Authors: Sophia Kenzie
Beautiful PRICK (16 page)
And then she hugs me. It’s weird. And yet, not, which
actually makes it weirder. So I hug her back.
“Don’t hurt him. Please.” She whispers. “Because you,” she
says, looking straight into my eyes, “you could hurt him.”
Jules offers nothing more than that, but there’s a look in
her eyes that tells me she’s thinking more than she’s willing to say. Normally,
I’d make her spill, but my attention has turned back to the ring. Juan has
entered, in his usual fashion: hood up, head down. The crowd roars with cheer
the instant he approaches the center of the room. My heart begins to race and
my hands begin to sweat. I visualize my revenge, and it’s almost too sweet. One
day, I will take him down. One day… soon.
“Who is that?” I hear Jules question over the swell of
howls.
My face twists into a half smile, and with a devilish stare,
I simply answer, “That’s Juan. He has no idea what is coming to him.”
I was ready.
I got my sleep.
I ate breakfast.
I researched.
I watched online videos.
I stretched.
I got to the underground fight club early enough to put my
name in for the amateur matches.
I just didn’t suspect that he would be there.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I know that
voice. I know it so well.
I flip around, coming face to face (only because I know to
look up) with my very own Welsh protector, Johnny Braylock.
I don’t answer him; I instead ask my own question. “Why are
you here, Johnny?”
“To stop you from doing something stupid.” He fires back at
me.
“Your sister told you?” I knew she would, and yet, I still
had hope that she would let me do this on my own.
“Jules was only concerned with your safety.” He defends. “Unlike
you, it seems.”
He puts his hands on my shoulder, but I quickly push him
off.
“No.” It’s all I say.
“Let’s go.” He tries to lead the way, but I don’t follow.
“I said, no, Johnny. I’m not going with you. I’m staying
right here, and I’m fighting.”
“The hell you are.” His voice bellows, but I don’t shudder.
“You have no right to tell me what to do. You do understand
that right?” I begin to speak to him as if he’s a stubborn child. “And besides,
I’m ready for this.”
He shakes his head as he brushes his hair back with his
fingers. His scowl is matched by the glare of his dark eyes.
“I’m taking you home, Caroline.”
I almost laugh at his ridiculous sense of power. “Why would
I come with you?”
“Because I’m telling you to, kid.”
“That’s it.” I throw my arms up in the air, outraged that he
has yet again called me a ‘kid’. “I’ve absolutely had it with you.”
But I don’t get to walk away. His hands are locked around my
wrists and he pulls me into his chest.
His breath picks up as he stares into my eyes. Along with my
training and preparation, the pure anger that is spilling through my veins
makes me prime to fight, and if he doesn’t watch himself, the fight will be
with him.
“Move, Johnny.” I snarl.
He shakes his head, certain his way is gold.
“I can take care of myself now. And yet everyday you seem to
grow more and more protective over me. Why are you so scared to let go?”
There’s an unexpected change in him. Suddenly, I see
something completely different. He’s not the power-hungry, domineering, dream-stealing
God he was only a minute ago. Now he’s just the boy… the boy that was in my
bedroom telling me about his hopes and fears and vegetable preferences.
He closes his eyes. “I don’t want you to get hurt,
Caroline.”
I want to tell him that it’s too late,
he already hurt me. I want to tell him he’s a fool
for screwing up something that could have been awesome. I want to tell him that
I very well could have fallen in love with him.
But, of course, I don’t tell him any of that.
Instead, I say, “You gave up that right too.”
I pull from his grip, but it’s not that difficult, as he has
already released me. I know what I said hurt, but I don’t care. He deserved to
hear it.
My name is called. I take a breath, and step up to the ring.
I’ve never been a violent person, yet, in this moment, I
can’t stop swinging my fists. The adrenaline rushing through my body is more
than I truly think I can handle, but still, I crave more. I push her back a few
steps as my knee comes up and strikes her right under her ribs.
But she doesn’t back down; she doesn’t even take a
breath. She comes at me, pushing her full body weight into my torso, and
lifting my feet from the ground. I must have blacked out for a brief second,
because now I am on the floor, looking to the ceiling, and the girl in a white
sports bra and tiny black shorts is on top of me. I hear cries and screams
circling from all around me, telling me, and shrieking at me to flip her over. I
have to find a way to get on top.
I tell my body what needs to happen, but it refuses to
respond to my demands. It’s the third and final round, I am spent. I wrap my
legs around her waist, and my arms swing around her neck. She tries to shake me
off, but this hold, I can do. She’s strong, and definitely bigger than I am,
but if I’ve learned anything up until this moment, it’s that size doesn’t
matter when it comes to this type of fighting. She pushes back, rolling onto
her feet. I’m sure she believes that if she stands, I will lose my grip and
fall from her height.
But I don’t.
