A Certain Girl

by Tymber Dalton

  “Where are Jennifer and Jackson Shallis?” They were kids who wouldn’t miss a practice unless they were practically dead. They were seventeen-year-old twins, a brother and sister, and had been members of the group since they were able to walk.

  The girl rolled her eyes at Rusty. “They were two of the defectors. They decided to go join the Vikings with the others.”

  “What? Who the hell are all of you? This group’s literally been in existence for over thirty years, and I don’t recognize any of you.”

  She stood a little straighter. “They’re my friends. We wanted to join SCA, but they require a lot of stuff we don’t have. This was easier.”

  Kevin shook his head. “So, what, you take over?”

  The guy who’d walked up, Pat, stepped into the circle and shook with Rusty and Kevin. “Thank god you guys showed up. This has been a real shit-show—”

  “No one asked you!” Gaylena shrilly interrupted.

  “That’s exactly my point,” Pat said, looking more than a little irate. “We’ve never heard of you kids before, and you took advantage of Duke by taking over the website and Facebook group when he was looking for help, then you barge into our practices, changing everything we’ve been doing for years. Without bothering to actually ask any of us if we wanted to change what and how we do things.”

  “What?” Rusty turned on the girl. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Pat continued. “She showed up the Saturday after he gave her the logins and made her an admin, her and her little friends here. Literally stomped in and told everyone how she was going to do things, and if they didn’t like it, they could leave.” He swept his arm out, indicating the lack of old-timers. “You can see how that played out.”

  “Shit,” Rusty said.

  Gaylena lifted her chin. “Still stands. I’m in charge.”

  “You don’t deserve to be in charge!” Rusty advanced on her, and she did scramble back a step, much to his amusement.

  “Well, who’s going to take it away from me!” she said. “Duke had to leave town for work and no one else wanted to do it. You should’ve stepped up.”

  “I was out of town, but you can damn sure bet I could do a better job.”

  Eliza was going to kill him, but he suspected she was going to take this little shit apart at the seams when she heard the story.

  A story he wanted to learn more about before he did anything else.

  “Then you should’ve volunteered.”

  “I was out of town, kid. So you ruin a group just to feed your ego, huh?”

  “I’m good! I know I can beat you!”

  He snorted. “You think you can, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Her coterie nodded behind her. “I was named best in camp in mock combat five years in a row. And I won third place at regionals three months ago for fencing. You want this group, then challenge me. Fight me for it. Or are you chicken?”

  “Next Saturday,” Rusty said. “Same time. Right here. Winner gets the website and control of the Facebook group, and is in charge of running practices, all of that.”

  “Deal.”

  He turned to the other kids. “You all heard her make the deal, right?”

  They nodded.

  “Then I’ll see you in the circle next Saturday.”

  Fuck. He stomped away toward the parking lot, Pat and Kevin on his heels.

  “Eliza’s gonna kill you, isn’t she?” Kevin asked.

  “Fuck, yeah, she’s gonna kill me.” Rusty suspected Eliza was going to put a hurting on Gaylena, too.

  “Why didn’t you challenge her today and end it?” Pat asked.

  “Because I want to talk to some of the others first. I want the full story.”

  He also wanted to make sure Eliza would fight this battle for him. Because if he kicked the girl’s ass—which he easily could—that wasn’t a fair win, in his mind.

  Eliza, at least, was close in size, and the girl was young, but Eliza had decades of training and skill on her.

  There was also the whole problem that he needed Eliza to approve this.

  Chapter Ten

  Eliza wasn’t home when Rusty returned way earlier than he’d originally anticipated.

  Which was a good thing, because that gave him time to prepare.

  His first call was to his friend Ron, who was involved with a Viking group.

  I mean, how many can there be in Sarasota?

  Ron was also a friend in common from the Suncoast Society.

  “Hey, Rusty! Long time, no chat. What’s up?”

