FCKING AND FIGHTING-THE COMPL - Scott Hildreth(ang.)

Table of Contents Prologue Prologue Epilogue Prologue Epilogue Prologue Epilogue

F*CKING & FIGHTING THE COMPLETE FOUR BOOK UNDEFEATED SERIES

SCOTT HILDRETH

CONTENTS

Undefeated Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22

Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Unstoppable Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Epilogue

Unleashed Prologue Unleashed The Severity Of Murder Car Tippin’ Austin Fights Mens Rea Grand Dad Jack Noodle Anyone? Opening Statements At The Hands Of A Savage Underfucking Standing The Protector A Moment Of Clarity Have You Reached A Verdict I Got This Traumatic Effect Buggin’ Can’t Stop A Train Where I Belong Justin And Jarhead Knifehands Childish Behavior A Lifetime Of Lifetimes Don’t Get Mad, But… Girl Talk With Respect The Good Egg The Plus Sign Epilogue Unbroken

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30

Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Epilogue

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Published by Eralde Publishing

PROLOGUE

“So this kid’s going to be here by 3:00?” the trainer asked as he turned away from the boxing ring. The manager of the gym nodded, providing his best form of assurance that the boxer would arrive for the afternoon match. “Where’s he from again?” the trainer asked as he picked up some loose medical tape from the floor. “Compton,” the manager responded. “As in Compton, California?” the trainer asked as he tossed the tape into the trash can beside the ring. “That’s what he said. Compton, California,” the manager said as he walked toward the locker room. The trainer walked alongside the manager as he rubbed his two days growth of beard with his thumb and forefingers, “White kid?” he asked.

The manager nodded. “And you said he’s riding here? As in he’s riding a motorcycle?” As they entered the locker room, the manager turned and nodded. “What do you know about him? Just seems kinda weird. The kid says he’s undefeated, and he’s moving here, of all places. The fact he insisted on fighting the day he rides into town on a fucking motorcycle is just asking for getting his ass handed to him,” the trainer stated as he sat on the bench in the middle of the room. “It’s just like I told you. He said he needed a trainer and a manager. Told me his grandfather died, and that he had been acting as both. Kid says he weighs about a hundred ninety, but carries two twenty real well. He sounds eager as hell. Shit, he’s from southern California. There’s fighters all over the place you and I never heard of - don’t make ‘em good or bad,” the manager said as he sat on the bench beside the trainer. Slowly, he looked around the locker room. “It’d be kind of nice to have some fresh talent in here, that’s for sure. Who you got set to fight him?” the trainer asked as he stared at the lockers which lined the wall in front of him. The manager looked over his shoulder and smiled a slow smile, “Mike.” As his face filled with surprise, the trainer

turned to face the manager, “Ripton? The Ripper?” The manager nodded. “Joe, that’s going to be a one-sided affair don’t you think?” the trainer chuckled as he shook his head from side-to-side. “I suppose so,” the manager laughed in return, “just figured as eager as this kid was, and the fact he said the word undefeated about ten times in our first conversation, I’d teach him a quick lesson about how we do it here in Texas. You can build him back up from there, Kelsey.” “So that’s why Ripton’s been here since lunch, ain’t it?” The manager turned his head and nodded. “So what you thinking about this?” the manager asked as he turned and looked in the direction of the locker lined wall. The trainer shrugged his shoulders as he slowly turned his head and stared at the lockers lining the wall. He looked at his watch and up toward the lockers again. The manager glanced toward him and raised both eyebrows as he placed his hands on his knees and waited for a response. Now, with one eyebrow still raised, the manager stared at the wall and slowly narrowed his eyes. “It’s ten before,” Kelsey said as he stared at the lockers. “Well, personally, I think we ought to stick with blue. If we’re going to make this place look like

something, we ought to paint the wall a different color, not the lockers. Them steel lockers never hold paint very well. Blue. That’s my opinion,” Joe said as he stood up from the bench. As the trainer smiled and stood from the bench, he turned his ear toward the wall, squinted his eyes, and looked down at the floor. “You hear that?” Kelsey asked as the loud roar of an approaching motorcycle could be heard. The manager nodded, “I suppose it’s him, don’t you?” “Let’s go sit in our seats and see what this kid’s all about. And I’m fine with blue. I didn’t mean to stare at it so damned long, but I ain’t never been too good at color schemes. Let’s try a light yellow or something calming on the walls,” Kelsey said as he turned toward the door. “Calming. I like that. Yellow it is,” Joe agreed. As the two men entered the gym, a young man came in through the front door. Dressed in a hooded sweat shirt, jeans, and boots, he walked into the gym and took a deep breath as he looked around. When he noticed the two older men, he turned and began walking toward them. His walk had a certain swagger. An expressed confidence. Joe looked up and down the fighter’s body as he spoke, “You the kid from Compton?” “Yes sir. Shane Dekkar,” the young man

responded as he held his right hand out. “Son of a bitch kid, you got a grip on you, kid. God damn. I’m Joe Murphy, we spoke on the phone,” the manager acknowledged as he shook the young man’s hand. The young man turned to the trainer and held out his hand. Reluctantly, the trainer gripped his hand and offered a handshake in return. “Kelsey O’Reilley. I’m the trainer who might train you. And it’s kind of hot for a hooded sweatshirt ain’t it?” the trainer asked as he shook the young man’s hand. “I’d sure appreciate it, sir. My grandfather was my trainer and my manager both. He passed unexpectedly. That’s what brought me here. And you’ll find I wear this hoodie year round, sir. Are we still on for three o’clock?” the young man asked as he adjusted his backpack. The trainer shook his head as he looked at the young man. Two men sparred lightly in the ring behind them. The manager smiled as he looked from the ring toward the young man. The trainer looked down at his watch and grinned. “You sure you want to do this, kid?” the manager asked. The young man nodded his head once, “Yes sir.” “I only need ten minutes to change and warm up,” he responded.

“Ten minutes?” the trainer coughed, “ten?” The young man smiled and nodded, “Where’s the locker room?” “Follow me. It’s not much to look at, but we’re considering new paint,” the trainer said as he began walking toward the locker room. “So, you’re undefeated?” the trainer turned and asked. “Yes sir,” the young man answered as he adjusted his back pack. “Well, this ain’t a title fight. All it’s for is so we can see what you’re about. If you are what you claim kind of deal. You understand, son?” he asked as they turned to the locker room. The young man nodded his head once as he got undressed, “Yes sir. I understand. I just need to get a fight in. I haven’t fought in two weeks.” “Two weeks. Hell, that’s no kind of wait,” the trainer said as he sat down on the bench. The trainer looked up as the young man removed gear from his bag. “It is for me, sir. I try to fight at least once a day, and I train five days a week,” the young man responded. “At that pace you’ll burn out quick,” the trainer responded as the young man pulled his shorts on. “Sir, do you expect you’ll train me?” the young man asked as he handed the trainer a roll of tape. As the trainer looked the young man’s hands

over and began to tape them, he responded, “I might. We’ll see how you do. This fella you’re gonna fight will be a tough one for you. He’s never been knocked down, never been knocked out, and never lost. We’ll see how you look against him.” The young man looked intently into the eyes of the trainer and nodded once. “Care to ask me what he weighs? Or his age? His fighting record?” the trainer asked. “No sir,” the young man responded. The trainer shook his head at the perceived arrogance of the young man. “God damn, you street fight much?” the trainer asked as he taped the heavily scarred hands of the young man. The young man nodded once. “Tattoo mean something?” the trainer asked as he noticed the tattooed knuckles of the man’s right hand. The young man nodded once, “Yes sir.” “Bust these hands up too much, and your career will end quickly, son,” the trainer said softly as he inspected the young man’s hands. “Former military?” the trainer asked as he slid the gloves over the young man’s freshly taped hands. “No sir, they were my fathers,” the young man responded, making reference to the dog tags that dangled on a chain from his neck.

The trainer looked the young man over. “You’re built like a brick shit house, kid. You lift weights?” he asked. The young man nodded. As the trainer laced the gloves, he nodded his head slowly. “What are you going to do for warm up?” he asked. “I pulled the bike over and ran three miles before I got here, I’m ready. Just need to get my head right, sir,” the young man responded. The trainer raised one eyebrow as he looked at the young man. “I need to pray, sir. I’ll be ready in a minute,” the young man responded. “Well, you can’t wear those in the ring,” the trainer said as he reached for the dog tags that hung from the young man’s neck. The young man immediately jerked his body to the right and raised his gloves in a defensive posture. “Damn, son. I’m just going to pull ‘em off and put ‘em in the locker with your stuff,” the trainer responded. “I’ll ask you to remove them before I step into the ring,” the young man responded. “Let’s just toss ‘em in here with your…” “I’ll ask you to remove them before I step into the ring,” the young man repeated as he interrupted

the trainer in mid-sentence. “Alright. You do that,” the trainer responded as he slipped the protective gear over the head of the young man. “You need to pray?” the trainer asked as he put the bag, back pack, and clothes into a locker. “I’m ready sir,” the young man responded as he pounded his gloves together. The trainer shook his head and started walking out of the locker room. The young man followed. The swagger of the young man was exaggerated in comparison to the slow steady shuffle of the elderly manager. The young man stepped up into the ring and leaned toward the ropes. As he lowered his head he spoke to the trainer. “Keep these in your hand, sir. Or put them in your pocket. Please don’t set them down or wear them,” he said. The trainer reached into the ring and removed the dog tags from the young man’s neck. “So, kid’s in the military?” the manager asked the trainer. “Nope. Said they were his father’s,” the trainer responded as he put the dog tags in his pocket. “Well, what are we gonna do here?” the manager asked. “Hell, I don’t know. Wanna have ‘em go ten rounds?” the trainer asked.

The manager nodded. “Mike!” the manager screamed across the gym. A very muscular man in his early thirties walked slowly toward the group, stepped under the ropes and into the ring. As he entered in the ring, he stood on his toes and stretched his calves. His body tan, his head cleanly shaven, and his upper torso and arms covered with tattoos, he began to rock back and forth on the balls of his feet as he stared toward the young man. The man looked extremely intimidating as he pounded his gloves together. The trainer stepped into the ring. The two men approached one another. “Fellas, this ain’t for nothing but bragging rights. Both of you are undefeated. Should be a good little sparring match. Mike, this kid just rode a bike here from California. Hasn’t really warmed up,” the trainer took a breath. “I’m ready, sir,” the young man responded. “Mike, this is Shane Dekkar. Shane this is Mike Ripton,” the trainer said. The two men nodded at each other and touched gloves. The bald headed man stared into the eyes of the young man and winked. “Alright, you two know how this works. I suppose we’ll go ten,” the trainer said. The two men nodded and separated. Mike Ripton walked slowly to the corner of the ring. The young man followed the trainer to the

opposite corner. The trainer inserted a mouthpiece into the young man’s mouth. “You sure you’re ready?” the trainer asked. The young man nodded as he bit down on his mouth piece. “At the bell,” the trainer stated. The young man nodded. The trainer positioned himself beside the manager of the gym and sat down at the table beside the boxing ring. As the two men sat at the table, the young man pounded his gloves together and growled. “Well, let’s see what this kid’s got. Is he fucking growling?” the manager asked the trainer quietly. The trainer smiled and nodded his head, “Sure sounds like it.” Ding! The two fighters approached each other cautiously. The young man took a stance with his right foot forward and began to study the other fighter. A few flurries of punches to the young man’s body followed. “Southpaw?” the trainer asked. The manager shrugged his shoulders. The young man switched his feet to an orthodox stance, now leading with the left foot. “What’s he doing?” the trainer asked. The manager shrugged his shoulders again. The young man unleashed several punches to

the lower torso of the other fighter. “God damn, he’s quick,” the manager stated as he stood and crossed his arms. The young man threw a quick right jab, sending the other fighter backward. “Shit, he’s got the Ripper on his heels,” the trainer said as he stood from the bench. The young man followed with a left jab, and a quick right hook. Ripton stepped backward and attempted to become stable on his feet. His feet staggered as he stepped. As the young man leaned toward the body of Ripton, he swung a devastating left uppercut. The glove made a crushing impact with Ripton’s chin. “God damn, this kid’s….oh, shit. Ripper’s down,” the trainer said as Mike Ripton fell to the mat. The young man stepped to the side of Ripton’s body. Ripton’s trainer jumped into the ring and ran toward his motionless body. As Ripton’s trainer spoke, he slowly raised himself to his elbows. Ripton’s trainer waved his arms toward Kelsey, indicating that the fight was over. “Looks like you got a new fighter, huh Kelsey?” the manager chuckled lightly. “Looks like it,” the trainer responded. “Come here, kid,” the trainer said sternly

toward the young man. “Come here,” the trainer repeated as he held the ropes upward. The young man, focused on the body in the center of the ring, shook his head from side-to-side. Slowly, Mike Ripton sat up. As he stood, for stability, he held onto the shoulder of his trainer. As Ripton began to move, the young man slowly walked to the center of the ring. The young man tapped his glove on the shoulder of the other fighter. “Good fight,” the young man said. “Nice shot, kid. I didn’t even see that fucker coming,” Ripton said over his shoulder. The young man turned and walked slowly toward the trainer. The trainer held the ropes upward as the young man stepped under them and out of the ring. “Are you interested in working with me?” the young man asked. “Kelsey, call me Kelsey. And the answer is yes, kid,” the trainer responded. “Shane Dekkar, sir. That’s my name. I’d prefer it if you call me Shame On, Shame, Shane, Dekkar, or Dekk, sir. I don’t particularly like being called kid,” the boxer stated. The manager chuckled as the boxer chastised the trainer. “Well, Shane. Welcome to Austin, Texas,” the

trainer responded as he pulled the boxer’s dog tags from his pocket. The boxer stepped from beside the ring, bent at the waist, and lowered his head toward the trainer’s hands. The trainer reached over the boxer’s head and placed the dog tags around his neck and removed his headgear. “I’m going to change and go see the city. If possible, sir, have me a fight for tomorrow afternoon,” the boxer said. “Call me Kelsey, I don’t particularly like being called sir,” the trainer smiled as he responded. “Noted,” the boxer said as he nodded his head once sharply. The boxer turned and began walking toward the locker room. His walk possessed a certain confidence – a swagger. “Why you suppose he walks like that?” the manager asked as he watched the boxer walk away. “Because he can,” the trainer responded.

1

KACE. Trying to figure a way to get out of a relationship and not feel like a complete failure is difficult. Most people would never understand why I had stayed in the situation with Josh as long as I have. As much as I hate the way he’s treated me, I can’t imagine giving up on us or giving up on our relationship. I don’t think I know how to be alone. When I think of it, my head gets all jumbled up and I get scared. Sometimes when I consider leaving him I begin to shake. As soon as I start shaking, I change my mind. I often wish someone would simply decide for me. Each time he has beaten me, I’ve deserved it. I remember the time when I was eighteen, right after high school. Josh was twenty-one. He had to work overtime on that day, and he came home exhausted

from a long day at work. He asked me about dinner, and I back talked him. He just lost his temper. He never would have hit me if I hadn’t talked back. It was a really long day for him. Each time he hit me, he later reminded me it never would have happened if I hadn’t deserved it. He always told me he wished he didn’t have to do it. He explained if I would just learn my lesson and learn to respect him, he wouldn’t have to hit me. Sometimes I wish I would learn my lesson - and other times I wish I was with someone else someone who didn’t have to hit me. Josh and I met when I was sixteen. I’ve never been with anyone else. I doubt, from what he’s said, anyone else would ever want me. I have no idea what it would be like to touch another man or even talk to one for that matter. Josh doesn’t let me talk to other men, and he monitors my text messages and phone calls. He doesn’t allow me to have Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, or Twitter. He takes my cell phone and goes through all of the files in it whenever he wants to, checking for pictures. He said it teaches me to be honest and loyal. I suppose he’s right, but it still bothers me. When I am at work, I think about what it would be like to have a man treat me like the men in the books I read. I doubt those men really actually exist. If they did, I’d love to have a man like that. One who cherished me and told me I was beautiful.

Maybe he would hold my hand and take me to a movie. It would be nice to feel wanted. Josh had not had sex with me for several years and I felt ugly because of it. A woman needs to feel wanted. Even if she doesn’t feel loved, she needs to feel as if someone wants or desires her. Because Josh didn’t make me feel loved at all, and had not for years, I often daydreamed about other men. I would never cheat on Josh, and even though he wasn’t nice to me, all I wanted was for him to simply want me. I consistently wished he desired something I had to offer him. His desire, however, never comes. I don’t ever daydream about a book boyfriend saving me. I’m not like those girls in the books. I don’t need to be saved. I choose to be in my relationship with Josh because I want it to eventually work, and I don’t want to give up on us. I don’t want to be a failure. I only want to be loved. I’m a strong woman, and my persistence stands as proof of my strength. I simply need to be strong enough to make it last until he loves me. For the last few years I have been thinking about my book boyfriends more frequently. I often daydream about them and what it would be like to actually be with them – to have what it is that’s depicted in the books. To have the hardship, the recovery, and the relationship that I often read

about. It really started when Josh held his knife to my throat and told me I was a dumb bitch. We had been arguing more than normal because he quit making love to me. The first time I asked why, he slapped me and said it was because he wasn’t attracted to me any longer. He said I was ugly inside and out. He never slapped me once whenever he chose to slap me. He slapped me until he was tired of slapping me, or until I learned my lesson. The second time I asked about wanting him to make love to me, he choked me and held me against the wall by my throat. I blacked out and later woke up on the floor. The third time I asked, he held his knife to my throat and told me to never ask again. Josh has a temper, and I don’t want to learn any kind of lesson that has to do with a knife. I just want him to love me the way I love him. I try, and I try, and I try, but I can’t seem to ever make the right decisions with Josh. I have continuously made bad decisions which eventually make him mad. I wish just once he would be happy with me, and maybe tell me he liked what I cooked him for dinner. I often wish he would just tell me he liked how I looked or notice when I got my hair cut or colored. The people I work with notice, but Josh never does. I try so hard.

He used to tell me those things, but not anymore. Not since he held his knife to my throat. I have been excited all week for this day to get here. Josh told me if I didn’t do anything stupid all week, he would rent a movie on Friday and we would try to watch it together. Maybe it will be the night things turn around for the better. If we could get along for just one night, I would hold on to those memories for ever. As I sat in the truck with my Kindle, Josh got out and walked toward the Red Box to get the movies. I sat quietly and read quickly as Josh looked through the selection of the available movies. Reading had become my form of escaping. It allowed me freedom from everything by living through the stories I read. It was easy for me to dream of being the female character in the books I read. A good book could make me laugh, cry, or get so aroused that I had to touch myself. Without reading, I would go completely insane. My Kindle had become my savior. “They ain’t got Black Hawk Down or Pulp Fiction,” he said over his shoulder as he stood in front of the Red Box, staring at the screen. We haven’t watched too many movies over the ten years we’ve been together, but we had seen those two movies no less than a dozen times a piece. I like doing anything with Josh, but

sometimes I wish he would think about me and my desires. I’d like to watch The Notebook or something similar. Maybe Safehaven. “Well, fuck. They ain’t got nothin’ to watch at this shit-hole. Fuckin’ pisses me off. Maybe we should just hit the liquor store and get a thirty pack and hang out at the house,” he said as he got into the truck. I slipped the Kindle into my purse. My heart sank as he started the truck. Josh drank a lot. When he drank, it made me nervous. When he was drunk, he was always mean. He felt he deserved to drink; because I either drove him crazy or he had a tough day at work. I tried to hide from him when he drank, but hiding tonight would be impossible to do. “Why you got that shitty look on your face?” he muttered as he shoved his lip full of tobacco. I shook my head slowly. “What? You got something to say? I really ain’t in the mood for your mouth, you little bitch,” he barked as he wiped his hand on his jeans. I wanted to tell him to get a different movie. I felt like crying. Why couldn’t we have a night together and not fight? Why did he have to drink so much? Why did he have to chew tobacco? It made his breath stink and his teeth brown. To have him be kind to me for one night, I’d let him beat me for a week. A week of having my face slapped and called

names. In exchange for one night of calling me beautiful and kissing me. “I asked you a fucking question,” his jaw tightened as he shut off the truck. Oh no. Not here. Please not here. Please, Josh. “You see what I mean? You fuckin’ ask for it. It’s like you want it. I’ll never understand what drives you to fight with me, woman,” he yelled. My muscles tensed as he opened the truck door and stepped out and into the parking lot. He slowly walked around in front of the truck and around to my door. After glaring in the window at me, he opened it. “Gimme your fuckin’ purse,” he snarled as he held his hand out toward me. “Gimme that sum bitch or I’ll slap your mouthy little ass right here in the parking lot,” he growled through his clenched teeth as he spit tobacco juice into the parking lot by his feet. I handed him my purse. He opened my purse and looked inside. He reached into it, shuffled through the contents, and pulled out my Kindle. “This little motherfucker’s become a problem. I know you talk to people on it. I know you do. Talk to people and read that fuckin’ filth,” he tossed it onto the asphalt beside his feet. “Josh, no. Please,” I begged.

“What, afraid you ain’t gonna be able to reach your fuckin’ boyfriend? You little whore,” he snapped as he raised his boot over the Kindle. I covered my eyes as he held his boot over the Kindle. I couldn’t stand to watch whatever he was going to do. “Josh, no. I don’t have a boyfriend. And I don’t talk to people with it. It’s a Kindle. I just use it to read. It’s my only way to escape,” I sobbed as I moved my hands from my eyes. “Escape? What the fuck you gotta escape from? See? You always dig a hole,” he held his boot over the Kindle, raised his eyebrows, and spit again. “It’s that mouth Kace. It’s always getting’ you in trouble. See? Now I gotta do this, and it’s your fault. You did it, not me,” he said as he stomped the screen of the Kindle with his boot. As he twisted his heel into the shattered screen he shook his head. “I was gonna scare ya and give it back. But hell no, you had to pop off and get lippy. Hell, I’d have liked to had a good night and a fuckin’ movie together. You just don’t seem to give a fuck about my feelings, Kace,” he said as he bent down to pick up the smashed Kindle. I looked down and wiped the tears from my face. “Everything alright?” an unfamiliar voice asked

from my right side. I wiped my face and looked up through the opened truck door. Ohmygod. And there he stood. In faded jeans, black boots, dark hair, sunglasses, and a black hoodie he stood outside the truck door. He had his hands in his hoodie pockets and the hood half over his head. He quickly alternated glances between Josh and I. Slowly he pulled his hand from his pockets and removed his sunglasses. As he turned my direction his steel grey eyes met mine and he paused. I wanted him to help me. Save me from Josh and take me away. But. I said nothing. I only stared. His face was covered in a few days growth of beard. He was absolutely gorgeous. His jaw was tight and his facial features distinct. And. Those. Eyes. “Ain’t nobody talkin’ to you, slick,” Josh said. Slowly and methodically, the stranger turned from facing me to face Josh. “Well, I was addressing both of you, asshole. But I suppose now I’m speaking to her. Are you alright?” his tone changed from stern to pleasant and soft as he turned from Josh to face me again. He studied my face. Although his mouth didn’t form one, his eyes smiled. The temperature in the

truck rose a hundred degrees. I melted into my seat. He was absolutely gorgeous, just like I imagined my book boyfriends. Take me with you, please. Save me. I nodded. “Are you sure?” he asked softly. “Kace,” Josh said flatly. Quickly, he turned and looked at Josh. As he stood and stared, waiting for Josh to speak, Josh looked down at the ground and remained quiet. The stranger slowly turned back toward me. I nodded. The stranger turned to Josh, who was holding the smashed Kindle in his hand. “Ain’t your business, slick,” Josh said as he slowly looked up from the ground. “Well, as I was getting off my bike, I heard the word whore. I looked up and watched you stomping on that,” the stranger said as he pointed to my smashed Kindle. “I don’t let men abuse women in my presence. So, it is kind of my business. And my name isn’t slick, asshole,” the stranger said angrily. “We just had a disagreement. Ain’t nobody getting’ abused here,” Josh said softly as he looked down at the surface of the parking lot. “Well, I suppose as long as you’re done being an asshole, and she’s okay,” the stranger paused and looked into the truck.

“It’s no longer my business,” the stranger said as he walked around Josh slowly. His stride was unique. He had a certain way of walking that made him very intriguing. His steel grey eyes never left Josh. “Well, she was bein’ disrespectful. We got in a pissin’ match. Like I said, ain’t nothin’ to do with you,” Josh said to the stranger as he slowly walked around the truck. As Josh opened the door to the truck, the stranger leaned onto the edge of the Red Box and focused on me. As he waited for us to back up, he put his sunglasses back on. His right hand had tattooed knuckles. Squeeeeee! Josh tossed the crushed Kindle at me as he got in the truck. “What the fuck you lookin’ at? And why the fuck is he starin’ at you?” Josh asked as he started the truck. As I admired the stranger, I was speechless. I shrugged my shoulders. “Fuckin’asshole. I shoulda punched his ass,” Josh snarled as he began to back the truck out of the parking spot. I would have loved to see you try that. As he put the truck in gear and started pulling forward, I looked out the window at the stranger and silently mouthed the words…

Help me.

2

SHANE. Two weeks. That’s all it took. Two fucking weeks. Come on, shut your mouth. Don’t go there. Please, mister, don’t do it. Not now, I’m trying to eat. Just be cool. I pressed the hoodie to the sides of my face. Just shut your mouth dude. “If you don’t learn how to act in public, I’ll teach you. You ain’t gonna like it, though,” he said as he took another drink of his beer. I sliced my chicken and took another bite. Chicken and turkey seemed to keep me in good health, and I made it a point to find the best places to eat both. In the two weeks that I’d been in Austin, this restaurant had proven to have some of the best grilled chicken I had ever eaten. I had a sinking feeling, however, they wouldn’t allowed me

to return after tonight. At least not without being questioned. “I try and act the best I know how to. You’re never satisfied,” she responded from the other side of the table. “Never satisfied? You dumb cunt. Never satisfied? I’m gonna slap some sense into you when we get home,” he said as he pushed his plate to the center of the table. Well, that could be a figure of speech. Not one I like. But this isn’t my business. “Paul. Please. I’m sorry, don’t hit me again,” she whispered. Well, fuck. It just became my business. I stood up, popped my neck, and pulled out my wallet. I removed a fifty dollar bill and placed it on the table. It was the least I could do for the ten dollar piece of chicken. This could get ugly real quick, and I didn’t want to take advantage of the waitress. Forgive me Lord for what I am about to do. I walked across the floor to the table where the couple was sitting. I wiped my hands on my jeans and cracked my knuckles. “Paul, I really need to talk to you,” I said softly. “How the fuck you know my name?” he asked as he looked up from his beer. Well, she just said your name, you idiot. The entire restaurant knows.

“You don’t remember me?” I lied. He narrowed his gaze and shook his head, “Nope.” “Well, we need to talk,” I said quietly, “Let’s take a quick walk, this shouldn’t take long.” “Paul, what’s this about,” she asked. “Shut up, bitch. I have no idea who this weirdo is,” he responded as he looked across the table toward her. I really hoped this could have gone easier. Maybe I should have left a hundred bucks. Oh well... I reached for his shoulder. As soon as my hand touched him, he came up with the beer bottle in his right hand. With the bottle cupped in his hand, he swung toward my face as he stood. I blocked his swing with my left arm, and immediately punched him with two short right jabs. As he stumbled, I hit him once in the stomach with a surprise left hook. As he began to cough and sputter, I took the beer bottle from his hand and set it on the table. Gasping for air and trying to catch his breath, he placed his hands on his knees. “He may or may not be back in a minute,” I said as I grabbed the man by his hair. “Don’t ever let this man beat you again, ma’am,” I said to the woman as I began to pull him by his shirt and hair toward the door. I figured I had ten minutes before the cops

would show up. For me to make my point should take three. As I drug him toward the door, he began to kick his feet and scream. “Who the fuck do you think you are? You miserable son-of-a-bitch! Let me go,” he yelled as I drug him through the front door and out to the concrete sidewalk beside the entrance to the restaurant. Quickly, I reached for his back pocket and removed his wallet. As I searched for his driver’s license, I held onto his hair tightly with my free hand. After finding it, I shoved his wallet in his shirt pocket and waved license in front of his face. “What the…” he began to say. “Shut up,” I interrupted. I stuck his driver’s license in the front pocket of my jeans. “I’m on a time crunch so I’ll make this quick. I overheard you telling your lady friend you were going to slap her when you got home. You’re not going to slap her again, ever. I have your driver’s license, so I know who you are and I know where you live. Here in about a week I’m going to come check on her, and if I find out you’ve touched her, I’m going to beat you worse than the beating you get tonight,” I explained as I unzipped my hoodie. As I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders, he took a swing.

As I leaned back, his punch went by my face. I dropped my hoodie to the side and grabbed the hair on either side of his head. Immediately and with tremendous force, I thrust the top of my head into his face. I felt his nose crush under the impact. As I released his hair from my grasp, I swung a fairly strong uppercut toward his chin. The punch connected to his jaw, knocked his teeth together, and lifted him from his feet. Unconscious, he immediately fell into a pile on the sidewalk. You should hold your jaw tighter when you’re in a fight, Paul. Boxing 101. I looked down at his motionless body and shook my head. I reached down and got my hoodie from the sidewalk, pulled it over my shoulders, and zipped it up. I stood over him as people watched and waited for him to become conscious. As soon as he began to moan, I walked to my bike and fired it up. Well, Paul, see you in a few weeks.

3

SHANE. If it is worth doing, it is worth doing right. Be the best you can be at whatever it is you choose to do. Sweeping the floor or washing the car. Nothing should ever be done half assed. I strived to be the best at anything and everything I ever decide to conquer. Ever. If I had attempting it and I did not succeed, you could believe I gave it my best effort, regardless of the outcome. I choose to do very little, and be exceptional at what it is I decide to do. I would much rather be perceived as being great at a few things than be a failure at many. I have always been honest with myself and conscious of who I am, but that doesn’t always help me understand why I am the way I am. On the outside, I am always kind, polite, and

considerate of others. On the inside, a beast resides. I don’t know why or what fuels the demons inside of me, but I am very aware of their existence. My consciousness of their need, necessity, and deep desire to be fed is what has caused me to choose boxing as my main outlet. I keep the demons fed, and they allow me to live an otherwise peaceful life. Fulfilling their hunger allows my desire to live a life of tranquility outside the boxing ring. As long as I continue to fight, they’re fed. When they are fed, I am allowed. Allowed to live. I have been training in one way, shape or form since I was eleven. From what my trainers have always told me, I have tremendous stamina. I can train, fight, or work out for hours on end without becoming exhausted. For this I am grateful. I have never been in a fight that I didn’t feel was necessary. In the ring, people agree to fight me, knowing of my ability and my undefeated record. Boxing is a sport, and nothing more than a contest between two men – a contest of strength, stamina, willingness, and raw talent. I have been in more street fights than I can count. Each time, I gave my opponent the ability to walk away. If they chose not to, I did what I had to do. In the ring or out, I have always stood the victor. The majority of my street fights were a result of me attempting to stand up for what I

believed to be morally right. I have never been afraid to fight for someone who can’t stand up on their own, and there’s not a shortage of people who act in a manner contrary to what I believe to be moral. Line every one of them up – every single one who abuses a woman, child, or the elderly and I’ll beat them senseless one person at a time. “So, what did you decide? Did you buy them?” Mike asked. “No. I’m going to wait until the price goes down to something more affordable,” I answered as I set my sandwich back onto the plate. I wiped some mayonnaise from my mouth with my napkin and looked down at my boots. “Dude, those fuckers are raggedy. Shit, I can see your socks through the bottom of the sole,” he laughed. “Yeah, but a hundred thirty bucks is a hundred thirty bucks,” I shrugged my shoulders as I picked the sandwich up. “You’re one weird motherfucker, Dekkar. One weird motherfucker,” he shook his head and laughed. Mike was my first fight when I arrived in Austin two years ago. Even though I knocked him out for the first time in his career, we had become the best of friends, and never discussed that particular fight with others. I had no desire to be disrespectful to

him or to his talent as a boxer. Any man, on any given day, can be beaten by any other man. When the time comes, I will be beaten. Until then, I will remain grateful for my successes. “Why do you have to go and say that, Ripp?” I mumbled, my mouth half full of sandwich. “Well there are maybe a handful of people here that know you, because you’re a fucking hermit. But I do, remember? Your father, no disrespect, died in Afghanistan. Your grandfather died two years ago – right before you came here. You inherited everything from both of them. I don’t have any idea how much it was, but your father was a year from military retirement. Your grandfather was retired. I’m just going to guess you have a hundred and thirty bucks for a new pair of boots,” he said over the top of his beer bottle as he drank the remaining portion in the bottle. “Well, I hate to pay a hundred thirty if they’re gonna go on sale for a hundred - or maybe ninety. Shit, that’d buy me a lot of turkey sandwiches,” I responded, smiling. “I’ll have one more Ultra,” Mike said to the waitress as he held his index finger in the air. “You need anything, Dekk?” he asked, tilting his head back slightly. “Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” I responded.

From the perspective of an outsider, Mike looked rather intimidating. He was a little taller than six feet, and weighed two hundred ten pounds. His head was shaved and he had tattoos on his upper arms, back and chest. His body was constructed entirely of muscle. Maintaining a perfect body and having an actual life outside of training is almost impossible. Some fighters have flab or fat on certain places. Mike wasn’t one of those fighters. He trained and he trained hard. It was one reason we had become such close friends. He had my level of desire to maintain a healthy body and mind. “Water, please. Thank you, ma’am,” Mike joked as the waitress walked away. “You’re so fucking proper and polite to women - and men - as long as they’re old men. But you clench your jaw and look like a mean prick to everyone else. You crack me up, dude,” he shook his head. “Well, you look like a mean prick all the time,” I smiled as I picked up the pickle from my plate. Mike smiled an exaggerated smile, exposing his single gold tooth. “That tooth is ridiculous. I’ll never understand that,” I said as I slid my plate to the side of the table. “I told you already,” he responded, still smiling. “Yeah, I know. But it’s horrid. Who wants to

draw attention to the fact that they lost a tooth?” I said as I pulled my hood over my head. “Well, I have a gold tooth, and you wear a fucking black hoodie everywhere you go. And in hot as hell Austin, Texas of all places. So, tell me more about this girl,” he said as he picked at his teeth with a toothpick. “There’s nothing more to tell. I think she was a receptionist. I saw her sitting at a desk when I went to pay my insurance on the bike. That was the second time. I know I saw her two years ago at a drug store. This time, she didn’t see me, I noticed her as I walked past her office. I got a bad feeling about the day in the parking lot of the drug store. I remember it specifically now. I’d kind of forgot about it,” I pulled my hood tight around my head and peered through the hole. “You know you do that, right?” he said as he pointed at my head. “What?” I asked. “You hide in your hood. When there’s something you don’t like talking about or doing,” he answered. I pulled the hood off of my head and ran my fingers through my hair as he started to speak again. “Well, you quit talking when the waitress brought our food. What didn’t you like? No, start by reminding me what bothered you about the first

time you met her? You were talkin’ and stopped, sorry,” he said as he leaned onto the table. Short of my grandfather, Mike was the best friend I have ever had. He truly cared about me as a person, and wasn’t afraid to admit it. Since my first week here we had become extremely close and almost inseparable. “She was sitting at a desk. Up the hallway at the building my insurance company is in. It might have been a law office, hell I don’t know,” I responded as I pulled my hood onto my head again. “Whatever, that’s boring. Tell me about the first time?” he asked as he leaned his forearms onto the edge of the table. “Here you go. Anything else you two?” the waitress asked as she set the glass of water and the bottle of beer onto the table. Mike looked up and shook his head, “Thanks.” He turned back toward me and waited. “It was right when I got to town. And the guy she was with - I’m guessing her boyfriend - he was a douchebag. More like a dirt bag,” I paused as I grabbed my glass of water. “I was on the bike,” I chuckled and shook my head as I remembered the evening. “I was sitting on the bike looking at the soles of my boots. I heard him scream the word slut or whore, I don’t remember. I looked up and he tossed and iPad or something on the ground. He screamed

at her a few more times as I started walking over to his truck. Then he stomped the iPad and held it in his hand as he started yelling at her again.” “Surprised you didn’t whip his ass,” Mike said as he leaned back into his chair. “Well, you know I struggle with that. If he had been violent toward her or threatening her I would have. They were just arguing. But when they left, she looked at me through the window. And her lips moved,” I looked back up at the ceiling and studied the structure. “Her lips moved?” he turned his palms up and looked at me surprised. “Well, she either said help me or hurt me or something. I couldn’t tell,” I shook my head as I pressed my hood tight to my head with the palms of my hands. “I kind of forgot about it until I went into the insurance company. Now I can’t stop thinking about her. You believe there’s a plan for all of us? You know, everything happens for a reason?” I asked. “Yeah. I do. Kinda weird about that, but yeah,” he said as he nodded his head slowly. “I think things happen for a reason. I really do,” I confirmed as I recalled seeing her sitting at the desk. “What’s she look like?” he asked. I thought of the day at the drug store parking

lot. She looked beautiful, but she was scared. I didn’t like thinking about it. When I recalled the image of her talking on the phone as she sat at the desk, her blonde hair curly and shiny, I smiled. She looked magnificent. “Perfect,” I responded, still looking up at the lights. “Oh, I gotcha. Perfect. If she robs a bank, we could give that description to the cops, Dekk. Did you see who robbed the bank? Yes, officer, I got a good look at her. Great. Can you describe her to the sketch artist? Yes, I sure can. She looked perfect, officer,” he laughed as he tipped his beer bottle to his lips. “Ripp, you’re a prick. She’s probably five foot something. She was in the truck, but looked short. Maybe a hundred pounds. Thin, but she looked athletic. So she’s blonde and gorgeous,” I looked down and focused on Mike’s face as I finished speaking. “What about him?” “He was maybe six foot or so. Two twenty. Out of shape, but a big fucker,” I rubbed my hood with my hands. “Shitty brown hair, curly,” I paused and thought for a second. “Shitty beard. Shitty attitude. Just a shitty fucker,” I grinned. “Well, next time you go pay your insurance, if

she’s in there talk to her. Ask her about the day at the drug store. Give her a chance to say if she’s even still with that guy,” he responded as he raised his beer and tipped the mouth of the bottle my direction. “You about ready to get out of here?” he asked as he lowered the empty bottle down onto the table. I shrugged my shoulders and pushed my hands into the pockets of my hoodie. “To where?” I asked. “To the mall, Dekkar. I’m gonna help buy my buddy some boots,” he said as he stood up and looked at the bill. I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached for my wallet. “I got this,” he said as he waved his hands over the receipt the waitress had placed on the table. “Times are tough and you need to save up for some boots,” he laughed as he set the empty beer bottle down on top of the money and the receipt. “Well, at least I don’t ride in those,” I said as I pointed to his shorts and Chuck’s sneakers. “Hell Shane, ask the waitress. Shit, ask anyone at the mall or on the way. Ask somebody at a fucking stoplight. Which one of us looks out of place? The one in the shorts and Chuck’s or the guy wearing a fucking black hoodie when it’s ninety degrees outside?” he laughed as he stuck his signature toothpick in his mouth.

I shook my head and walked toward the exit. “I know, they’re your security blankets. Your hoodie and those damned dog tags. Hell, Dekk. If it works, it works,” he said as he slapped my shoulder. I pulled my hand from my pocket and reached under my hoodie toward my chest. Still there. We walked out the door and directly to the bike parking, which was immediately outside the front door. As I got on my bike, I began to think. “Dude, you fall asleep?” Mike yelled over the sound of his rumbling exhaust. “What?” I asked. “You’re in a fog, Dekk. You alright?” he asked. I nodded. “I was thinking,” I responded as I grabbed the handlebars. “About?” he asked. “Upgrading the insurance on this bike,” I responded.

4

KACE. I sat at my desk, waiting for my ten o’clock break. I loved taking my breaks because I could always read without feeling guilty. I had purchased a new Kindle, and had it shipped to my work office so Josh wouldn’t know I had it. Trying to keep things from him made me feel like I was cheating, but he forced me to do most of the things I eventually chose to do. He monitored all of my spending on the debit or credit cards, leaving me no real option to use the cards for anything but gas. I told him I ate out for lunch, and he provided me money to do so. Most days I would bring something light from home to eat. If I brought too much food, he’d notice and complain, so I brought very little when I did. Most of the time, I would place my lunch money in my desk and save it for things I wanted or

needed. Once I saved for a new pair of shoes. Recently, I bought the Kindle. I always went to the store and bought a prepaid debit card and used the card for the purchases. As long as I used the card, he never knew what I purchased and there was no record of it. For now I was leaving the Kindle in my desk so he couldn’t take it and smash it. I preferred reading romance and erotica. After I finished a really dark erotica, I would always follow it up with a true love romance novel. I had read some pretty dark erotica, and I actually liked reading them. I suspect I liked them because when I read about all of the crazy twisted dark stuff in those books it made my life seem almost normal. I wished one of my book boyfriends would come and save me from my shit life I was living. Sometimes I thought I actually fell in love with the characters in the books and hated for the book, series, or story to end. I often found myself reading slower because I didn’t want the book to end. I would daydream about the characters in the book, and what life would be like to have them instead of Josh. When I remember the day we went to pick up a movie at the Redbox and Josh stomped my Kindle, it makes me sad. The man in the hoodie with the strange blue eyes – I think about him being a book boyfriend from time to time. I wish he would have saved me. I liked the way he walked. Austin is a

huge city and I know I will never see him again, but I wish I could. I regret not saying something to him when he asked. He almost begged me to say something. And he called Josh an asshole twice. I liked that. I wanted to wrap my arms around him and tell him thank you. I looked at my watch and realized it was 10:15 already. I spent most of my break daydreaming about the guy in the hoodie and not reading. Either way, it’s was a means for me to escape. Josh told me no other man would ever want me and I am sure he is right. I put my Kindle back into my purse and walked to my desk. “Kace, did the Valentine Group call or send you an email?” Mr. Martin asked as I sat down at my desk. “Yes, they emailed and called both. I put together a spreadsheet based on last year’s totals and incorporated the anticipated increases for this year’s production costs. I made columns of each; projected profits are on the far right. I emailed it to you,” I smiled. “Kace, you amaze me. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he slapped the desk and turned toward his office. I liked it when Mr. Martin told me nice things, and he never hesitated to do so. He made me feel like I was not such a worthless person. He promoted me every few years, and gave me a big

raise and a new title, but my work was always the same. My new title was Executive Secretary. I was the only secretary, but I liked the title. Mr. Martin was in his early sixties and married. His wife came in from time to time, and she was beautiful. I would like to look like her when I’m sixty. I always told myself she looked so good because she was confident. Her hair, clothes, and nails were always perfect. I know I am not supposed to be envious of anyone, but I envy her. She has a nice husband, nice kids, a nice car, and a nice home. Her life couldn’t get any better. I would settle to live in a shack with someone as long as they treated me nicely. I always thought Josh and I would get married and have children, but it never happened. Most of the time I was glad we never had kids. I turned the music up on my computer. As Jaymay’s Grey or Blue played, I slumped into my seat. I closed my eyes and relaxed to the music as it played. Getting lost in music was like getting lost in a book. I listened to the music, quite satisfied the Valentine Group had already called. “Grey or Blue, great song,” a voice said from in front of my desk. I opened my eyes. Holyfuckingshit. I jumped forward so quickly I knocked over my

bottle of water. It was him. “I didn’t mean to startle you, were you asleep?” he asked softly. “No. No. Sleeping not. Sleeping. Music. Listening. I was listening to music,” I stammered. Are you fucking kidding? I really don’t want to stutter right now. When I got excitedly nervous sometimes the words came out of my mouth and they were not necessarily always in order. I believe my mind worked at some weird pace, and often it got things jumbled up inside. I always tried to think before I spoke, but the words just fell out sometimes. And they always fell out in whatever order they wanted to. It never happened when I was scared, only when I was really nervous and excited at the same time. It used to happen when I was a little girl on Christmas morning or on my birthday when I was young. When I first met Josh it would happen, because I used to be really excited to see him. “Are you okay?” he asked softly. As he spoke, he pulled his hood over his head. He wore the same black hoodie he had on at the Red Box when I saw him two years before. It seemed odd he was wearing a hoodie in the summer, but considering everything else, it really didn’t matter.

“Nervous,” I said. Thank God. Only one fell out. He rubbed the hood onto the sides of his face, concealing most of his features. It was unzipped, and he wore a ribbed tank top underneath. From what I could see, he was built like an athlete. I sat and stared as I admired his eyes, body and smile. I tried my best not to speak. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you or make you nervous. Do you remember me?” My head bobbed up and down like one of those little dogs in the back window of some old person’s car. Nervously, I rubbed the wrinkles from my skirt. Perspiration formed on my palms like cold can of beer on a hot Austin day. Kace, you look like an idiot, say something. “Eyes, grey. Grey. I like your eyes. Your eyes,” I took a breath, raised my eyebrows and pointed at my mouth as I pursed my lips. I took another deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m nervous too, if it helps,” he said as he smiled sweetly and leaned onto the upper portion of my reception station. I raised my eyebrows and kept my mouth closed. “I am. You can kind of tell when I’m nervous or I don’t want to talk about something. I pull the hood over my head. My name is Shane. Shane Dekkar,” he said as he pulled the hood from his

face. Holy book fucking boyfriend. This guy is perfect. I grabbed a sticky note and scribbled on it with my pen. When I get nervous or really excited the words don’t come out in order. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry. I handed him the note. He looked down, read it, and smiled as he looked up from the note. He turned the note over face down, reached down onto my lower desk, and grabbed a pen from my jar of pens. He scribbled on the back side of the note and handed it to me. When I get nervous I hide under my hood. What’s your name? I set the note aside and grabbed a new one. I wrote on it and handed it back to him. My name is spelled Kace. It’s pronounced Casey, but spelled weird. My friends call me Kace without the “Y” pronounced. I go by either. I like your eyes. He read the note, turned it over, and chuckled. He looked up at the ceiling as if he were thinking, and wrote on the back side of the note. As he handed it to me, he stared into my eyes. I reached for the note and smiled as he released it to me. I have so much to say I would like one of the big sheets from your legal pad on your left. For

now, I will say this. I like your face. You’re beautiful. And, if you ever get confused and can’t talk, tap your hand once for yes, and twice for no. This was so exciting. I ripped a sheet from the legal pad and handed it to him. The anticipation of what he might write on the sheet was killing me. Hopefully he would write a lot of things on the sheet. I pushed the two yellow sticky notes aside and set my water bottle upright. I looked up at him as he thought and wrote slowly. He folded the sheet in half and handed it to me. I unfolded it and was pleased to see that he had filled almost the entire page with hand written questions. His penmanship was perfect. Kace, I’m Shane Dekkar. We saw each other the first time at the drug store parking lot. I walked by here a month or so ago and noticed you for a second time. Your hair was really shiny. I think everything happens for a reason. I feel I really need to find out who you are. I found it increasingly difficult to know you were here and not come see you, so I came in today to see my insurance agent and say hello to you. I have some questions. Here they are. Was that guy at the drugstore your boyfriend?

Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument? Are you single? Available? Do you like turkey sandwiches? Have you eaten lunch? Would you like to go to lunch? Are you a runner? I read what he wrote and read it again. Your hair was really shiny. Could this guy be any cuter than this? I looked up at him and started to write a response beside the questions he had written. I thought carefully as I wrote. Was that guy at the drugstore your boyfriend? Yes, but I want to find a way out. I read the next question and struggled with what I should write. I considered writing several things, but opted for a one word answer. Is he violent toward you, or were you really just in a little argument? Argument. Are you single? See above. Available? I think maybe. Do you like turkey sandwiches? Haha. Love them. Have you eaten lunch? No. Would you like to go to lunch? I think yes. Are you a runner? Yes, I am.

I looked at my watch. It was 10:45 already. I scribbled my own note onto the bottom of the sheet. This was fun. I get off for lunch at 11:30 and can be gone for an hour. The diner across the street has good turkey sandwiches. You can meet me there. Do you always wear a hoodie? It’s hot outside. I’m not as nervous now, but still kind of. You make my palms sweaty. I read what I wrote, smiled, and handed it back to him. He read the note, folded it and stuck it in his back pocket. He reached back and pulled the hood over his head and smiled. As he placed his forearms onto the upper countertop, he leaned forward slowly, getting closer to my face. His eyes commanded my attention. “I’ll see you at eleven thirty. I’m glad I make your hands sweaty. I always wear a hoodie. Well, almost always. You don’t need to respond if you’re still nervous,” he whispered. Almost unknowingly, I found myself leaning closer to him as he spoke. His breath smelled sweet. “Turkey,” I blurted. Are you fucking kidding me? Turkey? That’s all you can come up with? I rolled my eyes and pointed to my mouth. “Turkey,” his sweet breath whispered.

He leaned a little closer. I leaned toward him a little more. “Get your little sticky note pad and get a new note, Kace. Write this on it. I’m coming, Kace. I’m coming for your heart.” As he turned and walked away, I stood up and faced him. And I melted a little. Good lord. Wow. I could just watch him walk forever.

5

SHANE. I’ve spent most of my adult life wanting to be in a meaningful relationship. The relationships we typically have in high school never really amount to anything meaningful, and I didn’t look at my high school relationships as being anything but relationship curiosity. To think as a high school student we have any idea of what we want, need, or really desire in a life-long mate is ridiculous at best. I had a relationship as an adult for several years with Tina. She and I were inseparable. She spent all of her spare time with me, and I did the same with her. She even spent considerable time at the gym watching me train. I suspected we would get married and spend our lives together. Being around her made me feel as if my life was in order. One day, she came home and told me - with

much excitement - she had been accepted into the Navy. I was beyond shocked. After a lengthy discussion, I found out she had been trying to pass the entrance examinations for a few years. She never bothered to tell me her desire to join the military - and after the relationship ended, it seemed cheap and worthless. Since the relationship ended, I have had no desire to actively pursue any form of a female companion. I figured I’d spend the rest of my life focused on boxing and being single. I expressed no desire to be in any form of a relationship since Tina, and I have had serious doubts this would ever change. Meeting Kace was refreshing and strange at the same time. I have never met a woman who immediately possessed my thoughts the way she did. Even after meeting for the first time in the parking lot, I found myself thinking about her often. I wondered if she was happy, safe, and most of all single. Seeing her for the second time when I went to pay my insurance made me wonder about our meeting being fate. My grandfather always told me God puts people in our lives for a reason. It’s our responsibility to recognize them for what he intends them to be to us. Some people are bad, and we need to recognize them as such. The bad people or events in life allow us to have an accurate means of

measuring the good – a basis of comparison – the difference between good and evil. Other people are good, and may have something to offer us – to make our lives, minds, or basic understanding richer. If something or someone is presented to us once, we will often dismiss it as being nothing more than happenstance. If that person or situation is presented twice, it is God slapping us in the face and telling us to pay attention. It is fate. I believe in fate. Looking through the window toward the office building, I took a drink of my water. As she began to cross the street, I felt my heart race. I stood up and watched her cross the street. Smiling, she waited for a break in traffic. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, heels, and a tangerine colored sleeveless top. Clearly and without any effort whatsoever, she defined beauty as she gracefully ran across the street in her high heels. As she hopped over the curb and onto the sidewalk, she rubbed her hands on her skirt. Her hair appeared to be naturally blonde, and bounced as she walked down the sidewalk toward the door. As the bell which hung over the entrance chimed, I sat back into my seat. I leaned forward in the booth and turned her direction. As she made eye contact, I waved. She smiled and slowly walked my direction. She was simply adorable.

As she approached the booth, I stood from my seat and inched between the table and seat toward the aisle. I stood in the aisle, looked down at my raggedy boots, and glanced up at her. Standing about a foot in front of me, she rubbed her hands on her skirt and stared into my eyes, smiling. Slowly, she raised her right hand between us, and waved. Not certain if she could speak intelligibly or not, I pointed to the other side of the booth. She stepped away from me and walked to the other side of the booth. “I got you a bottle of water, sit down. Relax,” I said softly. She placed her purse in the seat and slid into the booth beside it. She twisted the lid off of the bottle of water and took a long drink, raising her eyebrows and focusing on me as she did. As she placed the bottle and the lid onto the table, she took a deep breath. “Hopefully,” she smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder “My mouth and brain will stay,” she paused. “Connected,” she smiled as she exhaled. I pulled my hands from my hoodie pockets and lightly clapped. She rested her elbows on the table and patted her hands together in a mimicking fashion until I stopped. When I stopped clapping she placed her hands in her lap and smiled. I pressed my forearms onto the edge of the

table and leaned her direction, “You’re adorable.” Without speaking, her mouth formed the words, thank you. “Just in case you get mixed up with your words - one tap always means yes, two means no, remember?” I said. “Okay,” she laughed. “Would you two like to order?” the waitress asked. I held my index finger in the air and focused on Kace, “Give us a few minutes, please.” “I’ll check back in a couple,” the waitress smiled. “Okay, I’ll start at the beginning,” I took a deep breath, exhaled, and shoved my hands deep into my pockets of the hoodie. “I’m going to guess, based on the fact that there was an empty yogurt container in the trash at your desk, and there was a plastic spoon in the container, you normally eat at your office. You probably save all of the money you’re supposed to eat out with and use it for yourself. I’m also going to guess what I thought was an iPad that your douchebag boyfriend smashed in the parking lot was a Kindle. And the Kindle in your purse was one you bought to replace the one that he smashed,” I took another breath. “And you probably read as much as you can to dream. To dream of what could be. You live

through the characters in the books you read, and it allows you to have some form of solace, or an inner peace in your otherwise worthless existence of a life with the douchebag,” I paused and looked at Kace. Her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open, she stared at me, speechless. “He’s controlling, isn’t he?’ She nodded her head like it was on a spring. I shook my head from side to side and pulled my hood over my shoulders. As I pressed my hood against my face, I clenched my jaw. “Are you…” she looked up at the ceiling and tilted her head to the side. “Mad…” she paused and took a short shallow breath. “At me?” she said softly. This woman was the definition of beauty. Clearly. She also possessed every quality which made her as adorable in regard to personality anyone could ever wish for. Even through her little speech problem, she maintained a smile and a positive attitude. I wanted to crush the asshole that was abusing her. I shook my head slowly and accidentally growled. Just a little. “No, not at all. I’m sorry. It makes me angry when I find out someone is abusing a woman. Well,

women, kids and old people - people who are incapable of providing much resistance. I couldn’t even tell you how many women I have talked to who are just like you. The eating at work, saving money, hiding things for fear of getting in trouble,” I paused and rolled my eyes. “You’d be surprised at how many women are in relationships just like yours. It makes me sick,” I clenched my jaw in anger. A slight frown washed over her face. Obviously she had become embarrassed. “Let’s talk about something else,” I said as I pulled my hands from my hoodie pockets. She shook her head from side-to-side. Loudly, she tapped the table twice. “You want to talk about this?” I asked. She tapped the table once. “How long have you been with him?’ “Sixteen,” she responded. I shook my head, “Ever been with anyone else?” She shook her head slowly and took a drink of her water. “You guys ready?” the waitress asked. I looked at the waitress and turned toward Kace. She nodded and smiled. “Turkey sandwich on,” I paused and looked at Kace. “Wheat,” she said.

“Two turkey sandwiches on wheat bread – add a salad to each. With vinaigrette on the side please. Thank you,” I smiled. “Dressing on the sandwich?” The waitress asked. I looked at Kace. “Light mayonnaise, please,” she said softly. “Same,” I said. “Okay, just a few minutes,” the waitress said. “You feeling less nervous?” I asked. “It’s weird. Yes, I am. When you ordered the dressing on the side, I think I realized you’re human. I don’t know, I just immediately felt comfortable. It was like my insides sighed. Would you have ordered light mayonnaise if I hadn’t said something?” she asked. Wow, she speaks. “Yes, I would have,” I responded. She sighed softly and smiled. “You’re beautiful, Kace. When you’re lying in bed tonight, remember that. You’re beautiful,” I looked into her eyes and said. She smiled. “You are?” I asked as I motioned toward her with my right hand. She shrugged. “Beautiful,” I said again. “You are?” I asked. She slowly smiled.

“Beautiful?” she asked softly. “Let’s try this again,” I said. “Kace, what are you? Describe yourself to me?” “Beautiful,” she responded softly as she smiled. “You certainly are. Don’t forget it, okay?” I said, nodding my head once sharply. She nodded and took a deep breath. “So, he’s controlling. He’s abusive. He slaps me. He hits me. He yells at me, chokes me, he tells me I can’t leave the house. Let’s see,” she paused, looked out the window and bobbed her head up and down along with the music playing. “He monitors my text messages, phone calls, spending, and tells me I’m a dirty slut and a whore,” she turned and looked back in my direction. Her eyes were welled with tears, but none fell. I gritted my teeth and tried not to show my anger. People like Kace’s husband made me develop an anger only fed by action or resolving the situation. When I box, I often tell myself my opponent is abusing a woman. It allows me to become at peace with fighting someone who hasn’t really done anything to deserve the beating they are about to receive. “Have you cheated on him?” I asked. “Oh heck no,” she said. “You’re not married?” I asked.