Instead, I tighten my hold around her shoulders, and use
every ounce of power I can muster to twist her around.
I
see the shock in her eyes as her body contorts to my commands. I use that very
shock to quickly lower my feet to the ground, and I wrap my leg around the back
of her knee, destabilizing her stance. At the same time, I jump in the air,
bringing my weight back down directly onto her shoulders.
She’s now the one on the ground, and I swiftly land on
top of her. I throw my fists at her face, praying desperately that she loses
consciousness, but she holds on for dear life. I feel her trying to buck
beneath me, attempting to kick me from my hold on her hips, but I wrap my
calves around her thighs for added support. My swings quicken as her blood
splashes across my cheek.
I’m not at all fazed,
I
just keep on fighting. I battle my urge to wrap my gloved hands around her
throat. I see her waning, it would be just too easy to finish her off, as a
loss of consciousness would surely secure me the win, but strangling is one of
the few things in this match that is against the rules. So I decide against it.
I know Johnny is close. I can feel his eyes on me. Although
I hate to admit it, I’m so glad he’s here. I’m glad he’s looking out for me. I’m
glad I’m not alone.
I guess this is that hour of the day when I don’t hate him.
Okay, maybe it’s more than one hour…
I lost focus and now I’ve returned to my back, staring up
at the ceiling. I feel the wind get knocked from my body as she slams her shin
into my stomach, and steadfastly keeps it there, while I wriggle in pain. I see
what she’s about to do as her hand slides under my shoulder, I quickly devise a
plan to escape from her joint lock. I twist into her palm, pushing against the
way she needs me to go to complete her hold. It is now my blood smeared across
my own face as I violently swing from side to side, grasping for the momentum
to break free. I clench my core and roll on top of her outstretched arm, forcing
her elbow to bend the way it’s not meant to bend.
I’m up. I hear him yell, telling me to get back into the
fight, but I just need a minute.
He’s still yelling.
My body feels numb and the metallic taste of blood in my
mouth is getting old.
He’s still yelling.
I need a minute. I need to not be dizzy. I need to not
taste blood. I need to…
It feels like everything is happening in slow motion as I
watch the girl with the white sports bra and tiny black shorts run toward me,
pull back her fist, and then extend it straight at my face. My cheek takes the
brunt of her knuckles, and I fall to the ground.
The bell rings.
My first MMA match is over.
I’m not used to losing. I don’t do anything unless I’m one
hundred percent sure that I’m ready and can win. Why was this so different? What
did I do wrong?
I can feel blood dripping down my face, but I don’t care. I
just want to get out of there. I don’t want to see or talk to anyone. I really
don’t want to face Johnny.
I hear him calling for me, I hear him gain on his approach,
but I keep up my steady pace, pushing through the crowd. I wipe the streaming
blood onto my arm
and throw my now bruised body
into the double doors, finding myself in the maze of a hallway.
I start to run. At first I don’t know what toward, but I
run: through the maze, through the metal door, past the bouncer, under the
flickering light, and to my car.
This can’t be it. This can’t be how my day ends. I needed
this to go well. I needed to prove to myself that I was ready to face my fear and
move on with my life. A part of me thought that if I could win this match, I’d
be one step closer. If I could get closure on this era of my life, I’d be that
much more prepared for the next.
But if I can’t beat this girl, how will I focus on Juan? If
I can’t focus on Juan, how will I beat Juan. If
if I can’t beat Juan, how will I be able to focus on
my pitch meeting with Josh?
Focus.
Exactly. When I realized Johnny was watching, I lost focus. I
could have won, had it not been for him.
As I sit behind the wheel of my car with my hand wrapped
around the key, I remind myself that I could allow the tears to fall, or I
could do something.
After all, the day isn’t yet over, and there’s still one
thing I can do to redeem it. I know Johnny isn’t watching this time.
Suddenly, I know exactly what I’m running toward.
My heart beats faster and faster as I approach my final
destination. I’ve driven past this spot a hundred times since the incident,
never once seeing the same group of guys, but for some reason, I know tonight
will be different.
Tonight, it has to be different.
I pull over two blocks away and put my car in park. After
one too many deep breaths, I finally shake off my fear and step onto the curb.
It’s late, dark, and quiet. But I continue on, knowing I
have something to prove. If I can make this happen, I can finally move on. I
won’t be scared anymore.
A chill runs
up my spine a
split second before I hear his raspy voice.
“Back for more, are you, sweetheart?” My mouth opens, and I
let out a quick shiver.
I have to do this. I’m here. I can’t turn back now.
I slowly spin over my shoulder, plastering a giant smile on
my face. “That I am.” I take another deliberate breath. “That I am.”
