Breakfall (7 page)

Sean settled himself in a seiza on his cheap carpet and bent to place the drink tray on the floor in front of his friend. He pressed the plunger of the coffee press down and poured a mug for Asbjorn before pouring a cup of jasmine-scented green tea for himself.

“Do you have everything you need, Asbjorn?” He blushed at the awkward phrasing. His gaze strayed across broad shoulders and down the dip in the spine, where the flannel shirt disappeared under the waistband of Asbjorn’s well-fitted jeans.

“Sean?” He felt his friend’s eyes on his face, while his gaze was riveted to Asbjorn’s fine ass.

“Here… I brought whole milk and sugar. Suit yourself.” Sean felt the blush growing hotter.

Both reached for Asbjorn’s cup at the same time. Their fingers brushed, and it was different from before
—
the electrifying feeling was nothing like their interchanges of strikes and blocks. Their eyes locked; a sense of vertigo overtook Sean, a sudden weightlessness, as he yielded to the gravitational pull. His face and Asbjorn’s drew closer and closer until their foreheads touched. Asbjorn tilted his face up and their lips brushed in a tender caress before Sean sat up again.

That had been a week ago. He replayed what had happened over and over, and there seemed to be no handy excuse for it. It wasn’t just casual touching in the course of practice nor Asbjorn’s eccentric way of showing him that he should indeed broaden his martial arts repertoire. There was no prank excuse like when Asbjorn woke him up at the library.

Sean was a man in possession of an analytical mind, and the only possibility was the seemingly impossible one.

He had leaned down to kiss Asbjorn—right after he was caught appreciating his friend’s fine physique. He didn’t know what that made him or what it meant. He had never felt more than friendship for another man before. He loved to hit Asbjorn and be thrown by him, to receive his attacks and throw him back—and throw him hard, because few things were as sensuous and erotic as a good fight, but—

Sensuous and erotic.

Sean scowled. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore—all he knew was he wanted it again, and he wanted a lot more of it.

N
ELL
WALKED
through the door. Dud and Asbjorn were in what could be construed as a compromising position in the middle of her living room floor. Asbjorn saw her assess the situation, noting the way they pushed all furniture to the walls.

He was stuck under Dud now. Dud’s left thigh was pinning Asbjorn’s hips crossways and his fists pushed into the sides of his neck. He heard the sound of Nell’s phone camera just before he almost blacked out.

Click.

Asbjorn tapped out. His eyes began to glaze over.

Dud rolled off him with a jubilant grin on his face, but his cackle died in his throat as Nell, whose baby girl he was watching that night, looked at him. “Oh. Hi, Nell.”

“That looked quite interesting, Dud. So interesting I even took a picture.” She smiled so wide. Asbjorn loved the way her eyes crinkled.

“Aww, Nell, that man of yours totally trashed me. And you have to take pictures of that?” he whined.

Penelopye Thorpe shot a glance in his direction and then took an assessing look around.

“At least you took care not to break anything this time,” Nell said, her voice filled with relief.

“Stella’s asleep?” she asked.

“Yeah, and we fought quietly.” Dud stood and wrapped Nell in his long arms, bending his head down for a brief kiss. “We already ate. Dinner’s in the oven.”

They moved to the kitchen and settled down. Nell forked some baked ziti, eyeing the two of them from the corner of her eye. They were dressed in hunting-camo fatigues and black, long-sleeve T-shirts, and they already wore thin-soled running shoes.

“Are you just waiting for me to finish so you can leave?” She said after she swallowed another bite.

“Nah… take your time,” Dud said. Asbjorn winced. The very air was abuzz with the excitement they were trying to suppress.

“So tell me,” she said with a wry look. “What are you up to?”

Dud looked up with guarded innocence. “Oh, not much.”

“Where might you be going?”