“No, thank God,” she shook her head and wiped her eyes. “Do you believe in fate?” I asked. “I suppose so,” she paused. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Well, I moved here two years ago from Compton, California. I bumped into you at the drug store. Then I saw you again at the office across the street. I couldn’t get you off of my mind. It’s as if you were pumping through my veins, like you had infected me. Meeting you once might have been an accident, maybe happenstance. But meeting you twice, it’s fate. I don’t know where this will end up, but I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to find out,” I reached into my hood and rubbed my hair with my hands. “Yeah, Austin is a huge city. I suppose running into me twice would be almost impossible. So, you came here from Compton? Isn’t that like the ghetto?” she asked. “My father was an active duty Marine, so I lived with my grandfather. He had lived there for decades and refused to move. But yeah, it’s the ghetto. It kind of made me who I am, I suppose,” I pushed the hood off of my head and rubbed my hair with my fingertips. “Here’s your lunch,” the waitress said as she sat the plates down. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said as she stepped

back from the booth. The waitress looked at me and smiled. She was tall, thin, and probably in her mid-fifties. Her skin was very tan, probably from the countless hours she spent after work relaxing in the sun. More than likely she was single and r4ecovering from a relationship similar to Kace’s. Most of the older waitresses in diners seemed to be. As I returned the smile she turned and walked away. “So is your father out of the military now?” Kace asked. “No, he was killed in Afghanistan doing what he loved; fighting,” I said. “I’m so sorry,” she said, her hands cupped over her mouth. I looked out the window. “Don’t be. He begged to go back, each time. He knew nothing else. He couldn’t make sense of being here in the United States after his first tour. I think it was the only way he could make the war seem like it was right or just. Anyway, he died doing what he loved,” I turned from the window and focused on her face. “So, can you leave him and go live with your parents?” I asked. “No. He hasn’t let me see either of my parents for years. My relationship with them has deteriorated. He hates both of my parents. I think they hate him,” she said as she picked up her

sandwich. She was so matter of fact about everything like it really didn’t matter. This piece of shit of a human being had manipulated and controlled her to a point that she really didn’t realize everything he had done to her. “He doesn’t let you see your parents?” I asked, shocked at this statement. “No,” she responded, shaking her head. “He doesn’t let you. Interesting. What’s his name?” I asked. “Josh,” she responded after finishing her bite of sandwich. I shook my head and unzipped my hoodie. The more I thought about this guy, the hotter it seemed to get. “What are you, Kace?” I asked. She looked at me with a confused look on her face, and then appeared she had a revelation. “Beautiful,” she grinned. “Yes you are. Don’t forget it, okay?” I asked. She nodded and blushed slightly. “Now back to Josh. I’m going to call him Buster. I had a friend in Compton named Josh. He was a pretty good guy. From here on out, I’m going to call him Buster,” I said as I reached for my sandwich. “Buster,” she laughed. She studied me and smiled, “I like that. Well,

you know what I mean. Yeah, Buster. It fits.” “So are you a personal trainer or something?” she asked. “No, I’m a boxer,” I responded as I handed her a napkin. She smiled and slid the napkin beside her plate. Her teeth were snow white and perfectly shaped. With my index finger, I pointed to the corner of my mouth and then to her face. She raised the napkin and wiped her mouth. “Light on the mayonnaise,” I chuckled. “Excuse me, did you say boxer? Like, you box? What do you do for work?” she asked, her face filled with wonder. “I box. I’m a fighter, it’s what I do,” I responded. “Oh God,” she responded. Quickly, she stood from her seat and stared at me. “What?” I asked as I stood up. “Bathroom. Bye,” she stammered. Hurriedly, she pushed herself out of the booth, and ran toward the bathroom. Feeling somewhat confused, I pulled the hood over my head and sat back down. I started thinking of Kace, her boyfriend, and a way to get them apart. Ultimately, it needed to happen. Whether Kace ended up with me, alone or with someone else did not matter. Getting her out of the abusive

relationship she was in did. “Is your girlfriend okay?” the waitress asked. “She’s not my girlfriend, but I think so, why?” I asked. “Oh, she just ran to the bathroom like something was wrong,” she answered. “Well, I think she just had to go really bad,” I chuckled. “Need anything else?” she asked as she pulled the bill from her apron. “No, how much is it?” I asked. “$21.30 with the salads,” she responded, looking at the receipt. I leaned forward and removed my wallet from my pocket. I flipped through the bills, and removed a fifty dollar bill. “Here you go, keep the change,” I said. “Uhhm, this is a fifty,” she said, showing me the bill. “I know. Keep the change. And thank you,” I said as I nodded my head and sat back down into the seat. “Oh God. Wow. Thank you,” she said, smiling. Her teeth glistened. “Certainly,” I nodded and pulled my hood off of my head as I spoke. As she turned to walk away, Kace slid back into her seat. “You alright?” I asked, laughing lightly and

shaking my head. She nodded excitedly. “What happened?” I asked. She pointed at me. “What?” I asked. She clenched her fists and acted as if she was throwing punches slowly at the center of the table. “Boxing? Me?” I asked. She nodded. I remembered what she said about getting nervous, and the fact it embarrassed her to speak. I felt bad about making her nervous. Some people simply aren’t cut out for the violence associated with the sport. “I’m sorry if I made you nervous, I didn’t mean to. It’s all I know. It’s my profession, not a hobby,” I said apologetically. She shook her head and once again began to throw fake punches slowly at the center of the table. Somewhat confused, I looked at her and thought about what she had written down earlier. When I get nervous or really excited the words don’t come out in order. It’s embarrassing. I’m sorry. “Excited?” I asked. She nodded her head repeatedly and shook her fists. Here’s my opportunity to seal the deal.

“Well, I can’t wait to beat Buster’s ass, make you mine, and take you to a fight. You’ll love it, I’m undefeated. Never been beat,” I bragged as I pulled my hoodie over my shoulders. I stood in the booth and tossed my hoodie in the seat beside me. Now standing in my ribbed tank top, I flexed my pectoral muscles and slowly sat down. “It’s hot in here. Do you think it’s hot in here?” I asked, scrunching my eyebrows. Her mouth open wide, she nodded her head sharply as she stood. She inched her way out of the booth, and turned to face me. In somewhat of a daze, she stared at my chest and biceps for a split second, and took off in a dead run for the bathroom. I turned and looked out the window at the office where Kace worked and chuckled to myself. I suspect she was considering what was in her best interest. Most women in her position merely needed a little shoulder to lean on through the course of change. After the fact, they almost immediately realized it was something they should have done long before. For them, making the initial move was difficult to do without assistance and encouragement. I intended to provide both. Now I needed to figure a way to get rid of Buster and convince Kace it was what was best for her.

I felt as if someone was behind me, and I turned to face the aisle. As I did, Kace picked up my hoodie and tossed it over the table to her seat. She slid along the seat of the booth until she was against my arm. She turned and looked up at me and smiled, resting her head on my bicep. As she leaned against me, I noticed she was about a foot shorter than I was. I love short women. And the thought of beating Buster’s ass.

6

KACE. Talking to Shane made me feel like a woman again. He was nice to me because he was a nice person. He thought I was pretty. He told me I was beautiful. We had been communicating through my gmail account on my phone, because Buster couldn’t trace it. I really liked calling Josh Buster in my head. I was afraid I would accidentally do it one time to his face. Shane told me to find a way to leave Josh even if it didn’t include thoughts of Shane and I being together. He said I needed to find a way to leave him for myself, and not for the reward of being with someone else or the thought of having a relationship with him. He explained I needed to do it for me. It seemed easy, and as much as I had grown to hate Josh, it was almost incomprehensible for me to

think of leaving him. When I thought of it my head spun in circles. I could think of one reason to leave him and about a hundred reasons to stay. Change scared me. It scared me to death. What if this. What if that. Even though Josh was a prick and he treated me like shit, I have a home with him. And I can always come home. Home, for me, is a comfortable place. If someone could just decide for me it would make everything so much easier. For me to decide might take forever, maybe even a little bit longer than forever. On the weekends, Josh often left for a good part of the day. He rarely took me with him. When I would ask him where he was going, his answer was generally out. When he left, I usually baked. Baking made me happy. I enjoyed baking things. It satisfied me greatly to have someone eat what I prepared and tell me they liked it. When I got upset I baked far more than normal. The baking settled me down and allowed me to feel as if I was accomplishing something. Maybe it was because there was a beginning and an end to it. Maybe I enjoyed creating it from my own mind. My hands creating something allowed me to feel a degree of accomplishment. Maybe it was all of those things combined. I was baking pecan and butterscotch chip cookies for Josh. They were his favorite. I had no

idea why I was still concerned with making something Josh liked. I never eat this shit. I baked it and he ate it. He took cookies in his lunch, ate them in bed, and ate on the couch while he played video games. Josh was disgusting. I pulled the cookies from the oven and set them on the rack to cool. The Tupperware I was placing the cookies in was almost full. Six dozen cookies was a lot of cookies, but not for Josh. He would eat six dozen cookies in about three days or so. Josh is fat and disgusting. Shane isn’t. Every morning, Shane called me at work and we would talk for a few minutes. I couldn’t talk on my cell phone, so he would call me on my work phone. We talked about everything and about nothing. Sometimes I would just sit and listen to him talk or listen to him breathe. Knowing he was there was enough. Someone who wouldn’t treat me like shit. Someone who actually cared. My time with Shane was valuable to me. If I didn’t get to talk to him it was disappointing. It wasn’t that I was disappointed in him - it was just let down if it didn’t happen. It had become so easy to enjoy his time, and I could do it without worry or effort. Shane didn’t judge me. And he never said anything bad to me. I removed the cookies from the sheet with the

spatula and placed them in the Tupperware. There was almost no dough left and the container was full, so I began washing out the bowl. As I was cleaning the bowl in the sink, I heard the key in the door. My muscles tensed and I started shaking. Buster. “What the fuck, did this sum bitch catch fire while I was gone?” he bellowed from the doorway. “I cooked your favorite cookies,” I said as he walked into the kitchen. “No bake?” he asked. You hate no bake cookies, you miserable asshole. “No, the butterscotch with pecans,” I turned from the sink and smiled. He reached into the Tupperware container and took a handful of cookies. As he walked to the refrigerator, I could smell the beer on his breath. Perfect, he’s drunk. I started shaking even worse as I rinsed the bowl in the sink. As he reached into the refrigerator, I began to dry the bowl. “You drink my fuckin’ beer, you whore?” he asked, his head stuffed in the refrigerator. “I don’t drink beer, Josh. You know that,” I responded. “Don’t back talk me you slut,” he said as he shut the refrigerator door. “Somebody drank ‘em. There’s only five left. I had a twelver in that ‘fridge,” he said as he opened

the can of beer. “Only you and I are in the house, Josh. So if they’re gone, you drank them,” I said softly as I dried the bowl with the dish towel. “You callin’ me stupid?” he asked. “No,” I looked down at the floor. “Well, I know who lives here. And I know what I drunk and I know what I didn’t. Who you had in here while I was gone?” he asked as he stuffed another cookie in his mouth. “No one, Josh,” I answered. “Now you wanna lie,” he said as he tipped his beer can up to his mouth. “Back talk me and lie. Somebody has been up in this bitch. My fuckin’ beer is gone. Now tell me who,” he demanded. “No one,” I repeated. He was scaring me. I really didn’t want to be hit. “Then where’s my beer?” he screamed. Sometimes we make decisions and we think the decisions we make are to our benefit. Other times, we make decisions and at the time we make them, they seem to be what makes sense, and later we find out they weren’t such a good idea. Being able to discern the good decisions from the bad decisions, in advance, would be priceless. “I drank them,” I said. “How you gonna pay to replace them, you dumb whore? I knew you were drinkin’ my beers.

Probably drank that fuckin’ Jack too, didn’t ya?” I nodded. I didn’t see it coming, but I felt the impact. His hand hit my face so hard everything went black. I spun in a circle, and landed on the floor. When I could see again I was on the floor, and he was hovering over me, his fists clenched. “You can drink my beers and you’ll pay me for ‘em. But no one fucks with my Jack. You know that. I knew you drunk it you little drunken whore,” he screamed as he grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled me to my feet. “Josh, no! I didn’t drink them,” I cried, my hair pulled tight by his left hand. “Well, either way, you’re lying. You said you did, you said you didn’t. One’s a lie,” he stuffed a cookie in his mouth and took a drink of beer. Smack! He hit me harder than he has ever hit me before. I don’t know what he hit me with or where it impacted me, but my mouth hurt like hell. I could taste blood. I pushed the back of my teeth with my tongue. One was loose. I opened my eyes. Everything was blurry. My lips already felt ten times bigger than normal. As I cried and sobbed, he pulled me toward the refrigerator by my hair. Grabbing the back of my hair in his hand, he opened the refrigerator door and shoved my head inside.

“How many beers you see up in this motherfucker?” he screamed. I blinked and looked inside. I could see nothing. My eyes wouldn’t focus. He said he had five earlier… “Four,” I guessed. “See any Jack?” he screamed. “No,” I answered. He pulled me down to the floor by my hair and shoved me with his hand, sending me across the floor on my back. I relaxed on the floor, lying on my back crying. I turned my head to the side so I could still see him. The pain in my face and mouth was unbearable. I watched his hand as he reached into the refrigerator. I heard him open another beer and take a very long series of drinks. “Know why?” he asked. “Why what?” I asked. “What the fuck we talking about, you dumb cunt?” he screamed. “Josh, I don’t know. I’m scared. You hit me, I’m hurt and bleeding. Please…” “I don’t give a fuck if you’re bleedin’. The Jack! The fucking Jack Daniels, Kace. You know why you don’t see it?” he screamed. “No?” I answered, confused. “Cause you drunk it,” he screamed. I saw the blur of his boot and thought he was

stepping over me to go to the other room.

7

KACE. When I woke up, my face felt as if it were stuck to the tile floor. I lifted my head from the large spot of dried blood on the floor. My mouth was throbbing. I reached toward my face and felt my lips. They were both mangled. I had a piece of Josh’s boot heel in my mouth. I spit it onto the floor. White. I picked it up and looked at it. I blinked and looked again. Oh no. He didn’t. I circled my tongue around my front teeth. It caught on an opening in the front. I looked at what I held in my hand. That motherfucker kicked my tooth out. I could hear the video game playing as he screamed in the other room. I looked around the

kitchen. Two empty beer cans sat on the kitchen counter. The cookies were gone. My bowl sat on top of the counter where I had left it. Who beats their girlfriend to a pulp on the floor, kicks her teeth out, and then takes a beer and cookies into the other room to play video games while she lie in a puddle of blood on the floor? Fucking Buster. That’s who. I stuck my tooth in my jeans pocket. I picked up the bowl and felt it in my hands. Not heavy enough. I opened the bottom cabinet and looked inside. I quietly pulled the largest cast-iron skillet from the cabinet. Oh yeah. This should work. I tip-toed out of the kitchen and to the rear of the living room. He was sitting on the couch, facing the television and playing video games. His back was toward me. This could be just perfect. Fucking cocksucker. I could see the back of his head over the top of the couch. I knew if I walked in behind him, he might see me and catch me. As he screamed at the television, I ran as fast as I could toward him - the cast-iron skillet held high above my head with both hands. As he looked to his right, his mouth began to open and his eyes were as big as saucers. The skillet came down hard. When it hit his forehead, it made an awful thud. I hated to, but I smiled when it bounced off of his head.

I stood over him and admired my handy work. I dropped the skillet on the floor behind the couch and looked at him. His forehead already developed a knot the size of half a baseball. His head was split open, but not as bad as my lips were. I looked at him and how he was slumped into the couch and shook my head. Although my heart was beating at a very rapid pace, I was surprisingly calm. I walked to my bedroom and grabbed my purse, Kindle, and cell phone. I walked into the living room and checked Josh. He was still unconscious. I reached down on the floor and grabbed the cast iron skillet and took it with me as I walked into the bedroom again. I opened the closet door and pulled out the largest piece of luggage I had. I unzipped it and began stuffing all of my work clothes into it. I ran to the dresser and grabbed socks, panties, and shirts. When the bag was almost full, I shoved in as many pairs of shoes as I could. I zipped the luggage and drug it into the other room. Still unconscious. I dropped the luggage on the floor and walked back into the bedroom and grabbed the skillet. Slowly, I walked toward the couch. I reached down and picked up his cell phone from the floor. I stepped back and thought as I looked at him sprawled out on the couch. The crotch of his pants

was soaked. Fuck this asshole. I leaned over his body and pushed my hand into his pants pocket. There we go. I pulled out the keys to his truck. I looked to the side of the couch toward where he had removed his boots and smiled. I slid my purse over my shoulder and walked toward his boots. I dropped the keys and phone into his boots and picked them up. I walked back, grabbed the luggage, and pulled it behind me to the front door. As I opened the front door, I looked around the house. I needed nothing else. I guess, ultimately, what Shane had said was right. When walking away from something we were once committed to, we often hesitate. Deciding to make a major change in life is difficult. But we all reach a point when we’re done. Done giving to a world that only takes. Until then, you’ll want, you’ll wait, and you’ll contemplate change. When you’re truly done, you’ll know. You’ll know when the time comes. You’ll know when the time comes. The time has come.

8

SHANE. “Hand me those tongs, this side of the chicken is done,” I said toward Ripp. “Fuck, I don’t know where they are,” he screamed back. “They’re right beside you, Jesus,” I hollered as I held the lid of the barbeque grill in the air, “right where you set them. And why the fuck are we screaming?” He turned and looked at the table on the edge of the deck. As he reached for the tongs, my phone rang. “Phone’s ringing, Dekk,” he screamed as he tossed me the tongs. I grasped each piece of chicken with the tongs, and flipped them over on the grill. Ripp and I had somewhat of a tradition of eating barbequed chicken every Saturday evening. I loved to eat

healthy, and enjoyed our tradition. Ripp wasn’t as concerned as I was with food, and typically would eat whatever someone handed him. He worked harder in his exercise routines to get rid of it. I used this as a means of making him eat healthy. It was my way of letting him relax a little from his rigorous exercise regimen. I closed the lid of the grill and pulled my phone from my pocket. Kace. Okay, this is weird. She never calls or texts. I pushed redial and called her phone back. “Who was it?” Ripp asked. “Kace,” I said and turned to face away from him. She answered the phone and began to talk a hundred miles an hour. I could understand about every other word. “Slow down…slow down, what’s wrong?” I asked. “I left,” she responded. “Like left, left?” I asked. “Left, left,” she responded. “Can I come to where you are? Juth for a little bit? I need to thee you,” she asked. “Are you okay?” I asked as I turned to face Ripp. I placed my hand over the mouth piece of the phone. “Can she come here for a bit?” I whispered

toward Ripp He shrugged his shoulders, turned his palms up, and nodded his head. “Yeah you can come here, you have a way to write down the address?” I asked. “Tetht it to me,” she said. “Your voice sounds funny, you have a lisp,” I said. “I’ll tell you about it when I get there,” she said. “Alright, I’ll text it to you. Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world,” I asked. “Right now, I hath no idea. I’ll thee you in a minute,” she laughed. She hung up and I placed my phone in my pocket. We had never seen each other on the weekends, only during lunch at the diner across the street from her office. My mind raced. I thought of all of the possibilities. It had been about a month since we first met at the diner, and I knew she was becoming fond of me – she never hesitated to tell me. I suspected there had to be something to drive her over the edge. Her lisp had me worried. I stood and stared at the barbeque grill. “Dekk, you alright?” Ripp asked as he walked up to my side. “Yeah. Yeah, I think so,” I responded. “You sure? Your friend alright?” he asked as he

opened the grill. “I don’t know. I have a feeling something happened,” I responded. “Like?” he asked. “I don’t know. But I know this. If she so much as has a fingerprint on her, I’m going to go beat the brakes off of that dirt bag. Where’s my fucking hoodie?” I asked. “It’s on the lounge,” Ripp responded as he pointed toward the lounge chair. “Brother, if he touched a hair on her head, you’ll have to beat me to him. I’ll beat his ass for you. Until he’s a pile of bones. No one beats a woman that I know about. Not and gets away with it. So, I got this, Dekk. I got it. Just because that’s how we do it here in Texas,” he laughed. “I’m serious,” I said. “So am I,” he responded as extended his arm and made a clenched fist. He nodded toward his hand. “C’mon do it,” he said. I gritted my teeth and made a fist. He nodded his head again, “I got this.” I bumped his fist with mine. And I knew. Ripp had my back.

9

KACE. We make decisions which may impact or have an effect on our lives, and at times we regret or past decisions. I try to live my life without regret. There have been plenty of times I wish my life were different, but I never regret the path I have taken that got me to where I stand. I looked into the the rearview mirror. My face was covered in blood. My lips split open, my tooth was missing and my hair was lightly matted with blood. I smiled. Immediately, I winced from the pain of my split lips. I pulled my car in the driveway, checked the address, backed up and parked in the street in front of the house. I looked at the text message again. 724 All Hallows. We’re in the back on the deck. Gate is unlocked. I sat in my car looking like a murder victim who

had survived and was happier than I had ever been in my life. My only regret was I didn’t hit Josh in the head with the skillet ten years prior. I opened the car door and took a deep breath. Just as well get this over with. I stepped out and started walking up the driveway toward the gate in the fence. I reached for the handle, took another deep breath, exhaled, and pulled the gate open. I stood at the opened gate and stared. “Hey babe. So what’s going on?” Shane asked from the top of the deck as he started walking in my direction. As he got closer to me, his eyes opened wide. His face filled with surprise. His lips began to quiver. He stood in front of me and slowly reached out to move my hair from my cheeks. He lowered his face toward mine and looked into my eyes. “What the fuck happened to you? Car wreck?” he said in a calm but stern tone. I stood and stared at the deck, incapable of speaking. Holy Mary mother of Christ himself. “Ripp, get over here, I think she’s in shock. She’s been in a wreck or something,” he said over his shoulder. “Holy fuck. I’ll call an ambulance,” the shirtless man said. I shook my head. “No,” I blurted, “It duthen’t hurt anymore. Juth

lookth bad. Leth wipe it off, maybe.” “Babe, you’re in shock. We’ll get an ambulance,” he said softly as he pushed my hair over my ears. “Ambulanthe,” I muttered. “No!” I screamed. Shane jumped back. “Ith not bad, juth lookth bad,” I shook my head. “Not a wreck. Buth-ter,” I sighed. Frantically, I waved my hands in front of me and pointed to my mouth. “Babe, I can see. Your lips. And I see the tooth babe. We’ll get thiat prick, don’t worry. We got this. It will never happen again,” he assured me. As he looked at my face and moved my hair to the side, I heard a rumbling tone coming from his chest. He was growling. “Where’s my fucking phone, Dekk?” the shirtless man screamed. Please don’t come over here. “Fuck, I’m brain dead. Mine’s in my pocket. Here,” Shane said as he pulled his phone from his pocket and held it beside his waist. His hands were shaking. I reached out and slapped the phone from his hand, knocking it to the ground. “Babe, we need to call an ambulance, you’re in shock,” he said as he bent down to pick up the

phone. I kicked it across the concrete patio before he touched it. “Thirt. Tattooth,” I whimpered helplessly as I pointed to the shirtless man. He scrunched his brow and looked confused. He turned and looked at the shirtless man, who was walking in our direction. “Dude, I can’t find it. Where’s yours?” he asked as he put his hand on Shane’s shoulder. I crossed my legs and waved my arms. Shane’s mouth slowly formed a smile. He shook his head. “Ripp, go put on a shirt,” Shane said as he smiled at me. I nodded over and over, and then I remembered. I reached over and tapped his shoulder once. “Dude, it’s a hundred and five degrees. I ain’t putting on a shirt,” he said. Shane took off his hoodie and handed it over his shoulder to the other man. He maintained eye contact with me the entire time, smiling. He’s proud of me for remembering to tap him once. “Don’t ask, Ripp. For me, put it on, please,” Shane said softly. “Alright, Dekk. Damn, my bad,” he said as he pulled the hoodie over his shoulders.

He stood with the hoodie unzipped. It barely covered half of him. His chest and stomach were exposed. His stomach muscles rippled. Hints of tattoos on his chest were exposed. I pointed to the other man and shook my head. I motioned with my hands as if I were zipping the hoodie. Shane slowly turned and looked at the other man. “Zip it up, Ripp. Damn,” he said. “It’s too fucking small,” he complained. “It’s an extra fucking large. You’re just too god damned big. She’s fucking bleeding and can’t speak. Zip the damned thing up. Son of a bitch, Ripp. I told you she has anxiety. She can’t talk because you’re fucking distracting the shit out of her,” he started laughing as he spoke. He zipped the hoodie up to his neck, turned and walked to the upper wooden deck. I exhaled. I closed my eyes and nodded my head slowly. I took a slow breath and exhaled. I opened my eyes and pointed to the deck. Shane turned and put his right arm over my shoulder and his left behind my legs. Swiftly, he picked me up and carried me toward the deck. As he walked, I laid my head on his shoulder. He lowered himself into a lounge chair on the deck, and sat me down beside him. He scooted across the lounge a little bit, and looked at my face.

His lips started to quiver again. “Go get a shirt, Ripp, and give me my hoodie back,” he said as he pointed to the back door of the house. He reached up to his chest and rubbed his dog tags. “So, what happened? Slowly, Kace. Tell me slowly,” he almost whispered as he spoke. “Joth came home drunk. He wuth being an athhole. We argued about thome beer he was mithing, and he hit me. He knocked me on the floor and kicked me in the fathe. When I woke up, I got a thkillet and hit him in the head,” I paused and took a slow breath. “Hard,” I smiled. Shane shook his head from side to side. “That motherfucker. He’s alive, right?” he raised his eyebrows and nodded his head once. I thought about what Josh looked like on the couch and how hard I hit him. I shrugged my shoulders. “Probably?” I said, wondering if he might be dead. He laughed and patted my knee, “A skillet, huh? You did good.” The other man came through the back door and tossed Shane his hoodie. He was wearing a pull over hoodie that said “Gold’s Gym” on the front. “Ripp, this is Kace,” Shane said as he leaned

back and pointed my direction. “Pleasure to meet you. Mike Ripton. Call me Ripp or Mike,” he said as he held his massive hand in front of me. I leaned forward and shook his hand. “You’re huge,” I said. “Ith he mean?” I whispered to Shane. Shane laughed. “She wants to know if you’re mean, Ripp” he laughed over his shoulder. “Ripp’s like a pit bull puppy. He’s a hell of a lot of fun until you piss him off.” Shane chuckled. Ripp slid a chair across the floor and sat in front of us with a plate of chicken and a bottle of beer. “Water?” he asked as he handed me a bottle of water. “Thank you,” I responded as I reached for the water. Quickly, he pulled the bottle of water close to his chest. Holy shit, he’s fast. I turned and looked at Shane, surprised. “I’ll give you this water if you tell us what happened, and where that piece of shit is,” he said. “She already did,” Shane said. Ripp stood up, set down the plate, and handed me the water. He licked the barbeque sauce from his fingers and popped his neck. “Let’s go,” he said as he wiped his hands on his

shorts. “Sit down, Ripp,” Shane shook his head, “let her finish.” Ripp turned and walked back into the house. “He’s kind of a hot-head when he gets mad. Don’t pay any attention to him. He’s a great guy. He’s a lot like me. He hates it when men mistreat women. He’s not mad at you, okay?” I nodded slowly. “So,” he leaned forward and looked at my mouth, “You have the tooth?” he asked. I nodded and patted my pants pocket. Ripp walked back onto the deck with something in his hand. He leaned over and handed the object to me. “It’s an icepack. Put it on your lips. Probably too late, but it won’t hurt. It’ll make ‘em feel better,” he smiled. “Thanks Ripp,” Shane said. Ripton sat back down and grabbed his plate of chicken. I watched him as he devoured half a chicken in a matter of seconds. Being around two men who were caring, kind, and treated me with respect was different. I had never witnessed this type of care before. Not since I was sixteen, anyway. I continued to watch in amazement as Ripp ate chicken like an animal. “Kace, you okay?” Shane asked as he patted my knee with his hand.

“Oh, yeah. Thorry. He eath a lot,” I said as I nodded toward Ripp. Shane turned and looked at Ripp. He shook his head and laughed, “Yeah. He has to feed the machine.” Ripp nodded, “We had a deal little girl. Tell your story.” I moved the icepack from my face and set it in my lap. “Joth and I have been together for ten yearths. He threatenth me, thlapth me, and chokth me all the time. He beat me today for the lath time. I hit him in the head with a thkillet. Heeth uncontheeouth,” I said toward Ripp. I wiped my palms on my jeans and smiled at Shane. I wanted him to be proud of me. Ripp licked the barbeque sauce from his hands and stood up from his chair. He looked at Shane and shook his head slowly. “I think I understood her, but with her lips swollen and she’s all busted up and missing a tooth, it’s tough. What’d she say, Dekk?” he asked as he wiped his hands on his shorts. “She said he beats her, chokes her, threatens her, and slaps her as a matter of normal occurrence. They’ve been together ten years. He kicked her teeth out today and it’ll, according to her, be the last time,” Shane paused, turned, and looked at me. I nodded.

“She say she hit him with something?” He asked as he licked his fingers and walked closer to me. “Oh, yeah. She hit him in the head with a skillet. Hard. Split his head open and he was unconscious when she left,” Shane responded. As I sat beside Shane, Ripp walked up to the chair we were sitting on and leaned over. Slowly, he reached toward my face and placed his cupped hand under my chin. Using his hand, he raised my chin up to take a closer look at my face. I moved the ice pack away from my mouth. He squinted his eyes and gazed at Shane. He looked back at me and moved his hand away from my chin. “What do you weigh, a hundred pounds?” Ripp asked incredulously. “Thometimeth,” I responded. “Sometimes,” Shane said. “Dependth on what I eat,” I said. “Depends on what she…” Shane started to say. “I can fucking understand her. It just takes me a minute,” Ripp said angrily as he shook his head. “He’s not mad at you, babe. He’s just mad,” Shane said as he rubbed my thigh. Shane stood up from the lounge chair and met Ripp’s gaze. “I’m gonna kill him, Dekk. The dead kind,” Ripp said as pressed the knuckles of his right hand

into his left palm. “I’ll take care of this,” Shane said. Ripp shook his head. “Sorry, brother. Can’t let that happen. I gotta leave you here with the girl. If something goes to shit, if the cops get called, I can’t risk that. She needs you. Look at her. And I don’t just mean now. Shit, Dekk. When you tell me stories about you two eating lunch…well, your fucking eyes light up. This little girl means the world to you. Let’s let what happens between you two happen. If you’re in jail, she’s alone again. Hell, that fuck nugget might come back,” he said. Shane pulled his hood over his head and paced back and forth across the deck. “I don’t know, Ripp. It’s my deal. It’s my fight. I don’t let people fight my fights for me,” Shane said as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets. “Listen to me, Dekk,” Ripp turned toward Shane. Shane stopped pacing and faced Ripp. “You got nobody. You ain’t got a dad, and you ain’t got any family that I know of. I got two sisters and a mother and father. I never had a brother – until I met you. Always wanted one. You need to take care of this girl. Let her take care of you – she needs that too. This is about minimizing risk. I got this. You’re in Texas, not Compton. This is how we do it here in the great state of Texas. We take care

of our family. You’re my family,” he wrapped his arms around Shane and hugged him. “Let me go with ya,” Shane said as Ripp released him. “No can do, bro. I told ya. I got this,” Ripp responded as he wiped his hands on his shorts. Shane shook his head and rubbed his hood into the sides of his face. “Just don’t kill him,” Shane said. “Can’t make that promise, bro. We’ll see how it goes,” Ripp said as he walked toward the barbeque grill. “Damn it, Ripp,” Shane said softly, almost as if talking to himself. “I ain’t gonna do it right now. I need to eat,” Ripp said as he grabbed a few more pieces of chicken from the platter that sat beside the grill. He walked back toward his chair with a plate full of chicken. As he sat in the chair and started devouring another piece of chicken, he nudged his head toward the back door. “Go inside Dekk and get her a piece of paper off my desk. And a pen. I need her to write down everything about this asshole she’s willing to tell me. Everything,” he said as he dropped a bone onto the plate. As I watched him eat it dawned on me he was probably the biggest human being I had ever seen. I have never seen anyone, of any size, that was as

muscular as he was. He was a boxer, like Shane, but he was huge. Without a doubt he would either beat Josh half to death or possibly even kill him. After spending ten years with Josh, I realized a small part of me should feel sorrow for what might happen. Maybe I should feel a little compassion and want to prevent it from occurring. I felt nothing. I looked at him as he ate another piece of chicken. His head was cleanly shaven and he had hair on the tip of his chin. He was very tan, almost like he was Hispanic, but he was white. As he chewed, I could see the muscles in his neck and jaw flex. “Is your head thmooth?” I asked. I have no idea why I asked that. He dropped the bone onto the plate and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Is my head smooth?” he chuckled, “smooth as butter. You wanna touch it, don’t ya?” My head bobbed up and down as of its own will. “Well, get over here. And don’t be dripping that cold ice pack on me when you’re fingering my head,” he laughed. I stood up from my lounge chair and walked beside the chair he was sitting in. I stood and stared at his smooth head. “Well, I can’t put my head in your hand, Shorty.

You’re just going to have to reach over here and rub it. Take that ice pack off of your lips and let me see them,” he said softly. I pulled the ice pack from my mouth and smiled. He shook his head and chuckled. “Well, I’ve seen a lot worse. You’ll heal up just fine, you hear me?” he said as he leaned my direction. I nodded my head. Slowly, I reached toward his head with my left hand. As I did, he raised his head closer to my hand. I touched it with my fingers. It felt soft and smooth, like my legs after I shave them. No stubble whatsoever. “Don’t get any wild ideas. I know it feels nice, and you look really good with that long blonde hair. Now go sit down before Dekkar comes out here and whips my ass again,” he laughed. “Again?” I asked. “Yeah, again. He didn’t tell you?” he asked. I sat back down on the lounge chair and turned his direction, “Nope.” “Well, that’s how we met. Crazy fucker rode his bike here from Compton. Got off of it, put on a set of gloves, and stepped into the ring. I stepped in with him. Biggest god damned mistake of my career. He’s got the fastest hands I’ve ever seen. Powerful too. You wouldn’t know it. Hell, he wears that fuckin’ hoodie everywhere, covering up his body. He’s probably the meanest son-of-a-bitch

I’ve ever met. Anyway, maybe thirty seconds into the fight he hit me three times before I even knew it. Knocked me out cold. First time I’ve ever been on the mat,” he picked up another piece of chicken and took a bite as he nodded his head once. I thought about Shane fighting him. I imagined Shane knocking him out. I remembered how big Ripp was as he stood in the yard with his shirt off. I started to get uncomfortably warm. My pussy started to ache. I wanted Shane, and I wanted him bad. Josh and I had not had sex in almost three years. I desperately needed a man. I began to imagine Shane kissing me and undressing me as he did. Oh God. I crossed my legs again. Bad idea. I looked at Ripp as he pulled the meat from a chicken bone. I uncrossed my legs. Oh God, I’m soaked. Thinking of Shane got me really excited. I needed to go to the bathroom. As I pulled the icepack from my mouth, Shane walked out onto the deck. “Ripp, I decided to let you do this. You’re right, I want the girl. If it comes up again, or if he shows his face a second time, he’s mine. Deal?” he asked. He’s talking about me! I felt flush. I want the girl.

“Deal,” Ripp said as he dropped the last bone onto the plate. I stood up, set the ice pack on the lounge, and reached up toward Shane’s face with both hands. As I stood on my tip-toes, he leaned down and looked at me through his hood. I flipped the hood off of his head with my right hand. As it fell onto his shoulder, he slowly smiled. “Kith me,” I said as I stretched my face toward his. My swollen lips met his, and he reached around me and picked me up. I felt his tongue against mine. I closed my eyes. I haven’t been kissed in years, and I have never been kissed like that. Shane was right; everything he does, he does extremely well. As my feet dangled a foot above the floor of the deck, I felt warmth inside of me I had never felt. It was at that point I knew. Shane Dekkar would always protect me.

10

RIPP. Laws are set in place as a set of rules and regulations to protect people who do not or are not breaking them from the few who do. It really doesn’t matter where you live or what you believe in, for the most part all countries have the same laws to provide the same protection. Don’t steal, don’t take advantage of people, don’t harm people, and don’t intimidate or threaten people. As a general matter of law, those rules sum it up just about everywhere. Every law falls within one of those categories, regardless of where you reside. The punishment varies from country to country. Some countries cut the hands off of thieves. Others place them in jail. Even countries who may look at women as a substandard form of life do not allow them to be harmed or taken advantage of against

their will. I know many women who have attempted to file charges against their boyfriends or husbands for abuse. Almost every occasion ended up with the woman filing charges a second time for a crime much worse - because the first occurrence went unpunished. A man who intimidates or beats a woman, generally speaking, does not want to be confronted by a man who is willing to stand up for the woman or her rights. Men who abuse woman, without exception, are cowards. I like to remind them of the fact that they’re spineless. It satisfies me. After we first met, Dekkar and I found this to be a common belief between us. A week or so after we met the first time, we ate lunch together. The conversation immediately went to our system of beliefs. His strongest belief was the fact women are not to be abused, ever - verbally, mentally, morally or physically. I believed the exact same thing. He was able to describe many circumstances when he became involved in an attempt to resolve a domestic issue which included a woman in need. I was astonished. It was the one thing that brought us closer to each other - a similar belief in what we understood to be moral. Additionally, we both believed an outside influence often worked much better than filing a domestic violence charge with police.

Stepping in and resolving an issue with a man’s abuse of a woman didn’t necessarily require violence. It always depended on the circumstances. Violence breeds violence, and violence is never the ultimate answer. It is, however, a useful tool in some circumstances. “Whoa!” Josh screamed as I walked into the living room of the house. “How the fuck did you get in here? I’ll call the cops,” he yelled. “Turn off that fucking television and shut the absolute fuck up,” I said as I pulled the hood of my sweatshirt off of my head. He sat and stared at me as if in shock. I reached down and picked up the remote control from the floor and turned off the television. As I did, he started to stand up. “You aren’t going to call anyone, you don’t have a phone. Sit the fuck down. You and I are going to have a long talk,” I said as I dangled Kace’s set of keys from my fingertips. He stood and stared at me as I walked across the living room and sat down in the chair beside the couch. “This is my house…” I interrupted him before he finished, “Say one more God damned word without me asking you a question. One fucking more, just one. I’ll knock every tooth out of your mouth and wear ‘em

around my neck on a chain. Say something. Anything.” Silently, he slowly lowered himself onto the couch. “That’s it, just sit down. I need to talk to you while you’re able to comprehend it. Later you’ll be more liable to forget what I say,” I said as I pointed to the couch. He scrunched uncomfortably on the couch, burrowing a little deeper into the cushions. “This is about Kace and what you did to her today. I talk, you listen. Understand?” I asked as I unzipped and took off the jacket I wore over my hoodie. He nodded. His head had a knot on it about the size of a tangerine. I stood up and pulled my hoodie off over my head. Purposely, I didn’t wear a shirt. I sat back down into the chair, laid the hoodie down, and flexed my biceps just to make sure he knew what may be coming later. “I don’t like you. People like you make me make me want to spend my life in prison for murdering them. The only thing preventing me from doing it is the fact that being in prison would keep me from finding another piece of shit like you and doing this all over again. Believe it or not, I enjoy this. The satisfaction I get from stopping you from abusing another woman is the same satisfaction most men get from fucking, multiplied by about ten.

Remember, not a word unless I ask you,” I rolled my shoulders and popped my neck. He sat and stared. “Now, when I start talking, you’re naturally going to want to say something to defend yourself. I wouldn’t advise that. If you do, I’m going to get up, come over there, and beat on you. Eventually, I’m going to do it anyway. If you try talking your way out of this, it’s just going to make it last a really long time. If you keep your mouth shut, I’m going to sit here and just talk - at least for now. Understand?” He nodded. “Men who abuse women are fucking pussies. They’re the lowest form of life that exists. Talking down to women, screaming at them, intimidating them, or physically harming them in any way is abuse. Abuse isn’t going to be tolerated by me, ever,” I took a slow breath and looked him over. Talking to this asshole wasn’t sitting very well with me. It was all I could do to look at this guy. Knowing eventually I was going to knock at least one of his teeth out was extremely satisfying. “You’ve spent the last ten years intimidating Kace, and you’re done. Completely. The shit that went on here this afternoon is the last of it. You’ll never speak to her again for any reason. You will make no effort to contact her, ever. You will not approach her, call her, text her, or have any of your

friends attempt to do so. Understand?” I asked as I rubbed my hands on the thighs of my jeans. He nodded. “No, I need verbal confirmation. Do you understand?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m not one of your punk friends. Don’t talk to me like one. If you respond affirmatively, it better be a yes. Understand?” I pushed against my thighs with my hands and sat up straight. “Yes?” he said with a confused look on his face. Covered with sweat, he reached up and wiped his brow. As he wiped his hand on his jeans, the sweat beads began to re-form on his face. “It’s hot as fuck in here, what’s the temperature set at? I asked. He shrugged his shoulders and wiped his face again. “Well, it’s so fucking hot in here I’m ungoddamned-comfortable. Son-of-a-bitch that knot on your head looks painful. She got you good, didn’t she?” I chuckled. Lightly, he touched his swollen head with his fingertips. As his fingers touched the knot, he squinted and jerked his head backward. “Okay, we’re getting off track. I’m going to need some answers from you. Listen up. Are you ever going to try to talk to Kace again?” I asked. “Well, I…” he started.

As he began to speak, I stood up, “Shut up. Obviously you didn’t hear me or understand me.” “You said don’t speak unless you asked me to,” he said as he leaned back into the couch cushions. I took a few steps toward him and stood directly in front of the couch, “Stand up.” He sat still and looked up at me as if confused on what to do. I reached down and got ahold of his hair and pulled him up from the couch. “Holy shit, dude. God damn. I’m coming. Fuck,” he said as I raised him off of the couch cushion by his hair. “Shut the fuck up,” I demanded as he stood directly in front of me, his hair in my left hand. “When you choke Kace, this is what it feels like,” I said as I grabbed his neck in my right hand. I squeezed as hard as I could until his eyes rolled back and he began to go limp. I released the pressure on his neck. As I did, he began to cough and gasp for air. I pulled upward on his hair, forcing him to stand erect. “Oh my fuckin’ God,” he coughed and sputtered as I continued pulling against his hair. “And this is what it feels like when you slap her,” I said as I reached back and slapped his face as hard as I could with my open right hand. The slap knocked his head from my grasp. He fell to the floor, crying. I stood above him and with my left hand grabbed another fist full of his hair.

“Dude, that’s fucking gross, your hair came out,” I said as I brushed the hair from my hand onto the floor beside him. “Get up, you pussy. Get up right now or I’m going to cut off your cock,” I threatened, knowing I wouldn’t touch his cock with a ten foot pole. Slowly, he rose to his feet, rubbing his jaw the entire time. “Being slapped hurts, don’t it?” I asked. He nodded his head slowly. Whack! I slapped him with my left hand. His legs wobbled. Whack! I slapped him with my right hand. He began to stumble and fall to the floor. I grabbed each of his shoulders in my hands and stabilized his stance. “You alright to stand?” I asked as I let go of his shoulders. He stood fairly erect, sobbing and rubbing his jaw. “Brace yourself,” I said. “What? Brace…what?” he mumbled through his hands. “I’m going to break a rib. You’ll need to tighten up your stomach muscles. If you don’t, you’ll puke on me. If you puke on me, I may kill you. We’ve already discussed that. I don’t really want to kill

you,” I said calmly. “Dude, what the fuck…” he started to speak through his cupped hands. Before he could finish speaking, I pushed him away from me. As he began to stumble backward, I unleashed a series of body punches to his midsection. He began to fall backward. As he fell, I swung a ferocious right fist into his ribs and followed with an immediate left hook. I felt his ribs break under my knuckles. Although I hadn’t originally intended to do so, as his face began to slump forward, I swung a right uppercut. It just felt natural. The punch caught him right under the chin. The power of the punch lifted his feet from the floor and sent him reeling backward. While he attempted to remain on his feet, his legs turned to rubber and he collapsed to the floor. Shit, knocked out twice in one day. I kicked him lightly with my foot. “Get up,” I said as I kicked him again. “Get up you piece of shit,” I said as I kicked him a little harder. He lay motionless on the floor. I walked to the kitchen and grabbed a glass bowl from the kitchen countertop. I filled it with water and walked back into the living room. I pressed my foot into his stomach and poured the water directly onto his face. As the water hit his

face, he began to sputter and tried to speak. “Oh… my,” he slowly held his stomach. “God, I need an ambulance,” he groaned as he rocked his head from side-to-side. I pressed on his stomach with my foot. As I did, he began to cry. “Please,” he cried. “Shut the fuck up. We’re just getting started. I need to ask you some questions again. You have the attention span of a fucking gnat,” I said as I carried the bowl to the chair and sat down. “Now, you twat waffle, listen. Are you going to ever make any effort to contact Kace for any reason?” I asked. Lying on the floor, he did his best to shake his head from side-to-side. As he did, I stood up and crossed my arms. “No,” he tried to scream. As he did, he winced in pain and held his ribs. “You’re not going to want to take too many deep breaths or scream. I felt about three of those things break. Broken ribs are a bitch. Just trying to breathe becomes so painful you’ll want to die. That’s why I broke ‘em. So you’d remember I was here. Okay, where were we? Let’s see. No contacting Kace. I’m glad you’re a great learner,” I laughed. “And stop whining, I am not going to fucking call you an ambulance. You didn’t call one for

Kace, did you? You fucking scumbag, the more I talk about this, the more I do want to kill you,” I complained. He raised himself up onto his elbows and started crying out loud. “You fucking punk. Shut up. Do you have any tools in here? In the house?” I asked. Confused, he looked at me and squinted. I raised my hands in a defensive boxing posture and clenched my jaw. I took one step in his direction. “Utility room,” he said softly as he nodded his head toward the kitchen. “Don’t go anywhere,” I laughed, knowing he probably couldn’t even stand. I walked into the utility room and found two tool boxes on the shelves above the washer and dryer. I opened one. It contained pliers, a hammer, wrenches, screwdrivers, electrical tape, and basic repair type tools. Perfect. I opened the other. It contained gardening tools and chemicals. I removed the pruning shears from the gardening box and placed them into the first tool box and closed the lid. I walked into the kitchen and opened drawers until I found dish rags and towels. I grabbed a few towels and stuck them in my back pocket. As I walked into the living room, Josh was sitting against the couch on the floor. “Nice selection of tools. I’ll make this quick. Well, it’ll be kind of quick. You’re going to need to

listen again,” I said as I placed the tool box between the chair and the couch. “Okay. I’m going to say this now, later it’d make no sense to you,” I looked down at him and smiled. He looked up confused. “If you go to the hospital or the doctor, they’re going to ask questions. You have a knot on your head that’s six or so hours old. You have other fresh wounds. They’ll want to know what happened. You could tell them about me coming here. If you choose to, my buddy will come find you. He makes me look like a real pussy. He’d probably go ahead and kill you, but do it really slow. If you have any great ideas or plans to get even or try anything, you might want to remember he knows you, and he hates you more than I do. I volunteered to come here – to save you from him,” I pressed my index finger to my lips and thought. “Okay, so yeah, probably no trips to the doctor. And Kace is not going to file charges against you for what you’ve done or what you did today. This is your punishment. It’s just easier this way,” I paused and turned away for a second. “So, this might sound really bad at first, but I want you to think about it for a second before you answer. No rash decisions. I’m going to let you decide what we do next, okay?” I said softly as I turned around to face him.

Without speaking he nodded. I bent down and opened the tool box. I removed the hammer and the pruning shears, holding one in each hand. “Okay, I’ll let you pick. I can either cut the tip of your index finger off, or hit you in the mouth with this hammer, and knock out a couple teeth. Which one sounds better?” I asked as I rotated the tools in my hands in front of him. “Oh God. Please. I’m gonna throw up,” he moaned. “Well, if you have to you have to,” I said. “You’re crazy. Seriously, you’re crazy. My finger?” he complained as he held his ribs. “Not your finger, just part of it. And crazy? No, let me tell you about crazy. Crazy? Crazy is you being the man in a relationship with a one hundred pound woman who only wants to be loved and cherished,” I paused and shook my head. “And beating her, intimidating her, and taking things from her just to control and manipulate her. Taking her phone, her Kindle, her freedom. Choking her. Not letting her see her parents. And beating her until she’s down to the floor, and kicking her teeth out. Kicking a woman in the face after you beat her and she’s lying on the floor. All to a fucking girl. Someone who trusts you, someone you’re supposed to protect. You manipulative piece of fucking shit,” the more I spoke the angrier I became.

I looked down at him as he sat against the front of the couch. I clenched my jaw and shook my head. This motherfucker wants to call me crazy? Without a second thought, I leaned forward and swung the hammer toward his mouth. Having never hit anyone in the mouth with a hammer, I didn’t quite know what to expect. It felt like I was hitting a piece of wood, driving the hammer through it splintering the wood. His teeth snapped off as soon as the hammer made contact with them. I tossed the hammer behind me several feet and bent down to look at his face. “Don’t you dare get blood on my jeans,” I snarled. With his hands cupped over his mouth he screamed and cried. Rocking back and forth onto the front of the couch, he blubbered tears and spit blood. Blood ran down his arms and dripped from his elbows onto the floor. “Move your fucking hands, let me see what kind of damage we’re talking about,” I said as I reached for his hands. As tears ran from his eyes and blood dripped from his elbows, he cried and sobbed. “Hands!” I screamed. “Holy fuck. God damn. Now that’s the way to knock out teeth, huh? Shit. There’s maybe five or six of them fuckers gone. Get you a mouthful of these,” I said as I smiled, exposing my gold tooth.

“You know, I’d have let you pick – either your mouth or your finger. You should have picked one. But God damn it. The more I talked about what you did to that poor girl, the madder it made me. And just looking at you is irritating as fuck,” with the pruning shears still in my hand, I sat down beside him on the floor. I reached over and grabbed his right wrist. As I pulled his hand toward my chest, he moaned. I’ve never had my teeth knocked out with a hammer, but I suspected he was in shock, semi-conscious from the beating, and incapable of speech due to losing the mouth full of teeth and the mangled lips. All he had left was crying, and he began to do a lot of that. As he sat and sobbed, I pulled a towel from my back pocket and wrapped his hand in it, leaving only his index finger exposed. I squeezed his wrist and as I did, he attempted to close his hand into a fist. “If you make a fist and make this difficult, I’ll go get that tree saw from the utility room and cut your entire fucking hand off. And whatever I cut off, I’m taking with me. Hold still, God damn it,” I said as I squeezed his wrist harder. I moved my left hand from his wrist to his hand. As I squeezed his palm in my hand, I opened the shears and lightly squeezed his index finger in the razor sharp jaws. Not having ever cut the tip of

anyone’s index finger off either, I didn’t know what to expect. I had pruned multiple bushes, and in hindsight, the branches - regardless of girth, were always easy to snip in two. Quickly, I squeezed the handle of the shears. As soon as I began to squeeze, he jerked his hand and screamed. As he screamed, the tip of his finger fell into my lap. Blood immediately spurted from the stub of what was left of his finger. I covered his finger with the towel his hand was wrapped in. Simultaneously, he slobbered and sobbed loudly. As he pulled his hand to his chest and cried, I stood up. “God damn, I ended up getting a lot more of that fucker in the shears than I wanted to. I’m really sorry, looks like I got more than an inch of that fucker. Well, at least it was quick,” I said as I bent down and picked up what appeared to be no less than half of his finger. I pulled another towel from my back pocket and wrapped his finger in it. I shoved the towel wrapped finger into the front pocket of my jeans. I grabbed my hoodie from the arm of the chair and put it on. “Don’t want to forget this,” I smiled as I pulled it over my head. I grabbed the electrical tape from the tool box, and turned to face him. I held the tape in the air so he could see it. “Let me see that hand, I’ll tape that dish towel

to it really good so you don’t make a bigger mess on this carpet. You’ve got blood, tears, and snot everywhere,” I chuckled. I reached down, pulled his hand away from his chest, and went around the circumference of the towel several times with electrical tape. I tossed the tape onto the couch cushion and shook my head as I watched him rocking back and forth holding his hand. “I think my work is done here. Get some ice on that finger and mouth. You’ll need to wrap those ribs. They’re going to hurt longer than anything else. You can Google everything, there’s great medical advice out there. And dude, I have no idea where your teeth went when I smacked you with that hammer. That happened really fast. You might have swallowed those fuckers. Now remember,” I kicked his thigh with my foot. With his eyes full of tears, sobbing, he looked up at me. I held my index finger to my lips, “Shhhhhhh. Just between you and me.” He stared. I kicked him again. He nodded slowly. I turned and walked toward the front door. As I did, I felt like I had actually accomplished something. The feeling, to me, was similar to winning a boxing match. I reached for the handle,

inhaled a deep breath, and exhaled as I opened the door. I walked out onto the front porch, shut the door, and pulled the keys Kace gave me from my front pocket. I pushed the key into the lock and locked the front door. Safety first.

11

SHANE. My father joined the military immediately following the first Gulf War, in 1993. My mother was around for a few years following his enlistment, from what my grandfather told me, but she left us not too long after he joined the military. At the time we lived in Oceanside, in southern California. I really don’t remember much of my childhood - I was shuffled around quite a bit and I suspect it all became too confusing to remember. When they flew the planes into the world trade center, my father was deployed to Iraq and Afghanistan. I moved to Compton and lived with my grandfather at the time of his first deployment. From his first tour until his death, he was never really around more than a month or so at a time. I lived with my grandfather until he died. Having someone in my life who prevented me

from spending all of my time alone has always been important. I suppose it would be important to everyone, but it’s one thing which helps me feel as if I’m normal. From what I can remember of my childhood, I had always been somewhat of a loner, and never had a tremendous amount of friends. I’ve never really been shy, just slow to let people into my life. As long as I had someone to keep me company, I was satisfied. In the past, my father, grandfather, and a former girlfriend have filled the void in my life. I always had a tremendous amount of respect for my father. Although I rarely saw him, he devoted his time, his career, and ultimately his life for the country and what he believed in. As a tribute to him, and as a matter of respect, I wore his dog tags with me everywhere I went. They had become somewhat of a good luck charm to me. In the boxing ring they are not allowed, and I have always had my trainer or manager hold them while I fought. I realize I have tremendous natural talent as a boxer. I could never imagine trying to box without the dog tags accompanying me to a fight. To me, it was as if my father was there with me, looking over me, cheering me on and providing me with support. A father who was never able to be present through my childhood was now present for every match. Fighting without any family to support me was

difficult. I relied totally on the support of my dog tags to be my family. Being without them would put me in the ring naked and without any form of protection. “Now listen, Shane. This guy is a beast. You’ve watched his films. You’ve seen what he can do. Watch his left cross. He’ll catch you blind. If he ever connects that thing, you’ll have one hell of a time recovering,” Kelsey stood behind me as I worked the speed bag. “Where we headed if we beat this guy, Shane?” he asked as he clapped his hands. “Big ticket, boss,” I responded without looking away from the bag. “That’s right, the big ticket. You’ll be on that card with the championship fight. You’ll be on god damned television. Pay television, Shane - not ESPN. You’re one fight away from being a household name,” Kelsey said as he clapped his hands. “You amaze me, Shane. I have never seen a boxer that is such a natural. You act like you’re eating fucking dinner or going for a walk in the park. You’ve got a heart of ice, and nerves of steel. Hell, you can hear every word I say while you’re fighting. I’ve never seen that. I’ve yelled at boxers for a lifetime, and after a round is over, they have no idea what I said,” he said as I continued to work the bag.

“It’s your job to tell me what to do, boss. It’s mine to do it. You can see what I can’t,” I said as I hit the speed bag one last time. “How you feel?” he asked. I nodded sharply. “Better get out in the hallway, they’re calling you out in five,” the floor manager said through the doorway. “How we fighting this guy?” Kelsey asked as I sat on the bench beside him. “Southpaw, boss. Just like you said,” I responded. “That’s right. Tonight you’re a lefty. Let’s go,” he said as he laced up my gloves. I looked down at the floor and said my prayer. As I stood up I pounded my gloves together and tapped my dog tags with each glove. We stepped into the hallway and waited for the call. As soon a Jimi Hendrix, Red House began to play I started to walk toward the ring. As I approached the ring, I saw Ripp and Kace right where they said they’d be. I stopped at the edge of the ring and lowered my head. Kelsey reached toward my neck and slowly removed my dog tags. “Give ‘em to my girl, boss,” I said. He nodded. “Get in the ring, Shane,” Kelsey said as he nodded toward the ring. “Hand her the tags, boss. I need to see it,” I

said. Kace was half sitting, half standing, and obviously excited. Ripp stood beside her, clapping and whistling. As Kelsey handed her the dog tags, she made eye contact with me. “Who?” I screamed her direction. She pointed at her chest. I nodded and stepped into the ring. I closed my eyes and jogged in place. Blocking out everything was easy for me. I waited for them to call my name. I was ready. “…red corner….Mace Maaaaad Dogggg Wilsonnnnnn” the announcer said. “And. In the blue corner. Shane Shame on Deeeeeeekkaaaaar,” I opened my eyes and stepped to the center of the ring. I stared into the eyes of Wilson. “Listen up. I gave you your instructions in the dressing rooms. Obey my commands at all times. When I say break, I want a clean break. In the event of a knock down, I’ll direct you to a neutral corner. I want a clean fight. Protect yourselves at all times. Any questions?” the referee asked Wilson. Wilson shook his head. He turned his head to face me, “Any questions?” he asked. “No sir,” I responded. “Touch ‘em up,” he said.

