Feinting Spells 4-2
Late October, That Year
The familiar sound of leather striking leather rang out through the South LA gym in fierce bursts. A gym’s striking coach and its brightest prospect, a mother and her daughter. Two women at work.
Paff.
Paff paff paff.
Paff paff… paff.
Late mornings like this almost always found the gym empty; today especially so. No more than a handful of souls occupied the place. In the boxing ring, mother and daughter spoke in between the call and response of gloves and shin guards hitting training pads.
“Mom, you’re really gonna get Jazz a fight? Forreal? Like for real for real?” Simone stammered.
“I meant what I said.” Yolanda Waterson replied curtly as she fed her daughter a punch meant to be parried. “And besides, if I can convince ‘West Coast Warzone,’” the Waterson matriarch paused to visibly shudder at the name, “that she’s an actual live fighter with talent and a misleading record who's willing to fight, they'll be more likely to let you out of your contract early. I can think of a few reasons they'd want a ringer on the payroll.” A wry smile crept across her face.
Simone cocked her head to the side, letting her thin braids fall over her shoulders as she bobbed and swayed. “Like, isn't that kinda foul though? Making someone fight a girl where there's basically has no recent footage of her and attend way better than her record? That’d suck…”
“Yup. Exactly.” Mom replied with a smirk before barking out a new series of movements and strikes for daughter to perform. “Which is why if I pitch her that way, West Coast may let us end your contract without an argument.”
“Why's it so important I get out of this contract?” Simone asked as she drove her knee into a training pad.
“Because,” her mom paused for effect, doing her best to look nonchalant. “Dre said someone from Gladiator Championship Fights had called him about you: apparently they planned on sending a contract to whoever won your last fight.”
Daughter stopped mid-combo now. “Wait, my last fight? With Texas girl? Well, I put her to sleep so-“ Simone yelped as as she stopped to ponder and a thick leather Thai pad swung into her face.
“I didn't say stop,” mother said with a shrug before calling out a new pattern of strikes and movements. “But yeah, they sent over an offer. I saw it: it's got the right number of zeroes on it. It's official, Money, you’re headed to the major leagues.” She intentionally didn't give her daughter a chance to stop and process the news, instead moving right along into a new sequence.
“Wow. That's…” the college sophomore trailed off to strike the pads her mother held. “Sounds like fun. At least, I hope so. I’m looking forward to women with… I unno… more talent? Better fight plans?” She shrugged before stepping up and swinging her shin into the pad. “Fighting’s more fun when the competition’s better. Any idea who they'll ask me to fight first?”
“Keep slacking off and see how much fun this is. For real; you play too much, Simone, especially during fights. Show up. Win fast. Get paid.” All the humor drained from Yolanda’s voice and she glared at her daughter. “If you wanna play with these women then go train with them. But fight night is for real, and playing around is going to bite your ass eventually. I promise.” Her tone softened as she returned to happier news: “ Andre is betting it’s Terry Kim, the Tae Kwon Do one from ESPN. You remember? She finished the Olympics and turned pro and looks like she's forreal. They signed her what, last month? They haven't announced a fight for her yet. My money says it's you.”
Simone beamed. She remembered Tae Ri “Terri” Kim. The woman took silver at the Olympics the year before in a fairly controversial decision. Since then she'd been connected to a few different MMA organizations. A showdown with some TKD prodigy was exactly the kind of challenge that got her blood racing. She hit the training pads with a renewed fervor that her did not go unnoticed by her mom and striking coach.
“This is the big time, Simone. We're almost there; just don't do anything stupid, alright?”
“Yaaaas girl. He could… totally get it.” The young woman half announced, half admitted. She blushed, however, when the woman she was speaking to replied with a wide-eyed giggle. “Whaaat?” She protested, lightly pushing the woman.
“Nah, it's nothing, Theresa; just, I’ve never heard you say ‘yaaaas' before. It's cute. I fuck with it. Besides, it's funny hearing you talk about thotting it up. Go ahead and get yours, Theresa.”
The term ‘thot' made Theresa uneasy, especially when applied to her, and her face showed it. “I mean, that sounds so… bad though. So slutty… I'm just-“
“Doing what you want with who you want to. Sounds like a plan to me, Theresa.”
“Well when you say it like that, Simone, I guess it doesn't sound so bad…” Theresa’s voice trailed off. Simone resumed playfully interrogating her, frequently teasing her about Theresa’s conclusions. Guys, music, classes, and fighting, which Theresa was still reticent to openly discuss. It was weird, being in class with a professional fighter, and she said as much: Simone wasn't the musclebound barbarian Theresa would have described if you’d asked her to describe a professional fighter.
Across the room, Theresa’s roommate took off her earphones and put down her phone.
“Done with your writing, Jennifer?”
“Ugh… for now.” The Seattle native responded, stretching out her slender limbs. “I'll have to finish it eventually, but that's a problem for future Jennifer.” She joined giggling pair, sitting on her own bed, across from them. The cackling dup became a trio, swapping dreams and opinions as the crisp fall afternoon melted into the evening.
When the dorm room door slid open, the three sophomore women recalled that the deadbolt had been extended, but the door had been intentionally left open: the result was that the door looked closed but could be pushed open by whomever wanted to enter. Private but amenable to socializing. Now the three waited to see who the interloper might be. Only one of them expected their floor's tall, voluptuous, blonde RA to walk in, her smile bright and infectious.
