Knockout

by Tracey Ward

  Kellen stared at me blankly. His nostrils flared as he took several deep breathes but his eyes never left mine. Finally he turned around slowly, facing forward and taking hold of the handle bars.

  “Wrap your arms around my waist and hold onto me hard,” he said gruffly. “Clench the bike and me with your legs, lean with me when I lean. You got it?”

  I scooted forward until I was straddling him from behind, my inner thighs pressed tightly to his body. When I wrapped my arms around his waist and hugged myself to the wall of muscle that was his back, I became very aware of everything. The cool night breeze, the sound of the ocean nearby, the tangy taste of salt on the air. He started the engine and suddenly there was the rumble of the bike beneath me, the smell of exhaust and the feel of his large, warm hand on top of mine when he pinned it firmly against his body. I could feel him take a deep, steadying breath, his stomach rising and falling under our joined hands. Then he let me go, revved the engine once and we were off.

  We drove slowly around town for at least an hour, neither of us saying anything. I could feel how tense he was beneath my hands. I was hugging stone. He needed to come down. To relax and breathe for a minute. And to get to that calm, I knew he needed to hit something.

  “Kellen,” I said in his ear when we’d reached a stop sign, “take me to your gym.”

  He didn’t answer, he only nodded. Then he violently spun the bike around in the empty intersection and we raced toward his old neighborhood. We blurred past boutiques and restaurants, past the fancy hotels and the overpriced ocean view apartments. We rode deeper into the city toward the tall buildings with alleys in between. The passing cars changed from Range Rovers and Lexus’ to old Hondas and faded Chevy models that were decades past discontinued. I’d been down here in this neighborhood several times with dad over the years to watch Kellen box. We’d been to gyms all over town, following the venues as they hopped from place to place. Some were nice, some were alright and some were super sketch. Kellen’s gym was one of the latter. I’d only been there in the daylight before and tonight in the dark pulling up outside that decrepit, tagged brick building, I was a little nervous. Especially because I was barefoot.

  Kellen killed the engine and waited for me to get off the bike so he could as well, but I hesitated.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, turning to look at me. He saw my worried expression. “You’re scared, aren’t you? I shouldn’t have brought you here. I’ll take you home.”

  “No, I’m not scared. Not of the neighborhood, but maybe of tetanus.” I lifted my leg up so he could see my barefoot pale and white in the moonlight. “I rushed out of the house to catch up to you and I didn’t put on shoes.”

  I felt him chuckle briefly. It was nice. Better than the anger.

  “Hang on,” he told me as he dropped the kickstand and swung himself off the bike.

  He unclipped his helmet, reached out and unclipped mine, then handed them both to me. The second I had them in my hands he swept me off the bike up into his arms.

  “Whoa!”

  “I’ve got you,” his voice rumbled deep against my side.

  He carried me into the dark building like a prince going the wrong way. This was the dragon’s den, my palace sitting miles away on a cliff overlooking the sea. This fairytale was running in reverse but I liked it better. It was more exciting than Cinderella.

  When we got inside the place looked closed. The lights were low for the evening and there was an old guy sitting at a desk in the corner with a small lamp turned on over its surface. He was reading a magazine but whether it was Better Homes and Gardens or Hustler, I couldn’t tell from here. He looked up and nodded to Kellen when we entered. Neither of them said a word to each other.

  Kellen carried me to the opposite side of the gym where he set me down in a chair.

  “Keep your feet up,” he said before disappearing into a backroom.

  When he came back out he had red tape in his hands, the kind he used to wrap his hands inside his gloves. He knelt in front of me as he pulled the end of the tape free, then he lifted my foot and started wrapping it.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, watching as his swift, efficient hands made quick work of my embarrassingly large foot. I understood the physics of it, that I needed that canoe to be this tall and not fall over, but I was still self-conscious about it. Find cute shoes in a size 11, I dare you. Find a size 11 in women’s at all!

  “I don’t want you walking around here barefoot. It gets cleaned but not well and guys spit, sweat and bleed all over this place. Is this too tight? Does it hurt?”