We touched gloves and headed to our corners. “Remember what we talked about,” Kelsey said sharply. I bit my mouthpiece and nodded my head. “This left handed son-of-a-bitch might try and lace ya, or butt ya, watch it. You know he’s dirty, Shane,” Kelsey reminded me. I nodded my head. Ding! As I felt Kelsey slap my back, I jumped up and headed to the center of the ring. Wilson met me in the center and began to circle to my left. After a few feeler punches, he started to peek-a-boo. You wanna play peek-a-boo, motherfucker? I’ll get those arms down. I connected a few punches to his elbows, forearms, and lit him up with a series of body shots. “Make him come to you,” I heard Kelsey scream. I tried a left hook, hoping for his liver. I caught an elbow, and he came back with a quick combination. His right jab caught me good, and glanced off to the left side of my face. I stepped back and made him come to me. As he stepped in and started on me, I heard Kelsey, “Stay inside and counter, kid.” Fucking Kelsey. What have I told that old prick about calling

me kid? I threw a series of hooks and uppercuts. With my chin tucked and my head down, I noticed an opening. I have always been a master at counterpunching, and as soon as I saw it, I threw a right hook and a left uppercut. The uppercut caught the corner of his chin. He stumbled back and to his left. Kelsey’s screaming got louder. “Stay inside, kid. Work that motherfucker! Counter!” Come here you big bastard. Let me see that chin. Let me see it, just once. That’s all I need. I worked his body and pummeled his arms with several flurries of punches. He was attempting to tire me. Obviously he didn’t know much about me. I don’t tire. Ever. I could easily do this all night. I worked against his arms and tried to get him to open up. He countered with a series of jabs and a few hooks that caught my upper arms and shoulder. Although I saw the punches and felt my body move, the impact wasn’t felt. When I fight, for the most part, I go numb. “Left hook, kid. Get that left in there, God damnit,” Kelsey screamed. If that cocksucker calls me kid again… I felt Kelsey’s hand hitting the mat. We’re down to seconds. I pushed him off, threw a right uppercut, and

barely missed his chin. Ding! I found my corner and stepped to it. “God damn it. You got to stay inside with this guy. You’re too quick not to stay inside and counter this big bastard. You got him with that inside work, kid. Fifteen more seconds in that round and he would have been in trouble. He holds his right elbow tight. You’ll get him with that left hook. Use it. Use it, God damn it,” Kelsey screamed. “Remember that guy in San Antonio last year? Tate?” he asked. I nodded. “He’s fighting just like him. If he comes out in this round like he did in the last, stay inside and get him on the break. You’re a damn site quicker than he is, kid,” he bellowed. As the bell rang, I scowled at Kelsey for calling me kid, jumped up and headed for Wilson. As we met, I was immediately introduced to a series of his quick jabs. He did have fast hands, but his power was what worried me. I followed him close, and the peek-a-boo bullshit started again. You cock sucker, you trying to lure me? What have you got? What’s your plan? I got inside and worked his body and arms. It didn’t seem to faze him at all. I continued to work his arms, knowing sooner or later he’d either lower

his arms - exposing that chin - or try and punch his way out. If he tried to punch his way out, I’d left hook his ass into next fucking week. I worked his right arm hard with my left hook. My left’s just as strong as my right you big prick. Did you like that? Hurt, didn’t it? I swung a left hook as hard as I could. The punch caught him right above the elbow. He winced from the impact. How’d that feel? I got him with a series of rights, and a left that caught his right elbow, shoving it into his ribs. He face contorted. Oh. Did that hurt ya? I threw two more quick lefts to his body, just below the elbow, followed up by a quick combination to his face. Instinctively, it caused him to raise his arms and try and fight his way out. As he raised his arms, I absolutely unleashed on his torso. Seven or eight quick punches to his midsection before he got his arms down, and he looked like he’d seen a ghost. Didn’t know I was that fast, did ya, big boy? He threw a right jab and missed. I countered with a right uppercut and a left hook. The left hook caught his lower abdomen. He tucked his elbows and winced. Well, big boy, I either got a rib, or your liver’s hurtin’. Sorry, but this is gonna hurt like a mother

fucker. I immediately stepped in and worked his body with a quick combination, followed by a left uppercut. The uppercut caught him on the right side of the face – a glancing blow. As his head turned left, his right elbow came up. “Body, kid. Body. Open him up, kid. Body!” I head Kelsey scream. Where’s that bottom rib, Wilson? Where is it? I want it. I need it. I went back to the body. As he lowered his arms to protect his body, I threw a few quick jabs to his face. Better get those arms up. Protect that ugly face of yours. Remember what happened last time? I’m too fast for ya. Get ‘em up. I want that right side. I need me a rib. There have been several times in my career when I felt like I could see a few seconds into the future. For those moments, I have always been grateful. I do realize I don’t really see into the future, but it sure seemed like it. In a boxing match, knowing what’s next is a huge plus. This was one of those times everything happened slowly. I felt as if I had an hour to plan the series of punches I eventually unleashed. As he raised his arms, Kelsey started to scream. “Get those ribs, kid. Body! Body! Body! His liver, God damn it, his liver! Body!” Kelsey

screamed. His arms came up. Huge mistake, Wilson. As he raised his arms, a right hook to his left side opened up his right side. A solid left hook caught him under his ribcage perfectly. His face distorted in pain. His elbows came down, exposing his chin. Please Lord, forgive me for what I am about to do. A quick right jab glanced off of his ear, causing him to raise his head. I threw a left uppercut with every ounce of my being. The left impacted his chin solid, lifting his head sharply. He was immediately unconscious. The unnecessary right cross missed his face as he began to fall to the mat like he was dead. Time stood still. His body collapsed to the mat. I stood over him. I wanted to see his eyes. The referee stepped in front of me and pointed. I went to the neutral corner and paced back and forth. Come on, get up. Get up. Get up. The referee waved his arms. This fight was over. I heard Ripp scream. Shane motherfucking Dekkar. I waited. Get up, you big fucker. You can do it.

I saw Kelsey out of the corner of my eye. Wilson opened his eyes and began to sit up. Thank you, Lord. I turned and faced Kelsey. He was crying. He rubbed his eyes and opened his arms. “We made it kid,” He said as he hugged me. I pulled my face away from him and smiled. He pulled my mouthpiece. “Stop calling me kid, you old prick,” I said. “Boy he underestimated you with that peek-aboo shit, didn’t he,” Kelsey laughed. I nodded. Kace and Ripp stepped into the ring and rushed toward us. As Kace smiled, I remembered what she looked like without her tooth. Her now repaired teeth were perfect. I smiled in return. “That was exciting, I’m hungry,” she blurted as she reached into her pocket. I placed my gloves on each side of her shoulders and held her still. As I bent my knees and lowered my head, she placed my dog tags over my head and onto my neck. As I started to speak, I heard the announcer. “At 2:37 of the second, by knockout, the winner….Shane Shame on Dekkar…” I turned and raised my hands. I walked toward Wilson and patted him on the back. “Great fight, Wilson,” I said as I looked him in

the eye. “You got hands, kid,” he said as he patted my shoulder. I nodded and turned toward Kace and Ripp. As I walked toward Kace, I could see she had settled down and wasn’t quite as nervous. “You okay?” I asked. She nodded, “What were you going to say?” she asked. I bent my knees again, lowering my face close to hers. “Kith me,” I chuckled. As our lips parted I looked at her beautiful face. I looked up at Ripp, who stood beside her with his hand on my shoulder. Kelsey stood behind Ripp, wiping tears from his eyes as he talked to Joe. I looked toward Kace again. As she looked up at me and smiled, I realized this was my family. And the ring was my home. And I smiled.

12

KACE. The difference between wanting someone to love you and actually being loved is the difference between black and white. I suppose I could have lived the rest of my life thinking I was being loved; but now that I actually had it, I knew what I had in the past was nothing more than some fucked up form of affection. Shane and I had been seeing each other for six weeks. In some respects, I felt like I had forced myself into his life. In others, I felt I was invited. After the incident with Josh, I moved in with Shane; in his spare bedroom. It pleased him to look over me and feel like he was protecting me from anything or anyone who might hurt me. When I thought of the month or so Shane and I spent together before I left Josh, and the six weeks which had followed, it seemed to me like two years

of time had passed. I knew more about Shane in this period of time than I ever knew about Josh. Shane was quiet to everyone except Ripp and me. To me, he could talk for hours on end. I liked it when Shane talked to me, it stood as proof he cared about what I thought, wanted, or expected in life. Shane had not told me that he loved me, but I knew in some sense he did. I could feel it. He wasn’t broken inside like a lot of people are who do not have family, he was just shy. And although he was shy, he was still able to love and be loved. More than anything, I wanted Shane to love me. I wanted to be his, and I wanted him to be mine. “I couldn’t decide if I liked the five miles better than three or not,” he said as he collapsed on the couch. I walked over and sat at the edge of the couch beside him. “Well, you ought to know by now, we’ve been running the five for a month and a half,” I said as I pressed my hands into his shirt. “Well, there are things about it I like, and things I don’t. I like the amount of time it takes, but I don’t like the speed we run. I’m used to running faster,” he said as he sat up. “Everything you do is a competition. In your head, you compete with yourself,” I said as I slipped my hands under his shirt and felt his stomach muscles.

“I suppose so. I’m just used to running a mile in a little less than six minutes. We don’t run that fast. You run like a girl,” he chuckled. “You can’t run five as fast as you run three, and I am a girl,” I laughed as I pushed him backward onto the couch. As he fell, he pulled me with him. I landed face first on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around me. I pressed my face into his massive chest, smelling his shirt as I buried my nose in between the muscles of his chest. “I love how you smell when you get out of the shower,” I said as I raised my face from his chest. “Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” he whispered. I smiled. “Who?” he whispered as a smile formed on his face. I love it when he does this. I pointed to my chest. “That’s right,” he responded. His hands massaged my back as I looked into his eyes. His eyes were the strangest color of grey. They were almost a translucent grey/blue. His eyes alone caused me to feel as if I was powerless against him. Combining his personality, sensitive nature, shy quiet demeanor, and the fact that he was muscle from head to toe was enough to push me over the edge.

Every time. He could take advantage of me at any point in time he preferred; the fact he didn’t made me admire and hate him both. I pushed my hands against his chest and raised my body from his. I looked down at his torso and chest. His tight tank top hugged his muscled torso. This is freaking ridiculous. “Why don’t we ever go any further than this, Shane?” I asked as I admired his body. He raised his hands to his face and covered his cheeks and eyes with his palms. As he rubbed his face, I grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands free and pressed them onto my shoulders. I wanted so desperately to place them on my chest, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. He squinted his eyes and cocked his head to the side, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” “We’ve talked about this. Please, take advantage of me. I’m begging you,” I laughed. He smiled and rolled his eyes. “It’s not taking advantage of me if I want you to do it,” I said as I held his wrists. “It is if you’re not ready,” he responded as he squeezed my shoulders lightly. “I’m ready,” I said. “I don’t think so,” he tilted his head and responded. “Why?”

“Because it hasn’t been that long. It’s been seven weeks. That’s it. A codependent woman will attach herself to the first man who presents himself after she gets out of a relationship. I don’t want to be your man out of a feeling of necessity. I want to be your man out of feelings of deep desire,” he said as he began to sit up. I pushed against his chest, forcing him back to his laying position on the couch. I liked that he let me do silly things to him. As strong as he was, he could keep me from even making him move at all, but he played with me. He let me push him around and play with him. He knew just how to act and what to do to make me feel at ease, and he never made me feel out of place or uncomfortable. “Lay down,” I said, pointing to his chest with my index finger. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he leaned back onto the couch cushions. “We’re going to talk,” I said. “Talk. Alright. Get busy,” he chuckled. “Do you want to make me happy?” I asked. “Absolutely,” he responded. “Let’s make progress in this thing we have,” I said. “This thing…” his voice faded as he raised his eyebrows. “Yes. I don’t know what to call it. This thing. Let’s go one step further. I want that,” I smiled.

“One step,” he responded with a smirk on his face. I nodded. He slid his hands from my shoulders to behind my neck, and slowly pulled my face to his. As his lips parted, I pressed my face hard against his. Kissing Shane was something I could do forever. He once told me everything he did he was great at, and kissing was no exception. I closed my eyes and held his head in my hands. With our tongues intertwined and our wet lips massaging each other, I got lost in the feeling. Thoughts of the men in my erotica novels ran through my head. I opened my eyes and raised my face from his. “I want you,” I said, my voice filled with emotion. “You have me,” he responded as he wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “No, I want you,” I said. “Kace, you have me - as much as I’m willing to give. I’m yours. You have all you can get. There is no more,” he said as he started to sit up. Frustrated, I pushed myself toward the other end of the couch and sat between his legs. “Don’t get angry, babe. Everything I do, I do for what I believe is best for you. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want anything to develop in this relationship because you’re vulnerable,” he said

softly as he sat up. He ran his fingers through my hair and moved it behind my ear. “I like seeing your face, Kace. You’re beautiful. Sex can be a manner of expressing one’s love, but by no means is it a method of measuring the love one has for you,” he ran his fingers through my hair and smiled. “Sex is all we have left, Kace. Don’t look at it as a form of verification or validity to confirm how I feel about you. The fact we’re here together is validity in itself,” he moved closer to me and kissed my forehead. I wrapped my arms around him, feeling selfish as I did so. He was right. I didn’t need to have sex with him to prove anything. I wanted to have sex with him because I wanted to. I hadn’t had sex for almost four years, and I wanted Shane to fuck me until I couldn’t walk. The fact he held this one act in reserve proved to me he cared more about me than I could ever expect anyone else to. I was incapable of recalling what sex felt like. I relied solely on the descriptions in the books I read for the memories associated with sex. My memories were false, and they were the scenes from the many books on my Kindle. I lived vicariously through the heroines in my books, and made love to my book boyfriends. “Okay. I understand better now. It’s just hard,”

I admitted as I moved my head closer to his hand. This man made it difficult for me to do anything but want more. To have someone who was built the way he was one thing in and of itself. His body clearly defied the laws of everything which was human and masculine. He had a small waist and abs that looked as if constructed of a flesh washboard. A massive chest twice as wide as his waist. His arms had muscles along the side of muscles. And he didn’t care. He didn’t flaunt it. He wore a hoodie in the summertime to cover his body, not exposing it for all to see. He was intelligent. He didn’t speak in a manner I would have expected a boxer to speak. He often thought for some time before he committed to answering a question. When he did answer, be it immediate or after some thought, his answers were clear, concise and well defined. He was kind, compassionate, considerate, romantic, loving, caring and loyal. For me this combination was proving to be far more than I could take. An alpha male who could destroy a man in a moment for any number of reasons contrary to what he held precious to his system of beliefs. Yet. He held a woman close to his chest and made her feel as if she was the most precious person on this earth, as if she had no reason to fear anything when she was in his presence.

Shane Dekkar. A man to define what all men should desire to become. Perfection, defined. Perfection is defined in the mind as it sees what stands before it. We compare what it is we now see to what we have seen in the past. This comparison is only based on what experiences we have, and what we have exposed ourselves to. I have had minimal exposure in life, but I am not a fool nor am I foolish. Shane Dekkar, to me, is perfect. I could spend a lifetime exposing myself to the offerings of life, and this would not change. It is not an opinion, it is a fact. His fingers continued to rake through my hair. “I’ll give you a lifetime to stop that,” I whispered as I closed my eyes. “I’ll never stop,” he whispered. “Promise,” I asked as I opened my eyes. Softly, he pushed me onto my back, and crawled on top of me. His hands quickly moved into my hair, his fingers raking through it as the massaged my scalp. I closed my eyes again. “Open your eyes, babe,” he whispered. I opened my eyes. “Do you understand how I feel about you?” he asked, his eyes filled with passion. “Tell me,” I responded as I closed my eyes. I relaxed as he massaged my scalp with his fingers. He lowered his chest to mine and softly laid

his body against me. He positioned his head beside mine and began to whisper in my ear. His warm breath made me shiver as he began to speak. “Kace, I could spend the rest of my life happy with you, I am certain. I have no reason to believe otherwise. And although I suspect you feel the same way, I do not believe you are able to make a decision regarding a relationship with anyone right now and it be one hundred percent heartfelt, considering what you have been through for the last ten years,” as he paused, I started to speak “Shhhh,” he said into my ear. “If you feel the way I suspect you feel, the end result will be the same regardless of when we make the decision to take the next step. It is very important to me that the decision be made by what your heart desires, and not what you think you want. Almost daily, I wish we would have met by different circumstances,” his breath on my neck made me smile a slow smile. With my eyes still closed tightly, I whispered, “Why different?” “Well, because. I imagine part, and only part of what you feel – you feel because you believe I saved you. I don’t want you to desire me for that reason. I want you to desire me because of who I am, and what we have to offer each other for a lifetime, not for this moment,” he kissed my neck as he finished speaking.

“So how do you know when it’s time?” I could feel his heart beating against my chest. “I’ll just know, I imagine,” he responded as his hand touched the side of my face. “Open your mouth,” he whispered. My eyes still closed, I slowly parted my lips. “Stick out your tongue,” he said as he kissed my chin. I pushed my tongue past my lips. As his lips encompassed my tongue, I opened my eyes. His left hand moved from my hair to the side of my face. His hands lightly touching each of my cheeks, we continued to kiss. As I studied his eyes, I began to ache for more. I wanted this man with all I had within me. I wanted to feel him inside of me. I wanted to become one – to share and experience each other’s bodies in the way love was defined. Slowly, he raised his head, kissing my lips as he did so. He moved his hands from my face to my hips. Using the tips of his fingers he lightly lifted my shirt from my shorts, and slid his hands inside my shirt. As they moved across my stomach toward my chest, my breathing stuttered. Please, please…take me, Shane. Oh God, Squeeze my… His hands moved between my breasts and pushed flat against my chest. I could feel his pinky fingers against the inside of my breasts.

“Do you feel that?” he asked. I felt my heart begin to race. My pussy became immediately soaked. This was embarrassing. Exciting, but embarrassing. I felt uncomfortably wet. No, I was soaked. “What?” it took all I had to mutter that one word. “Your heart?” he asked softly. His eyes closed as he spoke. I blinked my eyes, focusing on the feeling of his hands against my breasts. “Yes,” I sighed. “I want to warn you, Kace. I already told you once, when we first met. But remember what I’m telling you today - mark my words, I’m coming for this. Your heart. Be prepared, because I intend to make it mine. I’m coming for your heart, Kace,” he whispered as his hands pushed softly against my chest. It’s already yours, Shane. When the time comes, you’ll know it. SHANE. “When’s Shortyshowin’ up?” Ripp asked as he tossed the chicken on the grill. “Any time, but she said not to wait,” I responded. “Mike Ripton waits for no man. Or woman,” he laughed. “How much fucking chicken you got, Ripp?” “Three of em. Shit Dekk, I’ll eat one, she’ll eat a piece, you’ll damn near eat one. That leaves a

few pieces to snack on,” he said as he continued to load the grill with chicken. I thought about it and nodded my head, affirming Ripp’s chicken count. “So, we’re working into the end of summer, you gonna get them boots before they’re gone?” he laughed as he closed the grill. I looked down at my boots. Seeing them from this distance, they didn’t look so bad - as long as I looked straight down at the tops of them. The sides and bottom were a different story. “I’ll never understand ya, Dekk. Weird fucker, you’re probably the only mother fucker in Austin wearing Levi’s and boots today,” he chuckled as he sat down on the lounge chair. “Probably,” I said as I sat down on the lounge beside him. “So, I never asked. Your girl drink?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders. “You know, I admire you for not. She ain’t drank here yet. She’s been here for eight or nine Saturdays in a row, hasn’t yet. I didn’t know if she did when you guys went out,” he said as he took a drink from his bottle of beer. “Hasn’t yet,” I responded. “Suppose that’s good. I don’t know where you find all the inspiration. But if she doesn’t drink, hell, it’ll be easy for you to keep up the good work,” he laughed as he finished his beer.

“At least the Ultra’s won’t make me fat,” Ripp said as he slapped his hand against his stomach. “Obviously not,” I said. “What ya sayin’ Dekk?” he asked. “Just said it,” I responded. “I drink too much?” he asked. “Didn’t say that,” I said. “What are ya sayin?” he asked. “Calories are calories,” I said. “95 a bottle. That’s it. Hell, I drink a dozen of these fuckers, it ain’t gonna hurt me. That’s 1200 calories. So, no big deal. I bet I only drink five or six anyway,” he said. “1140. But yeah, 95 calories isn’t many. You sure about that?” I asked. “Fucking smart-ass. The Ultra’s haven’t got much, but damn they taste like it. Want one?” he chuckled. “No, I’ll stick with this,” I said as I leaned over and grabbed my half-full glass of water from the table at the corner of the deck. “I’m going in for some ice, need anything?” I asked as I stood up from my chair. “No, I’m golden,” Ripp said as he stood up. I’ve enjoyed Ripp’s routine of cooking chicken on Saturdays. It gave me something to look forward to. I’ve always liked routines, and had become almost reliant on the processes I had in place. When they don’t happen for some reason, I feel

deprived. I walked into the kitchen and opened the freezer. As I looked into it, I realized that he’d dumped all of the ice I had purchased into his beer cooler. I reached to the back of the freezer to grab the plastic ice trays. A small plastic Zip-Loc style bag was lying on top of the ice trays. As I picked it up to move it, I realized what it contained. “Ripp, you sick fucker,” I screamed, knowing he couldn’t hear me. I tossed the bag to the side and pulled the tray from the freezer. I dumped half of the cubes into my cup and re-filled the tray and my glass with water. I slammed the freezer door, and walked back outside to the deck. “Ripp, you sick fuck,” I said as I closed the door behind me. “What’s up, Dekk?” he said over his shoulder as he moved the chicken around on the grill. “Well, I noticed you used all the ice I bought for one,” I began. “What’s sick about that?” he chuckled as he closed the lid to the grill. “Well, nothing. But it was all gone. So I grabbed an ice tray. Well, I started to. There was a Zip-Lock bag on top of the ice, so I grabbed it to move it and…” I paused to see what he had to say. “And…?” he asked. “Well? The Zip-Lock bag. What the fuck,

Ripp?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders, “Dude, I got nothing.” “The finger, Ripp. It had a finger in it,” I mumbled as I sat down. “Oh shit, I forgot about that little fucker. It’s been in there for a bit. Let’s get it outta there and look at it,” he said as he wiped his hands on his shorts. “Dude, I just saw it. I don’t want to see it again,” I complained. “Well, fuck. I probably ought to get rid of it. Maybe the garbage disposal?’ he asked. “Hell, I don’t know. It’s kind of small,” I responded. “Yeah, but it’s frozen. So basically it’s like a piece of ice. It ought to just get ground up and melt in there, huh?” he asked. “No. Fuck Ripp, it’s meat,” I responded. He nodded his head slowly, “Yeah, suppose so. Meat and a little piece of bone.” “Alright, I’m done talking about it,” I said as I rubbed my stomach and made a face like I’d eaten something rotten. “You beat people half to death, and knock out every son of a bitch under the sun, and you wanna get sick over a little finger. Shit, it ain’t no bigger’n a Vienna sausage,” he laughed. “I’m done with the finger talk,” I said as I

waved my hands in front of my stomach. “Well, I need to do something with it before your girl finds it,” he said. “Yeah, no shit. Go do something with it,” I begged. He walked past me and into the house. In a matter of seconds, he walked back onto the deck. As he shut the door, I turned his direction. “Well?” I asked. He held up the finger tip, grasping it between his thumb and forefinger. “What the fuck are you doing?” I asked. He opened the lid to the grill and looked inside. “Ripp, don’t!” I screamed and I started to stand up from the lounge. “Well fuck, it won’t fit. Come here and look at this. Little fucker’s too small to cook on here. It’ll fall between the little metal bars. Shit. I was just gonna cook it as a joke,” he said as he turned and gave me a disgruntled look. Still holding the finger in his hand, he closed the lid to the grill. We both turned to the left side of the deck as we heard the gate open. Kace walked through the gate wearing a floral print sun dress. Our eyes widened as we turned and stared at each other. “Hey,” Kace said as she stepped toward the deck. We both simultaneously turned toward the open

gate. A tall blonde wearing jean shorts and a sleeveless black shirt followed Kace into the yard. They couldn’t have shown up at a worse time, considering the fact we hadn’t resolved the finger issue yet. I looked at Ripp and scrunched my brow. “Do something with it,” I whispered. As he noticed the other girl, he quickly shoved the finger into the pocket of his Khaki cargo shorts. “Hope you don’t mind. I brought my friend,” Kace asked as she stepped onto the deck. “Not at all. I’m glad you did,” I responded as I turned and looked at Ripp. As they both stepped onto the deck, Ripp raised his eyebrows and wiped his hands on his shorts. “Hi. I’m Mike. Mike Ripton. You can call me Ripp, everyone else does,” he said as he walked toward her with his hand held out in front of him. “I’m Olivia. You can call me Liv. Everyone else does,” she chuckled as she shook Ripp’s hand. I hugged Kace as Ripp shook her hand. As I kissed her, Liv turned our direction. I reached around Kace’s side and held my hand out. “Hi, I’m Shane,” I said. “Yeah, Kace told me about you,” she said as she shook my hand. “Hope you like chicken,” Ripp said. “Love it,” Liv responded as she walked toward the grill. “Uhhm. Want an Ultra?” Ripp asked as he

pointed to the beer cooler. “Yeah, sure. I mean, as long as you have enough,” she responded. “I always have enough,” he laughed as he leaned toward the cooler and opened the lid. Kace squeezed me tight and buried her face in my hoodie. “Hey Shorty,” Ripp said as he waved at Kace. Without looking, her face buried in my hoodie, Kace raised her hand from my back and waved at Ripp. “She’s nice,” I whispered into Kace’s ear. “I told her about Ripp on the way here. She’s the one I told you who works at the coffee shop by the deli,” Kace whispered. “Aaahhh,” I responded as I turned toward Ripp. He and Liv were talking as he poked at the chicken with the tongs. “Go grab a platter and stuff, Dekk,” Ripp said as he stood at the grill talking to Liv. “C’mon, babe. Let’s go inside,” I said as I motioned toward the door. “So, she’s the girl from the coffee shop on the corner?” I asked as I looked for a platter and plates. “Uh huh. She’s the one I’ve been talking to you for the last few months about,” she paused and smiled. “Well, you know,” she shrugged. “Okay, I was thinking so. She’s single?” I asked.

“Uh huh. Yeah. Her boyfriend was the douche. I told you about him. They broke up a month ago. Something like that,” she responded as I handed her some plates from the cupboard. I grabbed a large platter, silverware, and a roll of paper towels. With my arms full, I leaned toward Kace and kissed her. As we kissed, she set the plates on the countertop and wrapped her arms around me. “I like doing this with you, Shane. Cooking. Eating. Being a part of your life beyond just living together. I like this. It’s. It’s, well. It’s like we’re a real couple. I like this,” she said as our lips parted. “I like it too,” I said as I adjusted the paper towels under my arm. “I want this. I want this forever,” she said as she picked up the plates. “I do too,” I responded as I started walking toward the door. “Then let’s do it. Let’s take that step, Shane. I’m ready,” she said. “It’s not a contest, babe. It’s life. There’s no time limit. If I’m truly what you think you want, need, and desire it’ll happen sooner or later. I’m not going anywhere. And you’ll wait as long as you have to. I am not going to do this in any manner I’m not comfortable with,” I said as I held the door handle in my hand. “Well, I’m ready,” She smiled.

“Noted,” I said as I opened the door. As we walked out onto the deck, Liv and Ripp were sitting on the lounge chair together laughing. Each of them had a beer, and Ripp was trying to catch his breath from laughing. “Looks like they’re having fun,” I whispered to Kace. “Oh my God, Kace. He’s funny,” Liv said as she nodded her head toward Ripp. “He can be,” Kace laughed. “No, he is,” Liv stated, still laughing. “I was just telling her about your boots,” Ripp laughed. I raised one eyebrow and turned toward Ripp as I set the plates and silverware down on the table. “Well, it’s true,” he said. “Let me see the bottoms of them,” she asked. I shook my head and turned up the sole of my boot so she could see the holes. As she leaned over and looked, she gasped. “Oh my God. Those are awful. You were so right,” she laughed as she slapped Ripp’s leg. I turned toward Kace and rolled my eyes. As she set the plates down on the table, I sat on the edge of the lounge chair. Kace sat down beside me and leaned over, resting her head on my shoulder. As I wrapped my right arm around her, Ripp stood up and walked toward the grill. “So, what’s with the hoodie?” Liv asked

quizzically. “What about it?” I responded. “Well, it’s almost a hundred degrees. You’re wearing a hoodie, boots, and jeans. Don’t you feel out of place?” she asked as she motioned to Ripp and Kace. I raised my eyebrows, looked at Ripp and Kace, then turned back to face Liv, “No. I don’t.” “So, why wear it in the summer?” “Habit I suppose.” “It’s hot out here,” she said as she fanned her face with her hand. “Not too bad,” I responded. “Is there a reason?” she asked. I thought about her question. I had worn a hoodie every day since as long as I could remember. It had become somewhat of a trademark. As much as I tried to recall, I didn’t really know what started it. Going without one now would make me feel naked. I doubted if I could make it a day without having a hoodie on or available to put on. “I don’t know. Again, I suppose it’s habit.” “He always wears one,” Kace said as she lifted her head from my shoulder. “I’m not trying to be mean, it just seems odd,” Liv said as she stood from the lounge. “I know two things for sure. Dekk’s one weird fucker. And this chicken’s done,” Ripp said.

Liv grabbed the platter, walked to the grill, and stood behind Ripp. Ripp’s back was about twice as wide as hers. Seeing her stand beside him put them both in perspective regarding size. Ripp was huge and she was exceptionally thin. She reached around Ripp and held the platter at his side. “Thanks, Liv,” Ripp said as he grabbed the platter. I looked down at Kace’s. She was smiling as she watched Ripp and Liv. I leaned over and kissed her forehead as she admired them. As she turned her head and looked up at me, I kissed her. “They’re cute,” she silently mouthed the words. I blinked my eyes and nodded. She leaned her head against my bicep as she rubbed my thigh. Almost immediately, I began to become aroused. I shifted my left leg and kicked it up on the lounge. No help. I raised my right leg and leaned into the lounge. Damn it. Kace shifted beside me lowered her head onto my shoulder, and began rubbing my thigh again. As she did, she could feel me hardening. Her hand moved to encompass my now swollen cock. She turned her head and softly whispered into my ear as she squeezed my cock in her hand, “I want this.” She turned, looked at Ripp and Liv for a short moment, and turned to face me. “I want it,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes. She squeezed harder as she stroked her hand back and forth along the bulge in my jeans. I kicked my legs over the other side of the chair and picked her up in my arms. Her face was filled with surprise as I swept her from the lounge and into my arms. Now standing on the other side of the lounge and holding her in my arms, she looked up at me and smiled. “Ripp, we’re going in the house for a minute,” I sighed. Ripp looked up from the grill, “Uhhhm. Alright.” Still holding Kace in my arms, I leaned toward the door and grabbed the handle. As I opened the door, Kace looked up at me and smiled. I walked into the living room and slowly lowered her onto the couch. As she lay on the couch, I knelt on the floor beside her and lowered my head alongside her hips. “I want you…” she began to say as she kicked her sandals to the floor. I pressed my finger to her lips. “Shhhh.” I said. “Remember what I told you? About me being good at everything that I do?” I asked as I held my finger over her lips. She nodded her head and sighed. “I want you to listen to me, Kace. Listen and

try to be quiet. Focus on listening and feeling,” I said as I slid the bottom of her dress up to her hips. I removed my hoodie and shirt and tossed them over the arm of the couch. I lowered my chin to the inside of her bare thighs, looking up at her eyes as I did. As I reached up and slowly pulled her panties down her thighs, she sighed softly. I tossed her thong on the couch beside her, reached inside her dress, and placed my hands against her waist. I pressed my thumbs lightly into the depression of her hips. “Shhhh. Listen. I don’t know if I’m a good boxer because I notice all the details, or if I notice all the details because I’m a good boxer,” I slowly licked up her inner thigh, working my way closer to her hips. “But,” I paused and looked up into her eyes. “I do notice all the details. Like the day we met in your office. The yogurt cup in the trash. The plastic spoon. The Running magazine you had on your desk. I notice everything.” I continued to lick my way up her thighs. Half way between her knee and her pussy, I stopped and looked into her eyes again, “We encounter countless people in our lives, Kace. It’s our responsibility to pay attention to who they are and notice how they affect us if we give them the chance. If we don’t pay attention to life’s details, we may miss these opportunities.”

“I know who you are. I know what you do to me. Just having you near me fixes everything that is broken inside of me. All of my fucked up little pieces become one. I become whole when I’m near you. Understand that, Kace. I want you in my life. But one thing I will not do is sacrifice you for the sake of making me happy. You are vulnerable. I will not take advantage of that. Sex, to me, is sacred. If I have sex with someone, I am making the commitment to them and with them that I am willing to have a child with them. To me, it isn’t as simple as sex. It’s a commitment; a big one. If,” I paused and smiled as I thought. “Yes if the time comes, and I hope it does, I am going to fuck you until you are incapable of simple basic tasks. I’ll even have to remind you how to breathe. For now, Kace,” I ran my tongue along her inner thigh until I was an inch from her pussy. “Ohhhh God,” she whispered. “Shhhhh, be quiet. Or you’ll just get excited and blubber foolishness. Tap me once for yes and twice for no,” I reminded her. “For now, Kace. You’ll wait. You’ll wait until I am convinced whatever we decide to do is in your best interest. But believe me, I want you as bad as you want me. And when we make that commitment - if we do - you better be ready.” I buried my mouth on her pussy. As I began to lick her pussy, she started

moaning and pressed her hands into my shoulders. I pulled my right hand from her dress, and placed my cupped hand over her mouth. I slid my left hand under her butt cheek and raised her slightly off of the couch. With my tongue now deep inside her pussy, I worked my way to her clit. As my tongue made contact with her it, her body shuddered. I pressed my free hand firm against her mouth to silence her. She tapped my shoulder once. Pulling her butt upward, I pushed my mouth against her pussy and my tongue along her clit. I lowered my upper lip, pressing her clit between my lip and tongue. Using the tip of my tongue, I flicked her clit repeatedly and lightly until she began to thrust her hips. As her hips rose high, she screamed into my hand. “Mmmmmmmm,” her mouth opened and her teeth pressed against the palm of my hand. She released my shoulder with her right hand and tapped my back once. I continued to torture her clit with my tongue. She moved her hand back into place and squeezed my shoulders. Instinctively, she pulled her hips down into the couch cushion and started to wiggle away from me, pushing my shoulders away from her as she did. I lifted my hand from her face and wiped my mouth. “Oh my fucking God, Shane,” she said as she scooted across the couch cushions.

Quickly, she made as much distance as she could between us. She sat in the corner of the couch and stared at me as if she had no idea who I was. Puzzled, I looked at her for a moment. The most beautiful woman in the world looked back at me as if she were in shock. “Fucking kiss me,” I said. Immediately, she pounced across the couch and wrapped her arms around me. My hands on either side of her face, we kissed. Her full lips against mine, our tongues slowly searched for satisfaction. With my eyes closed, my mind found pure ecstasy in kissing Kace. Our lips slowly parted. As they did, I bit her lower lip, holding it firmly. She lightly moaned as I clenched it between my teeth. Without saying a word, I let go and slowly stood. As I reached for my shirt, she stared at my upper body. “Who, Kace? Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” She pointed to her chest, “Me.” “Yes you are,” I assured her. Slowly, she shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I could cum just watching you put on your shirt. You were right. I know it’s been forever and a day, but you do everything perfectly, don’t you?” she sighed as she grabbed her thong. I smiled and pulled my shirt over my head. “Fucker,” she said as she pulled her panties

over her feet. As I reached for my hoodie, she slid her legs over the couch and attempted to stand. “I can’t feel my legs,” she complained as she stood. “I carried you in, I’ll carry you out,” I said as I zipped up my hoodie. I reached down, picked her up, and hoisted her tight to my chest. As I carried her toward the door, she reached up and wrapped her arms around my neck. As I reached the door, she grinned, tturned her head, and looked up into my eyes. “Shane, I don’t know how you’ll know when the time has come. You know, when I’m no longer vulnerable. But when you decide it’s time as you say,” she paused and looked down at the floor. “I like it rough. Think about that. And you better pray to God that you’re ready,” she said as she looked up. Kace might only weigh one hundred pounds and barely be five feet tall, but when the time comes… I’m going to have my hands full. I know that.

13

SHANE. I have no complaints about my life. Life, as they say, is what we make it. I make mine a series of lessons. I learn something every day. And whatever I learn allows me to live the next day without the same worries, problems or concerns I have harbored in the past. We are told to learn from our mistakes, and this will prevent us from repeating them. I live my life absorbing all of what is around me. I pay close attention to the mistakes people make and learn from them. It prevents me from having to make the same errors they have already made. We never know what the future may have in place for us, but remembering the events of the past allows us to walk into the future without much hesitation or wonder. I feel as if I have lived the lives of many.

When you least expect it, life may propose something to you. Something you might not necessarily be looking for, but without a doubt it has the ability to offer your life some form of enrichment. When this time comes, all we can do is hope we are living in the particular day with an open mind, heart and arms. Mike Ripton was one of life’s proposals of enrichment. “So. She said Ripp, you have a stain on your shorts. I looked down and was like, what the fuck? To tell you the truth I thought it was barbeque sauce,” he paused and shrugged his shoulders. “So she reaches down and tries to wipe it off. It was pretty cool she was willing to rub my leg, so I didn’t grab her or anything. Anyway, she brushes my leg and says, it looks like blood, and there’s something in your pocket. And it’s bleeding. I freaked the fuck out,” Ripp took a deep breath and raised his beer to his lips. “So I start brushing my leg wondering what the fuck it is, and then it hits me. I got that fucking finger in my pocket. You carried Kace in the house, so I figured you two were fuckin’. I was like, shit what to do? So I turned around, reached into my pocket, and pulled out the finger. And when she wasn’t lookin’, I opened the grill and tossed that little nasty fucker inside. And it fell through the rack and into the fire. About five minutes, and she

starts sayin’ something smells like burning flesh. I acted like I couldn’t smell it,” he finished his beer and started rubbing his bald head with the palms of his hands. I pulled my hood up and held it tight to my head. As I started to massage it into my cheeks, he picked up a fresh beer and continued. “So that little motherfucker stunk up the whole yard. I’d already pulled half the chicken off the grill, but had the other half in there with that stinkin’ ass three month old finger. It’s smokin’ and stinkin’ and making me about half sick. The whole time, I’m acting like I can’t smell nothin’. She’s about to barf. I tell this bitch we were eatin’ grapes earlier, and that was a crushed grape in my pocket. But here’s the deal,” he placed his beer on the table, leaned toward me, and opened his eyes wide. “I put that chicken on the other side of the platter. The finger chicken. And that’s the shit I gave to the girls,” he held his eyes open wide waiting for me to respond. “God damn, Ripp. The girls? You fed that shit to Kace?” I asked as I pressed my hood into my face. “Yep. Dude, I’m sorry, but it was just simple mathematics. Half the chicken was unharmed. That’s a chicken and a half of the clean stuff. Luckily you weren’t too hungry. Only reason I’m telling you is because you didn’t actually eat any.

Had you got into the dirty shit, I’d a kept my fuckin’ mouth shut,” he nodded his head and picked his beer back up off the table. “I ain’t shittin’ ya. I’d a fed you that shit if I had to,” he said as he tipped his beer bottle up. “Fuck. You sick fucker. Let’s keep this between us. Forever. I mean it, Ripp,” I said as I opened the face of my hood with my hands. “You bet,” he said as he held out his clenched fist. I clenched my fist and pounded it against his, confirming the conversation would never be discussed again. “So now, after she ate the finger chicken, I ain’t sure I can fuck with her. She’s cute as fuck, but damn, dude. She ate the dirty shit,” he raised one eyebrow and waited. “You fed it to her,” I paused for an instant, “and you cut it off the guy. You cut it off, and you cooked it, and you’re worried about her being gross for eating chicken that was cooked with a finger you cut off and hid in the grill? Nasty assed chicken you fed her.” “See, that’s why I keep you around. You always keep shit so real. Yeah, I never thought of it like that. I guess if they’re giving prizes for bein’ gross, cuttin’ that fucker off and cookin’ it trumps the finger chicken, huh?” he asked. “I’d sure think so,” I responded.

He nodded his head and took another drink of beer. “Yeah. I might keep trying to fuck with her then. Guess you’re gonna be fucking with Kace, and she ate a ton of that finger chicken. I can’t really call or consider her gross, she’s your girl and all,” he smiled and nodded. I shook my head and pulled off my hood. “We’re done with this, okay?” I asked. “Alright, brother. Done,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, she seems nice. She’s really pretty,” I admitted. “Yeah. She’s hot. That’s for sure,” he laughed. “I hate it when you call people hot. It’s so fucking insensitive. All it really means is I want to fuck you. That’s pretty much it,” I complained. “Yeah, but I do want to fuck her, bro’. Did you get a good look at her?” he raised his hands in wonder. “I did. But seriously, Ripp. You want to fuck her based on the fact that she’s tall, blonde, and has a nice ass,” I sighed. “Dude, I want to hurt that bitch. Well, you know. Hurt her in a good way. Shove her full of about ten inches of my pierced hard fuckin’ cock. Fuck her ‘till her legs are rubber and then watch her try and fuckin’ walk,” he smiled as he tipped his bottle of beer up.

I shook my head, “That’s what brings parentless children into this earth. Broken marriages. Torn emotions.” I pulled the front of my hood up to my face. “Dude, enough of the sorrow bullshit. Not everyone’s as clean as you. Who dates a chic for three months after seeing her for a month before they started dating, and doesn’t fuck her? I know of one person. You. You’re a fucking weirdo. I’ve been telling you that for a few years now,” he said as he pointed toward me. “We’re making progress. Don’t fucking start. We’ve talked about this, Ripp. I don’t want to hurt her. She’s sensitive, vulnerable, and liable to make a decision based on something she thinks she needs, not what she actually desires. Like if your car breaks down, and someone gives you a car to drive. You drive whatever they give you. You drive it out of necessity, not desire. If you had the time to pick your own car, you’d damn sure pick something different. I want her to pick me because she feels she wants me, not because she needs to fill a hole in her soul with whatever she can stuff in there,” I slipped my hands under my hoodie and felt my dog tags. Ripp looked up at the ceiling for a moment. As he shifted his gaze to me, he took a shallow drink of his beer and swallowed it, “Yeah, but her car’s been running like shit for about ten years, and

broke down for what? Four? She ain’t had sex in four years. She ain’t making an uninformed decision. And if your car does happen to be broken down, and someone hands you a fucking Mercedes Benz, you don’t drive that bad boy because you have to. You drive it because you know it’s a damn fine ride. You’re acting like you’re some shitty assed dude, Dekk. You’re not. We both know it,” he pushed his empty beer bottle toward the center of the table. “Well, we’ve been talking about going to see her mother. I’ve tried to talk her into letting me take her there. It’s been about ten years since she’s seen her. That’s the first step for me. I want to do this right,” I leaned onto the table and sighed. Ripp rubbed the hair on his chin. He looked like he belonged on a surfboard in Los Angeles or on the beach at Venice. His head was always shaved, his body tan, and his chin had a patch of hair on it, always. No mustache, no typical male goatee, just a patch of hair on his chin. He rubbed it and stared at me, obviously thinking. “You know. You watch guys play basketball. Sometimes you think you see a shot they ought to take, and you scream at the T.V, take the shot. Most of the time they don’t, and you wonder why. Sometimes they do. But have you ever seen a guy take the time to shoot a basket and block his own shot?” he asked as his mouth began to form a smile.

I shook my head, “No, suppose not.” “Me neither. If they take the time to shoot, they’re gonna let that fucker fly and see what happens. They took the risk when it left their fingertips. With Kace, dude, you’re blocking your own shot. You took the time to seek her out after you met the first time at the video place. Did you forget that? You’ve been courting her for three months. You shot. Let that baby fly. Right into the basket,” he rubbed his chin and smiled; confident he’d made his point. I pulled the hood from my head and reached for my water glass. As I tipped it to my lips, I narrowed my gaze. “Made sense, huh? The Ripper ain’t no dummy, bro,” he chuckled. “Yeah, cooking that finger was a smart move,” I responded dryly. “Whoa. I thought we were done with that one?” he said as he pushed himself from the table and leaned into his chair. “You’re right. Sorry. And yeah, you made a good point. I’m thinking,” I responded. “Well, while you’re thinking, think of this. There’s two months till the fight. I’m thinking about taking off for a few months and helping you train. What do you think?” he asked as he leaned into the table. “What do you mean, Ripp?” I asked as I leaned

my chair forward. “Simple. I’ll spar with you. I’ll watch the tapes of that dude, Mc Claskey. I’ll mimic his style, and we’ll spar as often as you want. I’ll help push you physically. You know I’m a chameleon. I don’t have a style. I’ll become him. You can beat on me all you want. I want you to win this fucker for sure, Dekk. Hell, if you do. Shit. You’ll be on the cover of Sports Illustrated,” he tightened his jaw and made a fist. I clenched my fist and extended my arm toward the center of the table. “Do it,’ he said. I smacked my fist against his. “Guess it’s settled,” he said. “Guess so,” I admitted. “When you wanting to start?” he asked. “Whenever you’re ready,” I responded, excited about training with Ripp. “Let’s start today. Just stay off this jaw,” he said as he rubbed his jaw. “You know I can’t make any promises once I step into the ring, Ripp,” I said apologetically. “I know you can’t. It’s what makes you the beast you are. It’s the devil inside of you. The one you’re either fighting against or fighting for. Never seen another one like ya. You got that devil inside,” he said as he stood and grabbed his wallet. He was right.

And I needed to feed the demons.

14

KACE. There are instances in our lives we will never forget, no matter how hard we try. Other events, although we will attempt to retain those precious memories, somehow fade away. The recollection of yet other events will simply remain forever, stuck in the backs of our minds. We often remember the year, day, and sometimes even the hour associated with these special occurrences. Even the smell which lingered in the air will remain in our mind as a reminder of an event which we so preciously tucked away. Ivan Pavlov, a Russian physiologist, in studying classical conditioning, had a theory about the human mind. He rang a bell each time he would feed his dog. Over time, the dog associated the ringing sound with an opportunity to obtain food. The scientist, in proof of this theory, would ring the

bell, and watch the dog salivate at the sound of the bell alone. “Babe, I’m home,” Shane said as he walked in the front door. “I’m in the kitchen,” I replied as I moved the groceries around on the countertop. As he walked into the kitchen, he unzipped his hoodie. He wasn’t wearing a shirt underneath. He dropped his gym bag on the floor and walked behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist. “Ripp and I just got done training. What are you making?” He smelled clean, as if he had just taken a shower. “I’m not really sure. Some kind of pasta. I bought wheat pasta, fresh basil, vegetables, and some lean beef. I was going to broil the meat and throw together a pasta dish. It sounded good. You want anything in particular?” I asked as I shuffled the groceries along the counter. “I want you, Kace,” he responded as he kissed the back of my neck. A chill ran down my spine. Seeing Shane was enough to make me wet. Seeing Shane shirtless made me an uncomfortable mess. Having Shane touch me and talk to me sexually made me melt into a puddle on the floor. His warm breath on my neck moved my thoughts from cooking to other things - scenes from

the books I read. My books were both a blessing and a curse. Sometimes I felt as if I had actually experienced all of the things I read about. Truth be known, I have had minimal experience with sex but I was ready for that to change. He raised his hands to my shoulders and turned me around to face him. Without speaking, he slid his hands from my shoulders to my neck. Softly, his hands moved up my neck to my face, cupping my cheeks in his hands as he kissed me. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the kiss as much as the first time we kissed. Kissing Shane was not kissing alone, it was experiencing - experiencing feelings and emotions which were unfamiliar to me. I felt alive when Shane kissed me. As my body tingled from head to toe, I smelled the sweet basil as I inhaled a breath through my nose. “I could kiss you forever,” he said as his face slowly moved away from mine. I opened my eyes and focused on his face. Bad idea. It took every ounce of my ability to resist my desire to jump Shane’s bones. I couldn’t even look at him without thinking of sex. By simply coming home, he had given me a reason to feel alive, sexually. But right now I was dying. “Babe, what are you thinking?” he asked me, my face still in his hands.

You’re a gorgeous, muscular, alpha male boxer. Really? More than anything I want you to fuck me unconscious. He let go of my face and removed his unzipped hoodie, tossing it over the bar stool. Oh, perfect. Add salt to the wound, Shane. As he lowered his arms, his chest flared. The muscles on his stomach were rippled down to the ‘V’ that formed at his waist. His body defined physical perfection. As I admired his physique, I knew I must respond in some sane fashion. “Babe?” he asked again. “I just…” I paused, thinking of what to say next. I inhaled and smelled the basil again. It was a calming fragrance. As I began to speak, he took a short breath. He seemed slightly nervous. “Babe, it’s time,” he said as he reached down and began to remove his raggedy boots. I froze. “Time, time?” I muttered. I felt flush and overly excited. He nodded, “I want you to know something. This is not my opinion. It’s not something I just say to say it. This is what I feel. Kace, I love you. It might seem strange to hear, it might not. But I know it just as sure as I know anything. I love you,” he paused and looked down at his feet. Officially melted.

“And,” he looked up from the floor. “The time has come,” he tossed his boots into the living room and removed his socks. Holy. Shit. Yes! I closed my eyes and inhaled again, feeling as if it were a dream. I had no idea what to do, what to say, or where to move. I was stunned. I stood in the kitchen, clearly in some degree of shock, and stared. It had been four years. I wanted to tell him I loved him, but I couldn’t speak; at least not intelligently. I wanted this to be perfect for him. I wanted it to be romantic. I wanted candles, rose petals and dimmed lights. I wanted slow passionate love making. I wanted to feel his body softly become one with mine. I heard his belt unbuckle. I opened my eyes. Shane Dekkar naked. His cock was thick, long, and twitched as it began to rise. No love making. No. I wanted fucked. Hard. I yanked my top off and threw it somewhere. I began to fumble with my bra, but couldn’t remember how to remove it. Slowly, he began to step toward me, reaching for my back. “No!” I screamed. What? I have no idea where that came from.

He stopped and looked at me, confused. I dropped my bra to the floor and unbuttoned my shorts. As I wrestled my shorts to the floor, he took another step toward me. “No!” I screamed. He stopped again, “Babe?” I tried to think of every scene in every book I had read in the last four years on my Kindle. C.D. Reiss. E. L. James. Kylie Scott. Kendall Grey. My mind raced as I removed my panties. I began to get excited and feel like my thoughts were becoming jumbled. Oh God. Not now. Let me speak. “Like Ripp says,” I blurted. I could feel my pussy immediately get so wet it started to drip down my thighs. He looked at me as if I was crazy. I pointed at my mouth, rolled my eyes, and took a breath. “I…” “I got this,” I muttered as I lowered myself to a squatting position. “Babe, stand up,” he said quietly as he held his hand out toward me. I shook my head and held my hands out toward his muscled ass. I curled my index fingers toward my palms. I was done talking. I got this. He took a step toward me. I grabbed the backs of his thigh and pulled him closer. As his hips got

close to my face, his cock stood straight up. I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and took Shane Dekkar’s perfect cock into my eagerly awaiting wet mouth. He began to moan. He bent his knees and cupped my breasts in his hands. He had probably waited as long for this moment as I, but there was no way he wanted it more than I did. I wanted him to remember this, and remember it good. Squeezing his rock hard ass in my hands, I slowly slid my mouth up and down his stiff cock. I moved my right hand from his ass to his balls. As I sucked and slurped along the shaft of his cock, I cupped his balls in my hand gently. He squeezed my breasts and closed his eyes. I pulled my mouth slowly from his cock and looked up at his face. A thin thread of saliva connected his cock to my lips. I smiled and raised his cock from my lips with my hand. Softly, I began to suck his balls. He moaned and relaxed his leg muscles. I took his balls into my mouth, gently sucking and licking them like I had read about in the books. As I sucked his balls, he squeezed my breasts and pinched my nipples. I licked along the shaft of his cock, and slowly slid my mouth down as far as I could. His cock was massive and thick, and I could only get about half of it into my mouth before my throat convulsed. I stroked his cock as I sucked it, moaning as I did. As I attempted to take more of his cock into my

mouth, I opened my eyes and looked up his muscular torso and at his face. His head was tilted back, and his eyes were still closed. I slurped and sucked as I slid my hands back and forth. His eyes opened for a moment, and he smiled as he looked down and squeezed my breasts. I reached down between my legs and touched my wet pussy. It was soaked and my clit was swollen. In a squatting position with my knees bent and my ass against my heels, I slowly spread my legs apart as I forced his cock into my throat. His focus changed from my face as he watched me slide a finger inside my wet pussy. As soon as my hand brushed against my clit, I came. As I did, I closed my eyes and held his cock in my mouth. I felt his hands shift from my boobs to under my armpits. As he picked me up from the floor, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. As I laid my head against his neck, I felt his warm breath on my ear. “Kace, I know you’re nervous. Just remember, tap me once for yes, and twice for no. That’s all you need to be able to do, okay?” he whispered. Excited, I tapped his back once with my hand. He carried me to the kitchen counter and lifted me to on top, placing my ass on the countertop. His hands slid down my torso to my inner thighs and gently spread my legs apart. As he lowered his head between my legs, he pushed against my chest softly,

forcing me to go from sitting to lying down. His mouth softly pressed against my pussy and his finger slid inside. As he began to lick my pussy, his finger gently worked in and out in a rhythmically predictable motion. I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling. Within a few seconds, I felt as if I was going to explode. I tapped him once. He continued the same rhythm and motions. I arched my back and began to moan. “Ohhhhhhh…” “Ohhh…” “Oh.” “Oh.” I raised my from of the countertop and came hard as my leg muscles tensed. I had never felt anything like it in my life, nor did I have any idea these types of feelings even existed. I opened my eyes and looked around the kitchen, making sure I wasn’t dreaming. For a moment, my mind was elsewhere, lost in a sea of emotional bliss. His tongue slid to my clit, and began to press it between his lip and the tip of his tongue. Sparks shot through my lower body and up my spine. Scared, I raised my head from the countertop, looked him in the eyes, and tapped his shoulder twice. “Crazy,” I blurted. He raised his hand to his mouth.

“Electricity,” I muttered. I’m just going to keep my mouth shut. This is ridiculous. He held his index finger to his lips, “Shhhhh.” He returned to the same fingering and licking motions which had earlier brought me to climax. I kept my eyes open and watched as he licked and fingered me. The sight of his muscular back and shoulders was more than I was prepared for. As his tongue worked me into a frenzy, his finger began to bring me to climax. I closed my eyes and bit my lower lip. My breathing became labored. I bit my lip harder. I felt my emotions begin to peak. It was as if I was going to explode from every pore in my body. I started to shake. His motions predictable and pleasurable, I anticipated the climax. As it came, I bit my lip harder. This is going to hurt. “Ahhhhhh…” “Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck…” I sounded like a retarded sailor. I bucked my hips against his face and exploded. “Holy!” I screamed as I climaxed. And I came. Hard. My body shuddered. And I came again. His finger worked in and out of my pussy. I

raised my hips. And I came again. I trembled. I was done. That was it. I wanted to die, right here there the kitchen, beside my precious basil. Ahhh, the smell of the sweet basil. My mind went blank. As I opened my eyes, the room was dark. I could still feel his mouth on my pussy and his tongue inside of me, but I could not see. I blinked my eyes. Blurry. I blinked again. A silhouette. Again. Shane Dekkar. Holy fuck. I am in no way prepared for anything like this. I’m just not. I thought of the scenes in my books. They lasted much longer. The sex goes on and on and on. Sometimes they have sex in several different positions. God, I’m going to have to find some form of energy and try and control these earth shattering orgasms. Maybe if I didn’t look at him, it will be easier. I’ll keep my eyes closed. That should do it. I closed my eyes. I felt nothing. He wasn’t touching me. I wondered if we were done.

I opened my eyes. JesusfuckingChrist. He stood in front of the counter, stroking his cock in his right hand. I slapped the counter once. Startled, he jumped and wrinkled his brow. His stroke slowed down. No no no. I love it. Stroke it for me please. I’m in fucking heaven. Still lying on my back, I raised my fists above the countertop about six inches and gave him the thumbs up sign. I nodded my head sharply. His pace sped up slightly. I tapped the counter once. Both thumbs up. He stepped to the side of the counter, steadily stroking his cock. As he approached the edge, he grabbed my calves and pulled me to the side of the countertop. With my ass half hanging over the edge, He slowly pressed the tip of his cock into my soaking wet pussy. Ohgoodfuckinggod. This will never work. I leaned up and slapped his thigh twice. A million little thoughts ran through my head. I wondered if it was possible that his cock wouldn’t fit inside my pussy. I had never considered it, but I guessed I never really asked anyone if they had heard of it happening before. As he began to pull

out, I slapped his leg once, focused, and let out one word. “Slow,” I sighed. He nodded his head and looked down at my pussy as he guided himself inside me again. As I felt him pressing inside of me, I took a deep breath and relaxed. The feeling of his huge cock pressing inside of me prevented me from relaxing much, and I became frustrated. I bit my bottom lip as his cock slowly pushed deep into my wet pussy. It felt like it was in my chest. I exhaled, and took a slow breath. He held his cock deep inside of me, leaned forward, and began to squeeze my breasts. “Kace,” he said softly. I looked up. “Relax, babe. Breathe,” he said. I nodded. As I felt his cock begin to slide out, I pressed my elbows onto the counter and raised my shoulders. I looked down and watched in amazement as his cock slid in and out of my wet pussy. As I watched him fuck me, I felt as if seeing it happen made it much easier. If it was even possible, it felt as if seeing it made me more lubricated and wet. I watched eagerly as his glistening cock slid in and out of my soaking wet pussy. Each stroke became easier, and I got lost in watching him fuck me. His stomach muscles flexed as he stood on his

tip-toes and slowly pushed himself in and out of me. I focused on his body and watched him admiring mine as his hands now held my upper thighs. I began to feel as if pressure was building up inside of me. I pressed down on my bottom lip with my teeth. The feeling of having Shane fuck me was almost too much for me to take. I began to tingle, and I felt my breathing change. I was sure I was preparing to have an orgasm, and without a doubt it was going to kill me. Remembering what I had told him at Ripp’s house a few weeks prior, I wondered what he must be thinking. But when you decide it’s time, as you say know this. I like it rough. Think about that. And you better pray to God that you’re ready… I stopped biting my lip and looked Shane in the eyes. As he looked at me and smiled, his perfect white teeth gleamed. Again, I thought of everything I had read on my Kindle over the past few years. I opened my mouth and stared at Shane’s face. “Shhhh,” he said softly as he forced himself in and out of me. I shook my head from side to side. “Fuck,” I inhaled slowly after the word came out. “Fuck me,” I exhaled as I spoke. I can do this.

“Fuck me hard, Shane. Fuck me hard. Please,” I begged. He sped up his pace. I shook my head and waved my arms in the air like a child wanting to be picked up by his mother. He moved his hands from my waist to my armpits, and lifted me up. He slid his forearms under my armpits, his hands behind my back, and lifted me from the counter. I wrapped my arms around his neck, my legs around his waist, and laid my head on his shoulder. Immediately, I felt calm. I whispered in his ear, “No. Fuck me. Please. Fuck me. I want to remember this.” He began thrusting his hips upward, his upper thighs and hips bouncing against my ass as his cock slid deep inside of me. “Against the wall,” I begged. I’d seen the pictures on Tumblr at work of women being fucked against the wall by a muscular man. I wanted it. As he carried me to the wall I became more excited. As I felt my back against the cold surface, I tensed and took a quick breath. “Do it,” I growled. He slid his hands from my back to under my ass. Slowly, he began to fuck me against the wall, his hands cupped under my ass cheeks. I closed my eyes, thinking of the books, the pictures and the fact we had finally made it to this point. “Harder,” I pleaded as I bit his neck.

He tilted his head toward me, trying to force my mouth off of his neck. I bit harder and grunted through my clenched teeth. “Hrrrder” I grunted. He began to forcefully fuck me, shoving his entire cock into me. Each thrust lifted my body six inches. As soon as my body slid back down, he would thrust against me again. Yes, this is what I want. “Hrrrder” I begged through my clenched teeth, biting his neck harder. “Fuck Kace,” he grumbled, twisting his neck against my bite. I released my grip on his neck. “He speaks,” I breathed into his ear. “Well, you weren’t saying shit,” he said as he pressed me to the wall. “I was nervous,” I gasped as he softly pressed me into the wall. “I’m fine now,” I grunted as he started thrusting harder into me. “You aren’t going to hurt me,” I whispered into his ear. “Now fuck me like I want,” I bit his neck again. He began forcefully fucking me into the wall. With each stroke he increased his force and speed. My head began to hit the wall. I slapped his back once and bit his neck harder. “Hrrrder” I begged though my teeth.