“Heeey, ladies” Rebecca announced as she entered.
“Oh, h-hey ‘Becca.” Jennifer stammered as the senior let herself in. Theresa clutched a pillow and drew her knees up to her chest in an attempt to disappear as Rebecca grabbed a chair near the door and straddled it, the back of the chair nuzzling her chest. The senior Psychology major’s smile was infectious, disarming, and her halter top bared the brightly colored tattoo on her shoulder for all to see.
Simone stared warily at her; though Rebecca lacked the accoutrements of an RA tonight and her mannerisms read as warm and friendly, she couldn't shake the lingering resentment generated by their last encounter.
“Hey there… Simone, right? Fancy seeing you here again.”
“I know right? You too, officer Barbie” the black girl offered flatly.
“What are you ladies up to?” Rebecca said, ignoring Simone’s retort. She looked to Jennifer but ostensibly addressing the whole room.
“Music” “Boys” “Fighting”
Came the three simultaneous answers, a jumbled mess of a group response. Rebecca smiled, glad for the chance to skip the small talk and go for the jugular.
“Fighting eh? That's cool. What part?”
“Simone says that she’s gonna get a big new contract and fight all over the world.” Theresa interjected, physically blossoming as she spoke. “And so we were talking about that, and when Jennifer and i fought, and then she was telling us about your fight, Becca, since we didn't see it…”
Jennifer looked like she might contribute but thought better of it.
“Oh? And Jen, how are you feeling? You mentioned wanting to get back to training and I was hoping you'd stop by the gym. I could show you some things.” Rebecca still seemed to address only the sophomore with green streaks in her otherwise dark brown hair.
“That sounds super co-“
“Choking a guy out with your titties ain't exactly good Jiu Jitsu” Simone sneered. “I mean, Jen ain’t got the boobs to pull it off anyways..” Simone cackled but quickly turned silent when no one else laughed with her.
“Oh, I'm sure I've got plenty else I could teach her…” Rebecca said slyly, adjusting the baseball cap atop her messy blonde locks. “Hell, I could probably teach you a few things too, Slick.” She let Simone’s ring name roll off her tongue like a precocious child might in order to let everyone know she knew a new word.
Caustic indignance flashed across the face of the LA native. “So you know what they call me. You watched me fight, I hope, and you still think you got something to teach that doesn’t involve thotting it up in the ring?” She all but leapt off the bed. “With your goofy, Malibu Barbie ass? Nah, nah I’m not buying it.”
“Don’t be so sure, Slick.” Rebecca teased, tilting her head slightly, “I might surprise you. Worse yet, you might even thank me afterwards.” Her grin was more hungry than friendly, and she bit her lip seductively to drive home the point.
Jen stood up between them and said “Well, since you two are obviously like, real fighters, how about we all train together? I bet I could learn a lot from you both, right? I mean, I’ve never seen you go all out, Rebecca, and I’ve only seen Simone on YouTube.”
“Yeah, a group session sounds cool. I wanna kick bitches in the fucking face like Simone did.” Theresa added.
“Well hey, let's make a lil party out of it. I'll invite a few girls and reserve the cage and we can all do our thing. It'll be fun. Besides, I wanna see how wide the gap between lil old me and a big scary Pro fighter is…” Rebecca cooed, perfectly aware that she had to look down, albeit slightly, to look Simone in the eyes.
“Hell yeah. It's finna be lit. Imma enjoy that…” Simone glared.
Theresa and Jennifer exchanged nervous glances as the two fighters sized each other up.
“Umm, how about Thursday, 11am? Slick?” Rebecca offered with a ravenous grin. Simone agreed, then checked her phone, then agreed again. “Let's get it, Malibu.”
And with that clash scheduled, the tension in the room receded to non-murderous levels. The guests left, and the dorm room’s residents continued exchanging nervous glances.
“What the hell was THAT?” Jennifer exclaimed, gesturing to the door and back.
“I was gonna ask you, Jenn. Like, why did Rebecca keep egging her on?” the chubby Filipina asked.
“Why was Simone so aggro? Like, it looked like she wanted to fight right then and there! And what's with all the ‘Barbie’ stuff? Why can't she just call her ‘Rebecca’” The Seattle native fired back…
Meanwhile, their RA strolled down the hall with a satisfied grin. She fired off a text.
“It’s on. Thursday 11. Our place.”
A different text lit up the screen of Simone Waterson as she headed back to her dorm room. It was Theresa, sending her the address of the gym; in the heat of the moment, the Black student hadn't even confirmed the locale. That gave her pause.
Finally safe in the quiet of the dorm room she shared, Simone fired back a quick note of thanks, and then composed a plea of her own.
“Need your help, Jazz.”
“???” Was the reply.
“Come with me Thursday morning? A bitch mighta just did sumthing stupid..”
The reply took it's sweet time arriving, and Simone checked her phone again as if she could will a positive response out of the air. Finally, her phone buzzed again.
“I got u. Assume you're keeping the gym out of this?”
Simone groaned, replied in the affirmative, and then fell back on her bed….
#Writing #Series #FeintingSpells #Fiction #Action #Fight #MartialArts
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