  “No,” I said softly. He was done wrapping it and both his hands were roaming over my foot, feeling to make sure it was covered but not too tightly. It made me shiver once quickly. Kellen felt the tremor run through me and he looked up.

  “Are you cold?”

  I shrugged. “A little, maybe.”

  “Here,” he said, pulling his T-shirt over his head. He was naked underneath and I was shivering again. He draped the shirt over my head, pulling my hair free for me and letting it fall long and dark over my shoulders. When he sat back on his heels he grinned up at me. “It looks good on you.”

  I chuckled. “It looks huge on me.”

  Kellen quickly wrapped my other foot before standing up and surveying the gym. He glanced back at me once, his face unsure. I waved him on.

  “Do what you’ve gotta do. I’m fine.”

  “You’re not scared being here?”

  I shook my head. “I’m never scared when I’m with you.”

  He grinned faintly before looking away. “Laney has never been here. All this time and she’s never shown up. She said she doesn’t like the neighborhood. She’s worried her car will get stolen.”

  “Kellen, what she said tonight—“

  “Is true,” he cut me off harshly, his eyes going dark. “She’s right. I’m poor white trash, Jenna. It doesn’t matter what grades I get or college I go to. I’ll always be poor white trash.”

  “Those aren’t the same thing,” I told him, getting angry.

  “What isn’t?”

  “Poor and trash. Those are two completely separate things and you know it. You’ve met some of Laney’s friends. Hell, you’ve met some of my parent’s friends. They’re rich as shit but some of them are straight up trash. People lying to each other, cheating on each other, stealing from each other. Money doesn’t make you a good person. If anything, it ruins you.”

  He continued to stare into the distance. I knew he heard me but I also knew I wasn't getting through. He was gone. Detached the way he got when the world expected too much.

  “Hey, look at me,” I told him.

  Finally he brought his dark eyes to mine.

  “When you look at me, do you only see a rich girl?”

  Kellen’s brow pinched. “No. Not at all.”

  “Good, ‘cause when I look at you, I don’t see a poor boy. I see you. All of you. The boxer, the genius, the smartass, the know it all. You are who you are, Kel. You’re not the place you grew up in or your bank account. You’re you and I happen to think that you are pretty fucking amazing.”

  He smirked and when the light of it hit his eyes, I sighed inside. “You’re pretty fucking amazing yourself.”

  “I know. Now go do what you do until you feel like yourself again. I’ll wait.”

  And I did. For hours. Kellen ran through his entire workout but I didn’t say a word. I sat in that chair or wandered around the gym, but I stayed close the entire time. He didn’t speak to me, he barely looked at me, but it didn’t matter. He was in his zone. In his place where the world turned blurry like the painting I’d done of him. Where it was all color and light without sound or thought. It was weightless. Instinctual and free.

  When he was finished, when he was covered in sweat and breathing hard in the dark making my mind explode in thoughts that I should never be thinking of him, we left. I gave him his shirt back as we walked outside, my feet still wrapp
ed in red, then we rode away into the dark. He took me the long way home. We went slowly and I knew he was feeling better. More relaxed. His burning hot, sweat soaked body was softer beneath my hands. More pliable. He felt less like a statue and more like a man and when he stopped at lights for the red, took his hand off the handlebars and pressed it to mine against his stomach just as he had in the driveway, I went soft inside as well. Hot and melted. Burning slow. And that man did it every single time, at every single light. By the time we pulled up to my house, I was humming inside.

  Before I was even off the back of the bike, dad was coming out the door. I worried that Kellen was in trouble for shouting at Laney or taking me with him when we both knew I wasn’t allowed so I met my dad halfway.

  “I jumped on the bike and refused to get off,” I explained quickly. “It wasn’t his fault. I was worried he’d hurt himself driving away mad and I knew he’d be careful if I was with him so I went. I know I wasn’t supposed to but—“

  “Jenna, it’s fine,” dad interrupted quietly. He put his hand reassuringly on my shoulder, shaking his head. “No one is mad. Not at you.”