He pounded me into the wall. I felt my pussy contracting as his massive cock thrust in and out of my now soaked pussy. His cock felt as if it were growing. He kept fucking me into the wall with each stroke. I closed my eyes and bit his neck. This. This is what I want. My breathing became short and shallow. It was as if I almost forgot to breathe. His cock swelled. I released my grip on his neck and moved my mouth to his ear. Yes, I want this. “Cum inside of me. Fill me with cum, Shane. I want to feel it,” I whispered into his ear. His breathing became choppy and he closed his eyes. I felt myself begin to climax I had no idea existed. As if my body was warning me, I tensed up and focused, squeezing his body against me. “Kace,” he said. “Kaaaace,” he repeated slowly and softly. “Do it,” I sighed. I closed my eyes. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck…Ooooh fuuuuck,” I heard the words somehow escape my mouth. I felt his cock swell and ejaculate as he groaned. At the same time, whatever was trapped inside of me released - as if I had actually exploded. I gasped for a breath. I felt cum running

down my legs. I could not speak or think. Caught in the particular moment, I simply blinked my eyes. Finally, my eyes began to focus. When I looked at his face, I saw relief. Not an orgasms worth, but a lifetime. I leaned back into the wall, still incapable of speech. I took a slow breath and exhaled. Ahhh. Basil. I reached up and pushed his head back. As I looked into his steel grey eyes, I leaned forward and softly kissed the most beautiful man in the world. And finally, I was able to speak. “I love you, too,” I said softly. And I began to cry.

15

SHANE. In my experiences with life I had often searched for something or someone to satisfy a void. When I did, I often settle for something substandard or second rate. I did so because I felt I must fill an opening. When I did not look or attempt to resolve a particular deficiency, I often stumbled onto what it is that I actually needed. Life tends to provide us with our most valuable assets when we least expect it or while we’re not even particularly looking. In life, we need to pay the closest attention when we aren’t paying attention at all. Life has a way of sneaking up on us. This, in itself, was why I paid attention to all of the little details. Because I didn’t like surprises. “So, you think you’re going to be alright,

babe?” I asked as we turned the corner into the residential neighborhood. “I think so, as long as you’re close by. You make me feel really comfortable. I don’t get excited anymore around you,” she giggled. “Nervous?” I asked. “Duh,” she sighed. “How long?” I asked. “I don’t know for sure, I think it’s been ten years. I’m not really sure. I don’t remember. It’s been a long time. Since before I graduated high school if I remember right,” she said. No different than I, Kace didn’t remember a tremendous amount of her childhood. Her memories - or lack of memories - lasted into her teens. I suppose her problems lasted longer as well. I didn’t remember my childhood because I was moved around and my father was gone. She didn’t remember because she had events or circumstances her mind chose to set aside. Coming from the background she came from, it was no surprise to see her mind set aside memories associated with abuse. One funny thing about the human mind was that it would often set aside a period of time – maybe even a few years – to get rid of a few memories or particular events. Kace hadn’t initially told me, but eventually she admitted her father had abused her mother physically. Her mother finally left her father after

many years of being beaten. Kace, at the time, was about twelve years old. Being exposed to this type of abuse generally made the children either totally opposed to abuse or an abuser themselves. It seemed to depend on the person and how their mind processed it. “By the GPS, we’re just a few blocks, you sure you’re alright?” I asked. “My stomach feels funny. But you can’t fix it. Just go, I’ll be fine,” she responded. I was glad we decided to come see her mother at this point in time, long before the holidays. It might allow Kace to make the adjustments needed, possibly allowing her to see her family during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. “Well, here we are, house number 648,” I said as we pulled up to the front of the home. She swallowed heavily. “You alright?” I asked. “Yeah,” she sounded like she had a frog in her throat. “Babe, any time you’re ready to go just tell me so. I’m damn near as nervous as you,” I chuckled lightly. She nodded. “Who, babe? Who’s the most beautiful woman in the world?” I asked. She pointed to her chest and smiled, “I am.” “Yes, babe. You are,” I said as I leaned toward

her seat and kissed her. “Ready?” I asked. She opened the door to the truck and got out. I guess that means yes. Kace was one of the strongest women I had ever met. Kace was a true survivor. One hundred pounds of tough. As I fumbled with the door handle, she stepped around to my side of the truck and waited. Finally, I opened the door, and stepped outside the truck. “Alright, let’s do this,” I said as I held my arm out to my side. After she attached herself to my arm, we walked up the sidewalk together to the front porch of the house. As I reached out to ring the buzzer, the door slowly opened. “Oh dear Lord. The pictures didn’t do you any justice. Kace, you’re beautiful,” a woman said through the opened door. She was petite, blonde, and very pretty. “Come in,” she said. As she held her arms out, they began to shake. We stepped inside the home, and Kace immediately hugged her mother. Ten years of sorrow began to run down the cheeks of both women as they embraced. The sounds of sobbing muffled the sound of everything else. “I’m sorry,” Kace sobbed as she wrapped her arms around her mother’s shoulders.

“No, baby. I’m so sorry. I never should have let you go,” her mother apologized as she began to cry uncontrollably. I stepped to the side of the doorway, feeling somewhat uncomfortable with the situation. Seeing Kace crying like this was not easy for me. Seeing people cry, in general, was difficult for me; especially women. Feeling somewhat helpless, I found a chair and sat quietly as they stood and cried in each other’s arms. Slowly, I pulled my hood up over my head and pressed the soft fabric into the sides of my face. Eventually, they walked into the living room and sat down side-by-side on the couch. I sat and watched them exchange short embarrassed glances at each other as they covered their mouths and tried to stop crying. Eye makeup streamed down each of their faces. “I missed you so much,” Kace sobbed. “I missed you, Kace,” her mother whimpered as she leaned over and kissed Kace’s forehead. Her mother stood, looked at me, back toward Kace, and sat down as if she were confused on what to do or how to digest the entire reunion. Overcome with emotion, her mind appeared to be having a difficult time deciding the proper thing to do with the situation. I realized not seeing or talking to your child in a decade; and then trying to start over as if nothing happened would be difficult at best.

“Oh God, this is too much, Kace. I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack,” her mother said as she held her hand against her chest. Her breathing was short and choppy as she tried to control her sobbing. “Mother, don’t say that,” Kace smiled and wiped her eyes as she spoke. Finally. They’re smiling. Her mother, between sobs, laughed. As they hugged again, I relaxed and leaned back into the chair. Watching someone cry tears of joy can be uplifting. Watching someone cry tears of sorrow has always caused me to feel helpless. In my opinion, this was a combination of both. My emotions were riding a roller coaster and I felt I couldn’t see the track ahead. “So, this is Shannon?” her mother asked as she stood again. “No mother. Shane,” Kace responded. As her mother approached, I stood. As she opened her arms and reached for me, I met her with a heartfelt hug. As we embraced, she sighed. “I’m so glad you saved her,” she said as she released me from her grasp. Before I could respond, Kace spoke up. “Mother, I saved myself. Shane has just been here for me. He talked me into seeing you. I’ve been scared. If anyone knows, you know,” Kace

took a breath and wiped her face. “Oh look at us with our makeup all over our faces, come on,” her mother said as she grabbed Kace’s hand and led her away. I felt even more at ease as I heard them laughing and talking in the bathroom. A mother and her daughter reunited after an extended length of time. I exhaled and relaxed. I thought of my father, and how long he had been gone. It had only been a few years since his death, but seeing him now would be gut wrenching at best. I recalled all of the time he was away when I was young, and seeing him when he would return from war. The initial excitement of seeing him was almost overwhelming. Sometimes, I felt as if I was going to vomit. After some time, my emotions settled, and I felt as if he had never left. When it was time for his next deployment, I would become angry and short tempered. My father’s company, although sacred, was a difficult time for me emotionally. They walked back into the room laughing. As if I knew what each of them felt, I sensed I could predict what emotions they would feel throughout the meeting, based on my many similar meetings with my father. As my body relaxed, I slumped into the soft chair, and got lost in the memories of my father, my childhood, and my love for both. Almost immediately, I began to feel as if I were going to fall asleep.

P

ulling the blankets tightly over his head, the sounds of the screaming were muffled. The closed bedroom door and the television on the other side of the wall prevented the little boy from hearing details. As much as he feared what he may hear, he yeared to know. Slowly, he pulled the blankets away from his face, in an attempt to hear what was on the other side of the wall. His face barely visible and his head still covered, he peered through the opening he had created in the blankets. From the other side of the wall, a muffled scream could be heard. The little boy covered his head. A dull thud. The little boy uncovered his face, rubbing the soft fabric of the blanket into the sides of his cheeks. Two voices, almost inaudible, alternated screams. Another dull thud. The little boy covered his face with the blanket, buried his head into the pillow, and cried. As he lay in the only safe place he knew, the boy found comfort in the shelter of the blanket which lay atop his bed. It was there that he could

always find comfort and peace. Serenity. There, with his face covered, he was always safe.

16

KACE. What we try to remember and what we prefer to forget. Our mind doesn’t always have an understanding of how we want to sort things. Sometimes a simple memory can be enough to defeat even the toughest of souls. Acceptance of these memories as being in the past, and understanding they are nothing more than a reminder can often allow us to continue through life without feeling guilt, sorrow, or shame. Not accepting them as such can allow us to be overcome by the emotion associated with the memory. “Shane. Baby, you fell asleep,” I said as I tugged on his arm. He pulled his arm away from me and pressed his hood against his face. “Baby?” I said softly as leaned over him.

He pulled against the sides of his hood and looked out of the opening. “Oh,” he paused and looked around the room. “Sorry,” he said as he sat up in the chair. “I must have fallen asleep,” he apologized as he pulled his hood from his face. His face was covered in sweat. “It’s hot in here, baby. You shouldn’t wear your hoodie,” I said as I leaned into the chair to kiss him. “Where’s your mother?” he asked as he looked around the room. I steadied his face with my hands and looked into his eyes, “She’s making lunch for us,” I said as I pressed my lips against his. As if the kiss woke him up totally, he held me in his arms and kissed me deeply. “Kace, you mean the world to me,” he said. “You mean the world to me,” I responded. “No, I mean. Well, fuck. I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just. I don’t know. I want to spend the rest of my life being everything you want in a man. I want to make up for what you haven’t received in life. I want to always be here for you. I want so much for you to be happy,” he said. “What got into you? I am happy,” I responded. “An entirely different degree of happy,” he said as he stood up and pulled his hoodie off. I smiled, “Okay, sounds good.” He looked around the room as he tossed his

hoodie on the back of the chair. He rubbed his eyes and turned to focus on my face. Slowly, he smiled. “How long was I out?” he asked. “I don’t know. We talked a while. I heard you snore after a bit. We just decided to leave you be. I thought you were worn out from all of the training for the fight. Is that okay?” I asked. “No, babe. It’s fine,” he said as he stretched his arms behind his back. “While she’s cooking, you wanna look at some stuff with me?” I asked excitedly. “Sure, what do ya got?” he asked as he rubbed his hands together. “Well, mom said she had all my stuff from when I was in high school in a spare room. She saved everything. I want to go look at it. I might want to take a few things home,” I giggled as I rubbed my hands together jokingly. As we both stood and rubbed our hands together, I got excited. I was eager to see things I hadn’t seen in ten years. Things I had long since forgotten. The old memories were going to be nice to sift and sort through. Not knowing what I may encounter was exciting. I tried to recall what she might have set aside, and the excitement almost overcame me. “Well?” I asked. “Let’s go,” he said. “Mom, we’re going to go snoop,” I screamed

into the kitchen. “Okay, have fun. There’s a foot locker beside the bed,” my mother’s shallow voice responded. I opened the door and Shane and I stepped inside. Immediately, I felt a wave of heat come over me. I began to shake lightly. My Hello Kitty comforter on the bed. I snuggled under that comforter for forever. Josh and I first… Fucking Josh. I turned and looked at the wall. All of my medals from running in track were on the wall in a shadow box. My throat felt full, and a lump rose in my throat as I walked toward the box. Newspaper clippings were framed on each side of the display. I walked to the framed pages and looked at the dates. “Oh my God. This was my senior year - after I left. She kept them, Shane. She kept them,” I said as I pointed at the framed articles. Several of the articles were for first place running in long distance. I always liked running, it allowed me to clear my head. The habit of running had stuck with me and become one of the few things I looked forward to. A five mile run could clear my mind like nothing else. I turned and looked at Shane. “Fun, huh?” he said as he looked around the room at my things. It was truly a step back in time and almost

overwhelming. I gazed at the foot of the bed and wondered what was in the locker on the floor. I knelt down beside it and placed my hands on top of the locker. I looked up at Shane. “Come here, babe. Let’s see what’s in here,” I said as I pointing to the locker. I placed both of my hands on the top of the lid. Shane knelt down beside me and sat cross legged on the floor. He turned, put his arm around my shoulder, and pulled me close to him. As I leaned into him, he kissed me softly on the lips. I pressed my thumbs under the top of the trunk lid as he kissed me. “Babe, I’m so glad we’re here,” he said as our lips parted. “So am I,” I responded as I took a deep breath. He turned and looked at the locker as I opened the lid. A musty smell came out as it opened. My dresses, my shirts, my pants, my skirts - all folded nicely. I turned and looked at Shane, excited to see all of the things I hadn’t seen in ten or more years. A rush of emotion filled me. “Babe, look,” I said as I sorted through the articles of clothing. I picked up a dress from my sophomore year in school and smelled it. Holding it in my arms, I turned toward Shane. He gazed into the foot locker and rubbed his dog tags frantically with his right hand.

Something’s wrong. His lip was quivering. “Babe,” I said softly. He started to stand, holding his hand under his shirt on his dog tags. “Babe,” I said as I stood up. Something’s bad wrong. I heard a snap. His hand came out from under his shirt, holding the broken chain in his hand. He turned and looked at me as if he were in a trance. And as the dog tags fell from his hand, Shane Dekkar collapsed into a motionless pile on the floor.

17

KACE. Having what we hold dear to our heart pulled from our grasp puts things - all things - in perspective. Not knowing when or if the object we love will be returned allows us to truly understand just exactly how deeply that object was embedded in our life. “I need to know what’s going on,” I begged. “I’m sorry ma’am. You’ll just have to wait until someone can see you,” the nurse responded. “Is there someone else I can talk to?” I asked frantically. “No. There is no one else. I’ll have a doctor come see you as soon as someone knows something,” she said over the top of the nurse’s station. I put my hands on my hips, looked down at the floor, and wanted to cry. I refused to become weak.

I needed to be strong for Shane. I looked up and down the hallway as I saw someone running toward me. Thank God. Ripp. I held my arms out in front of me and flapped my hands. As he picked me up from the floor and into his arms, I felt comfortable. I was no longer alone. I felt so helpless and incapable up until Ripp arrived. After a moment of holding me, he lowered me back down onto the floor. “I got here as soon as I got your voicemail. You didn’t answer your phone,” he gasped for breath as he spoke. My eyes began to well with tears. “What happened?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I began to cry. I wiped my eyes and took a breath, “He just. He. We were in my mother’s new house. He just woke up from a nap. We started looking at stuff in a footlocker full of my old junk. He seemed really weird. But he stood up, and pulled his dog tags off. It was like he wanted them off. And then he just collapsed. When the ambulance got there, he was…” I started crying and couldn’t continue. “It’s okay Shorty. I’m here until they release him. So, what happened when the ambulance came?” Ripp asked as he hugged me lightly.

I thought about what Shane was doing and I began to tremble, “He was just in a ball on the floor. Like he was…” “Uhhm, like his brain didn’t work anymore. He didn’t blink or talk or anything,” I sobbed. “Oh. Fuck. What are they saying now?” he asked as he released me and wiped the tears from my face. “Nothing. She won’t tell me anything,” I said as I pointed to the nurse’s station. “Stand over there,” he said as he motioned to the other side of the hallway. Confused, I stepped to the other side of the hallway. As I leaned on the wall I studied Ripp. Dressed in his cargo shorts, sneakers and a tank top, he was rather intimidating to those who didn’t know him. He turned to the nurse’s station, gripped the edge of the desk top in his hands, and took a deep breath. As he started talking, his voice was very matter-of-fact and direct. “I’m Mike Dekkar, Shane’s brother. I need to know what his status is. He was brought in by ambulance,” he said to the nurse as he leaned onto the top tier of the station. The nurse took a breath, sighed, and looked up at Ripp. “Sir, I told his wife a moment ago I don’t know. If you’d like to go wait in the waiting room, I’ll have an answer for you in a little while. I’ll have

someone come see you in a bit,” as she finished speaking she looked down at her keyboard. Ripp sharply knocked on the countertop with is knuckles three times to get the nurses attention. Annoyed, she looked up. Ripp immediately started again. “Listen, I don’t have a little while. I have about this much fuckin’ patience, lady,” he held his hand in the air and snapped his fingers loudly. “Look at me,” he demanded as he stepped away from the raised counter. He pointed at himself from head to toe. His arm, neck, and leg muscles rippled as he pointed his finger up and down his muscular body. “Do I look like a guy you want to piss off?” he stepped toward the counter, leaned against it, and flexed his chest muscles. “This mother fucker is full of doctors. Find one. Go find one and get him to go find my brother. And then find out what the fuckin’ deal is or I’m going to start knocking mother fuckers out…” he whispered loudly. He turned his head from side-to-side and surveyed the hallway. After realizing the entire corridor was empty, he turned toward the nurse and finished his sentence. “Cold.” She looked up into Ripp’s eyes. “Sir, I’ll call security,” she said as she put her

hand on the phone at the lower desk. “Call ‘em. Fuck yes,” he said as he rubbed his hands together. “Call ‘em. I’ll knock them the fuck out too. It’s what I do. I knock motherfuckers out. Cold. Call security, and while you’re at it call the fuckin’ cops. Tell ‘em to send the S.W.A.T. team. They’ll need all the help they can get, because I hate fucking cops,” he was starting to become a little louder and was having a difficult time whispering. “Your best bet is this, lady. Find a doctor and find out what the fuckin’ deal is. In the next ten God damned minutes. We’ll be in the waiting room, waitin’,” he pushed himself from the countertop and stared. “C’mon, Shorty,” he said as he held out his right hand. I leaned away from the wall and stepped toward him. “Why’d you make me stand over there?” I asked as I reached for his hand. “I didn’t want you to get any debris on you if I started breaking shit,” he said as we walked down the hallway toward the waiting room. “Ripp?” his hand in mine, I looked up toward his face. “Yeah, Shorty,” he responded as he angrily stomped his way toward the waiting room. I needed comfort, reassurance and some form

of confirmation everything was going to be alright – including me. I felt all jumbled up inside. The man I loved dearly was in the trauma unit in the hospital and I didn’t know what was wrong or how to fix it. “I love you,” I said, still holding his hand in mine. He stopped walking and turned to face me. “Shorty, I love you too. You’re my brother’s girl. Any time he’s gone, I gotta take care of ya. It’s just how we do it here in Texas,” he smiled. And he immediately started walking again. How we do it here in Texas. Knocking motherfuckers out. Cold.

18

SHANE. “I don’t think that had anything to do with it, Ripp,” I said as I sat up in the hospital bed. “Well, why they want to keep ya over night? Don’t make sense,” Ripp responded. “I don’t think Shane would be nervous about the fight either. He fights all the time, and never gets nervous. It’s probably a lot of things. Diet, training, nerves, everything combined,” Kace said from the edge of the bed as she squeezed my hand. “Well, they can say you had a nervous meltdown, but if they want to keep ya for more tests, they don’t know shit. I’m gonna talk to that prick when he comes in here,” Ripp said. “Ripp, leave it alone. Just let them do their tests, and I’ll be out of here in the afternoon tomorrow. It’s not a huge deal. I guarantee you it’s nothing else. He’s signing a release for me to fight,”

I assured him. “Well, that’s the biggest thing. I don’t want you lying to me, you fucker. Having a fucking brain hemorrhage or something and telling me it’s a hemorrhoid,” he laughed. “Not gonna happen, bro,” I said. Kace turned my direction, squeezed my hand, and smiled. I couldn’t ask for a better woman than her. Finding someone who was more devoted to me, supportive of my career and generally concerned for my well-being would be impossible. Kace was a beautiful woman in her appearance as well as in her being. I squeezed her hand and smiled in return. “Well, what about training?” Ripp asked as he paced back and forth across the floor. “Ripp it’s fine. Jesus, go home. I’ll be back in training in the next day or so. There’s nothing to worry about. Just go home and get some sleep. You two need to go eat anyway. And I’m beat, I need to get some sleep,’ I said in an effort to convince him to leave and relax. “Yeah, I imagine you are tired, with all those tests they ran on ya. Fuckin’ idiots. I’m hungrier than a motherfucker. What time is it?” Ripp asked. “Ten after eight,” Kace responded. “Yeah, maybe we ought to let the man sleep. How you gonna get out of here tomorrow?” Ripp asked.

“Well, one of you two can come get me. She has to work in the morning, so I imagine it’ll be you,” I said as I smiled at Kace. She scowled at me and squeezed my hand in an exaggerated fashion. “Oh, shit that hurts,” I joked as I pulled my hand away from her grasp. “You’re gonna think hurt. I’m going to come when he gets you,” Kace said as she slapped my shoulder. “We’ll both come and get him, Shorty. I’ll come get you, and we’ll both come up here. How’s that?” Ripp asked. “Sounds good,” Kace responded. “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be alright, we’ll get out of here,” Ripp said. “Yeah. I’ll be fine, and we’ll all go out tomorrow and eat or something, I just need to sleep,” I said as I held my hand to my mouth to cover a fake yawn. Kace stood from the edge of the bed and leaned over to kiss me, “I’m sorry, all of this just scared me. I’ll see you tomorrow, Shane.” “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” I responded. “Love ya, bro,” Ripp said as he held his fist over the bed. I clenched my hand into a fist and pounded it against Ripp’s hand. He pounded against mine in return.

“Alright, let’s do this,” Ripp said as he put his arm around Kace. “Take care of her, Ripp,” I said as they faced the door. Ripp turned his head, looked over his shoulder and said what I expected him to. “I got this,” he smiled. I got this. Ripp was better at being a friend than most people were at being family. We are stuck with our family; we don’t get to choose them. We choose our friends, and I was certainly glad I chose Ripp. As I lay in bed, I wish I could have chosen my family. I reached up to my neck to make sure my dog tags were gone. I never wanted to see them again. The doctor ran every type of test he could to determine if there was brain damage. After all of the tests results came in with the same result negative, I told the truth about what I knew regarding my collapse. I didn’t know what caused it, but I knew to some degree what I felt immediately before it had happened. Additionally, I could clearly see the differences in myself afterward. Some strange combination of Kace seeing her mother, the crying, and emotion triggered a nightmare while I was asleep in the living room. When Kace and I walked into the bedroom, I felt

strange. When she opened the footlocker, something inside of me snapped. My head filled with the memories of my childhood, depicted as a dozen little movies all trying to play inside my head at once. It was more than I could make sense of, but any fool would have been able to understand the content of the memories. They were all the same. My father was beating my mother. I’m not certain if I chose at some point in time in my life to rid myself of those memories, or if my brain naturally did it to try and let me live in some form of peace. I know for my entire adult life I have not been able to recollect any memories of my childhood. I had always attributed the lack of memory to the fact we shuffled around from house to house when I was a child. I now knew the memory loss had nothing to do with moving from home to home. Now, as I lay in the hospital bed, I was beginning to recall memories of my entire childhood. And I didn’t like any of it. My father was a savage. My mother left when I was a child. Now, I knew why. I had spent my late teens and entire adult life standing up for every woman who had been abused and now I had a clear understanding why I felt such a desire to assist them. I wanted to vomit. As I tried to make sense of what was

developing in my head, the door opened the door. “Dekkar? Shane Dekkar?” the doctor asked. I sat up in bed, “Yes sir.” “How are you feeling?” he asked as he approached the bed. “Fine sir. I’m a little confused. I have new memories running around in my head and it’s strange, really strange. Hard to explain,” I said as I rubbed my temples with both hands. “The human mind is a fabulously complex piece of equipment,” he stated as he leaned closer to me and looked into my eyes with a light. “Well, I have a thousand questions,” I said as I tossed my legs over the bed. “I’m afraid I probably won’t have any of the answers you’re looking for. I’m a family practice doctor. You’re going to need to talk to a psychiatrist. We’re going to want to keep you here until tomorrow, if that’s alright with you. I think it will be best,” he said as he leaned away from the bed. “Well, I have some questions about not so much why this happened, but what to do now?” I asked. “Again, I’m not going to be a big help. Actually, I really won’t be any help at all. There are considerable improvements a psychiatrist can make, I’m sure. He can address everything tomorrow. Get some sleep and we’ll talk in the

morning,” he said as he approached the foot of the bed. “Improvements? I don’t want improvements. I need this to stop,” I pleaded. “Again, I can’t do anything for you right now. I can get you something to help you sleep, but that’s about it,” he responded in a matter-of-fact tone. I shook my head. Drugs were the last thing I wanted, “No, I’ll be fine. Tomorrow it is.” He nodded his head and walked out. I raised my legs up onto the bed and relaxed. As I looked at the ceiling, it wasn’t what I necessarily wanted to admit, but any recovery from the memories was going to be on my own. There wasn’t a doctor, psychiatrist or psychologist who was going to cure me. Without a doubt, they would all tell me the same thing. You’ll need to just accept it. The sooner you do, the sooner you’ll start healing. I closed my eyes and attempted to come to terms with the fact my father was a man I would beat the absolute hell out of if I was given a chance.

19

SHANE. “Yes, as a matter of fact, he was a Marine,” I answered in response to the doctor’s question regarding my father’s military background. “Well, the human mind is difficult to understand. We all deal with stress, memories, and the repression of memories differently. Our mind often, as a survival skill of sorts, places memories on a back shelf. Over time, we forget they even exist. In our conscious mind they aren’t a memory. Like a deleted movie scene, if that makes sense,” the doctor paused and tapped his pen on the desk. “Look at it this way. You have a favorite movie. It resembles many other movies by the same director with the same cast. You watch it one time, just once. You recall a fondness for the movie a few years later, and decide to watch it again. You place the DVD in the player, but there’s something

different. One short movie scene has been deleted – completely eliminated. And you rewind the movie and watch it again - but the scene is gone. You begin to wonder if it was ever there at all. You rewind the movie again, and watch it entirely. Nothing. You’re now convinced the scene was never there at all. Over years of recollections regarding the movie, your new memory never includes the deleted scene,” he stopped tapping his pen and smiled, convinced he made his point about repressed memories. “I suspect this,” he continued as he touched his finger to his lip, obviously thinking. “I suspect the small chest or foot locker at your girlfriend’s house had something in it which reminded you of your fathers military foot locker. Probably an odor,” he paused again and looked at me as if waiting for an answer. “Well, it smelled really strong when she opened it. Kind of musty,” I recalled. “And you said earlier you used to cover your face with your blanket as a child? When you would hide in your room?” he asked. “Yes,” I admitted, remembering years of hiding under the blanket as a small child. “It was your safe place?” he asked. “Yes,” I responded, somewhat frustrated he wanted to rehash what we had already spoken of. He tapped his finger on his lip.

“You lived in Los Angeles?” he asked. “Oceanside at the time, by the military base. Say, closer to San Diego,” I responded. “A very warm climate none the less,” he stated. I nodded, “Yes sir.” “Did you have the same bedding for the summer and winter? Not that there’s much of a winter in San Diego,” he asked. I slumped into the comfort of the couch cushion. I pulled my hood from behind my shoulders, and onto my head. I looked up at the ceiling and thought. The summers in Oceanside were very hot, and I spent a lot of time at the beach. When it was winter, it was warm, but not hot. At night, it would get cold. When it was cold, I had my blanket that had the fighter jets on it. We kept that blanket in… “My father kept the blankets in a foot locker, in the garage. We would get them out in the fall,” I blurted as soon as I recalled the memory of it. “Mothballs,” he stated. “Excuse me?” I asked, confused at his statement. I sat up from my seated position and pulled my hood from my head. “Mothballs. It’s very common for people in warmer climates to use mothballs when storing clothes and fabrics in a chest or locker. It prevents moths from eating the fabric in the off season. Your

childhood blanket you covered your face with – the one you used as protection - it probably smelled of mothballs. Yesterday, when the chest at the foot of the bed was opened, the odor of mothballs resurrected the memories your mind had repressed for two decades. Odor is a strong trigger,” he said as he dropped the pen onto his desk. I sat and thought about what he had said. I didn’t immediately feel better knowing why I had recalled the memories, but it was reassuring to know what had happened. Mothballs. “If I may, let’s take this a step further,” he said as he picked his pen up from the desk. “Your hooded sweatshirt. You wear it at all times. At least during all seasons. I do realize you remove it,” he chuckled. “The hooded sweatshirt has become your safety blanket - the one from childhood. You wear it to hide from what it is you’re uncertain of. Maybe what you want to protect yourself from. You wear it as superman wears his cape. It’s a conscious decision you make with subconscious benefits. The hooded sweatshirt, in a sense, has assisted you in the repression of those memories. Have you been wearing hooded sweatshirts for a long time?” he stopped tapping his pen and waited for a response. I thought again about California, my father, and my grandfather. I didn’t remember wearing a

hoodie in Oceanside. When I moved to Compton, I always had one. When we moved to Escondido for a while I had one, after mom was gone. From as best I could recall, I wore one from when we lived in Escondido until present time. “I think I started wearing one when we lived in Escondido. I was around ten years old, I think – maybe eleven,” I responded, finding his entire routine interesting. “Was your mother in Escondido, or was she already gone?” he asked. “Gone,” I responded. “Do you remember sleeping in a hooded sweatshirt?” he asked. I scrunched my brow, finding this question odd. I thought about it as I sat up in the couch. Is this asshole a doctor or a fucking detective? “Yes, I guess so. I remember sleeping in it at my grandfather’s house. And now that I’m thinking about it, I remember wearing a hoodie at the house that had the orange trees, and that was in Escondido, by the highway,” I responded. “Your hooded sweatshirt replaced your childhood blanket. You more than likely associated the blanket with your father’s abuse of your mother. When your mother left and you moved to a new house, your means of protection changed. You began to hide inside your hood, not the blanket. You consciously gave up the blanket, and your

subconscious received the eventual benefit,” he smiled again. This guy was good. Putting all of the pieces together was a huge help, and I began to feel much better knowing what happened and why. It didn’t change my anger toward my father for the abuse of my mother, but I felt it helped me tremendously. “I suppose you’re right, this is interesting,” I said as I leaned back into the seat and crossed my legs. “You mentioned your grandfather earlier, but you did not mention a grandmother. Was your grandmother around during your childhood?” he leaned back into his chair and placed his hands behind his head. “No, they were divorced,” I responded. Silence. No, surely not. My grandfather was one of the best men who ever existed. He was a saint. He was like a father to me. He taught me how to box, how to fight, how to channel my anger away from the streets and into the ring. He was a boxer. He was just like me, he was… “If I may,” he said after a few moments silence. I uncrossed my legs, and crossed my arms in front of my chest. I nodded my head. “When did you start boxing? Training to box?” he asked.

“When I was eleven, give or take,” I responded. “And you said earlier that your grandfather was your trainer and manager – until he died, correct?” he remained leaning back in his chair. I nodded, “Yes sir.” “I believe you channeled your anger toward your father through the boxing. Your anger at the entire situation. Your mother leaving, your exposure to her beatings, your developed hatred toward abusers of women,” he said calmly. “I believe so, yes. I’ve always said I have demons inside of me. I suppose all of what we’re talking about now is what has fueled me for years,” I admitted. “So, boxing allowed you to repress the memories of your mother, your father and the situation? To channel the anger and hatred elsewhere?” he asked softly. His voice was nice and calm. I found him very easy to talk to. “Yes sir,” I responded. “And when your father came home from the war, you were happy to see him? You had no recollection of the beatings or abuse after you started boxing?” he asked. “Yes, I was happy to see him. And no, I had no recollection of any abuse or beatings,” I responded. “Now, your grandfather. I imagine if he trained

you, if he was your trainer and your manager, he must have had experience?” he asked, still leaning back in his chair. “Yes, he was a champion. He won several titles,” I responded quickly. I was proud of my grandfather. He paused. Silence. “Wait a fucking minute, doc. What are you saying?” I snarled as I sat up in my seat. He leaned forward and picked up his pen. “I’m not saying anything. What are you thinking, Shane?” “Well, you stopped talking. I’m not stupid. You stop talking when you want me to think,” I frowned back at him. “And what, Shane, did you think?” he asked. “Well, I think you wanted me to think my grandfather abused my grandmother,” I said angrily. “I didn’t want you to think anything, Shane. I gave you time to think whatever it is your mind developed as a thought or series of thoughts,” he said quietly. “I don’t like this game,” I said as I pulled my hood onto my head. “It’s not a game. I’m trying to help you. I’m trying to help you in regard to your father. Anger can destroy you. I’m trying to help you understand

some things,” he looked at his watch. “We’re about finished for the day, may I continue?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. “Sure,” I sighed. “Your grandfather’s era. They rarely got divorced. Married couples in those days typically worked through any and all problems. It was perceived, back then, as being far more sacred and far more of a commitment. Considering all things, I suspect your father abused your mother. Now, your grandfather being a boxer, and the fact he was divorced,” he paused and picked up the pen from the desk. “He may have abused your grandmother,” he held his hand in the air to prevent me from speaking and took a breath. “I say this for one reason only. To give your father a reason for being the way he was. It wasn’t necessarily his fault he acted the way that he did. When children are exposed to abuse, they either become abusers or they’re like you – one hundred percent opposed to it. It’s anyone’s guess where people land. It’s like the son or daughter of a raging alcoholic. Some become alcoholic, and some are so opposed to the thought of drinking they abstain from it for a life time,” he paused and lowered his hand. I thought about what he said.

“So you’re thinking maybe my father grew up seeing his father doing what I witnessed my father doing – and he just ended up abusing instead of abstaining?” I rubbed my chin and looked around the room. “It’s a thought. It’s possible. We’ll never know,” he responded. It made sense. Everything he had said about my hoodie and when I started wearing it as a child. The fact my childhood blanket had been used for security of sorts; and it was kept in a footlocker full of mothballs. My grandfather and his devotion to boxing; maybe it was why he got me involved in boxing. It was possible, I suppose, he started boxing as an outlet after my grandmother left. Knowing and understanding these things didn’t allow me to forgive my father for what he did, but it was beginning to help me understand. As adults, we are a product of what we were exposed to as children. Generations of abuse breed generations of abusers. Until one person is strong enough to break the chain. I’m strong enough. I stood from the couch and pressed my jeans with my hands, removing the wrinkles. He stood from his chair and walked around his desk, a business card in his hand. “Would you like to make another appointment for your next session?” he asked.

“No sir, I’m done here. I appreciate your help. I’ll be fine,” I pulled my hood over my head. “Good luck in your upcoming fight, Mr. Dekkar. I’m here if you need me,” he said as he handed me the business card. I placed the business card in my pocket and turned to face the door. I inhaled a slow breath through my nose and exhaled out my mouth. I grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the door, knowing the fight was the farthest thing from my mind right now. We all fight our battles differently. I chose to fight mine in the ring. My father fought his in Afghanistan and Iraq. Kace fought her battle attempting to make a relationship work which was destined to lose. We fight to form ourselves into something or someone we wouldn’t naturally become. We fight to become stronger. And the strength, ultimately, allows us to continue to fight. And the fighting builds strength and provides us with experience until we are strong enough to stand on our own. I slid my hand under my shirt and felt my chest. Bare. Bare of the dog tags I had always carried as a reminder of my father and his devotion to fight for what he believed to be just, right and moral. I walked through the lobby to the front door and opened it. Holding the door handle in my hand, I

stood in the opening. I took a deep breath and looked out into the street. And I stepped out into the world with a mind full of new memories. Full of memories but free of the chains that have bound me for so many years. I stepped out into the world. Free.

20

KACE. Shane had been home from the hospital for three weeks. He seemed measurably different since returning from the hospital, in good ways. He was more loving, willing to spend time being lazy around the house with me, and had been taking time to cuddle and do girlish things with me. It was entirely possible the hospital was something he needed for a long time. It was probably necessary to get his mind clear after losing his father and grandfather in such a short period of time. He never talked to me about the trip to my mother’s house, passing out, the ambulance ride, or what the doctor told him during his stay in the hospital. The afternoon after we left him in the hospital, he called from a restaurant and explained he was done with all of his medical tests. He said whenever

we were ready Ripp and I could come get him. The day in the restaurant was the last we spoke of any of it. I know something inside of him changed, because he had not worn his dog tags since the day he tore them off and dropped them on the floor at my mother’s house. The dog tags were his life, his good luck charm, and his only real tie to his father. I think they might have caused part of the problem, because he tore them off right before he collapsed. Initially, I didn’t really know how to treat it, so I placed them on the kitchen counter for him to pick up whenever he was ready. That night, they were gone. He didn’t wear them, but I knew he took them from the counter. The next day, while Shane was showering, I accidentally threw away my driver’s license when I was cleaning out my wallet. As soon as I realized it, I dug through the trash to try and find it. When I did, I saw the chain in the trash. I reached in and pulled at the chain, and found the dog tags attached, wrapped in paper to hide them. I put them away until he decides he wants or needs them. I don’t want to mention them and make him upset if he doesn’t want to talk about it. I know whatever reason he was upset had to do with his father, and right now his father is a delicate subject. I don’t want to upset Shane, not now. Not every for that matter. For now, I just want to enjoy

him the way he is. “Babe, where are you?” he asked as he walked in the door. “I’m in here,” I answered from the living room. He walked into the living room holding a sack in his hand. His boots were clean and polished, and he was wearing a new black hoodie. “Look,” he said as he held one foot forward for me to see. “They’re clean. They look good. I like your new hoodie,” I said as I looked back and forth between the cooking channel and his clean boots. “No, babe. They’re new,” he said. “You bought new boots?” I asked as I turned off the television. “Brand fucking new,” he said. He has changed. “Holy cow. Where are the old ones?” I asked as I stood from the couch. “Garage. I put ‘em up. Got a new hoodie, too,” he said as he slowly turned in a circle. “I love it, it looks comfy. The old one?” “Garage,” he responded. “Oh, wow. And how long had you been wearing those old boots?” I asked. “Uhhm. Well, six. No, seven. Eight. Yeah, eight years,” he responded. “Wow,” I said, glad that he finally replaced them.

He looked inside the sack he held, pulled out a receipt, and then handed it to me. “There’s a few dresses in there. Go in the bedroom and try them on for me,” he smiled. “You bought me dresses?” I asked as I eagerly grabbed the bag from his grasp. As he nodded his head, he unzipped and removed his hoodie. I looked inside the bag. One dress was black and one was a burnt orange color. I loved getting gifts, and I love clothes. I hadn’t received a gift for around ten years as far as I could remember. Holding the bag in my hand, I reached around his neck and hugged him. “Thank you, I love you, Shane,” I said. “I love you. Now go try them on,” he said as he sat on the couch and began to remove his boots. “Can I come out and model them for you?” I asked as I walked to the room. “Yes, that’s what I want. I want you to try them on and come out here so I can see,” he said as he shook his head. This is so exciting. I ran to the room and shut the door. I held up the black dress. Black is elegant. Boring. I held up the orange dress. Oh my, this is nice. It’s going to look so good. I got undressed and put on the orange dress and looked in the mirror. I looked fabulous. Awesome sauce.

If I go out there in this one first, then the black one will be last, and I won’t end it with a bang. I took the orange dress off and put on the black one. I looked great, but I needed shoes. I opened the closet and dug for my favorite 4” heels. I found the heels and pulled them onto my feet. I stood and looked in the mirror. Oh wow. Wow. I opened the drawer to my dresser and pulled out my perfume and one of my folded tee shirts. I sprayed the folded tee shirt with perfume, pulled up the dress, and rubbed the tee shirt under my chest. That ought to do it. I looked in the mirror and pulled my hair behind my ears the way he likes to see it. Ok, here we go. I grabbed the door handle and looked in the mirror. I look too conservative. As I turned the door handle, I shook my head and walked out into the living room. “Don’t move,” he said as soon as I walked out of the bedroom. “Why? What’s wrong?” I asked, startled. “Don’t. Kace, don’t move,” he said as he stood up from the couch, “Take a step back by the door.” “What?” I asked as I stood a few steps into the living room.

“Just back up one or two steps, into the light,” he said as he walked toward the kitchen. Slowly, I stepped backward two steps. “Right there, don’t move,’ he said from the edge of the kitchen. He grabbed his phone and started walking my direction. He stood a few feet in front of me and held his phone in front of him, looking at the screen. As I stood there smiling, he took a few pictures of me with his phone. He looked at the phone, scrolled through the pictures, and knelt down closer to the floor. He took another picture and looked at the phone, “Perfect.” “Kace, you’re as beautiful of a human being as has ever existed. Looking at you is proof there is a God, he pays attention to his work, and he appreciates it. I wonder what I have ever done to deserve having the ability to just come home to you every day,” he said as he stood and stared at the screen of the phone. “Look at this,” he said as he held his phone in front of my face and stepped beside me. I looked at the screen. The girl looking back at me was beautiful. Her hair was blonde and healthy looking. Wearing a new black dress and heels, she looked elegant. Her skin held on to the late summer tan, and was free of blemishes. As I studied the picture I realized Shane had changed me. He had

made me confident. He gave me reason to believe I was beautiful. He asked me daily, several times, who’s the most beautiful girl in the world? He knew what he was doing. Looking at the screen of the phone, I realized he was right. I was beautiful. And Shane knew it. Long before I realized it, he knew it. He brought it to my attention. He told me over and over, in his own way. And now he stood beside me showing me. He truly believed I was beautiful for all of this time, and now he was making sure I knew it. I tried to remember the last time I looked at a picture of myself. I couldn’t even recall the last time. I had no reason to have pictures. Josh’s rules really didn’t let me take, send, or have a reason to need pictures. “I could just look at you for a lifetime,” Shane said as he looked up from the screen of the phone. “Do it,” I responded, “Do it.” “I intend to,” he chuckled as he tossed the phone onto the floor. “Want me to try on the other dress now?” I asked, standing there a little more confident than before. “Take that one off, Kace,” he said. “Want to see the other one?” I asked again, excited to put on the other dress. “Take it off, Kace. Now. Take it off. I can’t take

it any longer. Looking at you makes me realize you’re real. Here’s the thing, Kace. Every time I come home, every time I meet you for lunch, every time I wake up and look over at you,” he paused and placed his hands on either side of my face. He held my face and looked into my eyes, “You’re more beautiful than I ever remember you being.” I melted into a puddle. “Kace, every time I go somewhere with you, I hold my head high. Proud you’re stepping down to my level. I’m surprised someone like you would even be with someone like me. I stand beside you proudly, hopeful I can make you a fraction as happy as you make me. I love you, Kace,” he said as he kissed me softly. As he pulled away from my lips, he focused on my face, “Off, Kace. Now.” “Okay, I’ll go grab the other one,” I sighed, still full of emotion from his little speech. “No,” he said as he grabbed my shoulders and turned me around. I felt him unzip the zipper of the dress. The dress fell to the floor. He knelt down at my feet, removed my shoes one at a time, and tossed the dress to the side. Dressed in my panties and bra, he led me by my hand into the bedroom. A certain satisfaction filled me as we walked into the room. I was satisfied Shane cared for me

enough to buy me gifts and remind me I was beautiful. I’m further satisfied he loved me – and he accepted my love in return. As we reached the bed, he turned me around and lowered my body onto it. Slowly, I allowed myself to fall to the bed. His fingers slid to my panties, pulling them along my thighs. I raised my feet and kicked my legs to free my panties from my feet. I sat up slightly and reached back to unhook my bra as he pulled his shirt over his head. As he reached to unbuckle his belt, his bicep muscles flexed and twitched. He stood at the end of the bed as he removed his jeans and looked like an absolute God. Shane Dekker was the sweetest man I had ever met. He was also the most brutal man to ever enter the boxing ring. He was now, and would always remain the most gorgeous man I have even seen in my life. His innocence and shy nature did nothing but added to the fact he was as tough as almost anyone on earth – it made him even more attractive. It made him human. Soon he may be fighting for the Heavyweight Champion in the World title. Looking at him stand before me made it almost difficult to believe. As I tossed my bra to the floor, I wiped the drool from my lips. Now standing naked, he inched his way beside me on the bed. Shane knew by now all I had to do

was see him without a shirt, listen to him speak, or watch him get undressed and I was as wet as I would ever become. “Babe?” he whispered. I turned my head to face him. As our eyes met, he began to kiss me. As he kissed me his hands touched the sides of my face lightly. He touched my face almost every time we kissed, and it drove me insane with emotion. It was the one thing which always pushed me over the edge. His soft lips against mine, I moaned as he kissed me. One of his hands left my face and began to massage my breasts. He began to roll my nipple between his index finger and thumb. An electrical charge felt as if it were traveling from my nipple to my aching pussy. Foreplay with Shane Dekker wasn’t foreplay at all, it was torture. Lying on his side beside me on the bed, he moved his mouth from my lips to the edge of my neck. As he drug his teeth down the side of my neck, I felt goose bumps rise from my calf to my shoulder. His lips began to kiss my collar bone and work their way back up my neck to my jaw. My entire body felt as if it were on fire. As he kissed my jaw and worked his way down to my chin, his hands found my breasts. I closed my eyes and focused on his mouth. My breasts cupped in each of his hands, he started squeezing them as

he kissed my chin and neck. He opened his mouth wide and began kissing the front of my neck. I arched my back and tilted my head back, exposing my neck for his pleasure. As he licked and kissed my neck, he began to moan. No, don’t do that. Don’t moan. I opened my eyes. The muscles on the backs of his arms flexed as he squeezed my breasts. His perfectly flat stomach was against my hips and mid-section as he kissed the side of my face and chin. I watched his chest muscles as he kissed up and down my neck. I reached down and fumbled for his cock. As I gripped it in my hand, he began to groan. “Oh God, Kace,” he moaned as he raised his mouth from my chin. “Lay down,” I said, “Lay on your back.” I pushed against his shoulder, forcing him to roll to his back. As he did, I kissed my way along his body toward his waist. “Don’t move. Let me do this for you, please,” I begged. I kissed his neck and worked my way to his chest. Knowing I could not last for very long, I bit each of his nipples and moved to the center of his torso. I rubbed my hands along his washboard abs as I kissed along his stomach. Holding my hands on

his stomach, I moved my mouth to his hard cock. “Hold my hair so it doesn’t get in my mouth,” I said. Silently, he reached for my hair and held it behind my head. I opened my mouth and began to lick the tip of his cock. As I licked and kissed the tip, I moved my hand from his stomach and grabbed his cock in my hand. I pulled my mouth away from the tip and watched as I began to stroke his cock. Being able to do things like this was very pleasurable to me. I had never been in a position where I was allowed or able to enjoy myself sexually. Shane’s fear of causing me harm or emotional damage prevented him from being aggressive with me sexually, and I was able to show him through my actions what I preferred and enjoyed. It was a learning experience for both of us each time we had sex. “I like your cock in my hand,” I said as I stroked it. I sat up on the bed and began to stroke it faster. I leaned over and slid my mouth down the shaft as far as I could a few times, making the entire length wet. I pulled my mouth from the tip and began stroking it again. “But,” I said as I raised myself from the bed and stepped over his thighs. I like it in here better.

I lowered myself onto his hard cock as I spread my pussy open with my fingers. As the tip penetrated me, I had a light orgasm. I sighed and lowered myself slowly down until I had his entire cock inside of me. Once down as far as I could go, I wiggled my ass against his upper thighs. “See? All gone,” I said as I proudly pointed to my pussy. I leaned forward and placed my hands on each side of his chest and took a deep breath. I raised myself up the shaft of his cock until my pussy was at the rim of the tip. I bit my lip and lowered myself down the shaft until it was buried inside of me. I exhaled. “Did you see that?” I asked. He nodded eagerly. “You do realize this doesn’t hurt me, right?” I rose up again, almost to the tip. “See that,” I said as I pointed to his glistening cock. He nodded, “Yeah, fuck yeah I do.” I dropped myself down the length of his stiff cock and gasped as it bottomed out. I pointed to my soaking wet pussy, “Gone. See that? Gone.” I worked my way up slowly. As I did, he propped himself onto his elbows and leaned forward to watch. “Your cock is huge. I fucking love it. Pay

attention, because I’m going to fuck you, Shane. I’m going to see how I like this. I’ll let you know,” I smiled. I began working my hips as quickly and ferociously as I could. My pussy was beyond soaked. His cock worked in and out of my wet pussy as quickly as I could fuck it. My only limitation was what little friction there was, and there wasn’t much, because the wetness from my pussy was running down his cock onto his hips. With my hands on his chest I began to moan and scream. “You….” “Don’t….Oh fucking God.” “Make me nervous,” I breathed. “Because I fucking,” I bucked my hips up and down, swallowing his cock inside of me with each stroke. “Not nervous…Because I…Love you,” I said. “Holy shit, I’m gonna cum,” I continued rocking my hips slowly, taking all of him inside me. Almost as if he were in a trance, He stared at my pussy, watching each stroke as my ass and pussy rose up from his lap. “I love your….okay….I’m gonna cum now,” I gasped. I closed my eyes as they rolled back in my head. I felt myself begin to climax as I focused on the feeling of his thick cock inside of me. My entire

body shook as I came all over Shane’s cock. I held my body still and pressed on his chest, sitting on him with my eyes closed. His hands reached up and touched my hips. As soon as his fingers touched me, I jumped. “Are you okay, babe?” he asked. “Yeah, don’t touch me,” I said, before I really knew what I was saying. “Don’t touch you? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked quietly. I raised my hands from his chest and waved my arms in front of him. “Shhhh. Don’t talk to me. Don’t touch me,” I laughed. I was in some post-climax bliss. My entire body was tingling, and when he touched me it sent a tingly shock throughout my body. It was just too much for me to take. I needed more practice. Fucking Shane was so much different. So much more enjoyable. Right now, I needed to recover and come back to earth. Silence. I wanted the feeling, forever. The right here. The right now. I wanted to bask in it for a lifetime. The feeling was what my books were written about. Everyone wants this and no one actually gets it. I was heaven. This is life with Shane Dekkar. “Babe you’re shaking,” he said as his hand

touched my thigh. “Don’t talk,” I said as I opened my eyes. He looked up at me, his face filled with worry. “I need a minute,” I said. His eyes widened. I closed my eyes, “It’s good, babe. The good kind of don’t talk to me. The good kind of don’t touch me. The, oh my God, I want this feeling to last forever type of feeling. That’s what I’ve got going on.” I paused and took a slow, deep breath. “It’s okay, I’m fine now. You can talk,” I said as I slid back on his thighs toward his knees. “What happened?” he asked. I shrugged my shoulders and looked at him in amazement. “You happened, Shane. You happened,” I responded, still in a daze. Slowly, he smiled. “You knew you were going to do this to me, didn’t you?” I asked. He tapped me once on the thigh. “Fucker,” I smiled. “Kace, I didn’t ask for this. I wasn’t looking for a girlfriend. I wasn’t trying to find a partner, a wife, a whatever. All I know is this – you entered my life, and when you did, things changed. Things inside of me changed. The feelings you cause me to feel, they’re different. They’re not like other feelings I

have ever had. Now that I have felt this, I know what everyone talks about. I know what it’s like to feel as if you need someone to just survive. It scares me. You scare me,” he said as he sat up in the bed. “I scare you? Seriously?” I slid off of his legs and lay down beside him, my head resting on my hand. “The good kind,” he chuckled, now sitting straight up in the bed. “I don’t need. I never have. I have always been fine being alone. I’ve always known it’s how I’d live my life, I suppose - alone and happy. Now that I’ve met you - now that we have this - I can’t deny it’s meant to be. Kace, I’m scared to death to try and live without you,” he said. I looked into his eyes and felt full of emotion. I felt full of pride. Full of love. I was about to cry, and I don’t like to cry. “You’ll never be without me, Shane. Never,” I said as I rubbed his arm with my free hand. “Never?” he asked. “Never,” I responded. He made a fist and held it over his chest. I made a fist and tapped it against his clenched hand. “You’re stuck now,” he said. “How so?” I asked. “We just shook on it,” he said.

And the way Shane’s mind works… We just became one.

21

SHANE. “You think he’s ready, Mike?” Kelsey asked. “I’m ready,” I said as I set my water down on the table. Kelsey turned his head to face me and scrunched his brow, “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to Mike.” “Mean face,” Kace said laughing. Kelsey looked at Kace and scowled as Ripp put his beer on the table and inhaled deeply. “Well, I ain’t saying this because he’s sitting here, you know me better than that. I can say I’ve watched all the videos. I’ve studied this guy Mc Claskey, and if he does what we’ve been practicing,” Ripp nodded his head my direction. “That guy ain’t got a fucking chance. Dekk’s gonna slaughter him,” Ripp finished.

“Well, we can’t go into this thinking we got it in the bag. It damned sure isn’t gonna be easy. It’s gonna be a bitch, you hear me?” Kelsey said as he turned to face me. “A bitch boss,” I said. “God damn it, I ain’t fucking kidding. You two arrogant assholes,” Kelsey said as he pressed his hands against the table and flexed his forearms. “Flexin’ on me boss?” I chuckled. “Get the ticket, I’m buying,” Kelsey said as he let go of the table. “Kace ain’t done eating yet,” Ripp said as he pointed to Kace, who was just starting to eat her salad. “Don’t mean I can’t pay. Now you’re gonna be there, right? I need you to be there,” Kelsey said toward Kace. “I’m his cheerleader,” Kace responded in between bites. “And you’ll be there?” Kelsey said as he nodded his head toward Kace again. “Damn, Kelsey,” I complained. “I need her to say it,” he said. “Yes sir. I will be there,” Kace responded as she made a fist with her hand. She held her fist over the table toward Kelsey. Kelsey turned and looked toward Ripp and then directly at me. “Don’t look at me,” I said.

“I got this,” Kace laughed, shaking her fist over the center of the table. “Do it,” Ripp said toward Kelsey. Kelsey made a fist and reached out toward Kace’s fist. As Kace smacked her fist sharply against his she shook her head, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “It’s settled,” she said, “We shook on it.” “What do you think about the title fight, boss? If I win?” I asked. “Shit, that’s in the bag,” Ripp responded. “He’s right,” Kelsey said as he nodded his head toward Ripp, “If you win this fight, you’ll be a shoe-in for the Heavyweight Championship fight. All we’ll have to do is ask. For him not to fight you would be suicide for his career. This is it, kid. This is the fight,” Kelsey said. “What did I tell you about that kid shit,” I laughed. Kelsey had been calling me kid since the day we met. At first, it bothered me, and now it was just part of Kelsey being Kelsey. He did it to try to drive me, to build my spirit, and to give me the inner anger I needed to fight. He didn’t realize it, but there was no need to call me names. It didn’t give me reason to fight. My reason was inside of my soul, my inner demons. This was who I was, not something developed from taunting or teasing. “I want the title. I want to get the title, and

then…” I thought about trying to fight for the title, and what I would do if I won. Retire undefeated, holding the Heavyweight Championship belt? Defend the title? Take the pay-off and spend a lifetime of being happy with Kace? Have kids? “And then?” Ripp asked as he finished drinking his beer, “then what?” I turned and looked at Kace, as if she held the answer. I looked at Kelsey as he raised one eyebrow. “We’re going to defend that motherfucker, aren’t we kid?” Kelsey said. I shrugged my shoulders, not really knowing the answer. I had to win the fight on the table now, it was first. Other than fighting Ripp, I hadn’t had a fight since I fought Wilson. Not that Ripp was less of a fighter than anyone I else could find, but fighting Ripp was different. It was easy for me to fight Ripp. Getting in the ring with him was like going to work. I knew what to expect before, during, and after the fight. As great as the sparring had been between us, and as much as I appreciated the fact he had helped train me for the last few months, I wondered. “We’ve got to win this fight first, boss. Let’s focus on this one right now,” I responded.

“Done,” Kace said as she proudly shoved her empty plate to the center of the table. “You eat like a girl,” Kelsey laughed. “I am a girl,” Kace responded as she reached for her glass of water. “I normally don’t like women around my fighters before a fight. They need to go into these things cock strong. You seem to give Shane strength. I like that,” Kelsey said. “What’s cock strong?” Kace asked. Ripp and I chuckled, neither really wanting to answer her question. Ripp turned to Kace and smiled, “It’s when… well…what he means is this. It’s when a fighter or a player goes the entire length of time before a fight or a big game without getting any relief. Without getting any…” “Pussy,” he whispered. Kace turned toward me and then slowly rotated her head to face Kelsey. She locked her eyes on his. Slowly, she leaned forward on the table and rested on her elbows on the edge. As she lowered her chin into her hands, she smiled. “Too late,” she said very matter-of-factly. “Are you fucking serious?” Kelsey cried, turning from facing Kace to facing me. Without an immediate response, he turned to look at Ripp. Ripp shrugged his shoulders and stood up.

“Ready?” Ripp asked. “Yep,” I responded as I stood up, “Let’s get.” Still seated, Kelsey turned to face Kace; who remained in her seat, still seated as she was when she spoke to Kelsey a moment before. Kelsey leaned his elbows on the table to mimic Kace, and placed his chin in his hands. Ripp stood up and pushed his hands into his pockets. Kelsey and his superstitious beliefs. It was too late to correct it now. Kelsey would be certain to blame Kace if the fight was lost. In his mind, my having sex preceding the fight would be a definite way to seal a loss. I had never dreamed sex would come up in conversation; or I wouldn’t have brought Kace to the pre-fight dinner. “Seriously?” Kelsey asked again, staring directly into Kace’s eyes. “No,” she chuckled as she remained focused on Kelsey. “I know better than to fuck a man before a fight. Even if he asked me, I’d tell him no. I want him to win this more than you do,” she said as she made a fist and held it in the center of the table. Kelsey made a fist and smacked it against hers sharply, “I like this girl, kid. She’s got spunk.” You have no idea. I thought. You have no idea.

22

KACE. Something about watching two men fight each other in a confined space was very exciting to me. I never would have guessed it would be something I would enjoy; but I doubt after seeing a boxing match for my first time there’s any one event which would ever satisfy me more. The two men covered in sweat, the fighting, the arena full of adrenaline, and the fact one of the two men was my boyfriend was enough to make me an excited wet mess for the entire fight and many hours afterward. Watching. Men. Fight. Makes. Me. Wet. Part of the problem with Shane’s fights was they never lasted that long. “There he is Ripp. Here he comes,” I jumped up and down and pointed as Shane came up the aisle toward the ring. Watching Shane walk, in general, excited me.