  “I was busy with work and out of town, so let me summarize…”

  Five minutes later, Ron was chuckling. “Yeah, we did just pick up a bunch of people from your group. The adults said fuck this shit and contacted us. They’re still doing their thing, just with us now. Some of them are also wanting to learn our fighting style, too, but they don’t have our weapons. It’s been fun mixing the practices. You know us—we like to have fun.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed at his forehead. “So if I get control of the group—”

  “If? Dude, like there’s any doubt. You mean when.”

  “Yeah, as long as Eliza clears it.”

  “Ah. There is that.”

  “Exactly. Can we still practice with you guys?”

  “I was wondering why you weren’t coming out with everyone. Look, you guys are more than welcome to join us. It’s all good. We’re practicing over at Ev’s now a lot, because it’s closer.”

  “Our Ev?”

  “Yeah. Ev and Wylie.”

  “Oh. That’s cool.”

  “Right? Just clear it with your owner.” Ron laughed.

  “Thanks.”

  Rusty ended the call and grabbed a shower. He’d already walked the dogs, and was naked and in his cuffs and collar, when Eliza returned an hour later.

  “You’re home early,” she noted.

  “Yeah, about that…”

  She groaned when he finished the story. “Really, Rus?”

  “Well, it’s that, or I become a Viking.” He thought about it. “Yay! New kit and weapons and gear!”

  She glared at him.

  “I mean, aw, boo, I’d have to needlessly spend money on a new kit and weapons and shield and allll that other fun…stuff.”

  She sighed. “Before we go fighting this literal battle, contact some of the others and make sure we’re not fighting a losing battle from the start.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really. If no one wants to come back from the other group, it’s kind of a moot point, anyway.” She leaned against the kitchen counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “So tell me about this little bitch.”

  He did.

  Eliza looked more than smug. “What you’re saying is I can make an example out of her? Guilt-free?”

  “Exactly.”

  “And you want the responsibility of doing this? Running the group?”

  “Kevin and Pat will help with running practices. We don’t have to worry about arranging a practice space if we’re combined with Ron’s group. There won’t be a lot to do differently than we already were.”

  She studied him. “Okay, do it. Call around.” She pushed off from the counter. “What could possibly go wrong?”

  * * * *

  What happened out of the gate the next Saturday morning was that Chica let out a yip in the backyard when Eliza had them outside for their morning walkies. By the time Eliza ran over to her, the dog was limping. Somehow, she’d hooked her dewclaw nail on the tough runners of the Floratam grass in their backyard and ripped it off, leaving her bleeding.

  “Shit! Rus!”

  He came running, realized what was going on, and grabbed an old bath towel to wrap around her paw.

  “I’ll run her to the vet,” Eliza said. “They’re open until noon. I’ll meet you at the park after I get her home.”

  They didn’t have to be there for ninety minutes. “You want me to go with you to the vet?”

&nb
sp; “No, dig the large crate out of the garage for me, wash and dry it, and set it up in the living room. I’ll crate her when I get her home and then head to the park.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.” He immediately headed to the garage to do it.

  This wasn’t how he envisioned the day going.

  I hope I haven’t jinxed things.

  He’d talked to over two dozen of the “old-timers” over the past week, and unanimously they’d agreed to Rusty’s plan. They’d be showing up today in support of Rusty and Eliza.

  And yes, they all wanted to keep practicing with Ron’s group. Today was an off day for the Vikings, though, so it worked out all right.

  Now all they had to do was get Eliza there to kick the little bitch’s ass.

  * * * *

  Rusty arrived at the park early and donned his full kit, including his sword. He’d watched several of the videos Gaylena had posted in the Facebook group, of her at “camp” and at her fencing competition.

  When he researched the competition, it turned out there were only three people competing in her age and implement division.

  In other words, she’d come in third by default.

  Looooooser.

  Her “choreography” left a lot to be desired, too. Her footwork was sloppy, as was her swordwork. It was blatantly obvious that she had no clue what the hell she was doing from a fighting viewpoint.

  Kevin soon arrived, as did a few others.