  “Dan, I’m sorry,” Kellen said, coming off his bike as well. “I should have left her behind. I never went over 40mph, I swear and she wore the helmet the whole time.”

  “I know you were careful. We’re not angry at you either.”

  “But you’re mad at someone,” I said slowly, reading his tight eyes.

  He nodded. “We are. At least, I am. I’m angry at Laney for what she said.” Dad stepped past me toward Kellen. “Son, I’m sorry. It should be her here apologizing, not me, but when I told her she needed to make things right, she left.”

  “It’s over between us,” Kellen said heavily. “There’s no making it right this time.”

  “And that’s fine. Whether you two stay together or split up, I don’t care as long as you’re both happy. But what I do care about is how she handled it. She owes you an apology and you’ll get it. Just not tonight, apparently.”

  “That’s fine. I’m not in the mood to hear it tonight.” Kellen ran his hand over his face, looking suddenly tired. “I owe Karen an apology. Laney as well. I shouldn’t have shouted like that and I definitely shouldn’t have used that kind of language in her house.”

  “She’ll get over it. But for now it’s late. Jenna, why don’t you go inside and get to bed. Kellen, you’ll stay the night in the pool house.”

  “That’s alright. I’m going to drive back home.”

  Dad stopped and stared at Kellen. “No, you’re not. It’s too late for a drive like that tonight and you already look exhausted.”

  “No, I really—“

  “Get your ass to the pool house, Kellen.”

  I was surprised when instead of fighting or just jumping on his bike and leaving, Kellen smiled.

  “Yes, sir.”

  Dad nodded, then headed for the house. “Goodnight, you two.”

  “Goodnight,” we both called back.

  “You’ll be gone in the morning, won’t you?” I asked Kellen when dad was gone.

  “Yeah. I’ll get a few hours of sleep but then I’m gone.”

  I nodded in understanding, feeling my throat tighten up. I was scared. I hadn’t been scared on the back of his bike and I hadn’t been scared sitting in a boxing gym at nearly midnight in a shady part of town, but right now looking at him standing there itching to leave, I was terrified.

  “Remember that you promised me,” I whispered, trying not to let my fears show in my voice.

  He met my eyes and nodded slowly. “I remember.”

  “You’ll keep it, won’t you? Even with you and Laney splitting up.”

  “That has nothing to do with you and I, Jen.” He wrapped me up in his arms and held me tightly.

  I felt a tear escape my eye as I hugged him back, knotting his cold sweaty shirt in my hands. “You’re my best friend,” I breathed.

  I felt him nod his head before resting it against mine.

  “You’re mine.”

  Chapter Ten

  He disappeared for two months after that. Two long, silent months. If I texted him he always answered back, but it was quick. He was distant and that hurt. I blamed Laney of course, but it wasn’t really her fault. Not entirely. I heard from dad that she eventually called Kellen and gave him the apology he deserved. Kellen had apologized as well and the conversation ended without further shouting or cursing. That was impressive.

  They were still split up, though, and even though I felt incredibly relieved by that fact, I knew it meant everything would change. We wouldn’t see Kellen nearly as often as we had before, which had been practically every weekend. He didn’t have the pull of a girlfriend begging him to make the long drive and now he had the threat of facing an ex if he showed. It wasn’t enticing, no matter how much he loved us.

  It was in the start of that third month, right at the beginning of August when I was missing my friend something fierce, that I got a letter. I recognized the return address immediately.

  It was from Kellen.

  When I tore it open, a smile already forming on my face, I couldn’t wait to see what it said. Then my heart plummeted. I frowned at the paper and groaned in annoyance.

  He had written the damn thing entirely in French.

  “Are you serious?”

  I picked up my phone and immediately texted him.

  You wrote me in French?!

  His reply, though short, was immediate and to the point.

  Qui.

  Ass!

  Qui.

  It’s summer! I’m not interested in doing homework.