Seeing Shane walk into this crowd was the most excited I had ever been in my life. The fight was an undercard fight for the championship, and was televised on pay television. If Shane won, he will be offered a fight for the Heavyweight Championship of the World - the equivalent of the Super Bowl for boxers. “Damn he looks good, shorty. These fuckin’ seats are the shit. Ringside, fuck yeah,” Ripp said as pulled me close to him. “Mc Claskey’s a fucking punk!” Ripp screamed toward Shane when he walked by. Shane turned and looked our direction for a brief second, nodded his head and winked. Kelsey turned and scowled, probably aggravated that we would break Shane’s concentration on his way to the ring. Kelsey was a very superstitious man, and he wanted Shane to win the fight more than Shane did. “Fuck You Kelsey!” Ripp screamed through his cupped hands. Ripp was obviously as excited as I was. He was a great fighter, but he didn’t fight as often as Shane did. He fought lower rate fighters, and other than the fight with Shane, had never been beaten. He had never taken the time to have a good manager, trainer, or fighting schedule. He enjoyed having the title of being undefeated, but really wasn’t willing to take many chances to risk losing it.

“How much longer? Is this like any other match?” I was so excited I could barely contain myself. “Just a little more bullshit because it’s a televised fight It’ll be going here in just a minute or two,” Ripp responded as he waved his fists. Our seats were ringside seats. They were in the front, right beside the ring, and close to the aisle Shane walked down to get to the ring. Our position would allow us to see all of the action almost like we were standing in the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen…..” the announcer said into the microphone. I felt almost sick. I realized I was still standing, and had never sat down. I looked at Ripp, who was also standing. This was becoming very real. Cameras were everywhere filming the event from every angle. “In the blue corner. Shane,” the announcer paused. “Shame on,” he paused again and looked both directions. “Dehhhhhkkaaaaarrrr,” he said the last name very slow and strung out. “You got this, Dekk. You fucking got this!” Ripp screamed. “And, in the red corner,” the announcer started. “That son-of-a-bitch is bigger than I am. God

damn. He’s fucking huge,” Ripp whispered my direction as the announcer was speaking. I turned to Ripp, “Shane’s gonna be okay, right?” “Yeah, he’ll be fine. Dekk’s mean as a god damned snake, Shorty. Meanest mother fucker I ever met. Don’t forget that. The man he becomes in the ring. You don’t know that man. And you don’t want to,” Ripp responded. “Shane’s gonna be okay though?” I asked. “Shorty, he’ll be fine. I’ve seen him in street fights and in the ring. Nobody’s going to beat him. When he walks into a fight, he flips a switch. He becomes a fighter, not some ordinary man who’s boxing. The devil’s blood pumps through him,” Ripp reassured me. “Okay,” I turned back toward the ring. “Ding!” “Here we go,” Ripp screamed. Shane immediately went to the center of the ring. The other fighter circled around him. Shane threw a few punches toward Mc Claskey’s face. The impact of the gloves made a thud as they hit the fighter’s face and body. Shane and Mc Claskey exchanged punches back and forth like they were in a punching contest, just trading punches back and forth in turns. “C’mon Dekk, you can’t brawl with this big prick, he’s too strong. Use your speed,” Ripp

screamed toward the ring. “What’s happening?” I asked. Ripp turned to face me, “He’s brawling. Just toe-to-toe fighting this big bastard. Mc Claskey will kill him. He’s too fucking big. Dekk’s gotta box his ass. Out think him.” “Ten seconds, Dekk,” Ripp screamed. Ding! “My stomach hurts,” I said as soon as Shane walked back toward the corner of the ring. “Mine too, that’s ten-nine Mc Claskey for sure,” Ripp said as he shook his head. “God damn it, Dekk. Use your speed,” Ripp screamed toward the ring. “Shane didn’t do good?” I asked. “No Shorty, he didn’t. He might just be feeling this guy out. Seeing what his style is. He’s fighting southpaw, and this guy’s leftie too. We talked about it, and this guy doesn’t fight lefties very well. He does better against right handed fighters. But he can’t just stand and fight this big fucker. He’ll kill Dekk,” Ripp explained. I knew southpaw meant left handed in boxer slang. But Ripp said Shane would be fine. I didn’t like the thought of Shane getting hurt. I reached into my pocket and rubbed Shane’s dog tags. I had brought them for good luck, and didn’t tell Ripp or Shane. I knew how they were all superstitious about certain things.

“You said he’d be fine, Ripp,” I turned to Ripp and said softly. “Not if he keeps this up. But it’s only the first round,” Ripp responded. My stomach was in knots. I wanted this to be over. Thinking of Shane losing was sad, but the thought of him being hurt was something I could not even fathom. Kelsey put Shane’s mouthpiece back into his mouth and looked like he was scolding him. Kelsey had stood and screamed at Shane for most of the first round. I wondered if he was mad at Shane, or if this was something trainers did in the big fights to encourage a fighter to fight harder. According to Ripp, Shane became the devil in the ring. Nobody should be able to beat the devil. Not in a boxing match. Ding! Shane immediately went to the center of the ring, and Mc Claskey pushed him and punched him toward the corner of the ring. “Stay out of that corner. He’ll kill ya’, Dekk,” Ripp screamed. Within a few seconds Mc Claskey had Shane in the corner, smashing him against the ropes. Shane’s hands were covering his face, and the other fighter was swinging his fists wildly into Shane’s arms and stomach. Seeing him beaten like this was very difficult for me.

“Push him off, god damn it, Dekk. Get outta the corner,” Ripp screamed. Mc Claskey’s feet shuffled, and Shane pushed against him. At the same time, Shane swiveled his body and moved around Mc Claskey. As he did, he went to the center of the ring and began to bounce up and down on his feet. Thank God. My heart started racing as soon as Shane got out of the corner. Mc Claskey was now in the center of the ring, pushing against Shane with his fists held up against his face. As he pushed against Shane with his forearms, Shane swung wildly into his mid-section and threw a few wild uppercuts that missed. “Get him baby!” I screamed. I slapped Ripp’s shoulder and squealed, “He’s getting him, Ripp. He’s getting him.” Mc Claskey swung a punch up into Shane’s jaw, and it forced his head back sharply. Shane stumbled, and as soon as he did, I heard Ripp. “Oh, god damn,” Ripp mumbled. “What?’ I turned toward Ripp. “Oh fuck,” Ripp responded as he stared at the ring. His hands quickly covered his mouth. I turned back to the fight. Mc Claskey jabbed toward Shane, hitting him directly in the face as Shane was stepping away from him. As soon as the punch hit

Shane, he went down to the mat. “Oh my God. Oh my God, Ripp. He’s hurt!” I screamed. Seeing Shane down on the mat was unsettling to me. I didn’t think Shane has ever been knocked down, ever. He says, never been down and never been out, which means he’s never been knocked down and never been knocked out. He’s undefeated for a reason. Shane was better than this, something was wrong. I reached in my pocket, closed my eyes, and rubbed the dog tags again. Please, God. Make Shane see what he always sees. Make him understand what to do to keep from getting hurt. I am not asking you to have him win this fight. All I want, Lord, is for you to make him understand what he always understands. Make him see what he always sees. I love him Lord, don’t let him get hurt or die. Amen. “Good, thank God,” Ripp said as he pulled his hands from his mouth. “What?” I asked as Shane quickly stood up. “See how the referee waved his hands?” he asked as he pointed toward the ring. I hadn’t seen it, but I agreed, “Yeah.” “The Referee ruled it a slip, not a knockdown. Thank God. If this goes to the cards, that’d kill him,” Ripp whispered. “Oh. Good,” I whispered back.

“Get him babe,” I screamed. Shane was covered in sweat and his arm muscles were flexing each time he threw a swing or got close to the other fighter and defended himself. Seeing him hit the other fighter was exciting and made me wish he would start doing better. This Mc Claskey guy was huge and I didn’t like him beating on Shane. Ding! As soon as Shane came to the corner, Kelsey started yelling at him. Kelsey screamed at Shane the entire break. He even hit Shane’s arm a few times as he screamed. He turned and pointed toward Ripp and I a few times as he screamed at Shane. I didn’t like seeing Kelsey or Shane like this. The third round and the start of the fourth round were just like the first two rounds. Shane and Mc Claskey traded punches, and there was no real progress made by Shane toward winning. A few times, Mc Claskey got Shane into the corner. According to Ripp, it’s impossible to get Shane in the corner. Ripp said something was wrong with Shane. I wondered about what had changed since Shane’s last fight. The dog tags. This was the first fight he hadn’t had the dog tags during a fight. He doesn’t know they’re here. Maybe he needs to know I brought them.

Or. I considered maybe my being selfish and bringing the dog tags to the fight was causing him lose. Maybe he didn’t want them for a reason. I began to wonder if my bringing the dog tags was causing Shane to fight poorly. As the fourth round was coming close to the end, I considered walking to the trash barrel by the ring and throwing them away. I looked up at the fight. As Shane stepped from the corner, Mc Claskey swung a wild punch toward Shane. The punch caught Shane’s shoulder as he was stepping away, and Shane went down to the mat again. “It was a slip, Ref, it was a fucking slip,” Ripp screamed. I screeched as Shane hit the mat. The referee waved his arms, ruling it a slip. “Oh shit, Kelsey’s hollering for me. I’ll be right back,” Ripp said as he stepped out of his seat and walked to the corner of the ring. Ripp and Kelsey talked as Shane and Mc Claskey traded punches. Kelsey screamed at Ripp, pointed at Shane, and pointed at me. I could not tell what he was screaming about, but he seemed very angry. Ripp came back to his seat looking frantic. “Kelsey wants us to find someone with dog tags, shorty. We need to find someone with dog tags quick. Kelsey needs to try and get Shane invested in this fight, and he thinks Shane not having his dog

tags is the difference,” Ripp pleaded as he looked around the arena. I swallowed a lump in my throat. “I have Shane’s dog tags,” I said as I reached into my pocket. “The dog tags?” he asked. I nodded, somewhat embarrassed, “Yes, I dug them out of the trash.” “Holy fuck. C’mon,” he demanded as he grabbed my arm. As we started walking toward Kelsey, I pulled the dog tags from my pocket. Ripp took me right to the corner by Kelsey. I was embarrassed and filled with shame. “Boss, she’s got Dekk’s dog tags. The tags,” Ripp said as he grabbed my wrist, holding my hand up for Kelsey to see. “Praise the fucking Lord. Alright, listen to me,” he demanded as he grabbed my face with his hands. “Fucking listen,” he screamed at me as the bell sounded. Ding! “We’ve got one fucking minute, you’ve got about thirty seconds of that minute. Say something meaningful to him. And god damn it Kace, make it count,” he growled. Kelsey released my face and turned toward the ring. I looked up as Shane came to the corner. Kelsey screamed at Shane and Shane spit in the

bucket. He gave Shane water from the bottle and I stepped toward the ring with the dog tags in my hand. “Hey kid, lookie here,” Kelsey said as he stepped to Shane’s side and pointed toward me. “Shane,” I said quietly, attempting to get Shane’s attention. Without thinking, I held the dog tags behind my back and started talking. I let my mind and my mouth just flow, saying whatever came to mind. For once in my life, what I thought, felt, and said were the same. Nothing got jumbled, and everything just came out. “Your father fought his demons in the war, Shane. He made peace with himself, God, and probably your mother before or maybe just as he died. He fought in that war to make everything that was jumbled up inside his head make some kind of sense. You fight your demons in the boxing ring, babe. You wore these dog tags for years as a tribute to your father. The person he was hasn’t changed. It’s just your perception, Shane. He chose to fight in the war. He volunteered. He did it to make you proud of him. Now, it’s your turn. Do your god damned job. Make him proud.” I moved my hand from behind my back, producing the dog tags. I dangled them in front of Shane as I began to cry. Sitting on his stool, Shane glanced at Ripp,

turned toward Kelsey, and pounded his fists together; holding the dog tags between his gloves. Kelsey reached toward Shane’s mouth with the mouthpiece. Shane shook his head and released the dog tags into my hands. “I got this,” he said toward Ripp and me. He turned to Kelsey, “My way.” Kelsey shoved the mouthpiece into Shane’s mouth as the bell rang. Shane jumped up and shuffled to the center of the ring. Ripp and I hurried back to our seats. As we got into place, Ripp turned to face me. “You damn near had me in tears, Shorty. You did real well. Now, hold those things tight in your hand,” he motioned to the dog tags hanging from the chain in my hand. I gripped the dog tags and turned to face the ring, Shane was fighting in close with Mc Claskey. Mc Claskey was pounding Shane just like in the other rounds – beating his mid-section and arms. Mc Claskey swung a wild uppercut and missed Shane’s chin by an inch as Shane leaned away from the punch. Mc Claskey worked Shane into the corner and began clenching him – almost hugging him as they pressed against the ropes in the corner of the ring. Both fighters were covered in sweat, their muscles twitching as they pressed against each other and

threw the occasional punch. “He’s tired, Shorty. That big fucker’s tired, he’s clenching him. Dekk’s no fool,” Ripp screamed as he pointed to the corner where they were fighting. “Get out of that corner, Dekk. He’s worn out already,” Ripp screamed. Shane began twisting his body, attempting to break free from between Mc Claskey and the ropes. As Mc Claskey stepped back, Shane broke free, and Mc Claskey fell into the ropes. Shane immediately went to the center of the ring, leaving Mc Claskey at the corner. Mc Claskey turned, and began to work his way slowly to the center of the ring. As he did, Shane pounded his fists together and curled his gloves toward his chest repeatedly. “Oh shit,” Ripp laughed. “He’s taunting him,” he said as he pointed at the ring. “He’s calling him out. That’s like a slap in the face,” Ripp chuckled. “C’mon, Dekk!” Ripp screamed. As soon as Mc Claskey got close enough to Shane to swing, he threw a punch. Shane moved his head to the right, and the punch flew past his head. My heart began to race. As soon as Mc Claskey pulled his hand back, Shane shuffled his feet, and began dancing around Mc Claskey, curling his gloves.

“What the fuck?” Ripp said. “What?” I asked. “Well, look. He’s switching it up. He’s switched to orthodox. He’s gonna fight him orthodox. What the fuck’s he doing?” Ripp kind of chuckled as he spoke. I knew that orthodox meant right handed. Shane could fight both ways, and depending on who he was fighting, would train to fight one way or the other. He had trained to fight this fight left handed - switching his style in the middle of the fight was not normal. Kelsey began screaming toward the center of the ring. Mc Claskey worked his way toward Shane. As he approached, Shane hit him in the face and shoulders with a series of quick jabs. Mc Claskey began to raise his gloves, and as soon as he did, Shane hit him in the stomach. Mc Claskey’s face looked like he’d been shot. Obviously Shane got him with a good one. Shane continued to pummel Mc Claskey’s torso with punches and would swing an uppercut every few punches. Ripp started screaming. The entire crowd started to stand up and cheer. Mc Claskey threw a few short punches and attempted to clutch Shane, holding him in close. Shane pushed his gloves against Mc Claskey and

stepped back, freeing himself from his grasp. Immediately, as they separated, Shane hit Mc Claskey with a series of punches – initially to the mid-section and then to the face and shoulders. A wild uppercut barely missed. Mc Claskey offered little if anything in return. The crowd continued to roar. Shane stepped back. Mc Claskey approached. As he did, Shane hit him with left and right jabs in the face. As Mc Claskey raised his gloves to his face, Shane hit his gloves. Some of the fans began chanting. I tried to block them out and stay focused on the fight. Shane began to work Mc Claskey’s mid-section harder and harder, hitting him two dozen times to Mc Claskey’s two or three. As soon as Mc Claskey would attempt to fight back, Shane would step aside or away. Mc Claskey seemed to become tired. Shane was winning now, and my view of the fight changed completely. This was exciting and somewhat erotic, watching Shane beat Mc Claskey like this. I felt myself begin to tingle as Shane beat Mc Claskey’s face with a series of punches. Get him baby. Get him good. Shane was covered in sweat and his muscles flared with each swing. His hair was wet. His face, shoulders, legs, and chest - all soaked. Something about a man covered in muscles and sweat really made me feel uneasy.

In a good way. As Shane continued to beat on Mc Claskey, I began to feel myself getting wet. Ding! The crowd began to clap. “Oh my God, that was exciting,” I looked toward Ripp, smiling. Ripp was rubbing his bald head and appeared to not even hear me. I turned to watch Shane and Kelsey. Kelsey was screaming at Shane and hitting his shoulders as he squirted water in his mouth. My heart raced. People started chanting again. I looked up at the steel structure above us and listened at the chants of the crowd. Shame…..on! Shame…..on! Shame…..on! Ding! “Ripp, they’re screaming for Shane!” I screeched as the bell rang. The crowd continued to cheer. The cheers seemed to fuel Shane. Ripp and Kelsey both had said Shane heard everything as he fought. I squeezed the dog tags between my hands and hoped the cheers gave Shane courage. I turned toward Ripp, who stood shaking his fists in front of his chest. As I turned back to the ring, Shane stood in the center as Mc Claskey approached. Shane pounded

his gloves together. “Here we go,” Ripp screamed. Do it again, baby. Do it again.

23

SHANE. If this prick thinks he has me figured out, he’s dead wrong. C’mon, you big son-of-a-bitch. Mc Claskey approached and held his gloves close to his face. From what I could see in the first rounds, he didn’t have much to counter my speed. Ripp, Kelsey, and Kace probably thought I was crazy in the first four rounds. I had to see what this big fucker was made of. He’s strong as fuck. He’s soft. And he’s slow. I stepped in close and switched to southpaw. Here’s where I belong, big boy. Coming at ya with… This. I swung a right hook into his ribs. As he exhaled

what little breath might have been in his lungs, his face had a look of surprise his eyes couldn’t hide. I swung a left cross and caught the bottom of his jaw. As he turned to try to take me to the ropes, I stepped in close and clenched him, holding him still. What, you big muscled up prick? You don’t like fighting? You wanna wrestle? He should have known I didn’t like to push and shove. I let go and pushed him off. I came here to fight. I unleashed a series of punches to his midsection - an unanswered barrage of hooks and jabs which would have dropped any previous fighter in my career. I swung an uppercut, and barely missed his jaw. Shame… On. Shame… On. The crowd cheered my name. I have never been a vain person, but an entire arena chanting my name was something I had never heard before. I hated to admit it, but I liked it. The chanting provided me a reason to show Mc Claskey why I chose boxing as a career. He attempted to get me off of him with a right jab. An uppercut followed. Both were dodged without much effort. I stepped to his right, and

swung a left hook into his ribs. Oh shit, that felt like it cracked. I’ve always said the eyes don’t lie. And his didn’t. He was hurt. I knew what was next. Lord. Prevent me from… I swung a right-left hook combo into his torso. Killing… I threw a series of jabs to get him off balance. This big bastard. I threw my signature left hook into his ribs. He body twisted to his right, and both gloves came down for a fraction of a section. A fraction was all I needed. I swung a right uppercut that connected directly with the bottom of his jaw. I followed with a left jab and landed solid on the front of his chin. His chin came down just a touch and his gloves dropped completely. Everything went to slow motion for a moment. I heard the crowd cheering my name. I heard Kelsey pounding the mat, indicating the end of the round being only seconds away. And I heard, clear as day, Mike fucking Ripton scream. You got this, Dekk! A few times in my career, I have thrown a punch and regretted it. After they’re thrown, it’s impossible to stop, especially by someone with my speed and strength. The right cross I threw at Mc

Claskey’s temple was one of those punches. As soon as I threw it, I realized he was already unconscious. The punch connected on the left side of his temple. His head looked as if it was going to snap off of his neck. He fell to the mat. And he did not move. I vaguely remember seeing the referee step in. I turned toward the crowd. Everyone was on their feet, cheering. I looked at Mc Claskey. And he did not move. The referee waved his hands. And I realized I had gone the distance. Not in this fight, but in my career - and with Kace. The Heavyweight Championship of the world was next. If what I had read was correct, several million people should be watching Mc Claskey and I fight on Pay-Per-View. Without a doubt, I would be a household name overnight. The title fight would bring tens of millions of dollars, even if I lost the bout. Mc Claskey moved his head. Thank you Lord. When they finally got Mc Claskey to his feet, I heard the announcer before I noticed all of the people gathered around me. And it sunk in. I had actually won. “…of the sixth round. By knockout. The winner, Shane Shame on Dekkar.”

As Kace stepped into the ring, my dog tags dangling from her clenched fist, I saw the look of pride in her eyes. As I stared at her I further realized - not only had I won the fight - I had clearly won at the game of life.

24

KACE. I’ve felt a wide range of emotion in my life, but I had never felt the emotion I felt when Shane’s name was announced as the winner. I realized the potential upcoming Championship was a huge fight, but I really didn’t care if Shane ever fought again. The fight he had won, to me, was the big fight. “Shane, what’s next for you? Where do you go from here?” the television reporter asked. There were cameras and microphones everywhere. Shane had his arm around my shoulder, holding me close to his side. I clutched his dog tags tight in my hand. Ripp and Kelsey were both standing on Shane’s left side. I realized what the announcer asked, and waited to hear how Shane would respond. “Well, I’ll have to consult with my manager, my trainer, my sparring partner,” he paused and

slapped Ripp with his taped hand. “But, ultimately, I’ll have to consult with my little woman,” he pulled me close to his side and paused. The microphone immediately moved in front of my face. The reporter bent down, “So, ma’am, what’s next for Shane Dekkar?” A million thoughts ran through my head. Shane made had it this far, because he was a fighter. He fought not for money, not for fame, but to survive. He had told me he had demons, and the fighting allowed him to live. Out of the ring, Shane was the nicest man in the world and I couldn’t imagine him being any other way. If what he said was right, the fighting permitted him to be who he was in his life. The fighting allowed him to clear his head of all of the things that potentially made other men evil. To me, the answer was clear. “I, uhhm. I’ll say this. If Shane decides to challenge the Heavyweight Champion of the World, he has my blessing. But I’ll leave the decision up to him,” I almost whispered into the microphone. Shane pulled me tighter to his side. “So, what will it be Shane?” the reporter asked. “That’s all for tonight,” Shane smiled. “No more questions,” Kelsey said as he stepped in front of Shane. The reporter stepped aside and signed off to the

camera with a few last words. Shane, Ripp, Kelsey and I walked to the ropes and ducked out of the ring and onto the floor. As we began to walk toward the aisle, Kelsey eagerly started to talk to Shane. “So, Shane,” he paused and turned to Shane. “The championship fight. What are you thinking?” Kelsey asked. Ripp and Kelsey both turned to Shane as we walked up the aisle. “I’m not even thinking about that right now. I’m thinking about someone else’s ass I got to beat,” Shane said. “Oh?” Kelsey asked. “Kace’s,” Shane said sternly as he slowed his walking pace. “For digging through the god damned trash,” he chuckled as he stopped and turned to face me. Slowly, he bent at the waist and waited for me to hang the dog tags around his neck.

25

KACE. When I was young, I dreamt of being swept off of my feet. I hoped one day there would be a boy that would love me, cherish me, and treat me with respect. As I got older, my visions of how that person would act, what he might look like, and what he would do to and for me changed. In recent years, thoughts of whether or not it would ever happen diminished. Until now. “A Kace Meadows? Is there a Kace Meadows who works here?” The delivery man asked as soon as he stepped through the door. His shirt said F. T. C. I couldn’t even speak. I opened my mouth and… No words. I raised my hand.

“Are you Kace Meadows?” I tapped the desk once. Shit, he doesn’t know that code – one for yes, two for no. I nodded eagerly and pointed at my chest. “Okay, sign here,” he said as he pointed at the screen of his electronic pad. I signed quickly; still not convinced he had the right person or place. I’ve never received flowers in my entire life. Ever. “Okay. Here you go. The card’s right here,” he said as he pointed to a little card holder in the center of the arrangement. I eagerly nodded my head again. “Have a nice day,” he said as he turned toward the door. I nodded my head again. I pulled the card out of the holder and opened it. Kace, I warned you. I’m coming for it. Shane Roses and baby’s breath. I counted the roses. Twenty four. Normally, when I went to the grocery store, I would admire roses at the floral department and take time to sneak a smell. I love flowers. I had never received any from anyone, and I had always

wondered how it would make me feel to receive some. Nothing compares. Nothing. I re-read the card. I smelled the flowers again. Ahhhhh. Shane was an angel, he really was. He took so many precautions to make sure he never did anything to hurt me. Everything he said, did, wanted, or liked was based on what he thought would make me happy. All from a man who was as unforgiving and brutal as he was in the boxing ring. Sometimes I couldn’t comprehend how he could even be real. “Kace, are you there?” Mr. Martin asked from the other side of the desk. “I’m back here, Mr. Martin,” I giggled. “Oh, I couldn’t see you behind the forest of flowers,” he laughed. “They’re beautiful. I could smell them from my office. I didn’t need anything - I just wanted to see them. Flowers are as beautiful as the loved one who sends them, Kace,” he said as he bent down and smelled the roses. “Enjoy them,” he said as he turned away from the desk. “Oh, I will,” I responded excitedly. I spent most of the morning smelling my flowers. Before lunch, I received a text message

from Shane saying he was at the gym, and he would be busy for the remainder of the day. He said he would see me after work, and we would talk. I thanked him for the flowers, and he responded with a smiley face, which was out of character for him. He never texted, and he never sent smileys. After lunch, I walked back to the office and sat at my desk. The entire office smelled like roses. I felt so proud to have the flowers. I sat and tried to think of what Shane may want to talk about, and eventually decided he probably wanted my approval to fight the championship fight. The door opened again. A man in a uniform walked in. He had a sewn on patch on his blue uniform shirt. Lofton Mini Cooper. He leaned around the flowers and looked at me. “Are you Kace Meadows?” he asked. “Uhhm. Yes, I am. Can I help you?” I asked. “Yes, it’s about your car, can you come outside?” he asked as he turned and walked out the door. How rude. My heart sank. I had the same car since my senior year in high school. My Mazda Protégé. It had three hundred thousand miles on it, and it isn’t much, but it was all I had. If this rude man hit my car and it was damaged, I would have to take the bus to work. “Mr. Martin, I have to go outside. Something’s

happened to my car. I’ll be right back in,” I yelled down the hallway. “Okay, Kace. I’ll answer the phones,” he responded. I stepped outside the office door and onto the sidewalk. The man stood beside the curb with another man who wore a shirt just like his. “What happened to my car?” I asked. “I’m not sure what you mean, ma’am. We’re making a delivery. You’re Kace Meadows?” he asked. “Yes, I’m Kace Meadows, why?” I responded. He held out a set of car keys. “Delivery from Lofton Mini Cooper. From a Mr. Shane Dekkar. Just out of curiosity, how do you know Shane Dekkar?” he asked. Confused, I looked at him and responded, “He’s my boyfriend.” “Shane Dekkar, the boxer?” he asked. I nodded my head slowly. “Kip, this chic is Dekkar’s girlfriend. The guy from here in town who fought on Pay-Per-View. Shame on Dekkar,” he said over his shoulder to the other man in the uniform. “Holy shit. You think you could get us his autograph?” the other man asked. Still confused, I shrugged my shoulders, “Uhhm. I don’t know, maybe.” “Well, when you bring this in for service or

warranty work, bring him with you,” he said as he pointed toward the street. “I don’t understand what’s going on,” I responded. “Oh, sorry,” he said as he turned and dropped the keys into my hand. I scrunched my brow and looked at the keys. “From Mr. Dekkar. He bought you a new Mini Cooper,” he said as he pointed to a new car sitting at the curb beside the other man. My heart rose up into my throat. I turned and looked down the sidewalk in each direction. “This isn’t a joke?” I asked. “No ma’am. We delivered it for him. Kip’s taking me back to the dealer. Mr. Dekkar bought it from the sales department. We work in the service department. They just asked us to deliver it,” he responded. “You’re not making a YouTube Video or something?” I asked. “Nope,” he said as he shook his head. “This is mine?” I asked as I pushed the button on the keys. The lights flashed and the horn honked. “Yes ma’am.” I pushed the button again. The lights flashed and the horn honked again. “Can I look inside?” I asked. “Ma’am, you can do whatever you want. It’s

your car. Bring Mr. Dekkar out to see us if you can. You ready Kip?” he turned to ask the other man. I pushed the button on the keys again. I looked at the outside of the car, which was a beautiful silver color. I opened the door. I pushed on the seat with my hand. Oh God, black leather interior. The car smelled like brand new. It was brand new. Squeeeeeeee! I ran into the office and sat at my desk. It was simply too much to comprehend. I was living in a dream. A real life dream. I sat and wondered if someone was going to come take the car later and say it was all a big joke. I held the key in the air and pushed the button. Beep! I pushed it again. Beep! I knew Shane was training, and I didn’t want to disturb him, but I felt I had to say something. I was far too excited to keep my mouth shut. I picked up my phone and sent him a text message. Shane: OMG! Someone brought me a car. Do you know anything about this? I picked up my desk phone and pushed the button to connect me to Mr. Martin’s desk. “What is it, Kace?” he asked. “Someone brought me a new car, Mr. Martin. I just wanted to tell you,” I squealed. “What do you mean, Kace?” he asked, his

voice filled with surprise. “That’s what I said when they brought it. Uhhm. Shane. He bought me a car and had the boys from the dealership deliver it. It’s silver and so cute. I just thought I’d tell you,” I giggled. “I’ll be up in a minute,” he chuckled. Immediately, I heard Mr. Martin walking down the hallway toward my desk. As he approached my desk, he leaned over and smelled the roses. “I can’t smell those enough, Kace. A bouquet of roses puts my mind at ease. Let’s have a look at the car, shall we?” he said as he held his hand out. I dropped my keys in his hand, stood up from my seat at the desk and straightened the wrinkles from my skirt. As I stepped around the desk, the aroma from the flowers made me smile. As my body cleared the edge of the desk, Mr. Martin held out his free hand. As we walked outside together, he held my hand in his. “A new car. That’s’ quite a gift,” he said as he held the office door open. “He’s quite a guy, Mr. Martin,” I smiled as I looked up at him. He pushed the button on the keys. Beep! He turned and looked toward the sound of the horn and pushed the key button again. Beep! “Oh my. A Mini Cooper. That’s a fabulous

choice on his part, Kace. This will be great car. These things have been the car of choice in Europe for decades and decades, and for good reason. They have great gas mileage, outstanding performance and they’re a pleasure to drive. It’s gorgeous, Kace. I’m happy for you,” he said as he looked in the window of the car. “Now this is Shane, the boxer?” he asked as he turned and handed me the keys. I nodded my head, “Yes sir.” “He’s perceptive, isn’t he?” he asked as he turned to face the entrance to the office. “How so?” I asked. “He recognizes you as being valuable. As being beautiful. As being, well,” he paused and raised his hand to his chin. “Special. He sees you as special. And he’s doing his best to tell you. Or, shall I say, show you how he feels,” he said as he held the door open for me. “I suppose so, I really like him,” I responded as I walked through the door. “A little advice?” he turned my direction and smiled. “Okay,” I responded. “Starting right now, don’t ever be anyone but you. And be one hundred percent honest with him regarding your wants, desires, and hopes. Tell him what it is that you expect and want in the

relationship. Don’t sacrifice what you want for the sake or thought of making him happy. Make him understand what it is that’s important to you from the start. If you don’t, you’ll forever regret what it is you’re giving up – what it is that you’re not receiving. If you tell him now, you’ll give him the chance to discuss it, consider it, or ultimately – provide it,” he adjusted his neck tie, smiled, and looked down at his shoes. He seemed to become sad. “For ten years of marriage, Mrs. Martin didn’t bake sweets because she felt she didn’t want to tempt me to eat unhealthy foods. For ten years, I snuck to the diner alone and ate a slice of pie. I ate a different type of pie every time I went. I love pie, by the way,” he paused and smiled. “I lived with ten years of guilt for sneaking out and eating the pie alone. She lived with ten years of misery for giving up something she truly loved – baking pastries and sweets. Had we only discussed it in the beginning, those ten years would have been so much better for us both. It might sound silly or simple, but that’s just an example,” he adjusted his tie and offered another smile. “Thank you, Mr. Martin,” I smiled, “I’ll do that.” As he walked down the hall to his office, I went back to my desk and made a list. Of what was important to me in a relationship.

26

SHANE. Kace had become the most important thing in my life. In many respects, Kace had become my life. For me to admit Kace’s importance was simple and second nature. Two years ago, I suspect it would have been impossible for me to admit. Now, however, I didn’t hesitate. Now that I had had Kace in my life, to imagine not having her made me feel extremely uneasy. I wasn’t simply attracted to Kace. I felt as if I needed her. Merely having her accompany me in life provided me with a feeling of completion. Similar, I suppose, to concluding a long journey. Kace made me stop. Stop wanting. Stop wondering. Stop looking. Stop thinking. Stop running. And begin. Living, breathing, and being.

I didn’t feel an attraction to her because she’d been in an abusive relationship. I didn’t feel as if I had rescued her either. I truly believed I opened her eyes and provided her with ideas of what her options were. I loved Kace because she was genuine. I loved Kace because she was a beautiful person. I loved Kace because she was Kace. “A list, huh?” I chuckled as I pulled a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “I’m serious. I brought it home with me. I put a lot of thought into it,” she paused and waited at the end of the kitchen countertop. “I wasn’t laughing at your list, babe. I was laughing because you’re so fucking adorable. You’re different than any other girl I’ve ever known. At least after leaving Buster, you aren’t afraid to say what you think. I like it. I like you,” I said as I walked her direction. “Well, you want to go over it?” she asked as she pulled a folded sheet of yellow paper from her purse. “Absolutely, let’s go in the living room,” I said as I walked past her. She kicked her heels off onto the kitchen floor and ran past me as I walked to the couch. She bounced into the chair on the opposite side of the couch and unfolded the sheet of paper. “You don’t want to sit together?” I asked as I

sat down on the couch, patting the cushion beside me with my hand. “Nope. I want to sit here and watch you while we talk,” she bounced excitedly in the cushion as she spoke. “Okay, let’s get to it,” I responded as I took a sip of water from the bottle. “Okay, here’s what I would want to be in a perfect relationship with you. I want to know if these things are okay with you, not okay, or something we could discuss. Some are really important, and some not as much. I decided we need to get this out of the way,” she flipped her hair over her shoulders and stretched the wrinkles from the paper. “What if I take exception to something?” I asked, more jokingly than serious. “Well, depending on what it is, we’ll address it at the time, but be honest,” she nodded her head sharply as she finished the sentence. “Okay.” “Promise?” she turned her head slightly and smiled. “Totally,” I responded. “Okay, here we go,” she paused. “I like to cook. You and Ripp like to eat out. I want to cook at least five meals a week at home, and I want you to eat them. You don’t have to like them, but no throwing food at me, screaming at me

about what I cook, and no telling me I’m stupid for cooking something you don’t like. I know you want to eat healthy food, and I will take it into consideration. I like healthy too. Yes or no,” she looked up from the paper. “Is that how we’re going to do this? Yes or no?” I asked as I placed the water on the end table beside the couch. She tapped her hand once on the arm of the couch. I shook my head and smiled. This woman makes me fucking happy. “Yes,” I said. “Okay. Next one. I want to wash my own car. I don’t want you washing it. You can drive it or whatever, because we’re a couple. But I want to wash it,” she looked up and into my eyes as she finished reading. “Yes,” I grinned. She smiled and looked down at the paper, “Okay, next. I want to get a Goodreads account, Facebook, and maybe some other things on the internet. I think this will help me become more social. Oh, and I want more friends - more than Liv from the coffee shop. I want real friends,” as she looked up from the paper her face began to look worried. “Yes,” I responded sharply. She bounced in her chair and pulled excitedly

on each side of the wrinkled paper to straighten the wrinkles. “Okay. Next. I’m almost done,” she paused. “I know I don’t have to say this, but I need to. It’s important,” she looked up from the paper and waited. “Okay?” I responded. Without looking down at the paper, she continued, “If you ever lay a hand on me. Slap me, hit me, grab me, push me, anything. I’m gone. I’ll leave you and never come back.” She looked as if she was going to start crying. “Kace, I’ll never lay a hand on you. Ever. I promise,” I responded. I realized it was a huge step for her to even mention this. It was her way of taking a stance against what had already happened to her. She wiped her face as one single tear ran down her cheek with the back of her hand and sniffed. “Okay. I just had to say it,” she said softly. She looked down at the paper. “Last thing,” she folded the paper and stood up. I stood up. “No, you sit. I’ll be right back,” she said as she took off in a dead run for the kitchen. I turned and looked over my shoulder as she reached into her purse and pulled out her Kindle. She ran back to the chair and plopped down, bouncing in her seat as she turned on the device.

“Let me finish,” she said as she stared at the screen of the Kindle. “Kace you need to start first,” I responded. “I know. I’m just saying, this is a long one,” she said as she flipped her finger across the screen of the Kindle. “Okay,” I responded as I picked up my bottle of water from the end table. “You’re not going to hurt me emotionally from sex. You’re too cautious, too careful, and you never even talk during sex. I’m not as fragile as you think. I’ve spent ten years getting fucked over, and not getting fucked. I want you to fuck me sometimes. And sometimes we can make love. But I never want you to worry about fucking me and harming me emotionally. This is what I want,” she looked up from the screen of her Kindle as she finished talking. “Oh. Wow, okay. Well, what do you mean, specifically? Regarding fucking?” I asked, shocked this was her last question. She jumped up from her seat and squeaked as she did. She handed me her Kindle and ran quickly back to her seat. “Look at the screen. See the number at the bottom? 24%? Start there and read about five pages,” she said as she bounced up and down in her seat. I looked down at the Kindle and began reading.

“Just flip your finger across the screen to turn the page,” she said. I nodded as I read. I finished the five pages. Wow. “Is that it?” I asked as I looked up from the Kindle. “Nope,” she said excitedly. Instantly, she jumped up, ran toward me and snatched the Kindle from my grasp. Almost frantically, she pushed and flipped her finger across the screen. She smiled and handed it back to me. “Those two and a half pages. From the top of where it is,” she smiled and pranced back to her perch. As she sat down, she pressed the wrinkles from her skirt. I read the two and a half pages, placed the Kindle down beside me, and took a slow drink of water from my bottle. “Yes,” I said. She emitted a loud squeal and jumped from her seat, her arms outstretched. “Sit down, Kace,” I said sternly as I stood up. She frowned and sat down in her seat. She looked up at me with a puzzled look as I slowly approached her. “Give me your hand,” I said as I held my hand out toward her lap. She raised her hand to mine, grasped my fingers

in hers, and rose from her seat as I lifted her hand in mine. “What…” she began to ask as I pulled her up from her seat. “Not a word,” I said as I began to walk toward the spare bedroom. As we approached the weight bench, I lifted her hand over her head and spun her in a half-circle. As she faced me, I released her hand. Slowly, I reached up and held her face in my hands. I leaned forward and kissed her deeply. As we kissed she began to moan. I reached under her skirt as we kissed and pulled her panties down to mid-thigh. I continued to kiss her and lifted my foot to the height of her thigh and pushed her panties to the floor. I pulled my lips from hers and turned her head to the side. I leaned toward her ear and whispered heavily, “Kace, there’s only one rule. Always. One for yes, twice for no. That’s the only rule, okay?” She tapped my shoulder once as she exhaled a light sigh. I bit the bottom of her earlobe sharply and turned her head to face me. As soon as she made eye contact, I pressed my lips to hers. As we kissed I lifted her from the floor and placed her down on the weight bench. On her back, with her legs on each side of the bench, I continued to kiss her deeply, biting her lips harshly each time our mouths parted.

I reached down and pulled the leg extension attachment upward. “Put your feet here,” I said as I lifted her heels up toward the extension. Without argument or explanation, she complied. In this position, it was similar to being in the stirrups in a doctor’s office for an examination. I unzipped her skirt and removed it, tossing it on the spare bed. “Not a word, Kace,” I reminded her, “Now close your eyes. Don’t open them.” She closed her eyes, lifted her head from the bench, and placed her hands behind her head. As she did, I pressed her knees apart and buried my face between her legs. As I began to lick her soaking wet pussy, she moaned loudly. I moaned as I licked and fingered her pussy, paying special attention to her swollen clit. She continued to groan as I slid my finger in and out of her soaking wet pussy and flicked my tongue across her clit. As I slid my finger in and out of her pussy, her breathing began to be short and choppy. I felt her pussy walls begin to contract against my finger. “Shane…” she moaned. As my finger slid in and out, I continued to lick and suck her clit. “Shane. Oh…God,” she whispered. Her hands slipped from behind her head and she grabbed the sides of the weight bench.

With my free hand, I unbuckled my belt and unzipped my jeans. “Holy….fuck,” she groaned as she began to reach climax. She raised her butt from the bench and pressed her pussy tight to my mouth. As she dropped her ass back to the bench, she exhaled and opened her eyes. “Oh my God,” she whispered. I stood and kicked my jeans to the side. I pulled my shirt off and tossed it beside the jeans.I stood naked in front of her and smiled as I looked down. As she began to sit up on the bench, I grabbed my cock and started stroking it. “Oh God,” she moaned as she watched me. “Watch me, Kace. Watch me stroke it,” I said. I began stroking it faster, and leaned back as I began to moan. I closed my eyes and stroked my cock as I thought of Kace and her sexual wishes. “Oh, God, this feels good. And, just so you know, I fucking love licking your sweet little pussy Kace,” I said as I leaned forward and opened my eyes. She was lying on the weight bench with her legs spread She had two fingers in her pussy, fingering it like she was working against the clock. Her eyes were fixed on my stiff cock. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as she began to cum. “Oh God, Shane. Oh God,” she stopped

speaking as her breathing became short inhaled breaths followed by a sharp exhale. “Holy…” She opened her eyes and looked up as she stopped fingering her pussy. Slowly, she exhaled a breath and shook her head. “Fuck,” she pulled her fingers from her pussy and opened her mouth. She smiled and raised her hand to her face. Slowly, she slid her fingers in her mouth, sucking and licking each of them individually. Overwhelmed, I stepped onto the weight bench and stood. “Move your feet to the floor,” I said in somewhat of a demanding tone. Immediately, she dropped her feet from the leg extensions and placed her feet on the floor. “Put your hands up in the butterfly attachments,” I said. She reached to either side of her head and grasped the attachments. Now sitting on the end of the bench, naked except for her sleeveless shirt, her feet were on the floor and her hands rested at each side of her head. “Don’t move,” I said as stepped onto the bench. I walked along the weight bench toward her. “Open your mouth,” I whispered as I stood directly in front of her face.

As soon as she opened her mouth, I placed my hands around her head, gripping it tightly. I slowly and steadily forced my cock into her mouth. Her eyes widened as the tip of my cock bumped into the back of her throat. I held my cock in place and massaged her head with my fingers. “I like my cock in your throat, Kace. I like it there. I’m glad you like wild, crazy rough sex. I like it too,” I said as I slowly pulled my cock from her mouth. As soon as the tip cleared her lips, she gasped for breath. As she took a breath she reached for my thighs. “No. Put your hands back up there, on the attachments,” I demanded. She grasped the attachments in her hands and took another breath. As she looked up at me, I slowly leaned forward, forcing my cock into her mouth. I grasped the sides of her head, and began to slowly fuck her mouth. As my cock slid in and out of her mouth, I made certain to push hard enough to press into her throat with each stroke in. I stopped with the tip against her throat, and took a deep breath. “You like that, babe?” I said as I exhaled. She tapped the attachment once and blinked her eyes. I pulled my cock from her mouth. Saliva dripped from her lips as my cock cleared her

mouth. I reached down and wiped her mouth as I held out my hand. “Grab my hand, babe,” I said as I held my hand in front of her. “Babe, I’m soaked,” she said as she stood up, her feet on either side of the bench. As she stood, I looked down at the bench where she was lying. There was a wet spot the size of a grapefruit where her pussy was. “That’s the idea, Kace. Soaked is good,” I explained as I jumped down from the bench. I led her to the bed and softly pushed her down on her back. “You feeling flexible?” I asked. “I think so,” she responded. “Okay, pull your knees to your chest. I’m going to fuck you ragged,” I said. “Uhhm,” she started to respond. “Pull them up there, Kace,” I said as I climbed onto the bed. She reached behind her knees and locked her fingers together. As she pulled her knees to her chest, I pressed my hips against her calves, forcing her feet against her ass, and her pussy straight up in the air. Immediately I forced my entire cock inside of her soaked pussy. She gasped for air as soon as I began to push myself into her. “Hold those legs,” I demanded.

I began to use every ounce of energy I had to fuck her. My stamina was tremendous, and I wanted to use this opportunity to prove a point. I wanted this to be an orgasm she remembered for some time. I took a breath and began forcefully fucking her as fast and as hard as I could. About a minute and a half into it, she began to scream. “Holy….shit….Shane,” she breathed as she opened her eyes. “I’m…” “Oh my God…” “I want it dripping off my balls, Kace,” I growled. “Ahhhhhhhhhh Fucccckkkkkk” she groaned as her eyes widened and then closed again. She exhaled as I slowed my pace. “Are you…” “Going to…” “Finish?” she muttered. “Oh, hell no. I can do this all night,” I bragged as I continued to pound my cock in and out of her. “Get ready,” I said. She pulled her knees close to her chest as I began increasing my pace. I shoved my cock inside of her as far as I could, and as fast as possible. Considering my typical forms of physical conditioning, fucking wasn’t a form of exercise - it was a form of relaxation. I continued to pound myself into her wet pussy as she began to groan.

I looked down and watched as my cock disappeared repeatedly onto her swollen pussy. “I’m gonna…” she sighed. “Cum,” she let go of her legs and covered her eyes. I pressed against her knees with my torso, holding them to her chest. I continued to pound myself in and out of her pussy steadily. “Ohhhhh…..myyyyyy…..God…..” she moved her hands and opened her eyes. She raised her hands in the air and waved them as if she wanted to stop. I moved my face to beside her ear, resting my forehead on the pillow. “Give me a minute, Kace,” I breathed into her ear. I began to fuck her without reservation, knowing this would be a huge orgasm for her. Her body, from the force of me fucking her, began to inch closer and closer to the headboard. As I continued to fuck her, she began to breathe heavily. Her head started to bounce onto the wall with each stroke. Bam! Bam! Bam! I continued to shove my cock into her as deep as possible and as rapid of a pace as I could deliver. I lowered my face to her ear again. “You like this, Kace?” I whispered as I pounded

her soaking wet pussy. No response, only breathing. “Holy fuck!” she screamed as her pussy contracted. I pounded away. “Shane!” she screamed as her body noticeably shook. I reached down and grabbed one butt cheek and spread her pussy wider, forcing myself in as far as I could. I held my cock as deep as possible as she had orgasm after orgasm. “Ohhhhhh!” she began waving her arms frantically as she screamed. She opened her eyes and pressed her hands against my chest. “Don’t…Stop…Get off!” she demanded. “What’s wrong?” I asked, my face covered in a huge smile. “Shhhhh,” she sighed. “Kace?” I asked. She raised her hand in the air between us. I looked at her face and smiled. Her eyes closed, covered in sweat, and attempting to recover from a humongous orgasm, her entire body quivered. “Kace?” I asked, knowing it would irritate her. She raised her hand again, “Shut up, Shane. Gimme a minute.” I rolled from the bed and walked naked to my

bedroom. Slowly and quietly, I walked back into the room. I lowered myself onto the bed, and softly pressed myself against her. “You okay now?” I asked. “Better,” she smiled, her eyes still closed. “What happened?” I asked. “You know what happened. Death by orgasm,” she held her fingers in the air, her thumb and forefinger a hair apart. “That close,” she said, her eyes still closed. I smiled. “Take your time, babe. I love you,” I said softly as I kissed her stomach. “I love you,” she said, still relaxing with her eyes closed. “Remember what I said about needing to talk to you?” I asked. “Uh huh,” she responded. “Well, I have a simple question for you Kace. Well, I guess it’s a statement and a question,” I said. She opened her eyes. “Just like you said earlier, let me finish, okay?” I asked. She nodded. “My father Kace. He abused my mother. I had repressed the memory for my entire life. That day when we opened the chest, I had a mental

breakdown. My mind brought all of the memories back, and I shut down. The second day, I went to a psychiatrist. He brought up a lot of points about my childhood. We don’t need to talk about all of them now, but I’ll tell you a few,” I took a deep breath and kissed her stomach again. “My father used to beat my mother, and the only place I had to hide was in my room. I hid under a blanket that I thought was special. I thought it had protective powers. I thought if I hid under it, he wouldn’t beat me, and that he was also not really beating my mother. It’s taken me a month to realize some of these things,” I took another shallow breath and kissed her stomach. “I hide in my hoodie as a result of my childhood. I find comfort there. It’s sad, but I know now it’s why I wear it. I’m not ready to stop wearing it Kace, but I think I’m getting better,” I kissed her stomach again as she wiped tears from her eyes. “I hated my father for a while after going to the psychiatrist. But that speech you gave at the fight…well, it made all too much sense. I already felt that way, but you saying it made it sink in. I suppose my father was sick about my mother leaving. And his way of clearing his head was to fight the only way he knew – as a US Marine in a war that he couldn’t win. He died fighting. In a sense, he died fighting so he didn’t have to beat

another woman. At least that’s what I’m thinking,” I paused and took another breath as I started to fill with emotion. I got this. “My grandfather did the same thing. I’m sure of it. He beat my grandmother until she left. I don’t remember it, not really. But I am starting to. Generations of abuse creates generations of abusers. The chain has to be broken, and rebuilt. It can’t merely be broken and left alone, or it’s all for nothing,” I explained. With both hands and without talking, she wiped the tears from her eyes. It was all I could do to see her cry. I attempted to maintain my composure as I finished speaking. I was almost done. I took another breath. “Now, the question,” I exhaled.

27

KACE. I was an emotional mess. I wasn’t ready for all of this talk. Shane had me on cloud nine, and now this talk was so sad. I felt so sorry for him, for his father, and for his grandfather. I felt sorry for their wives. Basically, they were me. We were the same. Shane is a good man. I know he couldn’t control his father, especially not as a child. After his explanation, his desire to fight made a lot more sense. He was fighting against everything that he hated. He was fighting to make everything make sense. He was fighting for me and those like me. “So, the chain. It’s gotta be broken and rebuilt,” he said as he lifted his lips from my stomach. “People in an abusive relationship have

children. The girls grow up and get beaten. The boys grow up and beat women. From time to time, a girl or boy is born who is different. I’m that boy. But for me Kace, for me - I need to fix this. I need to do something to fix it,” he paused and looked into my eyes. “To fix me,” he breathed. He rubbed his face with his hand and took a breath. “This is where you come in,” he smiled. “Kace. Someday I want to. Not right now, but someday. I want to have children with you. I want that. I want to raise children the right way. I want to raise them in a house with a yard and a swing set and everything else kids need. I want to be there every day and provide them with the answer to every question they can muster,” he paused and took a breath. His eyes were filled with tears, but none leaked out. I couldn’t take it any longer. I sat up and wrapped my arms around him. I loved this man with every morsel of my existence. No one, at any time or place, has ever loved or respected a man as much as I loved and respected Shane Dekkar. I held him a close as I could and smashed my body against his. My flowers. My car.

One day he wants kids My chin resting on his shoulder, I held my arms around his waist. He stared at the wall, resting his chin on his clenched fists. I had felt so much emotion in the last few hours, it seemed as if I was going to have a nervous breakdown. I needed to be strong for Shane. It wasn’t very often he needed me to hold him up, but when he did, I needed to be strong. “Which brings us to the question,” he said. I raised my chin from his shoulder. He took a deep breath. I can’t take any more. Please no more. “Kace,” he barely got my name out of his mouth without losing composure. “Kace, I need to…” he turned his head to the side and licked his dry lips. “Know something,” he said as he moved his head from his hands. He opened his clenched fist and reached into his palm with his other hand. “Would you consider marrying me?” he asked as he removed a diamond ring from his palm. As he held the ring up, I burst into tears and grabbed his shoulders again. I sobbed and shook as I held him in my arms. My entire life, since about thirteen, all I ever wanted was to get married and have children. To be

able to do it with Shane would make me the happiest woman on earth. Incapable of comprehending the emotions I was feeling, I sobbed and held him in my arms. “Kace?” he asked, holding the ring over his shoulder in front of my face. I looked up at the diamond ring. Holy. Mother. Of. God. I wanted that ring more than anything. I wanted to be his wife. “Kace? Will you marry me?” he asked, his voice shaking. The ring shook in his hand. I held him in my arms, sobbing, and opened my mouth. No words. “Kace?” he asked softly. “Kace, will you?” Tears dripped off of my chin onto his back. I needed to answer him. Inside my head, I said yes, but my mouth wouldn’t work. I lowered my hands and massaged my tears into his back. I opened my mouth. Nothing. “Kace? Babe?” he asked nervously. And I did the only thing I knew to do. I raised my hand and tapped him on his back. Once. For yes.

This book is dedicated to the only person that ever kicked my ass and got away with it, Michael Allen Ripton, aka. Ripp. Dude, you’re a beast. You won.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

PROLOGUE

Finding someone who is willing to be everything I want him to be is just impossible. Trying to decide what characteristics in a man are important enough for me to require - compared to what I eventually accept - is an ever changing list. It seems to me I am willing to forfeit some pretty important things to get a person who will provide me with a little bit of affection and a few kind words. Tucker and I had been hanging out for about a month. He was older than me by seven years, which wasn’t that much. Meeting him seemed to produce one person, hanging out slowly produced another, and after we had been talking for about a month he became frustrated; producing what I expected was the real person. According to him we had reached a point that we needed to have sex. He said it would show him how much I cared.

How much I loved him. I am certain my parents raised me differently than any other girl in the entire state of Texas. I was twenty-one years old and still a virgin. Although Tucker didn’t know it, and I didn’t expect I would tell him, I had refrained from having sex with every boy I had ever been with. I imagine the lack of sex in my relationships was the main reason for eventual break-ups with boys in my past. Each boy had a different reason, but the common denominator was not having sex. Sometimes I wished I would have had sex earlier in life. Hanging on to your virginity becomes similar to holding a treasure. After you reach adulthood, you’re reluctant to give it to anyone; because you have held onto it for so long. You cherish it. As time passes, it becomes more and more valuable. Eventually, you become the only person you know who has it. When it comes to considering giving up your virginity, you really want that person to be the person. And so far, Tucker wasn’t the person. “If you love me you would,” he pleaded. “I just don’t know. I don’t give it to everyone who comes along. Isn’t that worth something?” I asked. “That’s why I want it from you. Not because you give it to everyone, but because you don’t. Because you’re so sweet,” he sighed.

“You think I’m sweet?” I asked. “I know you’re sweet. And I think we shouldn’t even be having this talk. Adults have sex. It’s what they do,” he touched my face as he leaned over and kissed me lightly on the lips. “You’re fucking beautiful, Katie,” he said as our lips parted. “Really?” I asked as I leaned my face into his open hand “More than anyone else I have ever seen. I think I could be with you forever,” he said as he leaned forward to kiss me again. “Forever? Really?” my voice cracked as I spoke. He nodded his head and closed his eyes as he leaned into me. We kissed a long passionate kiss. As he pulled his mouth from mine, I felt dizzy. I liked the way kissing makes you feel if it is a great kiss. A really fantastic kiss made me feel like I’m disoriented and a little dizzy for several seconds after it ended. This was one of those kisses. I looked up, not quite realizing I had slumped into the couch as we kissed. As Tucker raised his chest from mine, he began massaging my breasts through my shirt and bra. I closed my eyes and began to moan as his hands squeezed more and more aggressively. I didn’t resist when his hand slipped behind me and fumbled with the clasp on

my bra. As soon as my bra was unhooked, his hand slid under my shirt and began to play with my nipples. As with most men, he obviously believed a woman’s nipples were a direct connection to her heart. I didn’t complain, kept my eyes closed, and moaned in pleasure as he pinched and twisted my hardening nipples, alternating from breast to breast. I opened my eyes as his free hand slid into my shorts. “You can play with the outside, just don’t put your finger in,” I whispered. “Okay, baby. I’ll play with your clit,” he breathed. I closed my eyes and bit my lip as he lifted my shirt and began to lick my nipples. His finger tip massaged my clit into a frenzy; sending a tickling sensation throughout my entire body. I enjoyed the feeling I received from clit stimulation, but wasn’t sure if it was actually having an orgasm or not. Generally, my body tingled all over, but it wasn’t as intense as what I expected based on what my girlfriends described regarding having orgasms. I heard the jingle of his belt buckle as he fumbled with unbuckling it. He smiled as I opened my eyes. “What are you doing?” I asked, still in somewhat of a euphoric state. “I’m just getting it out to play with it,” he said.

“Okay, well…” I began. His hand covered my mouth before I finished my thought. “Shhhh. I know,” he whispered as he kissed my forehead. He removed his shirt and tossed it on the floor beside the couch. As he lowered his bare chest to mine, I closed my eyes. Lost in the comfort of his bare body pressed against mine, I reached around his torso and massaged my hands along his muscular back. I twitched as I felt his finger against my pussy again, startled by the touch against my now over-sensitive swollen clit. I inhaled deeply as I felt myself reaching climax. I opened my eyes and immediately realized the intensity of my moaning as it echoed in the sparsely furnished apartment. This, without a doubt, was going to be one of the types of orgasms all my girlfriends talked about. Finally. Oh God yes. As I felt my breathing become short and choppy, I began to tingle from my clit to my nipples. This was going to be huge. I felt as if my head was going to explode. At that instant, I didn’t care, my head could have exploded and I would have not cared. I was ready. Oh. My… Instantaneously, his finger moved from my clit

and I felt pressure against my pussy. The pressure increased. I opened my eyes and tried to sit up. His chest pressed against me harder, pinning me to the couch. “What are you doing?” I shouted. I felt the pressure of his penis against me. “I just want you to see what it feels like. You’ll love it. You want it. You’re ready,” he whispered. “No. No, don’t. Please don’t. No Tucker, No,” I pleaded as the pressure increased. I squirmed and tried to sit up. His hand pressed against my shoulder and onto my neck. His palm pushed against my neck and forced me deeper into the couch. The pressure against my lady parts increased. I felt him begin to enter… “Please. Please, Tucker. Don’t!” I cried. “Nooooo…” I screamed as he forcefully tore into me. “I’m…” I sobbed. “I’m a…” the tears ran down my face as he raped me. And then it was too late, he had taken it from me. From that moment on, and for the rest of my life, I would never be able to claim I was… A virgin.

IPP. “Michael, eat your potatoes, you’re pickin’,” my mother sighed as she pointed to my plate.