  “Where’s Eliza?” Kevin asked.

  “She needed to take one of the dogs to the vet this morning. Ripped off a toenail somehow on her walk. She’s driving separately.”

  “Yikes. I hope your dog’s okay.”

  “Yeah, vet said it’s not unusual. Just had to stop the bleeding, is all. Eliza wanted to put her in a crate though, and of course it was out in the garage and needed cleaning. I got that ready for her. She told me to come on ahead.”

  The “kids” started arriving and took up a position around one picnic table in the shade. Gaylena walked over, a smug look on her face. “You sure you want to do this, pops?”

  Rusty made a fist but resisted the urge to sock her in her smirking mouth. “Not everyone’s here yet,” he said.

  “Whatever.” She strolled back over to her group, several of them looking his way and laughing when she said something too low for them to hear.

  “Why don’t we all just go with the Vikings?” Kevin asked. “Why are we fucking bothering with this bullshit?”

  “Because it’s the fucking principle now,” Rusty said through his clenched jaw. “It’s our group. It’s been our group. Don’t worry, Eliza’s going to take care of it.”

  “What if she won’t fight Eliza?”

  Rusty smirked. “Oh, she’ll fight Eliza. Li won’t give her a choice.”

  A bunch of the “old-timers” were standing near the circle and chatting when Eliza drove up in her SUV just before the regular start time. Rusty stared as Eliza marched across the field from the parking lot. She was dressed in black yoga capris, a form-fitting tank top over a sports bra, flip-flops…

  And wore the pouch holding her bastons slung crossways over her back.

  God help him, he was suddenly fighting the urge to squirm and adjust his cock.

  Thank god I wore a jockstrap today.

  At least his tunic hung low enough to hide his growing bulge.

  He knew exactly why she’d chosen this particular outfit, and those particular weapons, instead of her usual kit and sword.

  This was the point about to be driven home.

  Hopefully straight through Gaylena’s skull.

  Kevin leaned in. “Holy shit, she looks pissed.”

  “Yeah,” Rusty muttered. “She absolutely is.”

  Eliza snapped her fingers at him as she passed. Rusty scurried to fall in behind her as she strode over to where the gaggle of “popular kids” now stood gathered around Gaylena.

  Eliza stopped a few feet away, her hands planted on her hips as she surveyed the kids for a long moment. “Which one of you little shits is Gaylena?” she finally asked.

  The girl wore a smirk. “Oh, does pops need to have his wife come fight his battles for him?”

  “Hey, kiddo. The deal was fighting you for control of the group, right? Didn’t say anything about he couldn’t appoint a champion to do it for him. My husband doesn’t kick little girls’ asses because he’s a gentleman, not because he can’t fight you.”

  “Well, if that’s the case, my boyfriend, Jordan, can fight him.” She pointed to a kid standing just behind her, not much taller than Gaylena, who also wore an annoyingly smug expression.

  Gaylena stood at least six inches taller than Eliza, and the smug, slow glance she gave Li told Rusty he might need to have an ambulance on standby for the girl when his wife finished taking her apart.

  Rusty suppressed his amused smile as he watched the calculations spin through Eliza’s expression.

  “I can take you, honey. No sweat.”

  Gaylena snorted. “You’re going to fight me?”

  “I’ll do you one better,” Eliza said. “I’ll kick your ass, then I’ll kick your boyfriend’s ass. Once I beat both of you, then we regain control of the Facebook group, website, and the group as a whole.”

  “Kick our asses?” Gaylena sneered. “As if.”

  “Well, if you’re too chicken to fight an old woman—”

  “I didn’t say I was chicken!”

  “Then grab your shit and get your ass in the circle. Or forfeit. Now.” Total mom voice.

  Eliza started to turn and Rusty was more than a little amused to see indecision wash over Gaylena’s expression.

  All the other kids were staring at Gaylena, though, expecting her to follow through with it.

  Jordan didn’t look none too thrilled, either.

