she came at me again. As I dodged away for a second time, I spared a brief moment to wonder where the other three had gotten themselves off to. As she blundered past me, I looked around, finally seeing the other three gang members sprawled, unconscious, on the floor. Puzzled, I frowned, knowing that my kicks could not have possibly done so much damage.
My moment of inattention was about to cost me dearly. Recovering her wits, Derby had managed to come at me again and was, at that very second, cocking back a fist that looked to be roughly the size of a canned ham.
I froze, desperately trying to figure out which way to move to avoid being blown across the room. Right? Left? Up? Down? What?
It’s truly amazing how fast your thoughts tumble through your head at a time like that. I still hadn’t reached a clear decision when I saw the fist start forward, my face clearly in its sights.
I steeled myself for the coming blow while my mind still tried to talk my body into picking some direction in which to move. Finally, I decided left and was just starting to dodge in that direction when a long arm snaked into my field of vision, stopping the fist absolutely stone cold dead just inches from my face. The sound of the impact was amazing, ringing like a rifle shot into the room and rebounding back to me in echoes.
Derby actually whimpered as the tanned hand closed itself around her fist. I could almost hear the sounds of small bones breaking as her face turned from red to white in the beat of a heart.
A low, comforting and absolutely wonderful voice sounded to my left. "Why don’t ya try picking on someone your own size, Derby?"
Though caught totally within the grip of another, Derby’s false, bullying bravado showed no sign of shutting down. "I ain’t afraid of you, Ice."
"No? You should be." Without releasing her grip, Ice reached out with her other hand and gently pushed me in the direction of the still bound young woman. "Keep an eye on her while I take care of this one, will ya?"
I nodded, stunned by the full smile she gave me, then walked over to where the wide-eyed woman still knelt. "It’s gonna be alright now. You’re going to be ok." Still crooning gently to her, I stripped away her bonds, taking special care with the tape plastered cruelly across her face. Finally free, sobs overcame her and she collapsed against me, grabbing at the fabric of my uniform as if to an anchor. Enfolding her in my arms, I gently rocked her as my eyes drifted back over to the center of the action, drawn, as always, to Ice.
After being assured by my calm presence that the young woman was as well as could be expected, Ice released Derby’s hand and stepped back, putting her hands on her hips and appraising her panting opponent. "We can do this one of two ways, Derby. You can leave well enough alone and walk out of here with the broken hand I just gave you, or you can be an idiot and come at me, in which case you’ll go out of here on a stretcher. Which is it gonna be?"
Shaking out her swelling hand, Derby stared daggers of hatred at Ice, who looked back, cool and calm as her namesake. "You think you’re so damn tough, Ice. Well, you ain’t." Trying the bull-rush maneuver once again, she lumbered at Ice. Instead of dodging, though, Ice met the huge onrushing body with a knee in the gut, doubling Derby over. A slashing elbow to the back of her skull, and the gang leader went down like a sack of over-ripe apples, howling as her face met the cold stone floor.
I couldn’t resist. "Oooooh
. Wrong choice."
Ice grinned fiercely at me, clearly enjoying herself as she danced out of the way of the falling body.
Actually gobbling in rage, Derby pushed herself up to her hands and knees, shaking her head and spraying fans of blood over the floor. Her face looked as if it had battled with a chainsaw and lost. Scrabbling back up to her feet, she came at Ice once again, her dripping blood staining her jumpsuit to a sickly rust color.
Ice met her with a high kick to the head, and then, in an absolutely incredible move, switched legs, straightening the behemoth’s body with another high kick to the other side. As Derby pinwheeled her arms, trying to maintain her balance, Ice launched a truly spectacular, right-from-the-hip side kick that caused the gang leader to actually leave her feet and fly halfway across the room.
She landed hard against one of the washers, her back bending almost double over its edge. The back of her skull smashed against the top with a huge, gonging clatter. Her legs gave out and she slid down the washer, landing on the floor in a bleeding heap.
"Had enough yet, Derby? Cause there’s plenty more where that came from." Ice smiled a smile that I can only describe as purely erotic. And I should know, because when I saw it, all the hormones in my body immediately sat up and did the mambo. "And it’s all for you."
Though I have no idea where her strength was coming from, Derby managed, by slow inches, to get herself back to her feet and she stood there, tottering, looking as if one stiff wind would blow her back to the floor again. "You’ll never beat me, bitch," she mumbled, half dazed.
I looked up at Ice, curious as to what she would do. Clearly, Derby wasn’t a threat to anyone anymore. The woman half stumbled toward her taller opponent, dragging one leg awkwardly behind her while wiping the blood from her nose with the back of her hand.
Ice stood calm and still, watching everything with that intensely piercing gaze that reminded me of an inquisitive bird of prey looking at a potential meal.