I haven’t taken shit from anyone since my first playground fight when I was twelve years old. From then until now, no one has ever picked a fight with me. Ever. If someone had fought me it was because they were either getting paid or were trying to see if they could take a shot at my undefeated record. Taking shit from my mother is another thing all together. “Mom, I’m eating them,” I said as I began to take another bite of the grilled chicken she had served. Mothers in general can be funny creatures - but mothers born and raised in Texas always look at their children as just that, their children. I am my mother’s child, but I am not childlike in my actions. By watching my mother, you’d think I was ten years old. “Michael, you’re not eatin’ ‘em. Is there something wrong with ‘em?” she set her fork down beside her plate and poked her finger into the pile of potatoes which sat on the edge of my plate. “Mom, what the fuck are you doing fingerin’ my food?” I widened my eyes, dropped my chicken bone onto the plate and shook my head. “Talk like that to your mother again, and I’ll slap your ass out of that damned chair, Mike. Eat your taters,” my father growled from across the table.

R

“I’m gonna eat ‘em. I didn’t know we had a fuckin’ time limit or a particular order we had to eat shit in. Damn, Pop,” as I turned to face my father he raised his hand in a gesture as if he was going to slap me. Truth be known, my father had never so much as spanked my butt as a kid. Growing up was like something out of a feel-good movie. I was raised to act in a manner in accordance with what I believed God’s will to be. God wasn’t shoved down my throat, but I was constantly reminded of his existence. Religion, to my family, was a recommendation. God, however, wasn’t. A perfect house, perfect parents, and growing up with the feeling only a true loving, caring family could provide. Both my parents were like comedic actors. Always being funny, making jokes and never expressing anything but true love – in their own silly way. Coming home for Sunday dinner resembled going to the damned circus. “You put ‘em on your plate, you better damned well eat ‘em,” my father hissed as he pointed at my plate with his fork. “Son of a bitch, Pop. I’m gonna eat some of ‘em. I ain’t looking to eat ‘em all. I’m trying to save a little room. I gotta exercise in a bit, and I don’t want to end up fat from eating a bunch of god damned potatoes,” I explained as I forked some of the sliced cucumbers on my plate.

“Shane’s gonna be fightin’ for the championship. Look, he ain’t worried about a few taters,” my father said as he nodded toward Dekk’s plate. “God damn it Pop, I ain’t Shane. And I’ll eat my food as I please. Can everyone just quit fingering and poking around on my god damned plate and let me eat some meat?” I looked up from my fork full of cucumbers and turned toward Dekk. His plate was empty. Fucking kiss ass. Dekk shrugged his shoulders and smiled. Ever since he got an opportunity at the Heavyweight Championship of the World, my parents invited him every Sunday for dinner. My father always wanted me to go the distance and fight for a title fight, but I had never been that type of fighter. Under no circumstances did my father understand. To me, it had never been about a title, a place in a book or being on the news. It was about beating another man’s ass and knowing you did so. I never needed a referee to tell me I had won a fight. From simply looking toward the other side of the ring – and seeing my opponent - everyone who witnessed my fights knew who won. Long before it was ever announced. “Shane and I got shit we gotta do tonight and I damned sure don’t need to be all bloated from

eating potatoes. Mom, the food’s good as always, including the potatoes,” I nodded my head in my mother’s direction. “The food was wonderful, Mrs. Ripton,” Dekk said as he stood up from the table and carried his plate to the sink. “Get your nose out of my mom’s ass, Shane,” I laughed as I picked up another chicken breast from my plate. “Michael!” my mother screeched. “Damn it son,” my father complained. “Well, he’s always kissing your asses. Great food, Mrs. Ripton, I like your truck, Mr. Ripton, Your hair looks great, Bug. I like your dress, Manda. It gets a little tough to listen to,” I laughed as I dropped the breast bone onto my plate and licked my fingers. “Where’s the girl you’re seein’ Shane?” my father asked as Dekk rinsed his plate. “I left her at home, sir. Ripp. I mean Mike and I have to go…” Dekk looked over his shoulder and paused. God damn it, Dekkar. “Have to go where? For what? What were you gonna say?” my father turned away from Shane to face me. He looked toward Dekk for an instant, and quickly turned to face me. As he scrunched his brow and attempted to gaze into my eyes, I looked

toward Dekk in disbelief and rolled my eyes. “What? Have to what? What are you two heathens doin’? Mike, are you going over to Rundberg again? Or over to the east side? Damnit it Mike, I’ve told you about that,” my father shook his head as he stood from the table. I stood from my seat. “Pop…” “Don’t Pop me, Mike. You’re going to get your ass handed to you one of these nights from some twenty year old kid wacked out on crack,” my father complained as he walked to the sink. My mother looked back and forth at each of us as we stood; unaware of what was going on for certain. I suspect most mothers are, but my mother was exceptionally naïve to everything around her. If not, she did a good job of acting the part. “Pop. You and I both know I don’t make any money to speak of by boxing. I do it because I am good at it. I can paint cars, but I fucking hate painting cars. Or. Well. You know what else I can do,” I explained as I followed him to the sink. “And people don’t smoke crack anymore, do they Shane?” I laughed. “You know what I mean, Mike. You’re not twenty years old any longer,” my father dropped his plate into the sink and reached for my shoulder. Immediately, and in an exaggerated fashion, I leaned back, grabbed my father’s wrist, and twisted

his arm behind his back. “Damn it Mike. Turn me loose,” he demanded as I pressed his stomach into the counter top. “Still lightning fast, old man,” I growled into his ear as I pushed my chest into his back. “Let your father go, Michael,” my mother exhaled a half-whisper without looking up from her plate of food. I laughed as I released my father’s arm. “Pop, I’m thirty-one. You’re right. I ain’t twenty. But if my twenty year old self was here right now, I’d beat his twenty year old ass. I’m bigger, meaner, and quicker than I’ve ever been. I’ll be fine,” I raised both my clenched fists to my mouth and kissed them independently. As I held my hands up at eye level, I flexed my biceps. My father shook his head, trying to change the subject, “And where’s the girl you’re seein’, Mike?” “Liv? I ain’t seein’ her, Pop. I’m screwing her,” I laughed as I patted Dekk on the shoulder. “Michael…” my mother said softly as soon as I said screwing. It had always amazed me my mother couldn’t hear, as hard as I tried to get her to. As soon as I talked about doing something with a girl, she could hear a mouse fart. Supersonic hearing when it came to my sex life. Both my parents had maintained a

level of concern about my lack of commitment regarding a relationship. I do relationships. Just not for very long. “Mom, Pop, we got to get. Come on Shane,” I slapped Dekk’s shoulder again and turned toward the garage. “Thank you Mr. and Mrs. Ripton. And tell the girls I said hi when they get home,” Dekk nodded toward my father and leaned to kiss my mother’s cheek. “Come on, Shane. God damn,” I exhaled and shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts. “Mom, Pop. Thanks. We gotta get,” I patted my mother’s shoulder as I walked around the table. “You ain’t driving that car to Rundberg are you?” my father asked. “Pop. Just leave it alone. Shane and I and the damned car will all be fine, huh Shane?” I chuckled. “Mr. Ripton,” Dekk nodded as he walked through the kitchen. “Don’t fuck my car up,” my father preached. “It ain’t yours anymore, Pop. It’ll be fine,” I shook my head and walked toward the garage as Dekk following close behind me. As we stepped into the garage, Dekk walked around me toward the rear of the car. Watching Dekkar walk took me time to get used to. When we

met, after our first fight, I had challenged him about his way of walking. “That walk of yours is either going to get you into a hell of a lot of trouble or keep you out of it, I can’t decide which,” I had laughed. “I call it the Compton swagger,” Dekkar chuckled in reply. “Living in Compton, you need to know how to fight or you need to act like you know how. I know I can fight, but I needed to try to keep people from challenging me. So, I developed this walk. A walk with an attitude. It’s habit now,” he explained. “Well, it works,” I agreed. And we remained best friends ever since. “Son of a bitch Dekk. You know he hates me going to Rundberg and you know he always worries about his old car. Jesus, you let the cat out of the bag, bro,” I complained jokingly. “And you know I hate you fighting these fights,” Dekk said as he walked around the car. “It’s all I know. I ain’t painting cars anymore for money, it kills my lungs,” I said over the top of the car as I opened the door. I had purchased my car from my father - a red 1969 Chevelle SS he had driven when he was in high school. After he graduated, he restored the car to near perfect condition. I bought it from him when I was twenty years old. Eleven years later, the car was still in perfect condition, red and race-

ready. I had removed the original 396 cubic inch motor and installed a Chevy 502 cubic inch motor. The four speed transmission kept the entertainment value up, and made it damned intimidating in a street race. As I fired up the motor, Dekk started to speak. I raised my hands and shook my head. “You know I can’t hear you in this loud motherfucker while we’re in the garage,” I screamed as I pushed in the clutch and shifted the car into reverse. I looked over my right shoulder and through the back glass. As I released the clutch the car started to surge backward. The whumpity-whump of the cam in the motor made it impossible to drive at low rpm or speed. I pressed on the gas to keep the engine from dying and backed the car out of the garage and into the street. I pushed down on the brake pedal, stopped the car and made eye contact with Dekk as I rotated my head to look straight ahead. I raised my eyebrows and smiled an evil grin. Typically, I came to my parent’s house once a week at minimum. Sunday dinner at home had become a tradition. Although I used my truck during the week at times, I always drove the Chevelle to my parent’s house. Fifty percent of the time when I left, I left like I was in a drag race. The two dozen sets of black marks in front of

the house were a constant reminder to my father of the differences in how he drove this car, and how I drove it. I did it to torture him and remind him of the fact the car wasn’t his anymore. As I pushed in the clutch and shifted it into first, Dekk began to speak. “Dude, not again. Your father is going to kill you. He’s already pissed about you fighting bare knuckles in Rundberg,” he half yelled as he shook his head comically from side to side. I pressed the gas pedal half way to the floor. The sound from the exhaust was deafening. I pressed a little further, and Dekk’s hands came up to cover his ears. I pressed a little further. As the motor reached the sweet spot - the one I used to launch this car from a dead stop - my cock started to get stiff. I turned toward Dekk and smiled. “I love this fucking car, Dekk,” I screamed. “Don’t,” he yelled. “Can I get a fuck yes?” I tilted my head back and looked up at the headliner as I screamed. I rotated my head to the left and looked toward my parent’s house. As the exhaust bellowed from the back of the car, my father stared out the window of the living room into the street, his hands pressed into his hips. This ain’t your car anymore, old man. I slid my foot off of the clutch, mashed the gas

pedal to the floor and launched the car from a dead stop like it had been hit from behind by a semitruck. I glanced right. Dekk, pinned to his seat, unsuccessfully attempted to reach for the dash to stabilize himself. Not in this car, you won’t. The car slid sideways as I grabbed second gear. Half way through second the tires started to grip, pressing Dekk further into his seat. A quick glance in the rearview mirror confirmed the entire block was filled with smoke from my tires. Two one hundred foot long black marks in front of my parent’s house would remind my father for the next month I’m a little wilder than he was. Just a little. I shifted into third gear and let off the gas pedal. Dekk lowered his hands into his lap and exhaled. As I came to a stop at the intersection, I rotated my wrist and glanced at my G-Shock. We had thirty minutes to make it to Rundberg. Ten minutes to spare if traffic was decent. I lifted my hands from the steering wheel and looked at the scars which littered my knuckles and smiled. One more wouldn’t even be noticed. The $2500 I’d win from knocking this punk out would last me over a month, and knocking motherfuckers out is what I do. “You alright bro?” Dekk asked as he rubbed his hands together and looked down at his lap.

I thought of another bare knuckled match in Rundberg. The rush of the adrenaline, the smell of the sweat, my muscles becoming pumped, the blood, the screaming of the people betting on the match and taking the $2500 when it was over. The smell of blood, sweat, and money. Am I alright? I gripped the steering wheel and nodded my head once. Fuck yes.

1

RIPP. “So, who’s Kane got set up?’ Dekk hollered as I pulled the car into the stall beside the entrance. I shut off the engine before I tried to respond. “Some fucker who moved here from Dallas. Not sure what his name is. The kid ran an ad on Craigslist. Said he was the baddest motherfucker in Texas. I beg to differ,” I laughed as I pulled the keys out of the ignition. The facility in Rundberg was a metal building on a concrete slab originally built for use as a storage facility. There were six parking stalls beside the front door reserved for fighters. Any question about parking in the premium spots was quickly squelched by the signs attached to the building in front of each stall. As I opened the door of the car to step out, I smiled and re-read the sign.

FIGHTER PARKING ONLY TO PARK HERE BE WILLING TO FIGHT OR BACK UP AND PARK YOUR SHIT IN THE STREET As I shut the door I shook my head and smiled at Dekk over the top of the car. As I heard the entrance door swing open, I turned to face the building “I figured it was you. Felt the fuckin’ walls shakin’. How’s it hangin’ Ripp?” Kane asked as he walked my direction and held out his hand. “Like a fuckin’ hammer, Kane. You remember Dekk?” I asked as I shook his hand and motioned toward Dekk with my free hand. “The man behind the hoodie. Fuck, who don’t know this cool cat? Mr. Dekkar,” Kane said as he nodded toward Dekk. “I get a how’s it hangin’ Ripp and Dekk gets a Mr. fucking Dekkar? Who makes you all your money, you fucking midget?” I growled as I locked the car. “Now, come on Ripp. I told you about calling me a midget. You gotta stop that shit,” Kane complained. “Well, you barely clear my belt,” I laughed as I

pulled my toothpick from my mouth. Kane was in his mid-thirties, and about five foot five. He was very muscular and pretty tough for his size, but he was still only five foot five. He claimed to be five foot seven, but he wasn’t even close. Five foot five on his best day was more accurate. When he pissed me off, I would react by calling him a midget. As with most short men, he had a complex. To be brutally honest, if he was a midget I wouldn’t talk to him. I fully understood I didn’t quite comply with a politically correct world’s expectation, but clowns, midgets and people in wheelchairs freaked me the fuck out. I couldn’t be in the presence of any of them. Not even for a second. “Seriously, Ripp,” Kane whined. As he ran his hand through his short curly hair, I stepped toward the entrance. “I’m just fucking with ya, Kane. So who’s the kid?” I sighed as I pulled the door open and motioned for Kane and Dekk to walk in. Kane put his hand against the outside of the door and tried to push it closed as he looked down at my shoes momentarily. As he glanced upward, a worried look washed over his face. I raised one eyebrow in an exaggerated fashion and looked at him as I let go of the handle and pushed the door closed. I stepped beside the doorway as he began to speak.

“This kid, Ripp,” Kane paused and inhaled. “He isn’t here yet. He’ll be here, I’m sure. But let me tell you, he talks pretty fuckin’ crazy. I met him at the BAT Bar the other day. He’s a wiry fucker; made of long lean muscle. He’s as tall as you and I’d say probably thirty pounds lighter. But let me tell you, he’s intense. I won’t even tell you what all he said,” Kane looked down at my feet as he finished speaking. I leaned against the building and shook my head. “You can’t say you’ll never believe what else he said and then not tell me, you little fucker,” I chuckled. Dekk pressed his hands into his pockets and leaned against the building, smiling. I looked at Dekk, turned back toward Kane and raised both eyebrows – attempting to get all of his attention. At first I felt like Kane was trying to get me riled up. But after looking into his eyes, he now looked truly worried about something. “Speak, smidge,” I growled as I stared into his eyes. “Well, you know he ran the ad on Craigslist, right?” Kane asked. I nodded as I wiped my sweaty hands onto my cargo shorts. I couldn’t wait to see what he had to say about this twerp. “Well, he says nobody can whip him. Hell, everyone either says or thinks that; until they get

whipped,” Kane paused and took a slow breath. “He can be whipped,” I laughed as I shook my head. There had to be more to it than this. “Well, don’t get mad at me, okay?” Kane pleaded. “Kane you little fucker. Say whatever you gotta say,” I shook my head and looked at Dekk, who still leaned against the building smiling a shitty little smile. “He said he was going to whip your ass. And when he was done, he was going to…” Kane paused again and inhaled a choppy breath. It was apparent Kane was truly nervous to tell me whatever he had to say. I felt my temperature rise a few degrees. I reached up with my right hand and wiped the sweat from my smooth scalp. Kane was always theatrical, kind of a little actor of sorts. He always told really dramatic stories and used his hands when he spoke. Part of his sales ability, I suppose. Waiting for him to blurt out the rest of this story was about to exhaust me. As my patience wore considerably thin, the sound of a loud exhaust from a car caused me turn to face the street. A black Ford Mustang turned the corner, downshifted and revved the engine. Without braking or slowing down, it maneuvered into the drive and shot through the lot - downshifting again. As it quickly approached the stall beside the

Chevelle, I straightened my stance and rolled my shoulders nervously. Dekk leaned forward, pulled his hands from his pockets and rubbed the sides of his head as he glanced in the direction of the Mustang. “That’s him,” Kane half-whispered. I turned to face Kane. The stereo of the Mustang was loud enough I could feel it. Headbanging heavy metal played loud enough the windows of the car vibrated as he parked beside the Chevelle. I turned from facing the building, looked to my right over the top of the Chevelle, and then back toward Kane. “What else did he say?” I growled. Kane rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. I rubbed my right clenched fist in my left palm. This was a tell-tale nervous habit I had when I got angry. I felt myself begin to sweat as Kane stared silently into my eyes. “Don’t make me embarrass you, you little midget. What did he say?” I grunted through my clenched teeth. Kane lowered his shoulders, slowly turned his head and looked toward the Mustang as the driver shut off the engine. “He said after he whipped your ass he was going to butt fuck you to teach you a lesson,” he turned and nervously looked up into my eyes. “Are you fucking kidding?” I howled laughing.

“Shhhh,” Kane whispered. “You hear that, Dekk?” I laughed as I turned to face Dekk. Dekk had moved away from the wall, and was now standing on the other side of my car as he waited for the driver of the Mustang to get out. The safety of my car was as important to Dekk as it was to me. As Dekk looked at the Mustang intently, I turned to face Kane and shook my head in disbelief. “Twenty-five hundred, right?” I asked. “Huh?” Kane responded nervously. “Twenty-five hundred. That’s my take after I knock this punk out?” I raised my eyebrows again, paused and spit my tooth pick on the ground. “Uhhm. Well, it’s actually up to thirty-four,” Kane responded as he turned to face Shane. I heard the doors of the Mustang open. “His name?” “Goes by Monkey,” Kane responded. “No shit? Monkey?” I chuckled softly as I rubbed my right fist into my palm. “Oh fuck. You must be him,” I heard an unfamiliar voice say from the behind me. I turned my head to face the rear of my car. Shit for brains was standing behind it in swishy pants and a wife-beater. He was bent at the waist, reading the personalized license plate of my car. “Rippin’ it. The fucking Ripper,” he said as he

looked at the license plate. Two women stood with him, one on each side. Both were wearing black dresses which looked like they were painted on. Dekk was a good ten feet behind him, his hood over his head and his hands now pressed deep into in his pockets. RIPPNIT was the personalized plate on the Chevelle. I felt it fit the car, me and my personality. When I drove the car, I was always ripping around. And me just being me? I’m Mike fucking Ripton, and I’m always Rippin’ it. As Monkey’s hand reached for the trunk of the car, I rotated my body to face him. I spread my legs shoulder width apart, cracked my knuckles on my palms and stared. I reached up to my mouth, and realized I’d already spit out my toothpick. Without really thinking, I unbuckled my G-Shock and held it to my side. “Hold this,” I grunted at Kane. “Ripp. We need to…” Kane said excitedly. “Take the fuckin’ watch,” I growled as I focused on Monkey-boy’s hand hovering over the trunk lid of the car. “You’re not gonna want to touch that car, Monkey,” I tilted my head from side to side and popped my neck as I focused on his hands. Both of his girls turned and looked at him as I spoke. His actions and response would tell me a lot about who this kid was as a person. As professional

fighters, we’re all one person in the ring, and another person out of the ring. All the shit talking in the world can happen in the ring or in the building we’re fighting in while we’re in the fight. After the fight is over, the shit-talking stops. Fighters respect other fighters no different than cops respect other cops. This kid wasn’t a professional fighter, but he damn sure should know the code. As he leaned forward and placed both his hands on the trunk of my car, I felt my cock twitch. Everyone has their tell-tale signs. Some people sweat, some shake, and some have a hard time speaking. When we reach the point we know there’s an imminent threat - that something is going to happen - we all have a glitch. Mine is my cock twitching. And my cock is never wrong. I could hear voices behind me, but I couldn’t make sense of them. I saw Dekk slowly walk around behind Monkey and the girls, staying a good fifteen feet or so away from them. As my hearing went out of focus, I began to hear a buzzing sound. Another glitch. “Take your hands off the trunk of my car, and let’s go inside and get this over with,” I sighed as I tried to maintain my mental posture. Letting this kid get me off my game was just what he wanted. I wasn’t about to let that happen. His hands still on the trunk, he turned to face

me and smiled. The distance between where he stood and where I was standing was probably twenty five feet. There was no way he could rush me and get a punch in without me reacting. I reached down and grabbed the bottom of my shirt with both hands and quickly pulled it over my head. “Hold this,” I said as I held my left hand out to my side, my shirt wadded up in my fist. Monkey’s eyes couldn’t contain his surprise. He lifted his hands from the trunk and straightened his stance. He was probably just north of six feet tall, and roughly a hundred and ninety pounds. I was in as good of shape as I had ever been, and weighed two hundred and thirty pounds. Austin was a huge city, and in my daily travels throughout the city I rarely ever encountered anyone as big as I was from a muscular size standpoint. I was that big. From the look on his girl’s faces, they liked what they were seeing just as much as he didn’t like it. “No need to get mad, big boy,” the sound of his voice was an irritating squeak. “I’m not mad,” I paused and rolled my shoulders, “yet.” I motioned toward the door. “Let’s get this over with,” I said sharply and slowly. Knowing Dekk would keep Monkey-boy off of my car and from jumping on my back, I turned

toward the door. Taking this shit in the building was in everyone’s best interest. The people inside bet money on the match, and in a sense they paid to see what was going to happen. Kane’s place had very few rules, but they were strict: only by invitation, no loitering, no fighting by outsiders and no going in and out of the facility. After you arrived, you remained inside the facility until the fight or fights were over. It kept unwanted attention down to a minimum. Although the cops had a good idea of what typically happened, there was no sense bringing unwanted attention to Kane or the facility. Kane followed as I walked through the door. I looked up and made note of thirty or so people gathered around talking. Wearing cargo shorts, Chuck’s, and no shirt, almost everyone stopped talking as soon as they looked in my direction. I wasn’t new to the facility, and most of the faces were familiar. On and off, I had been fighting in Kane’s facility for ten years, and to date I had never lost a fight. Monkey boy would have the people wondering about his ability, but I would be the crowd favorite for sure. I quickly walked to the center of the floor, onto the mat and turned to face the door. As I waited for Monkey to come in, I touched my toes a few times and stretched. Fucking and fighting were two things which made me happier than anything. Knocking

this punk out would be nearly as satisfying as getting laid, maybe just a little more. Knocking him out and taking one of his girls home with me would be even better. Knocking him out and taking both of them home with me would be like hitting the fucking trifecta. “I appreciate you bringing this inside,” Kane said nervously. “It’s all good,” I responded as I stared at Monkey and his two girls. “You alright?” Kane asked. “I got this,” I laughed as I raised my hands over my head. The building had an open floor plan with very few amenities. A complimentary keg of beer in the back corner was Kane’s offering to the group. In the center of the floor were martial arts style folding foam mats forming a fighting surface about sixteen feet by sixteen feet. Standing on the mat, I began to shadow box as I waited for Monkey. As he reached the edge, he pointed to an opening in the crowd and snapped his fingers sharply. Almost immediately, the two girls at his side walked to where he had pointed and stood. What a douche bag. Oh yeah. I’m going to enjoy whipping this kid. As the girls turned to face us, I noticed one was blonde and one was a brunette. Hair color aside, they could have been twins. Monkey-boy pulled off

his wife-beater and handed it to the blonde, who smiled as she reached to grab the dingy shirt. I watched in awe as he reached down and removed his shoes. Now standing barefoot and in swishy pants, he began to swing round house kicks over the height of his head. What the fuck? The difference between a good martial artist and a good boxer is the difference between night and day. A good martial artist will have predictable fluid like patterns, and will fight with a more artistic style. Fluidity and form are important. Years of practice of the same movements and motions make the martial arts fighting style, to an observant outsider, almost predictable. Boxers tend to adjust more to the advancements of their opponent. A typical boxer, however, isn’t prepared for someone to attempt to kick them in the head. I’m not a typical boxer. As Dekk stepped to the edge of the mat, he pulled his hood over his head and smiled. “You alright, Ripp?” he chuckled as he watched the Monkey-boy do a back flip. “I got this,” I nodded affirmatively as I twisted my body from side to side, popping my back. Although it was pretty damned entertaining watching this kid do his Bruce Lee imitation, I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of feeling I had any interest in paying attention to his Kung Fu

horse shit. I continued to stretch and look beyond him and into the crowd. Putting his hands on my car was uncalled for and disrespectful. In some respects, it was no different than the boxers who talk a mad line of shit at the press conference before the match. It’s one guy trying to get the other off of his game. An intimidation tactic. I couldn’t be intimidated. By anyone. “Ok, fella’s,” Kane’s speaking caught me off guard. Kane motioned for the primate to stop with the bouncing around and pay attention. As Monkey worked his way to the center of the mat, Kane began to speak again. “If I blow this whistle, everything stops,” Kane held the whistle up which hung from his neck as he glanced at both of us. “You know what’s acceptable. Just so there’s no confusion, there are no rounds, and no breaks. Tapping the mat three times is a forfeit. That or being knocked out. If you’re still standing and you want to forfeit, wave your arms over your head like your trying to get a plane to land on the deck of a fucking aircraft carrier. There will be no biting, and no gouging, understood?” Kane looked at Monkeyboy and then turned to face me. I nodded my head sharply. Monkey nodded affirmatively toward Kane and

turned to face me. He attempted his best means of forming an angry scowl on his face. I smiled, slowly puckered my lips, and winked at Monkey. Different fighters have different techniques or styles. Mohammed Ali, for instance, allowed his opponents to beat on him without repercussion, for rounds on end. Eventually, he would conquer each and every one of them after they wore tired. Ali had an odd style combined with tremendous finesse and talent. Micky Ward allowed his opponents to beat on him until he saw his opening. Micky was just plain tough. A killer left hook to the body was his signature punch - and every one of his opponents worst nightmare. Micky would wait as long as he had to, and upon seeing the opening would instantly crush his challenger with one punch - the signature left hook. I’ve always fought a more conventional style. I protect myself and allow my opponent to come to me early in the fight. After a few minutes, I determine his patterns and reactions to my advancements. I, not unlike Micky Ward, wait for my opening. My opening, however, is anywhere I have a place to punch. My hand speed and an uncanny knack of seeing a punch coming a second before it’s thrown is what’s allowed me to remain, for the most part, undefeated. Fucking Dekkar.

Kane stepped from the mat and gave his whistle a short tweet, indicating it was show time. Alright bouncy boy, let’s see what you got. Monkey stepped to me quickly. As his right shoulder faded back, I prepared for a left jab to come. What happened wasn’t near what I expected. His hands remained held close to his face, and I quickly threw a quick left jab to feel him out. Immediately, my open left side was promptly filled with Monkey’s size twelve foot. As his right foot contacted my jaw and chin, he threw a well telegraphed left jab. The punch glanced off the right side of my neck. His punches were slow and his feet were fast. Most fighters don’t like being hit. I fucking love it. Come on, Monkey-boy. Bring that shit. He took a step back with his left leg, and kept his right foot planted. I stepped forward with my right foot and threw a left hook to his ribs - Micky Ward style. As with most street fighters, he was in no way prepared for my quickness. Monkey was used to slow, tough, predictable street fighters with minimal speed. As he lowered his right elbow to cover his now sore ribs, I raised my punches and unleashed a lightning-fast three piece on his pretty face. “How’d that feel, you fucking punk?” I huffed as I landed my last punch.

His face was covered with an oh shit what the fuck did I get myself into look I had seen a few hundred times. Fighting out of the boxing ring where there were no rules - is where I have always belonged. I was a lot of different things to a lot of different people, but in a bare knuckles match, I was just plain motherfucking mean. Talking while trying to fight in a boxing match is nearly impossible. A boxer’s mouthpiece prevents much speaking at all. Grunting is about all that’s possible. Bare knuckles matches had always been my favorite, because I could talk shit to whoever I was fighting. And talking big shit was part of who I was. “What’s your blood type?” I growled as I stepped back and let him recover from the punches. “What?” he brushed his mouth with the back of his hand and drew back blood. Knowing what I know about my speed, style, and ability to be beaten on without being hurt, I knew the fight was all but over. I could have knocked the kid out in the amount of time it took him to wipe the blood from his mouth. I took two steps back and glanced at Dekk as Monkey looked at the back of his hand again. Dekk dropped his hood to his shoulders and smiled his slow Shane Dekkar smile. As the edges of his mouth curled upward, I winked. Dekk shook his head slowly and nodded, giving me the go

ahead. “Your blood type. You know it?” I asked again as I threw a quick combination into the air - just showing off for the crowd. I heard a few get him Ripp and fuck him up Ripp’s from the crowd. Nice to hear, but I didn’t need the inspiration. I needed thirty-four hundred fuckin’ bucks. There was a pair of Ed Hardy Chuck’s in the mall had my name on them, and I needed to go shopping. “What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” Monkey asked as he started bouncing again. “Because I intend to make you bleed, boy. You might want one of your girls,” I paused and threw two slow left jabs to get him to react. “To call the hospital,” I threw a right uppercut that caught the left side of his jaw. “And get a pint on the ready,” I smiled. As his right shoulder faded backward, I knew what he had planned next. I stepped into his right, not allowing him to have distance between me and his right foot. A right cross to his shoulder got him to drop his left hand a little. A little, but just enough for my hand to squeak by. A left jab, follow up left hook to his ribs, and a right cross to the chin ended the fight quick. His eyes went glassy as soon as the right contacted his

chin. He was dazed, and he was done, but he wasn’t knocked out. His pride and the two girls screaming wouldn’t allow him to forfeit the fight willingly. Without an ounce of thought, the heartless part of me took over. I grabbed the sides of his face in my hands, squeezed his head, tilted my head back and looked at the ceiling. I growled loudly. Head-butting a guy in a boxing match isn’t allowed. Intentionally doing it will get points taken away, and over time will cause the boxer to be placed on a list of fighters which no one would want to fight. It was a matter of respect and adherence to the rules which prevented most boxers from ever doing it. But I wasn’t in a fuckin’ boxing match. I thrust my head forward as hard as I could and smashed the top of it into his face. As I felt his nose crush under my skull, I raised my head and headbutted him again. The second time was for touching my Chevelle. And threatening to butt fuck me. The screeching sound of Kane’s whistle reminded me it was time to stop. I let go of his head, raised my hands and screamed. “Who’s fucking next?” I screamed as I raised my hands in the air. “No takers?” I shouted as I looked around the room.

“God damn it Ripp. Did ya have to do that,” Kane asked as he pointed at Monkeys face. I rubbed my knuckles and looked down at Monkey. I’ve never been disgusted by blood, but looking at him was every bit of disgusting. He was bleeding profusely from his nose and mouth as Kane wiped his face with a towel. I looked up at the two girls who accompanied him to the fight – now standing beside Dekk in a little group. “Well,” I said as I winked at the blonde and flexed my chest muscles. “He shouldn’t have been such a dick. And he touched the Chevelle, Kane,” I sighed as I rubbed the top of my head. Kane held pressure on Monkey’s nose with the towel. As he looked up, he shook his head lightly from side to side. His pursed lips slowly moved to a smirk, followed by an exaggerated eye roll. “Good job, Ripp. Twist has your money and your shirt. I’m gonna be with this kid for a bit, he’s pretty fucked up,” Kane said as he shifted his gaze toward Monkeys face. “I’ll see The Twist then. Thanks boss,” I said softly. “Dekk, you ready? And you girls needin’ a ride? Your boy’s kinda fucked up,” I shouted across the mat toward where Dekk stood as I pointed down at Monkey. I walked across the mat in the direction of the

group. As Dekk pulled his hood over his head, the blonde smiled as I approached. She attempted unsuccessfully to hide it as I got closer. Now that’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout. Fightin’ and fuckin’ in the same night. “So, you girls needin’ a ride? I’m gonna guess Monkey will be at the hospital for a bit. Name’s Mike Ripton, friends call me Ripp,” as I spoke I reached for the blonde’s hand. Holding her hand out, she smiled. The brunette did her best to appear uninterested and disgusted by my presence. As her hand slid into my palm, I gently raised it to my mouth and kissed the back side. “So, what brings you girls to Austin?” I asked as I released her hand. “We live here. He put an ad on Craigslist and wanted two girls to come with him to the fight. I’m Barbee with two E’s. This is my sister, Brandee. Same way,” she giggled as she nervously twisted her hips. I nodded at Brandee and smiled. Sisters. Sunday dinner, knocking out a fuckmuffin, and fuckin’ sisters, all in one day. I closed my eyes and said a quick prayer. God, if you’re listening, he did touch the Chevelle. He deserved it. Can you help a brother out on some sisters?

I opened my eyes, glanced at Dekk and winked. As he pushed his hands further into his hoodie pockets, he slowly shook his head. Dekk didn’t speak much, but he didn’t have to. My lifestyle, or at least portions of it, disgusted him. I didn’t take advantage of women, and I never hurt them, but I sure fucked the shit out of them if they’d let me. Dekk wasn’t one to agree with me about a woman’s desire to be shoved full of cock. I always told ‘em up front what I wanted, and if they agreed… “Well, I need to go get my shirt at the manager’s office, and I’m ready to get out of here,” I focused on Barbee’s blue eyes, which were glued to mine. “If you girls need a ride, I’ll gladly offer one. I’m going to tell you up front, there are two things I’m good at on a Sunday night,” I paused and alternated glances between Barbee and Brandee. “Fightin’ and fuckin’. And when I leave here I ain’t headed to another fight,” I chuckled. Slowly, Barbee slid her arm around my right elbow, gripped it with her hand, turned to her sister, and nodded. Almost immediately, Brandee walked to my left side and slipped her hand around my lower bicep. I took a shallow breath, exhaled, turned to face Dekk and mouthed the only words that fit the fucked up situation. Fuck yes.

2

BARBEE. “Chuck what?” I asked, not really sure of what he said. “Chuck Fuckin’,” he responded. He tossed his shirt over the arm of the couch and reached for the waistband of his shorts. I watched his hands as he fumbled with the button. His knuckles were covered with scars, and his hands were huge. If what they say about a guy’s hands being large is right, this could make for a really fun night. Something about a tattooed, muscular fighter with a sense of humor was a huge turn on; and this guy was all of the above. “Oh my fucking God,” I gasped as his shorts fell to his ankles. “What?” he said as he kicked his shorts free of his shoes. “Your….uhhm…cock,” I stuttered as I pointed

to the massive cock which hung between his legs like some other form of appendage altogether. “The piercings?” he asked as he looked down and started stroking it. “The what?” I asked as I watched his hand slide up and down the shaft. “Piercings?” he said as he lifted his cock and exposed the underside. “Holy fuck, what are they? Oh God. It’s getting hot in here. Brandee, come here,” I squealed as I waved my arms. Brandee stood from the barstool and shook her head as she walked toward the portion of the room where we were standing. Her eyes widened as she saw Ripp standing naked, wearing only his shoes and holding his massive cock by the head. Although Brandee rarely spoke, she looked down at his cock, up at his face, back down between his legs, and almost screamed. “Oh my fucking God, that’s hot. Are you going to fuck him?” she rested her hands on her thighs and bent her knees slightly, staring across the room at his cock. Brandee and I had a rule. We never had sex with the same guy. We almost always traveled together and were quite close, but we never crossed those lines. Several guys tried, and many had fetishes, but we always stuck to our guns in that respect. She knew if Ripp and I had sex, she was

out of the equation. “Uhhm, yeah. He’s mine,” I mumbled as I licked my lips. “Quit staring at me, you’re making me selfconscious. I’m ain’tt some fuckin’ circus animal,” Ripp laughed as he started to stroke his cock. “What is it called?” I asked as I stared at the jewelry in the bottom side of his cock. “This,” he pointed to a hoop that was pierced through the tip, “is a Prince Albert.” He raised his cock up, exposing the underside. Four shiny shafts of metal with little balls on each end pierced the skin along the shaft. As if hypnotized, I stared while he spoke. “And these are called a Jacob’s ladder,” he said as he held the head of his cock between his thumb and forefinger, stroking the tip of his other index finger along the underside of the shaft. “Does it hurt?” Brandee asked. “Go back in the other room,” I pointed toward the bar, “you’ve seen enough.” “Fuck you, I wanna see it,” Brandee whined as she continued staring at his cock. “Get. Go back to the bar, Brandee,” I demanded. Ripp stood and smiled as he began to stroke his cock more aggressively. As his massive hand slid from the tip to his balls, it became apparent just how large his cock actually was. I wiped the sweat

from my forehead and realized my pussy was absolutely soaked. “Is it hot in here?” I asked again. “It’s Austin, babe. It’s always hot,” Ripp laughed, “I feel like I’m in a bad porn movie. This is gettin’ weird quick. What are we doin here?” “She’s going to sit on her bar stool, and you’re going to fuck me. Do you leave the stuff in, or take it out?” I asked as I pointed to the barstool and nudged my head toward the bar. “I didn’t put all of these in here to take ‘em out during sex,” he shook his head and smiled as Brandee walked back to the bar. “And you’re leaving your shoes on?” I asked as I looked up at his torso. He was massive and tattoos littered his upper body, randomly placed on his arms, chest, torso and ribs. He stood in the center of the floor stroking his cock and smiling as he looked down at his Chuck’s. “Well, I can’t Chuck Fuck without ‘em, now can I?” he asked. “Uhhm. No,” I responded. My pussy was uncomfortably wet. I walked the few steps which separated Ripp from me, and kicked my shoes off as I approached him. With each step, I could feel the wetness between my legs. I’ve always joked a wet pussy knows what a mind won’t always admit. My wet pussy knew it wanted his pierced cock inside of it.

As I closed the gap between us, Ripp smiled. He was as big of a man as I had actually ever seen, and covered in tattoos. His head was smooth shaven, and his muscles flexed when he walked. I’ve been going to MMA fights for five years, met a lot of fighters and watched many fights. I have never seen anyone punch as fast as he did when he fought Monkey or hit as hard with the punches he threw. There was something about him, something was just… Adorable. “Can I suck it?” I asked as I knelt in front of him. “Well, I sure as fuck ain’t gonna bitch about it if you do,” he laughed as he looked down at his cock. “I didn’t know with all of the, well…the stuff in it,” I whispered as I reached out and wrapped my hands around it. “It’s still just a cock. If you’re scared…” he began. “I’m not scared,” I said assuredly as I carefully reached for his cock. As I wrapped my fingers around his cock, I grinned. My fingers wouldn’t completely make it around the circumference of the shaft. I stared in awe, wondering if it would even fit inside of me and if so - what it would feel like. Gripping it, I glanced at my wrist and compared it to the size of

his cock. The exact same. “You know what’s cool about you having little bitty hands?” Ripp asked as he looked into my eyes. “Huh? What’s that?” I stammered. “Your little hands make my cock look huge,” he chuckled. “Your cock is huge,” I laughed. Unable to last another moment, I opened my mouth and wrapped my lips around the shaft and flicked my tongue against his Prince Albert piercing. When I did, I looked upward to see his reaction. I watched as he placed his hands on his hips, leaned back, and began to moan. “Fuck yes,” he groaned as he looked up at the ceiling. “Holy shit, girl. You know your way around a cock, don’t ya?” he groaned as he looked down and bit the side of his lower lip with his teeth. Pleased he was enjoying my mouth on his cock, I slowly slid my lips up and down, feeling the little steel shafts bumping against my lower lip as I worked my mouth up and down the length of his cock. “Did that sound bad? I didn’t mean it to,” he chuckled as he looked down again. His cock still in my mouth, I shook my head lightly and opened my eyes a little wider. The little

pieces of metal in my mouth were starting to make me even more excited. Feeling them slide past my lips and along my tongue reminded me they were there. The constant assurance made me start to wonder how good they would feel as they popped their way in and out of my wet pussy. Surely the girth of his cock would make the jewelry much more enjoyable. Sucking it was starting to make me extremely and uncomfortably wet. I reached under the hem of my dress with my left hand, slid my fingers into my panties, and rubbed my index finger against my clit. The excitement and intensity of everything made me shudder. “Wet as fuck, ain’t it?” he half whispered as he rocked his hips back and forth. I nodded my head and forced my tongue against his piercings. His size, muscles, tattoos, good looks, childish nature and huge pierced cock had become more than I could take. I forced two fingers into my pussy as deep as I could as I sucked his cock slowly. As my fingers slid in knuckle deep, I closed my eyes and moaned against his cock. “Whoa. Bored? You fucking bored?” the question came out in a half angry groan. I opened my eyes and looked up at his face. “If you close your eyes when you’re sucking my cock, I gotta think you’re bored. That’s one of my rules, sister. Stand up,” he commanded in a sharp definitive tone as he reached for my armpits.

His cock slid from my mouth as he picked me up from the floor. “You on birth control?” he asked as my feet dangled a foot from the floor. “Uhhm. Yeah. Yeah, I am,” I responded. “I get checked once a month, I’m clean. It ain’t gonna feel as good for either of us if I wear a rubber,” he breathed as he started walking toward the kitchen. “No. No, I uhhm. I want to feel that. Those,” I pointed down at his cock. “In me,” I sighed in anticipation as he stopped on the tile floor of the kitchen. He lowered me onto the floor and looked in my eyes almost as if he were going to interrogate me. “You got any pussy diseases?” he asked in a matter-of-fact tone. Although I didn’t intend to, I laughed as I started to speak. Quickly, I covered my mouth with my hand, a little embarrassed and fractionally disappointed I was laughing at this point of what was going to be our initial sexual escapade. “This is serious. I ain’t looking to get any fuckin’ diseases,” he pressed his hands to his hips and cocked one eyebrow. “I’m sorry. It’s just. Well, it’s tough to take you seriously. You’re huge, tattooed, and bald. And that,” I smiled and pointed at his face. “That thing you got going on, the hair on your

chin. It’s just. You’re like way hot. And you’re standing here naked, except that you’re wearing tennis shoes,” I giggled as I looked from his face to his feet. “Well again, I sure can’t Chuck Fuck you without ‘em. And they ain’t tennis shoes, they’re Chuck’s,” he said as he grabbed his ankle and raised his foot up to the height of my chest. “And you didn’t answer my question,” he stood with his ankle in his hand, staring at his shoe. “Uhhm, no. No pussy diseases. I know you probably think I am a slut, but I’m not. I’ve had sex with two people in my life,” I lied. I had been with far more than two people, but I didn’t feel a need to be truthful. Not at this juncture. I didn’t want to chance fucking anything up. I stood, stone-faced, and waited as he lowered his foot to the floor. Nothing. He bought it. “And I have been checked, because my last boyfriend was a douche. That was over a year ago,” I sighed. “Well, sounds like we’re good to go,” he clapped his hands and pointed to the countertop. “Hop up there,” he said as he motioned to the kitchen island. I turned and looked behind me at the countertop, confused. As I turned to face him, he placed his hands under my armpits and hoisted me

onto the island. “Get undressed and toss one of those legs over my shoulder. I’ll hold you, and then you can throw the other one up here,” he spread his feet to a wider stance and smiled as he patted his shoulder. “Excuse me? What…uhhm. What are we doing?” I looked down and couldn’t help but smile. “Chuck Fuckin’. We been over this already,” he shook his head as if I had asked a ridiculous question. I pulled the straps of my dress over my shoulders and pushed it down my thighs and off my feet. As I unhooked my bra and pulled it off, he smiled and rubbed his hands together. While I pushed my panties down my thighs, he patted his shoulder again. “Right here, toss your right leg up here,” he held his arms out and bent his knees, lowering his shoulders a little. As I lifted my right foot over his shoulder, he reached for my left thigh and pulled it toward him. As my foot lifted from the counter and I started to fall backward, he slipped his left hand behind me and against my back to stabilize me. With both thighs over his shoulders and my pussy against his chin, it was now apparent what it was he had planned. As his other hand slid behind me, I sighed. “I’m gonna suck on your clit and lick your pussy ‘till your good and wet. After you’re soaked,

we’ll get to Chuck Fuckin’,” he said as he tilted his head back a little. “Till I’m soaked?” I whispered. “Yup,” he nodded. “Shouldn’t take long,” I whimpered as I bit my bottom lip and gripped the back of his head with my hands. “What’s that?” he asked as he started slowly walking across the kitchen floor. I barely got the word, “Nothing,” out, and he buried his tongue into my pussy. “Holy shit,” I squealed as his tongue flicked against my clit. In a predictable but ever so pleasing pattern, his tongue worked from the bottom upward and into my pussy. Gradually he worked his way up and against my clit. As his tongue touched my clit, he flicked the tip against it a few times and then started all over again at the bottom. “Oh holy…Jesus. I uhhm. Oh God. Oh God,” I mumbled as he licked and nibbled at my wet pussy. After what was probably a minute at the most, I was done. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, and I had achieved orgasms no less than two times. I closed my eyes and bit my lip as I tried to focus on what I was feeling. He groaned and moaned as his tongue continued to torture me. Something about sitting on a man’s shoulders

and having him lick my pussy was more than I could take. Coupled with the fact the person doing it was covered in tattoos and had a pierced cock, I was a literal mess of sexually tortured pleasure. I felt my back slam against the wall and his face press harder into my thighs. His tongue slowly worked into my pussy, up against my clit, and stopped. Between his upper lip and tongue, my clit was now held captive to a humming, groaning, unexplainable vibrating tongue dance I am certain he had spent countless hours perfecting. As I began to reach climax, I felt as if my head were going to explode. “Oh holy fuck stop. I am so serious. Stop. Oh… no. Fuck,” I opened my eyes and saw spots. Everywhere. Spots. The orgasm continued to shoot through my body as his tongue and lip took ownership of my clit. I closed my spot-filled eyes. Holy fucking Jesus fucking God. Fuck. Shit. Fuck. A tingling sensation ran from my face to my crotch and up to my nipples. I felt as if I had a thousand feathers tickling me at once. I had no idea of what he was doing to me for certain, but it did not matter. He sure as fuck knew what to do, and he was damned good at it. “Scrmmm,” his mumbling vibrated against my

thighs and pussy. I opened my eyes and looked down. My entire field of vision filled with grey spots, and my body trembling, I tried to remember how to make my mouth form a legible sound. “What?” I blurted. He continued to own my clit. “Scrmmm,” he grunted. I may or may not have had another orgasm as he grunted. I closed my eyes and opened them again. Spots. “Whaaaaa?” I shouted. He pulled his face away from my pussy and looked up into my eyes. “One more time. And this time, scream when you cum. It’ll feel good,” his lower face covered in cum, he smiled as he spoke. I generally don’t know very much, and by most peoples accounts I am a dumb blonde, but I knew this much; I needed to buy some time or he was going to kill me. Death by orgasmic pleasure. “What the fuck are you doing to me?” I looked down and whispered. “Lickle,” he chuckled. “Huh?” I muttered as I tried to catch my breath. “Lickle,” he grinned as he licked cum from his lips. “What the fuck is that?” I sighed as I tried to

get my eyes to focus. “Lickle, I invented it. It’s a tongue control deal. I make my tongue vibrate,” he stuck his tongue out of his mouth and held it still as the tip flicked up and down like a child’s wind-up toy. “It’s like licking but it tickles. Lickle. You ready?” he asked as he squeezed my waist in his hands. I had no idea of what to do, and was almost able to breathe normally again. As with anything else pain or pleasure related, it’s awfully easy to tell yourself once it’s over it wasn’t that bad. After he had stopped, I convinced myself I was able to take the Lickle torture again without incident. I did all I knew to do, considering all things. Like a cowboy preparing to ride a bull, I gave my sign. I inhaled, closed my eyes, and nodded once. The vibrating immediately began again, followed by his moaning and groaning. Initially pleased with my ability to take the torture, I almost instantly felt a tingle in my nipples followed by an aching inside my pussy. His tongue in Lickle mode, my clit felt like it was growing in his mouth as he ground his face into my pussy. As if he knew exactly how I felt, he reminded me of our agreement. “Scrmmm,” he no more than mumbled, and I exploded.

“Holy fuck Ripppppppp!” I let go of his head and slapped the wall with both hands. “Oh my..” “Oh my God.” “Ripp…” I opened my eyes to a spot filled room. The wall against my back, I had no means of escape. I bucked my hips against his face, attempting to move myself away from the wall. My entire body tingling and on the verge of dehydration from cumming my brains out, I pushed my hands against the wall, knocking him off balance. “Yougottastop. Imgonnafuckingexplode,” I exhaled in two jumbled words. He pulled his face back from my inner thighs as he stumbled backward. He looked up and smiled. His hands slid up my waist to my ribcage and gripped me tight. As he lifted me from his shoulders, I raised my shaking legs to clear his upper body. As he lowered me to the floor, I realized just how weak my legs had become. “Lay your chest on the countertop and spread your legs a little,” he said as he motioned to the kitchen’s island. “I need a minute,” I sighed as I placed my shaking hands on the counter. “Hell babe. We ain’t even got a good start. You ain’t fuckin’ some punk MMA fighter. We’re Chuck Fuckin’ baby. Spread your legs,” he laughed.

To anyone who has ever jumped rope, this might make a little sense. Thirty seconds of jumping rope will exhaust you. It might take fifteen minutes to catch your breath after a minute and a half of exercise. I know boxers jump rope for hours on end. The stamina a boxer has is incapable of being compared to any other athlete. While I recalled just who it was I had signed on to have sex with, he began to stroke his jewelry filled cock. I leaned my chest onto the countertop and laid my face down on the cold surface. After a second of catching my breath, I spread my legs somewhat and arched my back. As my ass lifted in the air, I felt his fingers begin to slide in and out of my pussy. I got lost as he gently and slowly worked two fingers in and out of my pussy. God this feels good. His fingers working in and out of my wet pussy began to feel so good, I felt as if I could fall asleep. My eyes closed, and my body exhausted from half a dozen intense orgasms, I relaxed my muscles and exhaled. The cold counter felt relaxing on my nipples. “Ready?” his warm breath against my ear startled me. “Whaaaa?” I muttered as I opened my eyes. “For?” I drug the word out for a good three seconds. “The cock, baby. I need to show you a trick,”

he breathed into my ear. “A trick?” I raised my head from the countertop. “Kinda like Lickle?” I asked over my left shoulder. “Yup,” he answered. We all yearn to be satisfied - to have the one earth shattering orgasm - to feel as if we have been teleported to sexual heaven, but I felt as if I was way out of my league with Ripp. I had no idea what else to do. I simply nodded my head and slowly lowered it onto the counter. “Do it,” I whispered. I suppose all along he knew how important the preparation was, the lubrication. The extreme wetness. The opening up of my pussy like a flower to prepare for him to enter me. His Lickle trick was just that - necessary preparation. In no way, however, was it enough. “Oh my fucking God.” I raised my head from the counter and slapped my hands against the surface. His cock slowly started to force itself inside of me. The pain wasn’t really a pain, but a pleasure combined with an odd feeling of pain. I felt as if I were sixteen again, losing my virginity to Reece. As my eyes opened wider, I felt his balls pressing against my swollen clit. “We’ll go easy at first, then I’ll show ya,” he

gripped my waist in his hands and slowly slid his cock out of my pussy. As he carefully slid in and out of my pussy, I decided regardless of where this ended, whatever we were to have after this night was over, I could never ever be satisfied again by any other man who didn’t have a massive cock. Having your pussy full - stuffed absolutely full of cock was like drinking a fine Cognac. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll never be satisfied by the cheap shit. “Oh my God, Ripp…I’m gonna…” I opened my eyes, unsure of what was about to happen. “Scream,” he insisted as he continued to fuck me slowly and steadily. His cock slowly worked in and out of my dripping pussy as my body began to shudder. As I felt his hips press against my ass, his balls massaged my clit. I closed my eyes as he slid it out and prepared for the in-stroke. Slowly, he began to force himself inside again as I tried to take a breath. A short and choppy one was all I could get. “Holy…” “Fuuuucccckkkk!” I screamed as my legs began to shake. My body exploded with an orgasm to end all orgasms. Simply and slowly fucking me after a few minutes of Lickle, and this man owned my pussy. My legs shaking and my pussy throbbing, I opened and closed my eyes, once again, to spots.

Owned it. Whack! The sound immediately beside my head frightened me. I turned to the right, somewhat startled by seeing his very large canvas Chuck Taylor sneaker right beside my face. “What the fuck?” I screeched. “Dekk’s girlfriend read it in a book. Head steppin’,” he said. “Uhhm, no,” I mumbled. “I ain’t steppin’ on your head babe. But this shit’s awesome. Just hold on,” he explained. With his right foot beside my head, and his left on the floor, his hips were at an awkward upward angle against my pussy. My position, however, had not changed. As his hips slowly worked up and down, I was quickly reminded the bottom of his cock was pierced. Oh. My. God. At this new angle, his Jacob’s ladder was just that - a fucking ladder leading to the land of orgasmic pleasure. Against my clit, the pieces of steel banged. On the in stroke; tap, tap, tap. And. On the out stroke; tap, tap, tap. I bit my bottom lip and counted as he gripped my hips and did what he seemed to do oh so well. One. Two. Three. I inhaled sharply. One. Two. Oh my fucking God. I exhaled, followed by a severe head-rush.

His hips pressed against my ass. Three. With my eyes closed and my mind in suspension, I tingled. Over and over, with each stroke, my clit pulsated as his piercings tickled me into a heavenly bliss. Small orgasms continued, one after the other. I lost track of time, my existence and specifically what was going on. I wasn’t having orgasms. I became an orgasm. “What are we doing, babe?” he shouted as he worked his cock up and down, in and out. “Whaaa?” I opened my eyes and exhaled sharply through the small opening between my teeth and lower lip. “Chuck Fuckin’,” he hollered. I closed my eyes and began to feel faint. The steel rods banging against my clit as his massive cock filled the inside of my soaking wet pussy, sliding in and out, tapping my clit further into ownership. The speed in which he was fucking me increased as the seconds passed. As my body started to tingle, the sound of his voice brought me back to earth. “What are we doing?” he asked again. “Chuck Fuckin’,” I screamed. “God damned right, we’re Chuck Fuckin’ baby,” he yelled as he continued to pound in and out of my pussy.

My nipples began to tingle and my butt felt as if it were being electrocuted. I felt my pussy swell as if it were going to explode. I bit my lip harder and grunted, never having felt quite anything comparable. “Oh God Ripp…” The feeling of pleasure was more than I felt I could enjoy without collapse or brain damage. I was actually scared I was going to squirt cum it felt so good. Uncertain of what was happening, my mouth and eyes opened at the same time. “Cum, I’m going to cum,” I stammered. “Fuck yes. Do it,” he demanded as he slapped his hand against my ass. As his massive cock filled me, the steel piercings made me melt. Without a doubt, I never want a man without a piercing ever… “Oh…” “Fuck….” “Ahhhhhhhh Fucccckkkkkk,” my eyes opened and closed repeatedly. My hearing went completely blank. He fucked me deaf. I opened my eyes, and saw nothing. Not even spots. Deaf and blind. As my ears began to ring, my vision repaired itself to seeing spots. A steady dull ring from my ears was a reminder of the intensity of the orgasm. I raised my hand from the countertop and stared at it. Shaking uncontrollably.

“Gimme a minute,” I whispered as I pulled my hips toward the counter. “We’re just getting started,” he laughed. As his cock flopped from inside of me, I reminded him. “Don’t fucking touch me. Jesus. I need,” I paused and looked around the room, “I need a minute.” I looked down at my shaking legs. I turned to face Ripp, who stood smiling, his foot still fixed firm on the countertop. Limber bastard. “I need a minute, seriously,” I sighed as I attempted to catch my breath. “Lickle time,” he said as he lowered his foot to the floor and scooped me from my feet. He raised me over his head and ducked under my legs, resting my thighs on his shoulders. As his mouth smashed against my soaking wet pussy, I felt the tingle against my clit and heard him begin to hum and groan. Closing my eyes was the only thing I knew to do. I bit my lip and felt my eyes roll back into my head so far I felt they’d dislodge. And. I. Came. I have no real complete recollection of how long this lasted or when for certain it stopped. Although I had not had any alcohol or drugs, Ripp later told me I was Fuck Drunk. I’m sure he was right, Fuck Drunk I was. When I came back to

consciousness, I heard him in the kitchen. I looked around the room, confused. “What happened?” I asked across the room. “I walked in here to cook some eggs, I got hungry after you rode my cock while I was on the floor,” he said over his shoulder. Standing naked at the stove and wearing only his Chuck’s, I wanted to take a picture of him. “How’d I get here? To the couch?” I asked. “You just sat there when I walked in here. You’re Fuck Drunk. Too much good sex,” he responded as if it were normal. Light-headed, I walked to the kitchen and stood behind him. My vision was blurred. I felt as if I had run six miles as fast as I could, and had stopped immediately and unexpectedly. Full of endorphins, emotion, and wonder, I wrapped my arms around his back and slid my hands to his stomach. I nudged my hips closer to his tight butt muscles and sighed. I had never had so many orgasms in my life. It was crazy, but one night of sex. Just one. And I was falling for Mike Ripton. Well, at least falling for fucking him. As he stood naked and scrambled the eggs, I hoped for a sign. Something. I wanted him to tell me I was different. That something had happened in a night filled with orgasms and sex which would

separate me from the many others. “Barbee,” he paused as he stirred the eggs. “Yeah Ripp?” the words hung on my lips for a long second. “You think your sister would be up for a threeway?” he asked without looking up from the stove. Not exactly what I was hoping for. My heart sank a little bit and I fought with what I wanted to say. My response needed to be something which might preserve a possibility of seeing Ripp in the future. I opened my mouth and closed it a few times, incapable of speaking. Finally, the words came. “Brandee,” I screamed over my shoulder, “come in here for a minute. Mike and I have a question.” As I heard Brandee’s feet coming down the hallway, an almost inaudible sound came from where Ripp was standing. I’ll never be one hundred percent certain, but it sounded like… Fuck yes.