  Eliza kicked off her flip-flops outside the circle and stepped inside it, where she started stretching and cracking her neck. Rusty circled around the far side, hand on the hilt of his bastard sword, and grabbed his cell phone from his leather pouch so he could film this.

  Gaylena, surrounded and more or less propelled by her coterie, made her way toward the circle. At the edge, she stared at Eliza.

  “You’re not wearing any armor. How am I supposed to fight you?”

  “You told Rus you were an expert. Shouldn’t matter.” Eliza chuckled. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t hurt you too much. Don’t bother pulling your punches, either. You’ll need all the help you can get.”

  Jordan handed Gaylena her helmet. She finally put it on, and then donned her leather gauntlets.

  Kevin and his wife, and about a dozen of the other old-timers, walked over to stand with Rusty. All of them had cell phones in hand, video cameras at the ready.

  “Yeah, Gaylena,” Kevin said. “We all heard you mouthing off last week. Control of the group goes to the winner. That’s what you said.” He was already filming.

  “How am I supposed to fight you if you don’t have any weapons?” Gaylena’s voice had risen in pitch.

  Rusty knew that tone.

  That was fear.

  “Honey, this group has always been about inclusion, not exclusion,” Eliza said. “Regardless of the kind of weapons or period the participants wanted to reflect. The only time we worried about being ‘correct’ was when we participated in the human chess matches at Ren Fair. Otherwise, we matched like to like in terms of skill, weapons, and gear. While some of us are also in SCA, this group ain’t the SCA. Things don’t have to come out of fricking tombs or museums to be used in skirmishes.”

  Eliza crossed her arms over her chest and gave Gaylena a dismissive glance. “Had you taken time to actually learn the group’s history, like a leader should, you’d fucking know that.”

  “You can take her, Gaylena,” one of the other girls said.

  “She doesn’t have any armor or pads on!”

  A slow smile filled Eliza’s face where she now stood dead center in the circle. “Bok.”


  “What?”

  “Bok bok. Chicken.” Eliza clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Get your ass out here, or yield so I can kick your boyfriend’s ass. I have places to be, kiddo, and I’ve had a shitty morning. Let’s gitter done.”

  Rusty didn’t know if it was the disquieting smile Eliza used—one he knew all too well—or her complete, unshakable confidence that was rattling the girl, but Gaylena reluctantly stepped inside the circle as her friend Mayghen pulled out her whistle.

  “All right. Fighters ready? Begin.” She blew the whistle.

  Eliza stood there, hands on her hips, feet shoulder-width apart. He could tell she was balancing on the balls of her feet.

  “Ooh, ten bucks says Eliza sends both of them out of here in an ambulance,” Kevin muttered to Rusty, where he now stood filming.

  “Nope. Won’t take that bet. That’s a sucker’s bet.”

  “You want to go grab pizza when we’re done here?” Kevin asked.

  Rusty shrugged. “Sure. Sounds good.”

  “Ooh, did someone say pizza?” one of the others asked. “I could go for that.”

  “We need to have practice first,” Rusty said.

  “And wait for EMS to haul the victims off,” Pat added, followed by an evil cackle.

  Gaylena held her sword in a two-handed grip that didn’t look nearly as confident as she did in her choreographed “routines.”

  “Did you guys say pizza?” Eliza asked without taking her eyes off Gaylena.

  “Yeah, honey,” Rusty said, already knowing what she was doing. “Pietro’s, maybe.”

  “That sounds good.” She was pivoting now as Gaylena circled her. “We haven’t been there in a while.”

  “I think it’s been a couple of months,” he agreed, enjoying the mindfuck they were giving the girl.

  Gaylena charged and Eliza easily dodged the girl, spinning and kicking her in the ass and shoving her off-balance on the follow-through, nearly sending Gaylena flying face-first into the grass. Somehow, the kid managed to keep her footing.

  A collective gasp rose from the other kids, while the adults burst out laughing. Gaylena didn’t trip, but she came damn close to it. And when she wheeled around, Rusty could tell she was pissed off.