Asbjorn barely suppressed a groan. He felt like a teenage kid again, and he knew she would get her way in the end. Except Dud didn’t know it—not yet. The signs of her patience wearing thin were written in the tension of her shoulders and in the way she pressed her lips together. It wasn’t like she was new to being given half-assed answers—there were times she had quizzed Tiger mercilessly after every bar fight, dissected his strategies and tactics and techniques as well as their motivations, and tended his scrapes. Asbjorn had been present for her inquisition even when he didn’t take active part in the fights themselves.

“There’s a party,” Dud allowed.

“At the Warehouse?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“And I wasn’t invited because…?”

“Who’d watch Stella?”

“I see.” Nell picked up her phone and found a name on the touch-sensitive screen. “I’m sure I can find a sitter for a sleeping baby.”

Dud and Asbjorn exchanged a look. They were doomed.

S
EAN
WORE
loose black pants, sneakers, and a tight red Under Armour jersey under his brown winter jacket. Midterms were over, and he was waiting for his ride. Friday, November 13 was a fine day to try something new, which is why he was waiting for his ride to party.

Dud’s black Jeep coasted to the curb. When the rear door opened, he slid in next to Asbjorn, surprised to see Nell riding shotgun.

“Hi, guys. Hi, Nell. You’re coming too. That’s great!”

He noticed Asbjorn’s barely suppressed groan.

“Pull over at the store, Dud,” Nell said in a calm, motherly voice. He did, and Nell slid out of the cab and disappeared inside. A few minutes later, she returned with a case of Powerade and some bottled water. “Just something to supplement that case of beer you guys are bringing along.”

Dud cleared his throat. “You realize no spectators are allowed, right? You’ll have to play.”

“You bet.” Her expression was serious, with only a hint of glee in her eyes.

Asbjorn’s excitement for the outing wasn’t really dimmed by Nell’s presence. He was mostly confused about the way he felt when Sean’s knee accidentally brushed his in the back of the car. They avoided one another carefully since the time Asbjorn had attempted to study in Sean’s room. Attempted, and failed. Relentless in his pursuit for an answer to their bizarre dynamic, his mind flitted to what happened few days ago.

He watched Sean settle into a seiza with the sort of liquid grace he had seen in a teahouse entertainer in Japan. His tan, long-fingered hands moved with precision as he poured the coffee and tea with measured deliberation, and it was only after a long pause that he felt Sean’s rather heated look on his shoulders, searing its way down his back.

Their eyes met. Asbjorn had been unable to look away from the other man, basking in that warm, captivating gaze as Sean slowly bent toward him. He remembered tilting his head up in quiet fascination, and then their lips met, and he was glad he was laying on his front. Whenever the presence of another man affected him like this, he had suppressed it. Now the whole back of his neck tingled, and a shiver washed down his torso.

He enjoyed the very good coffee while thinking of cold, windy runs along the river, recollecting the shock of freezing ocean water through his wetsuit while diving, and the frigid morning showers in basic training. He finished his hot coffee along with his cold thoughts, and once he got himself under control, he made his excuses.

“I forgot some materials I really need. Thank you for the coffee, Sean, but I really cannot stay.” Their eyes met but briefly as he bade him good night.

And now Dud had suggested they include Sean in their outing, and he just couldn’t say no. They traveled south on Route 95 and took the second exit for Jamaica Plains. He surveyed the ill-lit streets, revealing houses in poor repair. The car swerved as Dud avoided the potholes, approaching a semi-industrial part of town, until they pulled into the bay of a large, run-down warehouse. Dud honked and the garage door scrolled up to let them in.

D
UD
TURNED
to consider Sean with a lopsided grin. “There’s something you should know. You’ll be asked to throw some people around, but don’t worry about it. Asbjorn ’n’ I thought it would be good practice for you. You’re ready for this.”

“Where are we, exactly?” Sean asked, fighting to keep his voice sounding bored and nonchalant.

“We’re in gang land. This is a bad part of town. Don’t leave the Warehouse. The gangs and us have an agreement of sorts.” Asbjorn’s voice was a bit too clipped for Sean’s liking. Like he didn’t want him to be around people who could get rough.