3

RIPP. “Fuck drunk?” Dekk said as he pulled the onion from his sandwich and dropped it on his plate. “Yup,” I said over the top of my beer bottle. “Out of all your stories, that’s a first,” Dekk shook his head and took a bite of his sandwich. “Shit, happens all of the damned time, bro,” I assured him as I placed my beer bottle on the table. “I think it was the head steppin’ that did her in,” I laughed as I thought about my foot startling her as it hit the counter. “You didn’t?” Dekk shook his head and dropped his sandwich onto the plate. “Son-of-a-bitch, Ripp. You kidding?” he asked as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Not even a little bit,” I laughed as I pulled the skin from my chicken breast and held it suspended

over my mouth. “From…” he shook his head and rolled his eyes as he thought. “Yep. From the book where Kace got mad and tossed her Kindle deal across the room, remember?” I smiled as I dropped the skin into my mouth and began chewing. “Yeah, I heard about it for a week. She should have never brought it up to you, that’s for damned sure,” he said as he scowled at me and picked up his sandwich. “That’s what I like about Shorty; she’s like one of the fella’s. She can talk about whatever and she ain’t embarrassed,” I picked up my beer and took a drink as I swallowed the chicken skin. “So anyway,” I said as I placed my beer bottle onto the table, “she came like a faucet. Maybe fifty times.” I picked up my chicken breast and nodded my head jokingly as I gnawed the meat from the bone. If there was anything more satisfying for a man than actually fucking, it was telling your friends about it after it happened. I always seemed to make an event out of fucking, so my stories were generally pretty damned good. For me, the look of shock on Dekk’s face was a form of assurance I did my job well with Barbee. “And I’m sure you wore your shoes the entire time,” although he tried to remain serious, Dekk

started laughing as he finished speaking. “Yep,” I said as I reached for a toothpick. I pulled my beer from the table and leaned back in my chair, picking the chicken from my teeth. From the time I was a kid, I had spent the majority of the time in my home naked. My first recollection of doing so was partially a recollection, and a small slice of memory from a story which was told to me over and over by my parents and family members. At the age of three, on an early summer day, my mother was trying to get me dressed. After throwing quite a tantrum, I took off through the house, stark naked. Out the back door and into the yard I went. My father at work, my mother was my only worry. As she attempted to catch me I would run, screaming the entire time. Eventually she gave up and went inside the house, attempting to wait for me to give in and give up. I’m sure it probably doesn’t come as a shock to anyone, but I’m a very stubborn person. This characteristic started at a very early age, and I certainly wasn’t immune to it at three years old. I refused to go inside, and refused to get dressed. At lunch time she came outside to get me. Immediately, I took off down the street, still as naked as the day I was born. Startled looks from the neighbors and people passing by were greeted by my signature hands on the hips pose of pride I still use as an adult. Reports

to my mother from neighbors flooded in all day, testifying to my nakedness and free reign of the neighborhood. I spent the day without food or drink, naked, walking around the neighborhood. Things seemed so much clearer when I was naked. I felt clean, free of restriction and able to face the neighborhood without any denial of who I was or what I was about. Free will. Oddly enough, I ended up in a profession where my work attire consisted of a pair of shorts. When not boxing, I typically wore my signature attire; a pair of cargo shorts and a wife-beater. Getting dressed up for me might include a tee shirt. Topped off by a pair of Chuck’s with no socks, I was as close to naked as the law will allow me to be – at least in Texas. In the comfort of my own home, I spent as much time as possible naked. If I had guests, I typically wore shorts and Chuck’s. If I had a house full of guests, some of which I didn’t know, I would complement my wardrobe with a wife-beater - out of respect. I laughed at the thought of Brandee and her sister’s thoughts of my nakedness. “Dude, she asked me if I was showing off. I fucking had to laugh. I said, ‘Listen, I would be naked if you were gone, and I sure as fuck ain’t

getting dressed because you’re here’. She asked about the Chuck’s, and I told her I hated steppin’ on shit. Funny how a guy can get hit in the jaw by a two hundred and fifty pound goon, but stepping on a pebble will bring him to his knees,” I pulled my toothpick from my mouth and finished my beer. “So what about Liv?” Dekk asked as he rolled his eyes again. “What about Liv?” I sat up in my chair and rested my forearms on my knees. “Well, what do you think she’ll feel like if she finds out?” “Well, she ain’t gonna find out. Barbee sure as fuck ain’t gonna call her and tell her. And I already told Liv the same thing I told Barbee. You know how I roll,” I gave Dekk my best form of an evil stare. “You tell these girls you’re just fucking them, and there’s to be no feelings involved,” Dekk paused and looked up at the ceiling. “Yeah. I tell ‘em that up front. They agree. I ain’t never forced anyone to do anything,” I raised my hands from my knees and held them up as I waited on a response. “I wasn’t done,” Dekk complained. “Well fuckin’ finish, Dekk. What are you trying to say?” I rested my chin in my right hand and raised my eyebrows at his silence. He squirmed in his chair for a minute and took

a slow drink of his water. Without a doubt, Dekk was my best friend and would remain so for life. He was a little bit of a romantic, and had some holier than thou frosting spread over the surface which sometimes made him a little hard to agree with when it came to my sex life. He placed his glass of water on the table and rested his face in the palms of his hands. “Just because you tell them not to have feelings doesn’t mean they’re not going to. When women have sex with a man, they feel. So these women, I guarantee you, all have feelings for you. If you don’t believe me, ask them. But telling them not to feel is no assurance they don’t or won’t. All women want a man to care for them, love them and cherish them,” Dekk took a slow breath. I was done trying to listen to Dekk’s preaching. I pulled my hand from my chin and slowly started clapping. “Tell that shit to someone that’s going to listen to you and believe you, dude. Jesus. You know me, and I ain’t trying to get preached to. This ain’t the first bitch I ever fucked, and it damn sure ain’t gonna be the last,” I stopped clapping and rubbed my hands on my shorts as I shook my head lightly. I really wasn’t in the mood to argue about a woman’s ability to get fucked and enjoy it. Sometimes Dekk could be exhausting with his attempts to be mister nice guy. I was as nice as he

was, all things considered. I just had more fun being nice. It didn’t make me inconsiderate or mean, it just made me different. As I exhaled a shallow breath and looked at my empty beer bottle, I noticed a person’s head glide by the top of the table beside us. “Oh. Good God damn. What the fuckin’ fuck,” I stood up in my chair and looked over Dekk toward the aisle which led foot traffic to and from the bar. A guy in a wheel chair slowly rolled his way into the bar and stopped at a table twenty feet from where we were sitting. “Oh fuck dude we gotta go,” I said, half frantic at what I’d seen. “What happened,” Dekk said as he looked over his shoulders. I reached for my wallet and started pulling bills out. “Dude. A fuckin’ cripple. In a God damned wheelchair, c’mon. What’d you have? Sandwich? Ten, my chicken and two beers, twenty, three, three, twenty-six. Fuck it, I’ll leave forty and include the tip,” I tossed two twenty dollar bills on the table and put my empty beer bottle on top of them. Slowly, Dekk turned to look around the bar as he stood. “C’mon, motherfucker. You know I can’t stay,

this is freaking me out,” I started pushing my way through the empty chairs and tables, quickly making my own path toward the exit and into the parking lot. For as long as I could remember, people who were crippled had always freaked me out. I felt pretty bad most of the time about how I felt, but it wasn’t a decision I consciously made. No matter how hard I tried to force myself to accept it, them, and the fact they existed, I couldn’t accept it as a part of my responsibility to be in their presence. When I saw them, try as I might, they kind of scared me. I’d never been afraid of another human being, and hell, I’d fight anyone. Place me in the same room as a person in a wheel chair, however, and I’d stand there and just shake. Give me enough time, and I’d be crying like a baby. Crippled people. And fucking midgets. And God damned clowns. Crippled people and midgets I felt terrible about. I couldn’t help it, but I felt the way I felt. To me, they were like spiders or snakes were to other people. I actually feared them. But a clown? Clowns are just fucking stupid. When I see a guy in a clown suit, I want to beat the shit out of him. He chooses to be a clown; crippled people and midgets can’t help it. Fucking clowns.

As I reached for the hand controls on my bike, I noticed my hand shaking. I extended my fingers flat and tried to steady it, but it continued to shake uncontrollably. “You alright?” Dekk asked as he stood between his bike and mine, staring at my hand as it shook. “Fuck no, I’m not alright. That fucker just slid by where we were sittin’. No warning, no nothing. Just a fucking head rollin’ by in a chair. Seriously, that’s fucked up,” I clenched my jaw muscles and stared into the parking lot. “Let’s go down to dirty sixth and hang out in a bar. The Jackelope. How’s that sound?” I asked as I gripped the throttle on my bike. “You know there’s nothing they can do about it,” Dekk sighed. “Don’t even fuckin’ start. You know how I feel. Been this way since I was a kid. That shit creeps me out. They’re like fucking spiders,” I said as I turned on the ignition and fired up the bike. Dekk shook his head and slowly walked his swaggering ass over to where his bike was parked. “Want to go to Dirty sixth? Jackalope?” I hollered over the sound of the exhaust. Dekk threw his leg over the seat and fired up his bike. As his engine warmed up, he turned and nodded my direction. Great. Let’s get the fuck out of here. Most people see me, meet me, or hear my slow

Texas manner of speaking, and they assume I’m stupid. In fact, I’m far from it. I received a full ride scholarship to college, and it wasn’t what most would have guessed which got me there. Academics. An academic scholarship for a guy built like a linebacker. Go figure. I never really cared for sports, not with my heart. I didn’t look at boxing as a sport, per se. It’s not what drove me to compete and excel. Beating another man’s ass was what fueled me. Winning a one on one competition let me know it was me and me alone who won the contest, the fight, the competition or the match. No one else. Win or lose, it was all me. Naturally intelligent, and as mean as a snake. An odd combination, but I couldn’t change who I was. As smart as I was, I had never been able to determine why I felt the way I did about crippled people and midgets. It bothered me and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t really accept it either. I grabbed a handful of throttle and closed the gap between Dekk’s bike and mine. As we sped down the highway toward downtown, it dawned on me. I was doing what I’d done pretty much my entire life. Relationships. Getting a real job.

Facing my fears. I was running. Hell, maybe I’m a little bit smarter than I look.

4

RIPP. “You seriously are going to say you like someone based on their looks alone,” Dekk looked over his shoulder, studied her for a minute, and slowly turned back to face me. “Dude, don’t stare, you’ll freak her out,” I whispered. “I wasn’t staring, I just looked. You told me to,” he whispered back. “Well, what did you think? And I didn’t say I liked her. I said I liked looking at her and watching her walk. Wait till she walks again, I’ll tell ya. Dude. Dude. She’s fucking smoking,” I slowly shook my head from side to side as I watched her walk toward her girlfriends. “She’s beautiful, no doubt about it. But people are more than their looks alone. She could be an awful person,” Dekk rubbed the sides of his face

with his hands. “And she could be a humanitarian. That’s my point, I want to find out,” I nodded my head in her direction. “You’re like a two hundred-fifty pound kid,” Dekk sighed. “Two-thirty. And yeah, we all are. Or at least we should be. I like being a kid. Holy fuck, dude, look at her calves when she walks,” I nodded my head in her direction again. Generally speaking, I’m a good judge of character. Most of the time, I can tell from looking at someone if they are a good or bad person. I’m not psychic, nor can I see into the future. I can, however, accurately categorize people. The good and the bad. She was about five foot six in her heels, give or take an inch or so. I’d guess about five foot two without them. Physically, she was what most would describe as athletic. Her attitude was apparent by her hand gestures, the way she walked and how her friends paid attention when she spoke. Her brunette hair was a little past her shoulders, and she wore a black pencil shirt and heels. Her attitude and presence demanded I pay attention to her. It helped matters she was absolutely gorgeous. I watched as her girlfriends played pool and she told a story. She was the type of woman who caused men to do stupid shit they would later look back on with

disbelief. When asked why, a shoulder shrug and quick gesture toward her would cause the person inquiring to just nod in complete understanding. She was that gorgeous. “Well, on a scale of one to ten, what do ya say?” I asked as I sank into my seat and took a sip of my beer. “Definitely a ten from what I can see from here. And what the fuck are you doing? You’re hiding your beer?” Dekk chuckled. I shrugged my shoulders and slowly sat up in my seat. “Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing. Tell me what to say,” I pushed my beer to the side of the booth and rubbed my hands on my shorts. “What to say?” he sat up in his seat and raised his hands in wonder. “Yeah. I need to talk to her. You know, say something. You’re a walking Hallmark card, Dekk. Give me something,” I leaned forward and rested my forearms on the table. Dekk sat and stared at me through the hood of his sweatshirt and brushed the sides of his head in his hands. “I can’t tell you what to say. Just walk over there and talk to her,” he pulled his hands from his hood and shook his head. “Dekk, look at me. You know me. If anyone does, you do. I knock motherfuckers out and fuck

bitches. I don’t love ‘em. I fuck ‘em. I might have said something once or twice which ended up being sweet, but it wasn’t intentional. I want to go over there, say something, and have her think, holy shit this guy is so sweet,” I nodded my head as I thought about Dekk providing the perfect poetic phrase. “I don’t know. Shit, Ripp. You could…” Dekk rolled his eyes, looked up, and then focused on my face and stared. “Make it good,” I leaned closer to the center of the table and rubbed my hands together. Dekk rotated in his seat and watched her over his shoulder as he stretched his arms outward. When he turned to face me, he smiled and slowly nodded. Brushing the hood off of his head was proof he was really putting some serious thought into what he was going to say. “I’m sure if I tell you you’re gorgeous, I wouldn’t be the first. It goes without saying you’re a strikingly beautiful woman. That’s not why I’m here. You have a certain presence about you which commands attention, and certainly demanded mine,” Dekk took a slow breath and started to continue. “Dude, stop,” I raised my forearms from the table and leaned back into the seat. “What?” he asked. “You really think I’m gonna remember all that

mumbo jumbo shit? Damn, Dekk. Give me your fucking hoodie,” I said as I leaned back toward the table. “What?” he asked again. “Say what again, motherfucker. Say what again,” I joked, mimicking Samuel L. Jackson from the movie Pulp Fiction. “You want my hoodie?” he asked. “Yeah,” I pointed to my chest, “Look at me. I’m wearing a wife beater and I’m covered in tats. I want the hoodie. So I’ll look like a normal person.” “But you’re not a normal person,” Dekk chuckled. “I’m not lookin’ to tell her that. Give up the hoodie,” I laughed as I leaned back in the seat. Dekk shook his head, unzipped the hoodie, and pulled it off. As he handed it over the table, he smiled his Dekkar grin. Life gives us good friends, great friends and our best friends. Without a doubt, Dekk was the best friend life could ever offer anyone. As I reached for the hoodie, I leaned into the corner of the booth to hide as I pulled it over my shoulders. “It’s ninety degrees outside, and I’m wearing a fucking hoodie. See how dumb this looks?” I chuckled. “You look dumb, and I feel naked,” Dekk said as he crossed his arms over his chest “Fucking small assed shit you wear,” I

complained as I zipped it up. “Unzip it a little, you’re going to stretch it out,” Dekk wagged his finger up and down as he pointed to the hoodie. “I’m gonna have to unzip this bitch so I can breathe,” I sighed as I unzipped it to the middle of my torso. “Now give me something simple,” I said as I leaned into the center of the booth and looked toward the group of women. Dekk looked up at the ceiling, drew a slow breath and started speaking as he looked down. “Hi, my name’s Mike. I want to spend the next two years determining what it is that makes you happy; and the rest of my life doing it,” Dekk smiled. I shook my head and rolled my eyes, “Forget it, Dekk. Just fucking forget it.” I slid out of the booth and stood. I pushed my hands into the two sizes too small hoodie and stretched it down further, attempting to make it appear to fit. I pulled my toothpick from my mouth and without even thinking handed it to Dekk. “I don’t want that nasty fucker, toss it on the table,” he mumbled. I tossed the toothpick onto the table and started walking toward the women. As I walked closer, she became more attractive, real and rather unapproachable. I’d never been afraid of anything

in my life, and I sure as fuck wasn’t afraid to talk to her. More accurately, I was afraid of what she might say in return. Rejection didn’t sit very well with me. I thought about going to the bathroom and talking to her as I returned to the table, but it would be less personal. As I got within a few feet of the group, I turned to face her and inhaled a short breath. As I exhaled, she looked over her shoulder, noticed me, and repositioned where she was standing to face me. Her eyes quickly glanced down at my Chuck’s and hesitated. As she slowly worked her gaze up my frame, I grinned. “Hi,” she smiled. Nobody has teeth that white. “Hi. I’m Ripp. My friend and I came in here to cool off and relax,” I motioned toward the booth where Dekk and I were sitting. “Ripp?” she raised her eyebrows just enough to indicate wonder. C’mon, God. Help me out. I need this. “Yeah, Ripp. I uhhm, I like things that are perfect. I couldn’t help but notice, from way over there,” I paused and motioned toward the booth again. “Your eyebrows. Well, they’re perfect. Like perfect, perfect,” I smiled. Slowly, her smile grew and she clasped her hands together, “My eyebrows?” Fuck yeah. She likes it.

“Yep,” I smiled as I pushed my hands deeper into Dekk’s pockets. “You came here to advise me you liked my eyebrows?” she stepped forward with her right foot, arched her back a little, and studied my face as she attempted to hide her smile. It takes a lot to impress me. Women, to me, are primarily all the same. They provide entertainment, that’s it. Personally, I’d never had a problem picking up women. I’d had my fair share, and never really been in a relationship to speak of. Additionally, I don’t know if a woman really ever impressed me. Not to a point I would actually admit it. Standing before this woman, I could safely state not only did she impress me, but I was quite certain no other would ever do so to this degree. Now standing three feet from my face, try as I might, I could not find one single flaw. Not one. Perfect skin. Perfect posture. Her clothes fit perfectly. Her jewelry was perfect, and she smelled perfect. Slowly, I inhaled through my nose, hoping to memorize her scent. “Nope. I came here to tell you they were perfect,” I pulled my hands from the hoodie and rubbed them on my shorts. “And as I sat and admired your eyebrows, I couldn’t help but notice you have good…uhhm, gestures,” I waved my hands in front of me in circles.

“Gestures?” she rested her hands to her waist and cocked her hips. “You use your hands when you talk. You’re… what’s the word I’m looking for?” I scanned the area where her friends stood and then fixed my eyes on hers, “theatrical. You’re theatrical.” “And that is what you came here to tell me?” she chuckled. “That and I want an opportunity to get to know you,” I explained. “Well Ripp, I just might give you one. Are you a bad boy all of the time?” she asked. “Only when I have to be,” I said matter-offactly. “Interesting. Well, I’m Vee,” she sighed as she extended her arm and offered her hand. “Have you a phone?” she asked as I shook her hand. “No, I left it in the booth,” I responded as I released her hand. “Well, I’m here for lunch with some associates from work, and we’re going to have to return soon,” she paused. “I work at Simon, Simon, and Simone, right around the corner under the Bat Bridge. It’s easy to remember. Google it. Call me there at the office. Just ask for Vee. We’ll proceed from there,” she turned to face her friends, who were both watching intently.

“Sounds great, Vee, I’ll do that. Pleasure to meet you,” I said softly. I felt like running back to the booth and telling Dekk what had happened. I struggled to walk slowly and carefully, so I didn’t look like a damned fool. Something about Vee was exactly what I never looked for in a woman. For some reason at that particular moment, I felt as if I needed it. As I slid into my seat, I couldn’t contain my smile. “Getting out the gold for this one, huh?” Dekk laughed as he took a drink of his water. “Huh?” “That big assed smile. Your gold tooth. It’s everywhere,” Dekk laughed as I settled into the seat. “Yeah, well, I didn’t smile really big while I was talking to her. Didn’t know what she might think about Goldie. And, I was too busy being suave,” I chuckled. “And, just so you know. I was like Don fucking Juan over there. Hell, I didn’t even stumble or say anything stupid,” I bragged. “Well, that’s good. Give me my hoodie back,” he said as he gestured across the table. “Not just yet. I want to wait until they’re gone. They’re leaving now,” I said as I peered out of the booth toward the women. As the three women walked toward the exit, Vee turned and looked into the bar. As her eyes met

mine, she raised her hand, waved and smiled. I formed a soft closed-mouth smile, and waved in return. As soon as they cleared the doorway, I pulled off the hoodie and dropped it in the center of the table. “So, you going to drunk Chuck fuck her?” Dekk laughed as I leaned back in to the seat. “Chuck Fuckin’ and Fuck Drunk. They’re two separate things, get it straight. One’s fuckin’ and one’s a state of mind. And I might. We’ll just have to see. Maybe you should step on Shorty’s head, dude. She might like it, rumor has it chick’s dig it,” I said as I took a drink of my beer. The temperature of the beer reminded me of how long I had gone without taking a drink from the bottle. The warm beer, once in my mouth, expanded to about five times its original size. As it swelled into a ball of liquid foam, I attempted unsuccessfully to swallow it. Nervously, I looked for a place to spit it out. As I considered running to the bathroom, Shane responded. “I already stepped on her head, and she loved it,” Dekk grinned. And after his response, I no longer needed to look for a place to spit the beer. It shot out of my mouth and nose, and sprayed all over Dekk’s hoodie. “Well fuck, Ripp. Seriously?” he said as he stared at the beer soaked hoodie.

“Well, I didn’t expect you to say that,” I said as I wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “And I didn’t expect her to like it,” he laughed. I’ve fucked women six ways from Sunday. Over the course of my life, I have had a woman in about every conceivable position, location and setting imaginable. Thinking about Shane stepping on Shorty’s head while he fucked her was beyond what I wanted to imagine. I guess predicting a woman’s sexual desires or wants based on her personality or looks was impossible. “Dude, enough,” I complained as I held my index finger in the air. I glanced at my watch and realized how much time had passed. Almost five o’clock in the evening, and I needed to ride home, change clothes, and get my car. Liv and I were scheduled to meet for dinner at six. “C’mon, Dekk. I got to get out of here,” I said as I stood from the seat. “Hot date?” he asked as he picked up his hoodie and shook the beer from it. “Liv. Dinner. At six,” I responded as I slid out into the aisle. “Kace says she’s pretty conservative, sexually,” Dekk laughed. Not anymore, I thought as I walked toward the door. Not anymore.

5

RIPP. Sitting at the Jackalope and drinking for three hours with Dekk didn’t make me feel any better about seeing the cripple. Riding north on the highway ninety miles an hour coming home weaving through traffic didn’t seem to help me either. Acceptance is supposed to be the answer to all things, but it’s easier said than done. Sometimes masking or denying the issue is what I have found to be best. Over time I have learned to accept some things; and Liv eating the dirty chicken the day at my house was one of them. “Well, it ain’t any different than the other four times we been here, I fuckin’ like it,” I said as I pulled my shorts down to my thighs. “C’mon Mike, let’s just go to your house,” Liv said as she looked out the window nervously. “I don’t want to fuck at home. If I did, we’d be

there. I’m in a shitty mood, and I want to fuck right here. I like fuckin’ here, it’s hot,” I said as I started stroking my cock. “Hot to you, but it makes me nervous,” she said as she unzipped her shorts. “It makes you wet, admit it,” I laughed as I slumped down in the seat. “Fucking behind Yamasa Japanese Grille doesn’t make me wet, Mike. Fucking you behind Yamasa Japanese Grille does,” she said as she raised her leg over the center console and lowered herself onto my lap. We had never actually eaten at the restaurant. It was about four blocks from my house, maybe five minutes away at most if traffic was terrible. One day, a few months prior, I dared Liv to fuck me behind the restaurant. I had stated if she didn’t do it, I would hold out on giving her any sex when we got home. We pulled into the parking lot - mid-day - and fucked in the front seat of the car. Since, we had repeated the process three or four times, each time becoming more and more intense. Liv was little bit different, sexually speaking. She had a few sexual hang ups. Nothing earth shattering, but different than most of the girls I had been with in the past. My exposure to her desires caused me to realize she was a little bit wild. My longing to be naked in public brought us to Yamasa’s parking lot.

Now sitting in the front seat of my car, naked from the waist down, I was ready to begin our little game. Also naked from the waist down, Liv was wearing nothing but a sleeveless top and her bra. One of her feet on either side of my hips, and her knees bent, I lowered her onto my lap in front of my cock. “You dirty little slut,” I bellowed as I grabbed her neck in my hand. “Get on my big cock and ride it. Take it all you whore,” I said as I squeezed her neck in my right hand. She raised herself up and hovered over my cock. I pressed down on her shoulder with my left hand as I squeezed her neck with my right. Her sopping wet pussy slid down my cock with no effort whatsoever. As her ass came in contact with my thighs, her eyes closed and she exhaled loudly. “You filthy little tramp. You already came all over me, didn’t you?” I asked. She opened her eyes and nodded her head sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I’m a dirty, filthy girl,” Liv responded. I grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled it to the right and rearward, arching her neck to the side. I moved my mouth to the left side of her face and bit my way up her neck until my mouth was resting beside her ear.

“You sure as fuck are. Why try to hide it now? Fuck me you dirty whore. Get busy. Fuck me like I’m fucking paying you, you little slut. Get goddamned busy riding my big cock. Take it all. Every fucking inch. How’s my cold hard steel feel when it’s on the back side of your wet little pussy?” I growled into her ear. “Oh God,” she sighed as her ass slowly rose off of my thighs. “Oh God? You better get busy you little slut. Don’t you oh God me, you haven’t earned it,” I breathed into her ear. Slowly, I released her neck and moved my hands under the bottom of her ass cheeks, spreading my fingers to cover part of her upper thigh. Pulling my hands apart and spreading her pussy as wide as I could, I lifted her from my thighs, suspending her pussy over the tip of my cock. “You!” I said sternly as I dropped her down onto my cock. I raised my hips upward, forcing all of my cock into her. As her eyes widened and her face filled with surprise, I immediately lifted her from my cock until her pussy cleared the tip. As she gasped for a breath of air, I dropped her onto it again and raised my hips. “Better!” I nudged my mouth beside her ear and growled as I lifted her from my cock again.

“Get!” I dropped her onto my cock again as I forced my hips upward, burying myself into her as deep as possible. “Busy!” I lifted her again, holding her ass over my thighs as I turned my head and looked into her eyes. Her eyes opened wide as she fought for her next breath. I held her ass in my hands as she attempted to press her weight down onto my cock. As she pushed down, I pressed against her ass with my hands, keeping her from lowering herself onto my cock. Her facial expression changed from one of satisfaction to one of wonder. “You want my cock, you little slut?” I snarled. “Oh God, Mike. Please. I need it,” she begged. I looked out the window of the car into the empty parking lot. A hundred yards away, people were driving past the street in front of the restaurant. The lot we were in, to the rear of the restaurant, was empty. I turned to face her and gave her my best angry face. “It’s hot in this motherfucker, and it ain’t hot from you working your pussy,” I reached over and rolled down the window, holding her over my cock with one hand. Continuing to hold her off of my cock, I looked into her eyes. As she looked at me with a face full of wonder, I smiled, “Are you ready to fuck me, you filthy slut?”

“Oh God yes,” she responded. “Stop smiling. I’m serious. Are you going to be a good little whore?” I asked. “Yes, yes I will,” she quickly answered as she wiggled in my hands. “Stop moving. I can’t decide what to do with you,” I sighed as I rolled my eyes and shook my head from side to side. Her pussy barely touching the head of my cock, I could feel her wetness. Teasing her was exactly what she needed. She became a different degree of wet the longer I made her wait. She loved being called a whore and being told she was incompetent. Afterward, a little praise with her went a long way. Who knows what made her this way; but overall, I certainly had no complaints. Liv, by anyone’s standards, was fun to fuck. “Let me fuck you. Let me show you,” she pleaded. “You ready to get busy? Earn that money?” I asked as I fixed my eyes on hers. She nodded her head repeatedly. We’d done this enough, she knew what was next. She was not capable of masking or hiding her excitement in any way. As her mouth formed a smile, I felt sorry for her and the weird little hang ups she had regarding sex. But I sure liked fucking her. “Show me what you got, you dirty slut. Make

me come back for more,” I said as I pulled my hands from under her ass, dropping her onto my rigid cock. Her eyes opened wide and she gasped for a breath. As she looked up and slowly closed her eyes, she wiggled her ass on my thighs, absorbing the feeling of my thick cock buried deep inside her pussy. “Get busy, you slut!” I barked as I leaned back into the seat and crossed my arms. She began to eagerly raise and lower herself onto my cock, bracing her weight by placing her hands on my shoulders. As I watched her ass working up and down, I smiled. Her long legs, athletic build and naturally sun bleached blonde hair made watching her fuck me so much more enjoyable. “You better take all that cock, you slut. Stop short-strokin’ me,” I laughed. “I’m….” she took a quick breath as she continued to work her way up and down my cock. “Not,” she breathed. I raised my hands slowly and placed them on her shoulders lightly. As she began to lower herself onto my cock, I pressed against her shoulders firmly, forcing her down onto the base of my shaft until my scrotum was against the back side of her pussy. Her juices soaked my balls and pooled onto my inner thighs.

“That, you filthy little slut,” I hissed. “Is bottom,” I paused, my hands still pressing against her shoulders. “I know it’s huge, and you have a little pussy for a slut, but take it all or your ass is fired,” I said as I released her shoulders. “Yes sir. I want to make you happy,” she whimpered. “Get fucking busy,” I howled. Her ass began to work up and down rapidly, as she forced herself onto my thick throbbing cock. My Jacob’s Ladder pressed against the tightly stretched skin on the back of her pussy. As I felt the steel shafts working their way into her pussy each time it slid deep inside of her, she gasped. Short shallow breaths continued as she worked her pussy down my cock, followed by an exhale when she rose to the tip. “Thatta girl, keep going. Keep going. You’re doing great,” I assured her. She can’t last a minute once I start praising her. “That feels so good. God, you’re beautiful, Liv,” I whispered. “Oh, God. Oh God. I need to cum,” she breathed as her eyes opened wide. “Cum. You’ve earned it. Cum, Liv. Cum you sexy little bitch,” I whispered harshly. “Oh fuck…” she wailed.

She continued to fuck me rapidly. “Oh…fuck.” She began to slow down, taking more regulated strokes. “Oh…my…God…” she whispered. She buried herself into my lap and closed her eyes as her pussy contracted repeatedly on the shaft of my cock. As she came, she exhaled an almost inaudible sigh and opened her eyes. Slowly, she leaned forward; hesitating to come closer to me. I nodded my head, assuring her it was alright to approach. As she leaned in closer, I grasped her face in my hands and kissed her lips. As our mouths parted, she exhaled a few short, labored breaths. Her pussy continued to convulse on my cock as she sat on my lap - attempting to stay as still as possible. I released her face from my hands, and stared into her eyes, expressionless. She leaned against the steering wheel and raised her eyebrows slowly. I looked into her eyes and smiled. “I guess you earned it, get back there,” I said as I tilted my head toward the rear seat. “Oh God, thank you Mike,” she screeched as she literally leapt from my lap and over the top of the front seat. Nestled into the back seat, she removed her shirt and bra, tossing them over the back of the passenger seat. My shorts, which had rested on my

knees as we fucked in the front seat, had worked their way down to my ankles. As I pulled my shoes through the shorts, I turned and looked at her as she lay in the back seat on her back. Now with her legs bent and her knees in the air, she wagged her knees back and forth in anticipation. I tossed the shorts over the passenger seat on top of her shirt, “You ready?” “Uh huh, ready. God, am I ever ready,” she responded. I worked my way over the front seat and into the back of the Chevelle. 1960’s two door Chevy’s were good for a lot of things, including fucking, but getting from the front seat to the back seat, considering my size, was a chore. As I landed in the rear seat on top of her, she looked up and sighed. As I worked my hips between her legs, I guided my cock into her pussy. With just the head penetrating her lips, I raised my chest from hers and braced my hands on either side of her shoulders on surface of the seat. “Ready?” I asked as I put a little pressure against her pussy with the tip of my cock. She inhaled, nodded her head, and closed her eyes. I began to fuck her savagely. Without reservation, I forced myself in and out of her soaking wet pussy as I bit her nipples and neck. My hips slapping against her inner thighs, and my cock

sliding as far into her as our positioning would allow, she moaned as I did my work. “Oh God, Mike. Oh God...” she moaned. “Fuck yes that is some good pussy. You’ve got that good pussy baby,” I bellowed. “Oh God, fuck me Mike. Holy…” she whimpered. “Fuck!” she screamed as I worked my swollen cock in and out of her pussy. My hips pressing further and further between her thighs, I attempted to get deeper into her. Slowly, I pulled my cock out. Almost immediately, I forced it back in and repeated the procedure over and over - slowly withdrawing it, and forcing it into her quickly and deeply. “Yes.” “Yes.” “Yes.” “Fuck…me…hard,” she said between breaths. “I only fuck one way,” I assured her as I pounded myself in and out of her wet pussy. “And that’s hard,” I smiled as I pinched her nipples between my thumb and index finger. Her eyes opened and closed repeatedly. “Mike…” she said my name slowly, dragging it out for a few seconds. “Yeah, baby?” I asked as I continued to pound away. “I’m going to…” she opened her eyes and

hesitated. “Do it,” I shouted. “Cum,” she sighed as she closed her eyes. Her pussy began to go through a series of contractions as I slowly fucked her deeply and methodically. Satisfied I was finding my happy place and about to cum myself, I closed my eyes and maintained my rhythm as my cock began to swell. Oh fuck yes, this feels so fucking good. A voice from outside the car window startled me and caused Liv to scream. Having someone standing outside the car in this particular location wasn’t something I never would have expected, but I certainly wasn’t ready for it. “Get out of the car,” a deep voice demanded in a stern tone. “Oh my God, he’s got a gun,” Liv screamed. I glanced over my left shoulder to find a man outside the driver’s side of the car, nervously holding a pistol as he glanced around the empty parking lot. “I said get out of the car,” he demanded. “Let me get dressed,” I responded. I’ve always believed I was probably as big, mean and naturally tough as any man who ever existed. There was absolutely nothing, however, about a guy holding a pistol and making demands that made me comfortable challenging him. A gun

is one thing that can make even the toughest of men become weak. And dead. Slowly, I reached to the passenger seat and grabbed my shorts. Maintaining eye contact with the gun, I began to get dressed. As I pulled the shorts over my feet, he shouted into the car window again. “Hurry the fuck up,” he barked as he leaned into the window. His voice cracked as he spoke. He was either wacked out on dope, extremely nervous, or both. As I buttoned my shorts I realized Liv was crying and trying to talk. I had heard absolutely nothing she said. “Baby, get dressed and stay right here,” I said as I handed her shorts, bra and shirt to her which were draped over the back of the seat. “Let me climb over the seat,” I said softly as I started to lift my arm over the seat. As I climbed over the seat and into the front of the car, my eyes stayed fixed on him. Once in the front, I sat up in the seat and watched as he backed away from the car a few steps. Quietly, I pulled the keys from the ignition and pushed them deeply into my pocket. “You big son-of-a-bitch, move slow. Get out, and tell her to get out too, I’m taking this car,” he said as he stepped back away from the car, his

pistol shaking as he spoke. I’ve got some news for ya, buddy. You ain’t takin’ this car anywhere. “I’m going to open the door,” I said softly as I opened the car door slowly. I stepped out of the car and stood. I was at least six inches taller and a good eighty pounds heavier than he was. Dressed in jeans, sneakers, a canvas jacket, and a NY Yankees baseball hat, he clearly wasn’t a native Texan. No one here liked the Yankees. If they did, they’d damned sure never admit it. “Tell your bitch to get out,” he demanded as he waved the gun toward the car. “Mike? Oh my God. Mike?” Liv sobbed from the rear seat. He had the gun and he was clearly the one making the rules. Currently, he stood six or eight feet in front of me, too far away for me to reach. As accurately as I could guess, if I were to step in his direction, he would shoot me. After that, nothing would matter. Not one thing within me thought I could win a gun fight when I didn’t even have one, but this guy was not going to do two things with my knowledge or assistance. Take my car. Or. Harm the girl. “We’re gonna need to talk about this, brother,”

I said softly as I held my hands out in front of me with my palms down. “I ain’t your brother, you Dwayne The Rock Johnson lookin’ mother fucker. Get the bitch out of the car and step to the side. I’m taking it,” he demanded as he waved the pistol toward the car again. I’ve never tried to steal a car or force someone to do anything at gunpoint. If I were, especially in public, I would guess time would be of the essence. He seemed all too eager to wave the pistol around and make demands, and not very willing to just shoot someone and make something happen. I was not, by any stretch of the imagination, willing to be shot. Something in my mind convinced me this guy might shoot, but it wasn’t his immediate or first choice. “Stay in the car, Liv,” I said dryly. “Mike?” she cried. “Stay in the fucking car no matter what this prick says,” I growled over my shoulder as I maintained eye contact with the walking turd. “I’m taking the car, and if I have to I’ll shoot your big ass,” he said as he waved the gun in my direction. You’re not takin’ the car. I stood and stared quietly. “I’m taking the car one way or another. You can either live or you can die,” he said as he raised

the pistol to my chest. And that is when things changed. I was sure of it. Because… My cock twitched. Naturally a person wants to live as long as possible. One would expect in any similar situation, they’d step aside and let the man take the car, collect an insurance check for the loss, and go on with living life. The longer I stood and looked at the gun wielding fuck bubble, the more certain I was he wasn’t going to take my car anywhere. I had to figure out a way to get him close enough to beat on him, or we’d be standing and talking all night. Or I’d be shot. “She ain’t getting out so you can kill us both. Take the car with her in it,” I offered. “Mike?” Liv’s voice sobbed. “It’s okay baby. I got this,” I assured her as I maintained eye contact with him. “Fuck you, that’s kidnapping,” he responded. Well, maybe this isn’t his first time doing this. “That’s your only option. You want the car, take it. Keys are in it,” I lied. I figured I would make him walk past me to get in the car, and some way or another he would get close enough to allow me to beat on him. If not, when he got into the car, I’d beat him through the window as he attempted to start it without the keys. I maintained eye contact with him as I watched

his every movement. Nervously, he glanced around the empty lot again. As he looked to his left, he became startled. As he turned to face the street, I realized it would probably be my only opportunity. It was all I needed - a split second with him facing away from me. Quickly, I stepped left foot first, toward where he stood. As soon as I followed with my right foot, I swung a right hook with everything I owned, aimed for the side of his head - his temple to be more specific. In what seemed as a slow motion scene from an old black and white movie, several things came into play. His body continued to rotate to his right, as if he were going to run away. Naturally, I tucked my chin as I threw the punch, and did not look straight ahead. Had I, I would have noticed what later became apparent that he had noticed out of the corner of his eye. My fist slammed against his right ear, immediately dropping him where he stood. Before he hit the pavement, and immediately upon my fist contacting his head, he instinctively pulled the trigger on the pistol. The sound echoed throughout the empty lot. And it was then I looked up and made note of what had startled him. The police car as it pulled into the restaurant entrance. And the other one as it followed directly behind

the first. And the two other police cars parked in the street blocking traffic. “Drop the weapon,” an officer screamed from the corner of the building. “He did,” I screamed as I looked down at the pistol a few feet from his body. “Drop the weapon,” the officer screamed again. Holy shit, this dude thinks I’m the thief. “Look, this guy was robbing me, trying to steal my car,” I screamed as I pointed down at the worthless heap of shit lying on the asphalt. “Sir! Place your hands behind your head. Interlock your fingers and turn to face the car! After you lock your hands behind your head, take two steps back,” the officer demanded, his pistol pointing at me as he shouted commands. Liv got out of the car and ran toward the officers screaming the entire way. What she was screaming made minimal sense to me, so I’m sure the officers understood nothing. Slowly, I raised my hands over my head, interlocked my fingers and started to turn around. As I rotated, the ass hat car thief began to move. Looking down at him and up at the officers made all of their screaming at me make sense. From their location, they were incapable of seeing him, as there was decorative shrubbery between him and them. The fact he was lying flat on the asphalt made their seeing him

impossible. As he began to groan, I raised my foot from the pavement and kicked him in the head as hard as I could. “What the fuck? Kleitz, there’s another one here on the ground. Big boy here just kicked him. Keep your goddamned hands where we can see them,” the officer screamed. “They’re behind my head, just like you said,” I responded as I rolled my eyes. Police officers in Texas will shoot first and ask questions later. The entire state, citizens included, is as gun friendly, gun happy and gun toting of a society as has ever existed. I’ve never had a tremendous affection for police officers, and I’m sure I never will. As the officer placed his hand cuffs on my right wrist, he yelled at one of the other officers. “He’s too god damned big, Kleitz. I need another pair of cuffs. I can’t get him cuffed with one pair,” the officer screamed. As the second officer approached, he screamed, “Parker! Weapon at your feet!” I had no idea why he felt the need to announce it - screaming and making the other officers nervous, but he did. The remaining police, who were now climbing over the bushes, coming through the parking lot and walking in from the street, all stopped. As he screamed, they uniformly pulled their weapons.

What ended up being a huge misunderstanding of a clusterfuck began to come to an end as Liv and officer whistle-dick started walking toward where I stood. As an officer was handcuffing the real thief, Liv walked our direction. She was now capable of speaking slowly and legibly. “Kleitz, Parker, listen up,” whistle-dick said as he walked closer to where we stood. “The big guy without a shirt. He’s the victim. The fella on the ground, he’s who we want. He was trying to jack the Chevy,” he said as Liv stood at his side pointing toward the thief. The officer helped the thief to his feet. He stood beside me, rubber legged and handcuffed, still somewhat uncertain of what had actually happened. As he moaned and wiggled his jaw, the officer began to explain his Miranda rights. “You have the right to remain silent. You have the right to an attorney. In the event…” “But big boy here assaulted the fella on the ground. Kicked him in the face as I was walking up,” The officer unsuccessfully in charge of handcuffing me announced as he pointed back and forth between ass hat and I. “Seriously?” I asked, one handcuff still dangling from my right wrist. “Quiet,” he demanded. “He was trying to jack my fucking car. He had a gun. I was unarmed,” I explained as I nodded my

head toward the thief who stood beside me in handcuffs. “I said quiet,” he demanded, “he was unconscious and unarmed when you kicked him. As a matter of law, that’s assault. Right Stone?” “Well, I suppose it is, Parker. But we don’t necessarily need to write it in the report, now do we?” the officer standing with Liv responded. “Yeah Parker,” I sighed. “I said be quiet. I’ll cite you for resisting arrest,” Parker snapped. “I didn’t do anything. What the fuck. I hate fucking cops,” I growled. They were really starting to piss me off. I had to stand beside the guy who tried to steal my car like I was a criminal. The emotion of the fucktard trying to steal my car, devising a way in my mind to overpower him, the arrival of the cops and me smacking his stupid ass was a little more than I had hoped for - especially as I was getting ready to pump Liv full of my cum. “Oh, you hate cops, huh? Well, we saved your ass,” Parker announced. “No, I knocked that piece of shit out before you arrived,” I bragged. “I said quiet,” Parker bellowed. “Stone?” Parker whined. The officer standing with Liv looked up from his note pad, blinked a few times and walked closer

to where we stood. “Do I know you?” he asked as he approached. I shook my head slowly, “I’m afraid not, officer.” “You sure?” he asked. “Quite. Never been arrested. Not that I shouldn’t have been, but it’s never happened,” I smiled. “I know you from somewhere,” he said as he studied my face. “Nope,” I shook my head. “Where you from?” he asked. “724 All Hallows, right around the corner,” I responded. “I know you from somewhere. Where do you work?” Stone asked. “Ain’t got a job,” I responded. “You drive a car like that, and you ain’t got a job,” he mimicked, “The car’s got to be worth forty grand.” “More like sixty,” I corrected him. “I box. I’m a boxer. I don’t look at it as a job.” “That’s it!” he shouted. “Television. The uhhm. Yeah. The fight with Dekkar and Mc Claskey. You were standing beside Dekkar for the interview with a little blondeheaded girl. Think it was Dekkar’s wife,” Stone said as he waved his finger at me. “Yup. Dekk and I are best friends.” I nodded.

“You and Shame on Dekkar? Best friends?” he asked. “Yep.” I nodded. “No shit. Hear that Parker? Kleitz? Shane Dekkar’s best friend right here. Probably hit this guy with a three piece before he knew it. Think you can get him to give me an autograph?” Stone asked. “I can have him come up here in ten minutes and sign the hood of your goddamned cop car if you’ll have Parker take this cuff of my wrist,” I laughed. “God damn it Parker. Get the cuffs off of him,” Stone demanded. “Probably good thing your girl here called 911. You’d have beaten that guy to death if we hadn’t showed up, huh?” he asked. And now it all began to make sense. Liv called the cops from the car while I was talking to shit-forbrains. Frantic, she probably explained there was a guy with a gun, something about a tattooed bald guy and a carjacking. In perfect cop fashion, the police came screaming onto the scene to the rescue. I hate cops. “That’d be my guess, yeah,” I agreed as Parker took off the cuffs. “So, I’m going to need to fill out a report and get statements. We’ll take him to the station. I can get most of the information here, but you’ll need to stop at the station and fill out a report of everything

that happened here tonight. Hell, maybe even tomorrow would be fine,” Stone said flatly as he motioned toward the shit-head thief. “And if I get Dekk to sign the hood of your cruiser, you’ll forget the assault?” I chuckled. “Assault? What assault?” Stone laughed. “He hit me. And kicked my face,” the shit-head said. I turned and looked at Stone. Stone nodded his head sharply toward shit-head and smiled. Parker looked at me. I smiled. Kleitz looked at me and smiled. I smiled in return. Kleitz let go of the thief and stepped aside. The thief looked at me. I smiled. The thief didn’t. And I did what Mike Ripton does best. Well, short of fucking bitches. I knocked that motherfucker out. Cold.

6

VEE. “Conley versus Gibson is clear in that respect, your honor,” I paused and waited for a response that didn’t come. “You seem to have all the answers. You’re just like your father,” he sighed. “I don’t ever have all of the answers, your honor. I do, from time to time, have the right answers. Specifically, I’ll file a motion 12 (b) (6) in accordance with the Federal Rules of Criminal Procedure in anticipation of a dismissal,” I spoke in a clear and concise manner. I hesitated and waited for his verbal confirmation. A heavy sigh through the speaker of my desk phone signified his prolonged response was exactly what I had hoped for. I pressed my hands together and waited to hear him say it. “File the motion, counsel. You are correct. It

appears the plaintiff did not state a claim for which relief can be granted. Is that all, Vivian?” his voice faded as I heard papers shuffling over the phone. “Yes, your honor,” I responded. “Advise your father I asked of his welfare, will you?” his voice became more distant. “Yes, your honor,” I responded as I clenched my hands into fists and shook them in the air. And, as the honorable Judge Black often did, he hung up the phone. No forewarning, no goodbye, just a disappearance. After a few long seconds my phone went to the default beeping sound. I picked the receiver up and placed it back into the cradle and silenced the beep. “You know you can just push the button. The one on the bottom, below the extensions,” Tonia reminded me. “I realize that. Picking it up and placing it back into the receiver is more satisfying,” I smiled and stood from my chair. “Sooo,” she said as she leaned on the door jamb. “So. I need to file a twelve-b-six on the Wilson case. It appears counsel for the plaintiff had very little attention to detail,” I said as I walked her direction. “You want me to…” she began. “Tonia, I want you to do what I pay you to do.

Pull a fucking motion. Fill the damned thing out. Include all of Wilson’s information, no differently than the last one hundred and who knows how many motions you have filed. Upon completion, send it to me as an electronic file. Upon receipt, I will complete it, including all of the pertinent reference to law. Then we’ll file it with the court,” I responded in a definitive tone. “Yes ma’am,” Tonia responded as she slowly shifting her gaze to the floor. “Tonia?” I said flatly. “Yes Mrs. Simon?” she said as she looked up. “Thank you,” I pressed my palms into my skirt and turned to face my desk. “Certainly,” she responded quietly as she shuffled toward her desk. I lowered myself into my chair, proud of my accomplishments of the day. On my way home, I would stop by the hospital and advise my father of Judge Black’s inquiry. For the next hour, I planned to relax at my desk and get caught up on what a federal attorney in Austin, Texas never gets caught up on. Relaxation. I exhaled and closed my eyes. I thought of my father and his physical condition. His doctor expected him to live for a few more weeks. I had no expectation of him lasting any length of time beyond what the doctor

expected. My mother had left him years ago for choosing his work over his home life, leaving me to take care of him. When she walked out she never looked back. Considering all things, I can’t say I blamed her for her choices. I left my husband because he was a pussy when I married him, and he never developed into an actual man. He never took charge in our relationship. Law school, generally speaking, isn’t a good time to start dating; and we were no exception to the rule. I told myself after we started practicing law he would change, but it never happened. What did happen was my finding my true self. All day at work, I was in charge, making decisions people’s lives depended on. When I got home, I wanted to throw my respective hands in the air and have a man take control of me. He proved to be incapable, and never even made a half-hearted attempt to resolve my needs, wants or sexual desires. As a result, I divorced him and had been single since. Slowly, it seemed, I was migrating into the person my father had always been - a workaholic with no home life or a respective sexual or life partner. Desperately, I felt a need to change these things about me, but had no time or reason to actually repair it. “Mrs. Simon, a Mr. Ripp on line four,” the sound of Tonia’s voice startled me. “Who?” I sighed as I opened my eyes and

looked down at the phone. “A Mr. Ripp. He must know you. He asked for Vee, ma’am,” she replied. Oh. Ripp. “I’ll take it,” I responded, hoping he would be exactly what I needed to complete my otherwise oddly unfulfilling week.

7

RIPP. Trying to make sense of senseless acts can consume considerable time and produce minimal results. Knowing this doesn’t necessarily prevent us from pondering the what-if ’s and why’s after something happens we aren’t necessarily ready to digest. Trying to figure out Shane Dekkar’s mind was nothing short of impossible. The perfect citizen. The perfect boyfriend. The perfect potential husband. He was handsome, kind-hearted, yet mean when he needed to be. He was also able to discern when he needed to be mean and when he needed to be nice. I, on the other hand, was always a shade or variance of mean. “Well, what the fuck would you have done?” I was really having a difficult time with this

pacifist bullshit. “I would have handed him the keys,” Shane said. “Oh hell no. I’m the way I am and ain’t nobody gonna change me or stop me,” I shook my head from side to side and tipped up my empty beer bottle. “I need another beer over here,” I screamed as I waved my hand in the air toward the waitress. “Well. It would have made it easy, and Liv wouldn’t be where she is now. Actually Ripp, we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you’d have handed him the keys,” Shane said softly as he tried to reason with me. “Well, you’re a weird fucker to try and figure out, mister nice guy. Beating the shit out of people who mistreat women. Knocking motherfucker’s out in the ring. And giving up your car to some meth junkie dope fiend,” I drew a deep breath and exhaled loudly as I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “He would have had to kill me to take the car, Dekk. You’ll never understand it. That car? To me? That car is family. It’s…well. It’s not just a car. It’s part of who I am. Might seem weird to you, but giving up that car? It’d be like him saying, Give me your leg, and I’ll let you go. My right leg or my car. They’re the same. He wasn’t gonna get either one,” I stared at Shane and shook my head.

I nodded my head at the waitress as she placed the beer on the table. I guess the main thing which was upsetting to me was the fact Liv decided to leave me as a result of what happened. She felt I put her life in jeopardy. I really had a hard time with her feeling or thinking those thoughts. I told her to stay in the car and I assured her, I got this. Men and women are certainly different and she was no exception. I would not have never let any harm come to her, and although I knew it, apparently she did not. “It’s always easy for an outsider to look at an event or an act and pick it apart. I would have handled it differently. I never would have done that. I can’t believe you did that. How in the fuck do you know what you would have done? You weren’t there. It didn’t happen to you,” I complained. Shane shook his head from side to side and stared at his sandwich “Well, the car means a lot to you. That’s pretty obvious. To me, it’s replaceable. It’s a material object. Not worth losing a life over,” Shane said as he lifted his sandwich to his mouth. “Nobody lost their fuckin’ life, Dekk,” I shouted as I stood from my seat. This was starting to piss me off. Holier than thou bunch of motherfucker’s telling me I did wrong by smacking the guy. Telling me I should

have let him take the Chevelle. Yeah, that would set real well with me. I hand the thief the keys, and he would take off in my car. I’d be left standing in the parking lot, carless, holding the hand of the girl that I was fucking behind the Japanese Grille. And everyone’s happy. We’d skip the four blocks home, hand-in-hand. Hell, maybe we could ride fucking Unicorns home. Bareback. Oh hell no. “You know what. I’m done talking about this. I don’t want to talk about Liv, the carjacking or the fucking autograph seeking cops. Nothing. Don’t fucking bring it up again. Not one fucking bit of it. Nothing. And tell Shorty. Never bring up that bitches name in front of me. And don’t invite her over again. If she comes over, I’m fucking leaving,” I paced back and forth between the tables with my arms crossed. “Alright. Damn, Ripp. Not a word. Fine,” Shane agreed. “You know, all these women today want a bad boy. An alpha male. A biker. A tough fucker. And when they get one, a real one, they don’t know how to act. A guy stands up for what he believes in, stands up against someone who’s actually doing wrong, and all of a sudden he’s the bad guy,” I stood with my arms crossed and stared at Shane. “Nothing? You got nothing?” I barked. “I’m done talking about it,” he said.

“Fine. Me too,” I agreed. I stood and waited for him to speak. After a moment of silence, I sat down and picked up my beer. As I took a drink, I inhaled a breath through my nose. I continued drinking until the bottle was empty and slammed it down on the table. “Another beer over here,” I shouted across the patio as I looked for the waitress. “Damn, Ripp. You just need to…” he began. “Not. One. Fucking. Word,” I faced him and scrunched my brow. Slowly and silently he raised his right hand and formed his fingers to make the okay sign. Dekk was as good of a friend as one could ever hope to find. Sometimes, however, we become aggravated with even our best friends. I really had no reason to be mad at him. I was just mad and he was the recipient of my anger. “I need you to autograph something for me. You’re Shane Dekkar, aren’t you?” some musclehead in a Wally’s Fitness shirt, sans sleeves, asked over Shane’s right shoulder. Slowly, Shane looked up and nodded his head, “Yes sir, I sure am.” “Hey dude. We’re trying to fuckin’ talk,” I said across the table. “I was talking to him. I wasn’t talking to you,” the muscle bound sleeveless shirt wearing punk hissed.

“Well, all of that just changed. Looks to me like we need to have a talk about being respectful,” I stood from my seat and wiped my hands on my shorts. “Ripp…” Shane started to stand from his chair. “Stay in your seat, Dekk,” I said, never breaking eye contact with Wally’s Fitness. “Respect? You’re going to talk to me about respect? I asked if he was Shane Dekkar. What’s disrespectful about that?” Wally’s Fitness asked as he turned to face me. “You interrupted us when we were talking. And then you popped off and started talking shit to me,” I said as I started walking around the table. “Talking shit?” he asked. “Yeah. Talking shit,” I responded. “I wasn’t talking shit,” he stated. “You’re doing it again now,” I assured him as I tilted my head from side to side and popped my neck. “Ripp…” Shane stood from his seat, and now was between where I was standing and Wally’s Fitness. “Dekk, he’s being a little prick,” I wiped my hands on my shorts and turned my palms up. “I’m not little,” Wally bragged from behind Shane’s back. “Well, you sure as fuck aren’t big enough to talk to me the way you are,” I barked over Shane’s

shoulder. “Obviously I am,” he breathed. “Move Dekk,” I demanded. Wally peered over Dekk’s shoulder toward me. Dekk, standing facing me, rolled his eyes. Dekk knew this guy just crossed a line I couldn’t allow him to. Dekk hesitated, probably hoping I would settle down or change my mind. As I watched Wally prepare his mean-muggin’ face, I tried to remember the last time I was in an actual bar fight. Most of my fights in recent years had been limited to Kane’s place and in the ring. This poor fucker had no idea of how pissed off I was. “Dekk…” I drew the pronunciation of his name out for two or three seconds. And with that, Shane Dekkar stepped aside. Now the only thing between Wally and I was a little bit of time and space. He wasn’t small by any stretch of the imagination, but he thought he was much bigger and much more capable than I saw him as being. “You see, there’s a right way and a wrong way to talk to people. Excuse me, gentlemen. I hate to interrupt, but I have a question. That would have been a polite way to interrupt our conversation. Or, maybe wait until we were walking out. But you didn’t. You interrupted. And then you went on to start talking shit. Telling me how big you are. You

still think your big now, little man?” I asked as I began to step closer to where he stood. “Big enough,” he said as he bobbed his head back and forth in a mocking manner. “You got cancer or something? Brain damage? I just can’t see how in the fuck you think you’re gonna make it out of this alright,” I chuckled as I slowly took the last step remaining between us. Quickly, he jumped into a martial arts stance and began humming in some weird fashion. As the odd tone came from his mouth, his hands were criss-crossing in front of his face. With his knees bent considerably, he lowered himself about six inches and now stood about five foot six or so. I guessed he was approximately six foot tall before he started humming and waving his arms. Karate bullshit? Not again. “Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” I asked. “No, I’m not. I’m gonna fuck you up,” he bragged as his hands waved in front of his face. “That was rhetorical. I didn’t want you to answer. And I have news for ya. You ain’t about to fuck up a damned thing,” I growled as I threw a right jab at his chin. His upper body immediately twisted, and his head quickly moved sharply to his right, avoiding my punch entirely. Holy shit, this guy’s fast.