I’m grabbed from behind, but it doesn’t startle me, as it
should. Instead, I whip my head back, head butting him, and forcing my attacker
to drop his grip and stumble backwards. I don’t stop there, I flip around,
quickly placing my hands on his shoulders and kneeing him in the crotch. He falls
to the ground, momentarily paralyzed by my assault. My foot cradles his neck,
and I raise my eyebrows at him, threatening to give him my weight. His hands go
up, offering surrender, but I don’t get to enjoy it for long.
There’s a hand on my shoulder, which twists me back in the
opposite direction. I’m ready for his swing, and duck before he makes contact
with my face. I use the momentum from my deep squat to spring me back up, and I
give him a swift uppercut to the chin.
Luckily I manage, out of no devising of my own, to make him
bite his tongue in the process. He throws out some expletives before ultimately
letting someone else have their shot.
The two remaining minions come at me at once, tossing around
some jokes about double-teaming me. I swiftly shoot myself down, aiming my
shoulder for the one guy’s shins, which surprisingly is all it takes to knock
him on his back. But that act gave the other one enough time to come at me from
behind and put me in a chokehold. He flexes his bicep, attempting to cut off my
air supply, but I push my chin down, blocking his arm from making direct
contact with my neck.
I try to calculate the possibility of twisting out of his
hold, but in the moment, it seems way easier to stomp my heel into the top of
his foot. Much to my disappointment, it has the opposite effect. The sheer
unexpected pain causes him to instead bring me in tighter, rather than
releasing me. I try again, but he’s prepared this time, and keeps moving his
foot before I can throw my heel down upon it.
The three guys I have already taken down are slowly starting
to make it back to their feet. I’m afraid if they all jump on me at once, I’ll
be lost in my own, unsuccessful fantasy.
But for some reason, I’m not scared.
I’m not scared, at least, until Juan holds the guys back and
announces that it’s his turn. He instructs the man who currently has his arm
tightly wrapped around my neck to hold me still while he assesses his opponent.
I put on a strong face, but inside, I start to freak out.
There is a very real chance that I could die in the next few
minutes, or at least wind up badly beaten. Suddenly, everything has changed. It
has become real. What the
hell was I thinking? What
point was I trying to make? Did I really think I could take on five guys at once?
I doubt even Johnny could do that.
Okay, I’m sure he could. But, I’m no Johnny. I’m a writer. I
write comedy. I don’t beat up guys in back alleys.
In an instant, everything I have been fighting for as of
late loses every ounce of meaning. I don’t want this. I don’t need this type of
violence in my life. I’ve learned my lesson, and won’t be taking any more
middle of the night walking excursions through Hollywood.
Okay, my new proclamation is all well and good, but first I
need to figure out how to get out of this mess… if it’s possible to get out of
this mess.
“Are you following me, sweet thing?” Juan coos, right in my
face. His breath is sour, and causes me to wince. “Because, I believe this is
the fourth time I’ve seen your pretty face.”
Well, he can count. That’s a plus for him.
“Let me go!” I don’t address him directly, but fight to be
freed from his groupie’s grip.
Juan smiles at his crony and instructs him to do as I say. I
know it’s some sort of trick, so I don’t jump away as soon as I’m released. Instead,
I shake his stink off of me and casually step to the side, where I can see them
both. When I’m satisfied that neither of them are about to jump me, I
confidently nod to them and announce that I’m leaving. I know it’s not going to
be that simple, but it’s worth a shot.
Juan throws out his arm, stopping me. “Yeah, that’s not
happening.”
Damn.
I’m up against the wall, my arms pinned above me, and he has
his leg twisted through my shins, rendering me immobile.
“Squirm for me.” He moans into my neck.
I don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how disgusted I
am by him. I know I can’t overpower his hold; any fighting will only tire me
out. If I’m going to get out of this mess, I need to do it the smart way.
I just have no idea what
the smart way
is.
“I said squirm for me!” He barks, spitting his words all
over my face as he tightens his grip around my wrists.
Angered by my lack of response, he reaches into his back
pocket with his free hand, and produces a knife. I feel my pulse instantly
spike as the blade flashes in the moonlight.
“What are you… what are you doing?” I sputter, losing all
sense of power.
“Well,” he gleams at his weapon, “although
I
know I
could crush you with my bare hands,
you
seem to be forgetting that. I
figured this would be a helpful reminder.”
I try to hold back the tears, but their cascading has
already begun.
His smile is instant, and he brings his lips to my cheek. His
tongue glides up my face, following the trail made by my tears. “Mmm, salty.” He
whispers. “See, that’s all I wanted: fear.”
He commands his guys to help keep me pinned to the wall, to
which they quickly respond with acceptance. Each underling is now responsible
for a single one of my limbs, and Juan takes a step back.
“I’m going to slap you now.” He warns.
It hurts, and out of pure surprise, I scream out.
“Now I’m going to choke you.”