  Learning never takes a vacation. It’s an ongoing process.

  Thanks, Yoda.

  I think you mean ‘Merci, Yoda’.

  You’re the worst.

  Qui.

  “Ugh!” I groaned, tossing my phone aside and sitting down with the letter.

  It was hopeless. I had to go get my French book out of my closet to translate it and I still made a mess of it, only gathering the gist. It wasn’t until I was halfway through that I realized I could type it into a translator online and get a perfect English copy immediately. But as I sat there with his slanted, sharp handwriting in front of me working on the puzzle of deciphering his message about school, boxing and his life in general, I didn’t want to cheat. I wanted to earn the answers the way he intended. I worried I’d miss something if I did it the easy way. I also worried he’d know and that would be the end of my letters.

  So I worked on it diligently for over an hour. It wasn’t a long letter, but it felt like a novel when I finally finished it. There was nothing profound in it. Nothing to remember years later, but it was nice to hear from him. To feel connected to him again, as though we were sitting in front of the silent TV side by side working through it together. It bridged the three month, six hour gap between us until I was smiling and feeling better than I had in weeks.

  It sounds like you’re eating a shocking amount of Lucky Charms, I texted him.

  Well I am Irish.

  Congrats on the win in your last bout.

  Do you know how amazing it is that you know it's called a bout?

  I've gone to almost every one you've had for years!

  Still though. Amazing.

  Well I am that.

  Agreed.

  My phone fell silent in my hand after that. I didn't know what else to say and he wasn't talking either. It had been nice, though. Between the letter and this quick back and forth with him. It was more than I'd had in months. When I slipped my phone into my pocket and headed for my room, I was smiling.

  I wrote Kellen a letter the next day. In French. It nearly killed me but it wasn't even a week before I got a response. We went on through the summer like that, mailing each other back and forth. Laney found a letter once, one telling me he'd gone on a date with a girl but that it'd been a disaster because she was too much like Laney. She saw her name and freaked out, asking what he'd said
about her. I told her he said he missed us all, even her. Yeah, I lied to my sister ‘cause I just didn't need the drama from her right then. I was going through dating woes of my own.

  "Devon's been banging Trisha. Like on the regular," Sam told me one night on the phone.

  I stared at the ceiling trying not to care, but part of me did. I still liked him. He was a nice guy and what happened with us, before my sister and Kellen burst in, had been incredible. It was something I would have liked a repeat performance of, maybe even something a little more X rated, but that show had pulled up stakes and moved on. Apparently now it was the Trisha Show five days a friggin' week.

  "Lucky her," I muttered.

  "You still like him, huh?"

  "He's a good guy. And he was funny. I don't know. Yeah, I guess I still like him."

  "Maybe tell Kellen not to try to murder anymore of your boyfriends."

  "He wasn't my boyfriend and he didn't try to murder him. It doesn't matter. I'm going to die alone."

  "Probably."

  "Thanks."

  "I'll be right there with you."

  "What happened to Mark? I thought that was getting somewhere."

  "Eh. He's a little too surfer boy mainstream for me."

  "Newsflash, Sam. This is SoCal. The majority of them are going to be mainstream surfer boys. Devon is."

  "Kellen isn't. Maybe I need to go slumming."

  I bristled. "Don't say shit like that about him."

  "Whoa, sorry. I didn't mean anything by it. I just mean your boy’s got edge. He has a little bite to him."

  "He's not my boy and he's not edgy. He's just... him."

  "Okay. But I mean it. Maybe I need to go looking outside our area code."

  "Probably not a bad idea."

  "Want to take a drive this weekend? Get out of town for a day, see what we see? Or who we can meet?"

  I started thinking about a tattoo parlor I'd heard of that was about two hours north of Palos Verdes. It had a great rep, beautiful artwork coming out of it and I'd heard through the grapevine that if you got the right person on the right day with the right amount of money in your pocket, you could get a little ink even if you weren't eighteen. I was almost a year away from being legal and I was itching to get my first tat. And I already knew exactly what I was going to get.