“Whatever,” he said, running his hand through his hair. “What are we waiting for?”

Dud pulled a case of Duck-Rabbit Winter Ale from the trunk of his Jeep, Asbjorn quickly grabbed the water and sports drinks before Nell could get to them, and Nell reached deep under the backseat and extracted a flat, olive green shoulder bag. Sean had nothing to carry and extended his arm, offering to carry her gear.

“No thank you, Sean. I’m in charge of this one.”

“What is it, Nell?”

“The first-aid kit.”

They deposited their offerings at the edge of a large circle neatly painted on the smooth concrete floor. Their hosts numbered close to twenty. They were dressed in a motley assortment of clothing, all of which seemed comfortable without being overly loose. They clustered around Sean and his friends, mobbing them, invading their space.

A shorter blond man in a green jersey greeted them. “It’s been a while. Good to see you back.”

Nell stepped up as the leader of the pack. She bumped fists with him. “First time since Tiger died, Mark.”

Mark looked her up and down. “You sure you’re ready for this? No spectators, remember? And no tourists, either,” he added, pointing with his chin toward Sean.

“Stella’s six months old already. If you give me any flack about this, I’ll zap you with some white stuff, I will.” Her green eyes gleamed with the glare of the overprotected and the willfully independent.

“You had a baby and shouldn’t be fighting, Nell.” Mark’s hip jutted out, his gesture determined.

Nell made a show of stripping her long-sleeve thermal shirt off her athletic body. She wore a black sports tank underneath, equipped with the best suspension engineering money could buy. She reached under the bra, flipped her right tit out, and squeezed it with considerable expertise.

A stream of warm, pale white liquid shot out. It spanned the five-foot distance, zapping Mark right in the cheek.

The men stood speechless; the few women present grinned.

“Oh, oh
yuck
, woman, that’s so fucking
gross
! How the fuck could you do a thing like this? Have you no shame?” Mark wiped the milk off his red face with his sleeve.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Nell tucked herself back in and grabbed a bottle of water, then walked to the center of the circle, and as she looked around, she uttered the words most of them knew so well. “Who will share drink and blood with me?”

“Oh, I’ll be happy to!” A bespectacled woman in a ponytail folded her glasses and tucked them into the spine of her book before she joined Nell in the middle of the ring with an open bottle of beer in her hand.

“Hey, Lisa!” Nell touched her bottle to Lisa’s with a smile, who then responded with the traditional response: “Hold your liquor while your blood curdles in fear.”

They drank up and squared off.

Sean thought he’d be attending a party, not a hard-core sparring session free-for-all with heavy-duty drinking involved. He watched Lisa, the girl fighting Nell, lead with a quick kick to the knee, which Nell avoided by moving her hips back. Lisa launched a punch at Nell’s face, which she blocked and counterpunched with a simultaneous dig up Lisa’s floating ribs. It would have been a great hit had Lisa not slammed her elbow down Nell’s forearm, going after her exposed throat with a strong, clawed hand.

Yet Nell stepped back just the smallest bit, causing Lisa to overreach, and overreaching was bad. It was greedy—it caused nothing but bad alignment, as Asbjorn so often tried to emphasize—and Lisa balanced forward just enough to allow Nell to bump her shin with a light, swift kick, and Lisa’s face slammed right into Nell’s waiting elbow.

Sean gasped as Lisa stumbled, a bit of blood streaming from her nose.

“You new to this?” asked a quiet voice next to him.

“Yeah,” Sean admitted, sizing up his neighbor. He was about Sean’s height, but his slender arms showed hard-earned muscle definition.

“I’m Adrian Rios.”

“Sean Gallaway.” He extended his hand, but Adrian presented him with a fist to bump. “We don’t shake. Too easy to get thrown.” He grinned. “I’ll challenge you next, Sean. Since you’re new and all. If they brought you along, you can’t totally suck.”