The play by play somehow makes the whole thing worse. Knowing
what is about to happen and not being capable of stopping it is perhaps the
hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life.
I’m sure he’s not finished playing with me, so I doubt the
next act will be my end, but knowing that his hands are about to be around my
neck puts everything in perspective.
This isn’t meant to be my life. I made a mistake, and
there’s no one to blame but myself. If
I somehow
make it out of here alive, I’m running straight to Johnny’s. I’m going to tell
him how I really feel about him: how I’ve always felt about him. I’m going to
tell him that I can’t do the casual sex thing anymore, and I’m sorry for
pretending that I was that (kind of) person.
I’m going to tell him that I know he can tap dance.
His hands tighten around my neck, and I try so terribly not
to panic. I know it will only make me need more breath than is absolutely
necessary. I try to calm myself, allowing my eyes to close and my mind to go
somewhere else. It’s plain to see that when I seem unfazed by him, he backs off
his attack.
But right now, he’s not.
He’s still squeezing, and breathing is becoming harder. My
head feels light, and although I try to hang on, I know it’s only a matter of
seconds before I pass out. My eyes have closed completely, and I am unable to
open them. It’s a strange feeling, one of being completely relaxed, and yet
completely vulnerable.
Through the fog, I hear… I hear…
I’m on the ground. His hand is gone from my neck, and my
limbs are no longer bound. I take a second to regain consciousness, but a
second is not enough. I shake my head, trying to bring myself back to reality.
I’m off the ground again. I’m in his arms. His arms.
“Johnny?” I squeak. My throat is sore, and my voice is
raspy.
“I have you, Caroline. I have you.”
My eyes finally come into focus, and I’m staring directly
into the darkness of his. It’s magical.
“Can you stand?” He quickly questions.
My limbs are tingling, but I’m sure they’re fine to hold me
up. “I think so.”
“Great. I’m leaning you up against a wall.”
He slowly sets me down, making sure I’m stable before he
turns back, just in time to punch the guy running straight for him.
The fight has escalated, and in the darkness, I only see
bodies flying this way and that. Johnny kicks one of the guys square in the
gut, sending him back to crash against the wall before he falls, writhing, to
the ground. He now has Juan in a chokehold while another jumps on his back.
“Caroline! Run!” He calls to me. “Now. Run!”
This is my chance. I can save myself. I can get away from
this stupidity. I can…
I cannot leave Johnny alone to clean up a mess that I made.
So I don’t run. Instead, I gather my strength and grab the
ankles of the guy still hanging off of Johnny’s back. I use all my might to
twist him, and then I twist again, until he’s forced to relinquish his grip. He
falls to the ground, banging his head on the pavement. I lower to him, digging
my knee into his chest, and just for the sake of it, I grab his hair and give
him another dose of a head bang to the ground. This jolts him, and I use the
opportunity to rise up and swiftly kick him in the ribs, just like they did to
me.
I’m sure now, that this guy is no longer an issue, so I look
up to see how Johnny is faring. He has Juan by the neck, and is dangling him in
the air. Juan tries to kick, but Johnny is holding him far enough away that his
short legs are nowhere near Johnny’s body. With a quick nod to me, to make sure
I’m paying attention, Johnny tosses him to the ground. Juan groans, trying to
roll over, but I rush to his side and kneel down next to him.
He’s fairly incapacitated, as is the rest of his crew, and I
know for sure that if I truly wanted to hurt him, this is my shot.
But I’m hurting. And I’m tired. And honestly, I’m so over
it.
So instead, I lie down on the ground next to Juan, resting
my face inches from his.
And I smile.
“I think I proved my point.” I whisper.
I take a few more breaths, allowing him to look into the
eyes of the person who ultimately brought him to his knees. Someone had to do
it. It might as well have been me.
With some help from Johnny, of course.
Johnny is on the phone with the police station, explaining
what had happened (leaving out the minor detail that I may have started the
whole thing), and telling them that there are five men in need of medical
attention. He gives the cross streets, and then his own address, saying that we
are heading back there, so if anyone needs to take our statement, that is where
we’ll be.
Deep down, he’s a pretty good-hearted guy.
I roll onto my back and lift my hands into the air, asking
for Johnny to help me up. He does, and then goes a step further by tossing me
into his arms.
“Are you okay?”
I just nod. I have so much I want to say to him, I have so
much I want to apologize for, but right now, I just want to bury my face in his
chest and cry.
So I do.
As we climb the few steps to his building, I hear the police
sirens in the distance. Neither of us says a word, or even acknowledges that
I’m still crying into his chest.
He softly places me down on the couch, and I expect him to
sit down next to me and hold me. Right now, it’s really the only thing I want
in the whole wide world.
But he doesn’t. He stays standing above
me, and the face he’s making… well, he’s not happy.
“You better have a fucking good
reason
for that show you just put on.”