Alright, I’m not going to box this prick. I’m going to fight him. To eliminate his legs and feet from the equation, I stepped in as close as I could. A table directly behind him prevented him from going back much further. I threw a quick three punch jab, cross, hook combination and caught him off guard. My last punch, the hook, caught him on the left side of his mid-section, caused him to stumble, and his head to come down a little. I imagine in Karate class, no one had ever actually hit him - at least not as hard as I had. As his head came down, I threw another quick right uppercut and caught him on the chin. It wasn’t necessarily a solid punch, but it was good enough. It rang his bell. He shook his head and stared back at me with glassy eyes. His hands continued the windmill of motion they were previously waving. Now, he stood in more of a conventional fighter’s stance – fractionally more erect. Well, except for his hands. His hands and arms looked like he was having an epileptic fit. I studied him as he stood there, waiting for him to move and give me an opening. Anything. After a few seconds of nothing, I threw a short, slow jab to lure him into fighting. “Tyler, what the fuck!” I heard someone scream. And, from behind where Tyler stood, a second

almost identical meat-head was fast approaching. He was sleeveless as well, and could have passed for Tyler’s brother. Same shirt. Same hair. Same ridiculous attitude and annoying voice. I saw Dekk step between Tyler and his savior. Over Tyler’s shoulder, I saw the unthinkable. The new comer took a couple of swings at Dekk. Although I didn’t necessarily see what happened next, I certainly heard it. The unmistakable sound of fists hitting someone’s body and face. There’s really not another sound like it. To most, it would be disgusting. To me, it sounded like hitting the jackpot at a casino. There’s something about being in the presence of a fight that drives other potential fighters to fight. That’s why a fight in a bar turns into a bar fight. It wasn’t my immediate opinion my choice to fight Tyler made Dekk start to fight, but his fighting started to feed my desire to finish Tyler off, that was for sure. As Dekk made short work of the new guy, Tyler looked to his right instinctively. In that one split second, that instant of not paying attention, that small window of opportunity was all I needed. It’s all any boxer needs. We watch for it, we wait for it, and we make use of it. The left side of his jaw was open, exposed and ready. I smiled as I thought about hitting him. I didn’t want to hit him with one punch, although I

was sure one would be enough. I wanted him to remember what it was like to be beaten. To be taught a lesson about respect. I threw a deep left cross to his chin, followed by a right uppercut which landed under the bottom side of his jaw. The last punch, the one that sent him reeling back onto the table, was the left straight jab which landed perfectly on his nose. As he fell backward onto the table, I saw Shane standing up from where the other guy was laying. I had no idea of what happened for sure, but I knew the guy had taken a swing, and Dekk finished what the other guy started. Dekk turned and looked at me, his face full of anger. Neither of these two guys were any form of threat, at least not now. Not for about a minute. “Well, you ready?” I asked as I stepped away from the table. “Yeah. I’m ready. This prick tried to hit me. Glanced one off of my cheek,” he said as he rubbed his cheek with his hand. “Yeah, you got a little mouse under your eye. Future heavyweight Champion of the World,” I laughed as I pointed to the guy on the floor. “Who? Him?” Dekk asked as he pointed at the guy who began to mumble and roll over. “Yeah. My guy’s still out. And he didn’t hit me with shit. Your guy clocked you. Damn Dekk, looks like he got you good,” I joked. The mark under his

eyes was clearly a punch that glanced off of his face, or fell short. Dekk’s jaw muscles flexed, “Got me good, huh?” It really wasn’t that good. Just a little red mark. “Dekk…” I knew what he was going to do. And in one quick thoughtless motion, his boot came back and swung into the stomach of the guy on the floor. Although the table between us hid most of Shane’s leg, a muffled grunt confirmed a good solid kick to his torso. And then, the blur of his leg again. And again. And again. Each swing followed by another muffled grunt. “Cocksucker!” Dekk shouted as he continued to kick him. “Dekk?” I placed my hands on my hips and smiled. Without emotion, as if I had interrupted him from his favorite video game, he cocked his head to face me, and paused from kicking the guy on the floor. “What?” he looked as if after I answered him, he was going to start kicking the guy again. “You wouldn’t have given that dude the car. You know that, right?” I asked as I pulled my wallet from my pocket and tossed forty dollars on the table. “Yeah, I know,” he responded as he stepped

back from the table. Short of a few pounds of romantic bullshit and a slice of sincerity, Shane Dekkar and I stood before God the same person. Shane just did a good job of keeping his demons at bay. I didn’t want my demons at bay. “Oh my God. That was so hot,” I heard the familiar voice of the waitress say. I turned to my right to face her as she spoke. “We watched from over there. That was awesome. What did they do?” she asked as she motioned toward the exit, where another waitress stood with a smile on her face. One good thing about not having a real job and trying to divide your free time into manageable portions through the course of the day is you can find bars that aren’t full of a lot of patrons. Most of the bars Dekk and I picked since his touch of fame were bars which remained empty during the day. It kept dumb shit from happening. This bar was no exception. When we arrived, the patio where we had been sitting was empty, less Dekk and I. The two wannabe tough guys were leaving the interior bar and walking through the patio when they noticed Dekk. Other than the two fallen heroes and the waitress, no one else knew we existed. “They were disrespectful,” Shane responded. “You guys beat the crap out of them,” the waitress acknowledged.

“Sure did,” I confirmed. “So. Wow. That was awesome. Are you guys, like….uhhm, fighters,” she giggled as she covered her mouth with her hands. Dekk looked and me and slowly shook his head. I nodded at the waitress and smiled, “Yeah, we’re boxers.” “Like real boxers? Like boxers?” she lowered her hands and slapped her knees, clearly incapable of containing her excitement. “Yep, professionals,” I answered as Dekk slowly started walking around the table. “Oh my God, can it get any better?” she asked. “Well…” I paused, turned to face Shane, smiled, and turned back to face the waitress. Hell, I just as well try. “I’ve got a pierced cock,” I shrugged. She raised her hands to her mouth and squeaked as her knees knocked together. Yeah, name’s Mike fucking Ripton. And I’m Unstoppable.

8

RIPP. Knock out one guy for being a douchebag, and the girl by your side decides you’re not suitable for her to continue any form of a relationship with, including casual sex. Knock out another douchebag in front of some random unknown girl, and she is so turned on she wants to fuck you almost immediately. Trying to predict women’s likes, dislikes, desires, turn-ons or turn-offs was impossible. I decided I was just going to try and fuck them all, and the ones who agreed would be in for a nice little session of pierced cock heaven. Fuck trying to figure them all out. That would be impossible. I’ll leave that up to Shane. “If we knock this motherfucker over, I’m gonna be mad as hell,” naked, I stood and stared at her as she lay sprawled out over the back of my

motorcycle. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t tip over,” she smiled. “You’re gonna make sure? What do you weigh? A buck ten?” I asked dryly. “Huh?” she asked as she nestled into place, her head draped onto the rear fender. “What do you weigh?” I asked, not really caring to know the answer. “Oh, a hundred and fifteen, why?” she smiled. “Just wondering,” I really didn’t give two fucks what she weighed. Her smile looked strange with her head halfway upside down. I felt like I was starting to get dizzy from breathing the motorcycle’s exhaust. I blinked my eyes a few times to clear the fumes from my drying out orbs. As her head shook back and forth on the fender, I looked the bike over - to make sure it seemed stable. As long as I had been riding, I had never fucked anyone on a bike, running or not. After the fight, the waitress from the bar got onto the back of my bike for a quick ride. Almost instantly, she fell in love with the vibration of the Harley as we rode around downtown. After taking her back to the bar where she worked, she retrieved her car and I followed her home. After a little persuasion on her part, I agreed to fuck her on my bike with the engine running; in her garage. She insisted the garage door be closed so

the neighbors couldn’t see what we were doing. The small single car garage with a running bike in it was now full of exhaust fumes, two naked people, and a wad of clothes on the floor. She was lying on the bike with her feet on the floor, her back on the seat, and her head slung onto the back fender with her mouth hanging open. “So are you dominant?” she asked. “Are you fucking serious? Look at me,” I responded as I pointed my index fingers at my chest. “I am looking at you,” she giggled over the sound of the exhaust as her head wobbled from the fender vibrating. I really wasn’t in the mood for stupidity. I suppose if I picked up some immature waitress from the bar who is willing to fuck me just because I beat the shit out of a dude while she watched, I shouldn’t expect a biochemical engineer. Naked, I stood behind the bike in my Chuck’s with my cock in my hand and my eyes watering. I looked at her, rolled my eyes, and started stroking it. “No, I meant look at me as a person. My personality. My appearance. I’m two hundred fifty pounds of tattooed muscle,” I stroked my cock as I walked closer, “I knocked out a dude at the bar, remember? I am a boxer.” “I knew it. I knew you were a Dom,” she

blinked her eyes as stared at my cock. Oh that’s what she meant. A Dom. Fucking women. I swear. “Open your fucking mouth,” I demanded in my best impersonation of a Dom. “It is…” she began. I interrupted her half way through whatever she intended on saying by shoving my cock in her mouth. Standing behind the bike with my knees bent, I began to fuck the waitress’ mouth. I closed my eyes to relieve them of the burning from the exhaust. After four or five good strokes, I opened my eyes and looked down. Something about watching my cock sliding in and out of a woman’s mouth had always satisfied me. Her eyes began to water, and her mascara ran from her eyes onto her forehead. I would like to think her eyes watering had been a result of my big cock in her mouth, but it may have very well been from the motorcycle’s exhaust. As I continued to punish her mouth, I reached forward and grabbed her neck in my hands. She wants a Dom, I’ll give her one. I’m not a Dom, and other than talking to a few friends who dabbled in it, I knew nothing about it. It seemed these days it was what every woman believed she wanted. Shane and I had talked about it and laughed, knowing Kace read a lot of books

about dominance and submission. I had joked with him several times, saying Kace was going to require him to one day become her Dom. Master Shane. We both believed in the absence of these types of books, there would be far less women attempting to be submissive. It shocked me women couldn’t just be themselves. Additionally, the amount of men who delved into dominance, with little or no knowledge, had become huge. All based on an influx of ridiculous assed books. “Swallow that cock,” I shouted as I forced myself into her throat as far as I could get it to go. As I pushed it against the back of her throat, I squeezed her neck in my left hand. Something about dominance was becoming extremely satisfying. It was like fucking and fighting at the same time. As she began to gag on my cock, I realized I lost track of what I was doing and had been pushing my cock into her throat for several seconds. Well, fuck she didn’t say anything, maybe she likes it. I had no intention of hurting her, but I was really beginning to have fun. The bike vibrating caused her head to vibrate. This was something, short of the exhaust fumes, I could learn to love. Slowly, I pulled my cock from her throat and held it in my hand. As soon as it passed her lips, she

gasped for a breath. As her chest heaved, for some reason, I slapped her face with my cock. “You like that cock in your throat, don’t you?” I asked in a deep stern tone. Hell if she likes it, I could do this all night. “I fucking love it,” she gasped. “You like it when I choke your submissive little throat, don’t you?” I snarled. “I love it. Choke me harder,” her chest convulsed as she gasped for her next breath. “Shut the fuck up, don’t tell me what to do,” I growled as I slapped her face with my cock again. I had no idea where comment or the slapping of her face with my cock - especially as hard as I had hit her - came from. Actually, I was shocked I had done it at all. As soon as my cock bounced off of her cheek, she spoke. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry sir,” she blurted. Oh yeah. I could really grow to like this. A lot. I wiped my burning eyes with the back of my left hand. Gripping the base of the shaft in my hand, I raised my cock from her face twelve inches and slapped her as hard as I could with it. Almost immediately, a red cock shaped welt began to rise on her face. Although I hadn’t made it a point to look at other dudes cocks, I am not a stupid man. I know my cock is huge. I don’t know what it weighs,

but swinging it into her face made me realize it was heavy. Hell, I wouldn’t want to be hit with it, and I’m a man - a tough man at that. “Open,” I hollered. Immediately, she opened her mouth. As soon as her lips parted, I forced myself into her throat until I hit an obstruction. Two-thirds of my cock was in her mouth. To be quite honest, she had more of my cock in her mouth than anyone else had ever achieved. Impressed with her determination, I held my cock in the same position as I squeezed her neck in my left hand. As her face began to clearly turn a fairly dark shade of red, I released my grasp and pulled myself from her mouth. “Holy…” “Fuck,” she said as she fought for her next breath, saliva running out of her mouth and along her cheeks. Her head being upside down made the entire process of witnessing the fiasco a little bit more interesting. Now gasping for air, the saliva ran from her mouth and dripped around her eyes. “You fucking love it, don’t you?” I bellowed. “I do…” she coughed. “I love it sir…” she paused and caught her breath. “More,” she begged as she began to pinch her nipples in between her fingers and thumbs. “Open,” I demanded.

I pressed my cock slowly and steadily into her mouth as I reached for her neck. As I began to squeeze her neck in my hand, I pushed my hips forward and held pressure against the obstruction inside her throat. I stared at the three remaining inches of my cock which weren’t in her throat and pressed a little harder. Naturally, I wanted to attempt to force it all inside of her, but the obstruction prevented it. In the same place, each time, my cock stopped short. As I pressed my cock into her throat, I began to talk shit. “Here in a minute, I’m going to just fuck you into a pile of worn out flesh, do you understand?” I asked gruffly. I no more than finished speaking, and I felt her throat convulse, followed by an audible pop. The remaining three inches of my cock disappeared into her mouth. When it did, I felt my cock fill her throat with my left hand as I squeezed her neck. Holy fuck, this is cool. As my balls pressed against the space between her upper lip and nose, my watering eyes opened wide, and I smiled at my accomplishment. Well, her accomplishment. Our accomplishment. My entire cock was in her throat. Every fucking inch of it. This was a first. I stared in awe of it all. After what may have been several seconds, I

noticed she was blinking her eyes rapidly. Maybe it was some sort of a submissive sign to stop, hell I didn’t know. Reluctantly, I pulled my cock from her mouth. She sat up and pressed her palms against her chest as she heaved for breath. As she gasped for air, she sounded like someone who had come up for a breath at the swimming pool after trying to swim all the way to the bottom, not knowing of the pressure at that depth. As her breathing began to become less labored, she lowered herself onto the motorcycle seat again. “Holy fuck. That was hot,” she said as she lowered the back of her head onto the fender again. Her head, now resting on the fender, shook as the motorcycle sat, still running. The exhaust note rumbled through the garage as she attempted to make herself comfortable. Jesus H. Christ. She actually enjoyed it. Impossible. No one actually likes this shit. Her face was covered in saliva and mascara. Hell, being dominant was as good as being in a fist fight - maybe better. I really wanted to fuck her, but I needed to see my cock disappear into her throat again before we moved on to anything else. As the motorcycle vibrated and the exhaust filled the garage, I wondered how breathing all of these fumes may affect us. “Open your goddamned mouth again,” I

growled as I held the base of my rock-hard cock in my right hand. Her mouth didn’t immediately open, which I was certain by Dom standards, was breaking some sort of Dom law. Backlash would be necessary. With tears running down my cheeks from the exhaust fumes, I raised my cock a foot over her head and swung it like a bat. Whack! Her cheek was now covered with two red cock shaped marks. Promptly, she shook her upside down head from side to side to regain her wits. As soon as her head stopped moving and her eyes opened I cock-slapped her face again for good measure. Whack! “I should just beat you to death with this big fucker,” I shouted, “open that mouth of yours, slut.” The slut word just kind of slipped out. I was so used to calling Liv a slut, it just escaped without thought. A heat of the moment mistake. I waited for her to complain, but the opposite happened. “Oh God. I’m your little slut. Your filthy little slut. Just for you. Use me up,” she whined. Not certain if she was done speaking or not, I shoved my cock into her mouth as she was saying Use me up. Before the word up actually came all the way out, my cock was on its way in. I bent my

knees slightly, let go of my cock, and gripped her neck with both hands. As I squeezed her neck firmly in my hands, I pressed my hips toward her face. Pop. Oh fuck yes. All the way in. Slowly, I pulled my cock free of her throat and out of her mouth. As soon as the head of it rested against her lips, I shoved it back into her mouth and down her throat. Pop. My balls pressed against the tip of her nose. As I squeezed her neck, I felt my cock in her throat. Holy fuck I like this. Dominance, or at least this particular type, was fucking great. I was beginning to fucking love it. I pulled my cock two-thirds the way out and immediately shoved it back in deep. I continued this over and over like a man possessed. The popping noise eventually diminished, and I was now fucking her throat like it was a wet pussy. Her face, covered in saliva and mascara, made her look like a B-Rate horror movie actress. I blinked my eyes a few times and wiped the tears from my face. The exhaust fumes had become unbearable. Holy fuck I wish I could open the garage door. I looked down at her drool covered face with my cock buried deep in her mouth. Almost instantly, I came to the realization that I was in

charge. I released her neck from my grasp, pulled my cock from her mouth, and quickly slapped her with it three times hard as I could. Whack! Whack! Whack! Confused, she looked up at me, her face covered with cock shaped welts. “I’m opening the God damned garage door, and letting some air in this motherfucker,” I coughed as I walked to the push-button pad on the wall beside the door leading into the house. As she gasped for breath, I walked over, pressed the button, and rubbed my watering eyes. As the door slowly opened, a breeze rushed in. I inhaled the fresh air like a fish gulping floating food at the top of an aquarium. As the exhaust began to filter out of the garage, I walked over to the motorcycle and turned off the engine. When it stopped running, she turned and looked my direction as she sat up on the seat. I raised my index finger in the air and waved it back and forth. I’m dominant, bitch don’t question me. Almost immediately, she lowered her head and shamefully looked down at the garage floor. “Listen to me, you little slut. Stand up,” I demanded. “But I’m naked and the door is open,” she said

as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Do I look fucking stupid? They might be overcome by exhaust fumes, but I have fucking eyes. I know you’re naked, I can see you. Get the fuck up and don’t make me ask again, you slut,” I snapped as I rubbed the tears from my eyes. “What do you want me to…” she asked. “I want you to God damned pay attention,” I coughed into my hand as I scowled her direction. Standing in the garage stark naked, the wind felt good against my skin. I looked down at my Chuck’s and realized I hadn’t made it to the mall to get my new pair. As I raised my gaze to her, she was sitting on the motorcycle as if she were riding it, staring at the front of the garage. “Do you have a pair of Chuck’s?” I asked. “What?” she responded slowly. “Do you have a pair of God damned Chuck’s?” the attempt to be dominant was thwarted by my laughter and a little coughing. “Now you’ve got me choked up, God damn it. Do you have…” I tried to stop laughing. “Yes, yes I do. I’m sorry sir, I didn’t fully understand you,” she responded. “Well, go get them on,” I demanded. “Is that all? Chuck’s?” she asked. “Well, I didn’t tell you to get anything else, did I?” I howled. “No sir,” she responded as she got off the

motorcycle. “Come here,” I shook my head in exaggerated frustration and rolled my eyes. “Kneel,” I said as I pointed at my feet. As if she did this type of thing on a daily basis, she gracefully walked in front of me, dropped to her knees, looked up into my eyes and blinked. I looked down at her face and shook my head. “Open,” I muttered as I rolled my eyes and shook my cock in my hand. Her mouth dropped open, and I immediately slapped her across the lips with the head of my cock. Saliva flew from her mouth across the garage floor. The instant she recovered from the cock-slap, I forced my length into her mouth and down her throat. As soon as my balls were against her chin, I pulled my cock from her mouth. “I’m not even going to let you suck my cock. Get up, go get your shoes on, and get back out here. Understand?” I asked. “Yes sir,” she responded as she stood. She walked barefoot across the floor and up the steps into the house. Her tight little ass shook as she walked. I realized as the door closed I had no idea what her name was or how old she was. At this point in time I guess it didn’t matter. For now, she’d be my little fiery brunette. I had not been in a sexual role as a Dom nor had I been with a submissive female as a sexual partner - at least not

that I was aware of. As she stepped into the garage, my eyes immediately widened. Thin, great legs, nice perky tits, and completely naked - less the Chuck’s she was wearing, she was a huge fucking turn on. I turned and looked out the garage door into the driveway. Her car was parked in the driveway, close to the door. Although not completely, it partially blocked the view to the garage. The house faced east, and as it was afternoon, the sun wasn’t shining directly into the garage. As I turned to face her, she was standing directly in front of me - no doubt waiting for instructions. I looked around the fairly empty garage for anything to make the experience a little better than just a typical sexual romp. I glanced at my fiery brunette and smiled. As if it were planned, I walked to the side of the motorcycle, stepped over it, and sat in the seat. “Go get that duct tape off of the hook on the wall and come here,” I said as I pointed to the roll of tape hanging from the hook on the wall. “The what?” she asked as she turned to face the wall. “The tape. See that roll of grey tape on the wall?” I asked as I nodded toward the wall. “Oh yeah. Duck tape,” she smiled. I shook my head, “Yeah, the duck tape.” “And what’s in the boxes over there?” I asked

as I pointed to several boxes that were placed on a shelf over the hooks that hung on the wall. “Uhhm. Well, holiday stuff. Christmas. Halloween…” “What’s in the Halloween box?” I asked. “Masks and decorations and stuff,” she responded as she pulled the duct tape from the hook on the wall. “What kind of masks?” I gripped the handlebars of the bike, tilted my head toward the box, and stared curiously. “Uhhm, I dunno. Let me see,” she said as she dropped the tape to the floor and pulled the box from the shelf. Bent over, her hands pulled at the tape which sealed the top of the box. To me, it seemed natural to be in the garage naked. To any outsider who may happen upon us, I’m sure we’d look like a couple of freaks. “Uhhm, a Richard Nixon mask, some plastic pumpkins, a Bill Clinton mask,” she paused and shuffled through the box. “Uhhm a unicorn mask, and…” she said softly as she rummaged through the box. “Unicorn mask?” I raised my eyebrows in wonder. “Yep. Unicorn,” she said as she pulled the mask from the box. A large rubber mask shaped like the head of a

unicorn dangled from her clenched fist. I’d always wondered about the people who wore the furry suits and fucked each other. To me, they defined freakish behavior. Fucking a human sized furry rabbit or a dog would just be weird. As I thought of the furry suits, I began to doubt if I could stay hard while attempting to fuck a girl in a furry dog suit. As I stared at the submissive Chuck wearing goofball, something about fucking someone in a mask kind began to appeal to me. To me, the excitement would be more from not knowing who was under the mask than the mask itself. As I clearly knew who she was, it took away from some of the fun and excitement. Well, technically, I knew what she looked like. I still didn’t know her name or any specifics. “I’ve always wanted to fuck someone in a mask. I just don’t know about fucking a Unicorn,” I shook my head and stared at her, uncertain if I wanted to attempt to fuck a horn wielding horse. “Unicorns barf rainbows and poop gold dust. Well, they can poop rainbows or gold dust,” she said in a serious tone. “They shit rainbows?” I asked dryly. “Yep. Rainbows and gold dust,” she giggled. “You know what they say, don’t you?” she asked as she lifted the mask over her shoulders. “What’s that?” I shrugged. “Always be yourself. Unless you can be a

unicorn. Then always be a unicorn,” she laughed as she pulled the mask over her face. “I don’t know if I can fuck a unicorn. But Bill Clinton will fuck anything - he proved it. Hand me the Bill Clinton mask, Bill will fuck a unicorn,” I laughed. I did my best not to laugh as my submissive unicorn walked toward me with the rubber mask covering her face and neck as it resting on her shoulders. The twisted rubber horn rose from the forehead of the mask about two feet in the air in front of her as she approached. “Hurs dah Brrl Clindon mfff,” her muffled voice barely escaped the mass of mystical rubber which hid her face. I held the mask in front of me and stared at the distorted rubber face. It looked just like President Clinton, only rubber. I raised the mask to my head and chuckled, knowing I wasn’t the first person to wear a Bill Clinton mask and have a girl suck his cock. Certain there was a group of people somewhere with presidential fetishes, I stretched the mask over my head and stood up from the motorcycle seat. I’ve always been as mean as any man could ever be. When the time came to throw down and fight, I was always the first in line. Hell, two nights prior, I beat the shit out of a gun-wielding car thief. Mike Ripton. Mean. Tough. A man with a purpose.

But this day was weird. Different. I stood in the garage of someone I didn’t know; stark naked with the exception of my Chuck’s, wearing a Bill Clinton Halloween mask. As I peered through the small eyes holes of my political disguise, the girl with no name wore a unicorn mask, naked from her Chuck’s up. As she waited for me to shove her full of my presidential cock, I silently laughed. I often got myself into situations which were different than any other sane thirty year old male would be in. Ridiculous shit. A few weeks or a month later, when I thought of what had happened; I’d always ask myself, Ripp, what the fuck were you thinking? The answer was always the same thing. Sex. Sex was my weakness. Sex was the common denominator in all of the misguided horseshit I got myself into. Fucking was a drug to me, and the submissive unicorn was beginning to become addictive. “Bend over,” I demanded as I pointed toward the motorcycle seat. She turned to face me and tilted her horn to the side. A muffled grunt came from her mask. Trying to hear while wearing a rubber presidential mask was nearly impossible. Speaking in a manner allowing someone else to hear was equally difficult. “What?” I yelled.

“Huh?” she screamed back. I couldn’t really have viewed it as disobeying a dominant command. My submissive unicorn was basically deaf. I reached out, grabbed her hand, and led her to the motorcycle. As I stood beside the motorcycle holding her hand, I had a revelation. I stepped over the motorcycle and sat down on the seat. I held my left hand in the air and raised my index finger as I began stroking my now somewhat soft cock with my right hand. As I became hard, I slapped my thigh with my left hand and pointed to my lap. Her horn tilted to the side as if she were confused. The rubber eyes on either side of her head made me wonder how a unicorn could ever see anything. I pulled her hand toward me and slapped my lap again. It became obvious she finally understood my desire when she stepped over the seat and rested her ass onto my thighs. Lightly grasping each of her wrists, I guided her hands to the handlebars. Her back now against my chest, I reached down and lifted the palms of my hands against her butt, raising her off of my lap a few inches. As her ass hovered over my thighs, I raised my hips and guided myself into her wet pussy. Her initial reaction of rising up from my lap changed to a slow steady push against the tip of my cock. As my entire length slowly disappeared into her wet pussy, I placed my hands on her waist and my

fingertips against her hip bones. Her petite frame and light weight made it easy for me to move her around. Gripping the small of her waist, I raised and lowered her onto my cock more rapidly with each stroke. Within a few minutes, she was taking the entire length into her warm wet pussy. My pace was that of a jackhammer, slamming her ass into my thighs as I pressed down on her hips. Her screams and shouts were muffled by the five pounds of rubber she had stretched over her face. Although she eventually took my entire cock into her pussy without complaint – at least none that I was able to hear, she was extremely tight. At the current pace I doubted I’d last a few minutes at best. Not being able to speak during sex seemed odd to me, considering the fact I typically talked a mad line of shit while I was fucking. I looked down and watched my cock slide in and out of her pussy as I continued to slam her ass into my thighs. Through the slits in my rubber mask, I peered at the hand controls of the motorcycle. I released one of her hips and flipped the ignition switch on. A green glow from the instruments confirmed the neutral position of the transmission. As I held her other hip in my hand, I pressed the start button and started the engine. The rumble and vibration of the motorcycle provided a different level of

satisfaction. Her hands still on the controls, I rested my palm against the outside of her hand which was gripping the throttle, and twisted the engine to a loud roar a few times. I squeezed her hip in my hand again and forced her down onto my cock completely. As her ass continued to bounce against my thighs, I closed my eyes and focused on the feeling of her tight pussy around the girth of my cock. The pressure of her on my lap, her soaking wet pussy, the motorcycle vibrating and the exhaust rumbling proved to be far more than I was prepared for. As I felt my cock began to swell, I raised my ass from the seat of the motorcycle and forced myself deeper into her. I felt her moans of pleasure vibrating through her lungs as my chest pressed against her back. As my fingers gripped into her waist, I knew this adventure was a matter of seconds from ending. I straightened my legs and pressed my hips into her butt, pushing her into a position of being bent over. Now standing and straddling the motorcycle, I was forcing myself into her at a steady pace. I closed my eyes and focused on my hips pounding against her ass. Bent over with her hands steadied by the controls, she began to scream. The muffled noise from within her mask became louder as my cock began to swell. As I felt myself begin to climax, I gripped her waist tightly,

closed my eyes and groaned. As if she planned it, at the instant I exploded with pleasure inside of her, she revved the throttle of the motorcycle a few times. The sound of the exhaust echoing through the garage as I came provided me a different degree of pleasure. Half overcome by exhaust fumes from earlier, the heat from wearing the presidential mask during sex and the fact I had just reached climax on a running motorcycle had me almost exhausted. I reached up and flipped the ignition switch to off. As the engine stopped running, I pulled the mask from my face and took a few unobstructed breaths of fresh air. I gripped the back of her unicorn mask and after what seemed like a few minutes of struggle, pulled it from her head. Her hair a tangled wet mess and her face covered in sweat, she rotated her head and looked at me over her left shoulder. “I like you. You’re fun,” she breathed. I stepped over the motorcycle and stood beside it, staring at her naked body. “You’re fun, too,” I sighed. As she raised her leg over the motorcycle, I dropped the masks onto the floor beside where we stood. A quick look at my G-Shock revealed it was 3:50 pm. We had been fucking for two and a half hours. Holy shit. Shocked at the amount of time which had passed and the fact I was supposed to

meet Vee for drinks after her work day was over, I came to the realization I needed to leave quickly. “Are you going to be my Dom?” she asked cheerily. Hell, I didn’t even know her name, and she wanted me to take charge of her, sexually. “I believe so,” I stammered. Other than the fact I knew I had some serious issues with saying no to sex, I had no idea why I responded the way I did. Nervously, I looked around the garage as if there was some form of answer sitting in the corner beside the holiday boxes. “Awaiting your next instruction, sir,” she said as she curtsied. I studied her for a long moment. Still in broad daylight, we both stood in her garage wearing nothing but our shoes. Naked and wondering just what this little nympho would be willing to do for me on my next visit, I dropped the bomb. “I need to leave. I have an appointment I need to get to,” I murmured. She stood in front of me and nodded her head. “Alright. Well,” I paused as I reached for my shorts. Hell, I still didn’t know her name or phone number. The weight of my shorts reminded me my cell phone was in my pocket. It was common for me to

have my phone in my pocket when I rode my motorcycle. I stepped into my shorts, buttoned them, and zipped the fly. I pulled my phone from my pocket and handed it to her. “Put your name and number in there while I finish getting dressed,” I said firmly as I handed her the phone. As she pressed her fingertips on the screen of my phone, I pulled my shirt over my head and retied my shoes. As I stood up and stepped to the edge of the motorcycle, she handed me the phone. A quick look at the screen, and I was in business. Destiny Dawn. I rolled my eyes a little bit as I read the name. I dropped the phone into my pocket and got on the motorcycle. I flipped the ignition on and fired the engine. “So, is Dawn your middle or last name?” I asked over the rumbling exhaust. “Last,” she smiled. “Well, Destiny Dawn, I have to get out of here. I’ll shoot you a text later, and include instructions on my wishes. Sound good?” I asked. She nodded her head once sharply. Motorcycles do not have a reverse gear. The transmission propels the bike in forward motion only. When a rider needs to back a motorcycle up, he uses his legs and pushes the motorcycle rearward until he is able to pull forward safely. As I had pulled into the garage facing forward, I needed

to back the motorcycle out of the garage and pull forward in the driveway. As I slowly backed the motorcycle up, I admired her petite body and perky tits. Standing naked, she bent down and picked up the unicorn mask. I watched in wonder as she pulled it over her head and waved goodbye. I waved, shifted the bike into gear, released the clutch, and pulled out into the street. As I turned my head to face the house one last time, the garage door began to come down. I shook my head from side to side as the door obstructed the view of my submissive unicorn. Always be yourself. Unless you can be a unicorn. Then always be a unicorn. Truer words have never been spoken.

9

VEE. The person within me who wished to toss her hands in the air at the end of the work day and be in charge of absolutely nothing walked through the door of the bar and scanned the booths for Mr. Ripton. After determining he had not shown up yet, she picked a seat close to the door and sat down to wait. Something about an alpha male made me feel weak in the knees. Contrary to what most of my girlfriends believed, an alpha male did not need to be big, muscular, or a bad boy. For me it helped, and it helped a lot. I knew I was attracted to a man who not only desired to take charge, but one who was intimidating to me and anyone else he may come in contact with. Further, I knew I could and would submit to the right man, regardless of size, muscular structure, and/or attitude.

If Ripp was who I hoped he might be, he would certainly fill every sexual and relationship void within me. “What can I get you,” the waiter asked. “Ultra, bottle,” I responded. “Be right back,” he smiled. I smiled and leaned into the cushion of the booth. A quick check of my watch confirmed the dead battery was still just that, dead. Permanently stuck on 5:50, it often fooled me into thinking it was time to go home, even when it wasn’t. I had vowed to replace the battery for the last six months, and never quite found the time. “Ultra,” the waiter said as he slid the beer to the center of the table, “want to start a tab?” “Sure,” I smiled as I nodded my head. “Someone joining you?” he asked. “Yeah, he’s a big bald guy. Like really big. He’s got a little bit of a don’t fuck with me look about him,” I chuckled. “Shorts, tee-shirt, tattoos, and a big white watch?” he asked. Tattoo’s? Wouldn’t that be nice. I raised my eyebrows and smiled, “You know him?” He stepped away from the booth and pointed toward the entrance. I leaned into the aisle and peered toward the door. Mr. Ripton’s quick paced walk was as difficult to disguise as was his size and

smile. As self-conscious as he was the day we met, he must have smiled a dozen times - revealing his gold tooth each time he did so. I stood as he approached the booth and extended my hand, “Mr. Ripton.” “Vee. How are ya?” he asked as he shook my hand. “I’m great. Glad the day’s over,” I grinned. “What can I get ya,” the waiter asked. “Ultra. Bottle,” he responded as he inched his way into the booth and sat down. Dressed in shorts, canvas sneakers and a tee shirt, he looked like a professional athlete probably a professional football player. As I admired his physique and began to study his tattoos, he pressed his hand against the table and repositioned himself in the seat. As he gripped the table, his forearms flexed. They were comparable in size to my thighs. I looked up at his face to find him staring at my boobs. This might work out perfectly. I held my bottle in the air for him to see that we had similar interests in beer. As he noticed my choice of drink he smiled, revealing his gold tooth. Looking across the booth, I found it increasingly difficult not to stare at his tattoos. For being massive, muscular, and covered in tattoos, there was something about him which was just, well, attractive. Uncertain if it was his boyish smile, or

the attitude that arrived five minutes before he did, I sat on my side of the booth and stared. Ripp seemed to bring out the little girl in me. I grazed my mouth with the back of my hand to check for drool as I attempted to start a conversation. “So, tough day at the office?” I chuckled. “A jet-wash got into the right engine as I lowered her to eight thousand feet,” he raised his hand over his head, palm flat, and steadied it. “I had concerns if I could still land it without passing the runway and making a second go at it,” he slowly lowered his hand toward the table in a sweeping motion, focusing his gaze on it as he did. “Luckily I pulled it out. Landed with three minutes to spare, and all the passengers were safe and sound. Another great day at Continental Airlines,” he touched his hand to the table lightly and sighed as if relieved. He looked up as the waiter handed him a bottle of beer. He smiled, raised his beer in the air, and took a slow sip. “Pilot?” I asked, surprised and somewhat disappointed. “No. I’m not a pilot. I’m a professional boxer,” he grinned, “how about you?” “So, you’re a pilot or a boxer?” I asked as I tipped my bottle to my lips. In an absolutely impossible to follow blur, his hands threw a dozen or so punches in the air. As he

lowered them to rest on the table, he grinned. He’s a boxer. He beats on other men in a small confined space. And he’s so good at it they pay him to do it. My entire body went numb. I crossed my legs. Squish. Five years. My husband and I had been apart for five years, and the best I could recall, short of a date or two immediately after the divorce, I hadn’t been with a single man since. I told myself I wouldn’t settle, at least initially. After that, I never quite found the time to date. Too many disappointments followed with each successive date. To be brutally honest, I saw very little value in continuing. I lowered my chin between the thumb and index finger of my right hand as I rested my elbow on the table. After what was probably several minutes of silent staring, Ripp broke the silence. “So, you gonna answer?” he chuckled. “Excuse me?” his question caused me to realize I was floating mindlessly in the booth. “I asked you what you do. It’s kind of customary. You ask me, I ask you,” he rested his forearms on the table and clasped his hands together. “Oh. Well, I’ll tell you my life story, how’s that?” I blinked my eyes and admired his strong jaw.

“I’ll make mental notes,” he leaned closer to the center of the table and studied my face. “Well, let’s see,” I looked up as if I were extracting facts from the air. I looked down from the ceiling, focused on his Adam’s apple, and began. “Born and raised in Austin, Texas. After high school, I attended college - two years pre-law, and two years criminal justice. I obtained my Juris Doctor in three and my Masters of Law in two. During my JD, I got married to a man I felt I was or at least could be in love with. But, I was in love with the concept of love,” I took a breath as he stared blankly at my face. “I went to work for my overworked father, who my mother divorced for just that reason. I, not unlike my father, worked my respective fingers to the bone in hopes of finding some sort of answer or answers to my lack of satisfaction at home. My civil law practicing pushover of a husband never felt a desire or need to take charge of me or anything else for that matter, leaving me no other alternative but to leave him, which I did five or so years ago. I have, for all practical purposes, been single since. I now practice at my dying father’s law office, Simon, Simon, And Simone. I’m the second Simon; Vivian to be more specific. I never took my former husband’s name,” I paused and blinked as my unfocused eyes looked over his

shoulder at nothingness. “Oh, and it was a little bit of blind luck we happened onto each other in here the other day. I came in with Tonia to celebrate her divorce being final. I haven’t been out in years. I work and I work out. That’s it,” I exhaled, interlocked my fingers, and smiled as I focused on his face. “You’re an attorney? So you put people in prison?” he asked without an ounce of expression. “No, actually I keep them out. I am a Federal Defense Attorney. I primarily practice Federal Law. And I defend clients, I don’t prosecute them,” I raised my eyebrows and rocked my head from side to side. In my mind, comparing a defense attorney to a prosecuting attorney was comparing black to white. To me, and I am not certain everyone shared my views, prosecuting attorneys were more often than not, utter garbage. I sat nervously and waited for him to speak. “So, in a nutshell, you’re overworked. You don’t get out much, and you’re interested in me because you think I’m a take charge type of individual. Oh, and listening to you talk is…” he paused, looked down at the table and narrowed his gaze. “Interesting. It’s like you had the entire speech prepared and read it off of a chalkboard in your head or something. And you talk too damned fast,”

he looked up and smiled. “We have time limits on speaking. Opening. Closing. Anyway. So, your thoughts?” I took a delicate girlish sip of my beer. “So far, I like you. I want to know five things,” he waved his right index finger in my direction as he spoke. “Anything,” I responded without hesitation. “Age, percentage of body fat, height barefoot, your go-to meat, and what you hope to get from me,” he rubbed his hands together as he finished speaking. I looked up toward the ceiling and scanned the perimeter of the bar as I thought. He asked an interesting list of question, no doubt. I looked down at the table as he rubbed his massive hands together. I bet he has a big cock. “Thirty-three on September 26th. Ten percent. Five foot two, but I’ll claim three. You’ll have to expand on the meat question, I have no idea what it means. And let’s see, I’m a no nonsense lady. I have no time or patience for bullshit. I don’t play games, I don’t sleep around, and I don’t want someone to fuck me over or lead me down some strange time consuming path,” I inhaled and waited for his response. “Meat, Vee. If you had to pick a perfect meat, what would it be? If you had to choose one? Your

go-to meat. And you didn’t answer my question. You dodged it. What do you hope to get from me? Don’t tell me what you hope not to get. What do you want this meeting lead to?” he finished speaking and calmly raised his beer bottle to his lips. “Oh, sorry. Chicken,” I laughed. I hesitated and thought of how to respond to the last question. There was no value for either of us in wasting any time or effort if we did not have similar interests. He was an extremely attractive man and it appeared he possessed a great personality. Additionally, something about him intrigued me. Looks and personality alone, however, wouldn’t satisfy me and I knew this. I could look at pictures on the internet, and my ex-husband was proof a personality, in itself, wasn’t sufficient. I decided to tell him exactly what I was hoping for; I just needed to make it sound attractive to him. “I am a loving, caring, and fairly compassionate woman. I am a competitor. I work hard, and I make a fabulous living doing so. In a relationship, for almost everyone, it gets down to sex. A couple either has sex or they don’t. Inevitably, if there’s no sex, one or both parties end up straying, finding sex, and the relationship dissolves. If there is sex, the sex needs to be satisfying to both parties. If the sex is not satisfying, one or both parties end up straying, finding sex, and the relationship dissolves.

The bottom line is this: If one or both parties in a relationship desire and enjoy sex, the sex must be satisfying to both parties. It must be,” I raised my beer bottle to my mouth, drank the remaining portion, and waved the bottle toward the passing waiter. “Keep going,” he nodded and waved his finger in the air as the waiter passed. “We can get into the details later if need be. The bottom line, as I say, is this. Sexually, I am submissive. I am not a weak woman and I am not a pushover. I am not, by my own diagnosis, codependent. But sexually I need a man to take charge and I do mean take charge. I desire, and more importantly, I need to be put in my respective sexual place. In the absence of having a dominant male partner, I will have nothing,” I waited as the waiter slid two beers across the table, and continued. “Bottom line? First, you must be that person. You must be dominant, and be willing to take control of me. Moreover, you must desire it as much as I. I want to live under a man’s thumb which is firmly placed on top of me, smashing me into the submissive sexual being he so desires. If you’re potentially that person, I want to get to know you. If you’re not that person, if you can be satisfied by mundane, ho-hum vanilla sex, we should finish our beers, shake hands and go our

separate ways. Are you Dominant, Mr. Ripton?” I crossed my legs and waited anxiously for his reply. “I am a dominant male, and I prefer to be in a relationship where I am a Dom to a submissive female. Actually, I require it,” he said flatly, his beer bottle dangling loosely from his fingers as he spoke. Thank. Fucking. God. “So,” he rubbed his fingers across the scruff of hair on his chin, “you don’t fuck around sexually? You’re not sexually promiscuous?” I shook my head, “No, not at all.” “And you’re not after a quick fuck?” he asked. “No. If that’s what I thought you wanted, I’d leave now.” “You think you’re submissive?” he tipped his beer bottle to his lips and held it as he waited for my response. “I know I am,” I smiled. “Let’s jump ahead and say everything between us works out, Vee. For the sake of this conversation, make that assumption,” he slid his beer bottle to the side and leaned forward to the center of the booth, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. Naturally, I leaned forward and waited for him to speak. I felt his warm breath on my face as he studied my eyes. Nervously, I crossed my legs again. Something about him made me nervous; the

good nervous. I wanted him to touch me, desperately. He moved his hands to his chin and inhaled a slow breath through his nose as his eyes scanned every inch of me which was above the surface of the table. His gaze met mine and stopped as he softly exhaled. “Listen carefully, alright Vee?” he breathed. All I could do was nod my head and stare as I waited for him to speak. I crossed my legs. Again. He curled his index finger toward his palm, motioning for me to come closer. He was, without a doubt, toying with me. I was so close I could already feel his breath against my lips. I moved two inches closer, leaving no more than a few inches between our lips. As soon as I settled into place, I attempted to swallow the lump which had formed in my throat. As if he knew it would make me uneasy, he began to whisper. I love it when a man whispers. “I fight bare knuckles matches in Rundberg. Yeah, in Rundberg. Those fights. I box professionally, but not as frequently as I’d like. I make ten grand a year boxing if I’m lucky, and most of that comes from training other boxers. I make twenty five or thirty grand fighting bare knuckles. I’ve never been to prison, but I should have a few dozen times. I’m of the opinion, short of maybe one person on this earth, that there isn’t a

man alive who can whip my ass. Not a god damned one. I’ve been stabbed, beaten with a club, shot at, and just two or three nights ago, knocked a man out who tried to rob me at gunpoint. Everyone these days thinks that they want a bad boy. Well, they don’t get any badder than this,” he raised his head and pointed his two index fingers at his chest. “The problem Vee, if there is one, is this. I’m one wild motherfucker. It’s extremely difficult to keep my focus on one thing, person or event. If we reach a point we start fucking, and I’m pretty sure we will, you better fuck me as if your life depends on it. Because when it comes to sex, I’m not easily amused or entertained,” he reached over, placed his finger under my chin, and tilted my head back as he studied my eyes. I squeezed my thighs together. Squish. “And if you don’t entertain me the first time we fuck, this will end quick, real quick. If you do, and if you have the ability to keep my attention sexually, I’ll fuck you in a manner and in ways you have no ability of even comprehending. You just don’t. Because if you haven’t had my ten inches of pierced cock shoved in you and these hands all over your body, you haven’t even been fucked yet. You’ve just been fucked with,” he pulled his hand away from my face and slowly leaned into the booth.

Did he say ten inches? Of pierced cock? I swallowed hard and opened my mouth, hoping I would be able to form a legible sentence. “Where do I sign up, Mr. Ripton?” I sighed. “Call me Ripp, Vee. And I ain’t Christian Grey; I don’t have a contract for you to sign. You’re a woman of character. All I need is for you to shake on it. Make a fist,” he said as he leaned forward and held his clenched hand over the center of the table. “A handshake? With a fist?” I scrunched my brow in confusion as I reached toward his hand. “Make a fist and we’ll shake on it,” he said sternly as he shook his fist over the table. I formed my hand into a fist and held it over the center of the table. And with that, Mike Ripton pounded his knuckles into mine, and he smiled. And at that exact moment, I knew two things without a doubt. He was dead serious. And I was in over my head. Way over my head.

10

RIPP. I’ve heard people say once you’re an adult, you don’t change. I don’t believe that. I think we all have the capacity to change; we just have to want to do it. It’s developing the want which is difficult. We become so stuck in our routines; so comfortable, so unwilling to take risk, we don’t see the value in change. It’s possible we’re just plain uncomfortable with what the change might offer. Me? I get bored easy, so change for me brings new things. Some things, however, I will never change. I’m simply not willing. Saturday chicken was one of those things. “God damn it, Dekk, Shorty, somebody hand me the fuckin’ water bottle. If this shit burns, it’s ruined,” I screamed as I watched my precious chicken go up in flames. “Where is it?” Dekk hollered from the edge of

the lounge he was sitting on. “Well, if you’d get the fuck up and look, you’d probably find it. Hurry, this shit’s on fire,” I bellowed as I closed the lid and raised it again, hoping the flames had extinguished themselves. “I don’t understand why this motherfucker’s burning like this,” I closed the lid and looked under the grille for the spray bottle. A light tapping on my back startled me and I spun around quickly. Kace stood behind me, holding the spray bottle in her hand, smiling. “Good lookin’ out, Shorty,” I said as I snatched the bottle from her grasp. Quickly, I opened the lid to the grille and sprayed the burner area, eliminating the fire which was slowly ruining my chicken. Greasy foods will start a fire as the grease drips into the burner area, but chicken never causes a fire. After I made sure the flame was out, I closed the lid and nervously opened it again a few times to confirm the status of my chicken. Somewhat confused, I placed the bottle under the grille and reluctantly sat on the edge of my lounge. “Where the fuck did you get this chicken from, Dekk?” I asked as I grabbed my bottle of beer from the table beside the lounge. “Up at the corner. At HEB. The one by the exit,” he responded. “Well, HEB’s chicken don’t normally go up in

fuckin’ flames. Something’s wrong with this chicken,” I stared at the grille and took a drink of my beer. “The chicken’s fine, Ripp,” Dekk shook his head as Shorty sat down beside him on the lounge. “It ain’t fine. It was on fuckin’ fire, dude. It’s just fuckin’ weird. It takes grease to start a fire. Chicken ain’t greasy. I ain’t lookin’ to eat no weird ass chicken that’s been tampered with and infused with grease to make it taste good,” I complained as I finished drinking what was left of my beer. I finished my beer and tossed the bottle in the trash. As I stood, I opened the lid of the grille and checked the chicken. The burner below the chicken was burning steadily and at a low flame suitable for barbequing chicken. I closed the lid of the grille, grabbed a fresh beer from the cooler, and dropped back into my lounge as I rubbed my head. “Fuck I’m hungry. What a fuckin’ week. This is the first I’ve been able to relax all God damned week,” I closed my eyes as the late afternoon sun warmed my bare skin. “Maybe it was the burgers?” Kace said softly. I sat up in my chair and opened my eyes. “Excuse me?” I snapped. “The burgers, Ripp. Maybe the burgers made the grease,” she smiled. “I ain’t cookin’ burgers, Kace. There ain’t a burger in there, and there never has been; just

chicken,” I said as I looked across the deck at Kace, somewhat confused. “Well, Shane and I cooked over here the other night, and we cooked burgers,” she smiled. “Dekk?” I raised one eyebrow and stared at Shane as he turned his palms up in a half-assed apology. “Dekk, you cooked burgers on my fuckin’ grille?” I asked as I stood and opened the lid to the barbeque grille. “Kace wanted a burger, so I bought some hamburger. It was lean, like ninety percent or something. Yeah, we cooked it over here the other night, you were gone,” he admitted. I turned toward him and shook my head. I opened the lid to the grille and silently began turning all of the chicken over with the tongs. After successfully flipping all of the pieces and verifying there was no threat of another secondary fire, I closed the lid and hung the tongs from the hook. “Burgers. Seriously? I guess I have a couple questions,” I sat on the edge of the lounge and grabbed my beer, “since when do you eat burgers for one, and two, why in the fuck are you cooking burgers on my grille and not at your fuckin’ house?” “I like burgers, Ripp,” Kace laughed. “I ain’t talkin’ to you, Shorty. Dekk, you gonna answer?” I asked as I took a slow sip from my

bottle of beer. “Kace wanted a burger, so I cooked her some. I don’t have a grille and I didn’t want to cook them in my house, so we came here. You gave me a key to this place, Ripp, remember?” he stood from his seat and shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. “Yeah, I remember. But damn, dude. Seriously? Burgers on my chicken grille? And then you act like this fire is some kind of fuckin’ mystery. Lookin’ around like you ain’t got any form of fuckin’ clue what might have happened. You and Shorty sittin’ over there with your hands on your cheeks like you’re all surprised and shit while I’m fightin’ this fuckin’ blaze,” I stood, opened the lid to the grille, and checked the chicken. “Jesus, Ripp, we cooked a burger,” Dekk laughed. “It ain’t funny Dekk. You caught my chicken on fire,” I scowled at both of them as I flopped into the lounge. “And you ain’t got no grille. Yeah. You have serious issues, dude. You got stacks of money. You bought Kace a new car, a fifty thousand dollar diamond bracelet, and you’re gonna fight for the Championship. Millions. You’re gonna have millions if you ain’t got ‘em already. Motherfuckin’ millions. But I can’t force your dumb ass to put a tire on that bike of yours or buy a pair of boots.

Three hundred bucks. A grille cost three hundred bucks,” I pulled my toothpick from my mouth and tossed it in the trash. “Are you really mad at us Ripp?” Kace asked softly as she alternated glances between Shane and I. “No Shorty. I ain’t mad. I like makin’ a big deal out of shit. Dekk knows it. Now if my chicken would have burned, you’d have seen the second installment of Dekkar-Ripton. We’d have thrown down right here,” I laughed as I pointed to the bare space on the deck between Shane and me. “Shit,” Dekk laughed, “I could beat you one handed now. You haven’t really trained in two weeks.” “I been lifting. And workin’ out. I always lift, you know that. I just been fuckin’ busy,” I complained as I recalled the events of the week. “You turned that around. You haven’t been fucking busy, you’ve been busy fucking, Ripp. You need to slow down, you’re going to die soon from some kind of disease if you don’t watch it,” Shane said as he sat down on the edge of the lounge. “I don’t fuck people with twat diseases, thank you very much. And, if it’s any of your business, I’m looking to try and settle down. Well, kind of,” I said proudly as I finished my beer. “Shane said you had sex with two girls from Rundberg. That’s gross” Kace scrunched her face

and covered her mouth as if she were going to vomit. “They weren’t from Rundberg; they were in Rundberg, kinda traveling through. And yes there was two of ‘em, sisters. But one got fucked and the other just listened,” I laughed. “Sisters?” Kace turned to Shane, who immediately shrugged his shoulders. I nodded my head, “Yep. Sisters.” Kace shook her head and rolled her eyes as she elbowed Shane, probably for telling her half of the story. “And thanks Dekk. I appreciate you bringin’ Shorty up-to-date on my sexual adventures,” I shook my head, stood from the lounge and opened the lid to the grille. “Chicken’s done,” I announced as I grabbed the tongs and platter, “go in the house and get the other shit, it’s in the fridge.” As they went into the house, I pulled the chicken from the grille and placed it on the platter. Seeing the growth in Kace over the last year allowed me to realize how strong of a woman she really was. She was small and quiet, but she didn’t have a weak bone in her body. The day we met, all she could do was sit and point at me. Hell, she was so nervous she couldn’t even speak. Now, she’d challenge me on even the small things, and fight me the entire way if she thought she was right.

Witnessing Shane and Kace together and seeing how well they got along was one single thing which caused me consider the fact Vee and I may be able to do the same. I’ve never been in a relationship in my life, and changing would not come easy, so I had my reservations. I had no idea if Vee and I would even have similar interests, but I was willing to try to find out. She was the prettiest woman I had ever seen, she was intelligent, and she believed she was submissive. I didn’t know the first fucking thing about male dominance or submissive women, but the afternoon with my little submissive unicorn girl sure made me wonder if it wasn’t a place where I belonged. As they walked out with the plates and side dishes, I laughed out loud at the thought of shaking Vee’s hand in the bar. “What’s so funny, Ripp?” Kace asked as she walked across the deck and placed the plates on the table. “Well,” I started to talk and began laughing again. I covered my mouth with my hand and thought of me trying to act as a Dom. Visions of me donning my Chuck’s with a whip in my hand and Vee wearing leather boots which went half way up her thighs caused the laughter to continue. “Are you going to enlighten us on what’s going on?” Shane asked as he looked back and forth between Kace and me.

Eventually I stopped laughing, rubbed my hands on my shorts and took a breath. As I wiped the tears from my eyes with the back of my hand, I tried to decide a way to tell them what I had decided to try and do. Not a bit unlike Shane, everything I did, I did well. I had my doubt about being in a relationship at all, but I knew if I did my research I could be as good of a Dom as anyone. In hope of a little reassurance, I set the platter down and opened my mouth. “The girl from the Jackalope? The really pretty one from the other day?” I sighed as I tossed a few pieces of chicken on my plate and sat on the edge of the lounge. Shane nodded as he walked toward the table, “Vee, right?” “Yep, Vee. Vivian, as in Vivian Simon. The big law office under the Bat Bridge with the Simon, Simon, and Simone on the side? Yeah, that’s her. She’s an attorney,” I pulled the skin from my chicken and poked it into my mouth. “Wow, an attorney,” Kace said as she spooned vegetables and coleslaw onto her plate. “Well, we met for drinks the other night,” I paused and took a bite of my chicken. “Did you tell her you’re a thirty-one year old nympho boxer that fights bare knuckles on the side for spending money?” Shane laughed as he sat down beside Kace.

I nodded my head and finished chewing my chicken, “Well, as a matter of fact, I did. I told her all of that. And she told me a few things as well.” “Funny things?” Kace looked up and smiled as she carefully pulled the meat from her chicken leg. “Not at the time, no,” I took another bite of chicken as I shook my head. “But it’s funny now?” she asked. I took a drink of beer, washed down my chicken, placed my plate on the table beside my lounge and tossed my legs over the side. After resting my forearms on my thighs and leaning forward, I felt comfortable telling them the rest of the story. Kace and Shane were both looking at me as if my head were on fire. “Let me finish before either of you two make some stupid assed remarks, okay?” I gestured toward them with my hands as I spoke. As if rehearsed, they looked at each other and nodded. “Okay. So I met Vee at the bar, and we started bullshittin’ about stuff, and all of a sudden she says, I ain’t lookin’ to do anything with anybody and I ain’t lookin’ to fuck nobody. I don’t just fuck. So, if you wanna fuck, toss that beer back and kick rocks, son. So I said, hell I’m good with that and I’m still listenin’,” I paused, grabbed my beer and took a drink. “So, let’s see. I said, what are you lookin’ for?

She takes a long drink to finish her beer, waves over the waiter like she’s dying of thirst. Gets herself another beer, drinks half of it, sets that fucker down on the table, leans forward, and lets me fuckin’ have it. I about shit myself,” I lifted my beer and took another short sip. “What did she say, Ripp?” Kace scooted all the way to the edge of the lounge and sat with her mouth hanging open. “Alright. Here’s where it gets interesting. Now let me finish, alright?” I asked as I leaned forward and rested my arms on my thighs. Again, they both nodded. Kace wiped her mouth with a napkin and set her plate aside and waited for me to speak. I loved telling stories, and telling stories to these two was like telling a story to a kid. They just sat and stared, hanging on every word. I waited a long minute before I started talking, and as soon as they began to start squirming in their seats, I began. “She set her beer aside, leaned forward, and said, I am submissive. I want a man to hold me down and treat me like a whore. I don’t want a dominant man, I want a God damned Dom. I want someone to take charge and make me his little submissive bitch. If you’re this man, be this man. If you’re not, Mr. Ripton, let’s part friends. Yeah, she called me Mr. fuckin’ Ripton. This gal, she’s got class,” I nodded my head and leaned back in the

chair as I waited for them to speak. “Sounds like it,” Shane chuckled and slumped into the lounge. “Uhhm. What’d you say?” Kace asked, still sitting on the edge of the lounge. Shane turned to Kace and shook his head, “Ripp might be wild, but he isn’t crazy, babe.” “I said yes,” I said as I sat up in my seat, “and we shook on it.” “Holy…” Shane said as he leaned forward and pulled his hood off his head. “Shit,” Kace stammered. Her eyes widened as she stared my direction. “You shook on it?” Shane asked as he stood. Shane and Kace both knew how I viewed a handshake. A man has nothing in this world but his word. Nothing else matters. A handshake, to me, was as good as a written contract to anyone else. My shaking Vee’s hand made no form of assurance anything was for certain. It did, however, give her a guarantee I would do my best to make it work out. “Yep,” I said as I rose from my chair and smiled, “and Kace’s gonna give me pointers from her books.” “Oh hell no, she isn’t,” Shane blurted. At the same time Shane spoke, Kace jumped from her seat and slapped her hands together, “I can’t wait.” “What in the fuck do you know about being a

Dom? We’ve talked about this. This isn’t something you dabble in like putting together model airplanes,” Shane snapped. “I know a little after fuckin’ my little submissive unicorn,” I chuckled. “Unicorn?” Kace asked with her face covered in confusion. I sat in my seat, grabbed my plate of chicken and set it down on my lap. As I pulled a piece of chicken from the plate, I turned toward Kace and smiled. “Sit down Kace, and let me tell you a story…”

11

RIPP. “Why does it always have to be a three ring circus around this fuckin’ place?” I asked. “When you ain’t here, it’s fine. You are the circus, Mike,” my father responded over a fork full of potato salad. “Pop, it ain’t me. You guys have turned into a couple of weird asses. Since when do we eat hamburgers on Sunday?” my elbows resting on the table, I spread my hands shoulder width apart and waited for a response. “We eat what’s in front of us, Mike. Since that’s what your mother prepared. Since then. That’s when we started eatin’ burgers around here. Since your mother made ‘em. Now shut up so we can visit,” he said as he waved his fork at me. “Bad word. You know I don’t like it when you tell the kids that, Lewis,” my mother muttered

without looking up from her plate. I could say motherfucker or cocksucker while we ate, and I might have someone look up from their plate in disbelief. Maybe they would, more than likely they wouldn’t. But tell someone to shut up in my mother’s house, and she would have something to say about it. “Be quiet is a better choice, and I don’t even like you telling the kids that,” my mother looked up from her plate toward my father as she spoke. “Finish speaking, Michael, your father didn’t mean it,” she looked down at her plate and slowly started picking through her food. Kace smiled the entire time, her eyes shifting back and forth between my mother and father as they spoke. Quietly, Shane ate his food, always attentive, but not outwardly paying attention. “I don’t even know what we were talking about,” I turned my palms up and shook my head. “Sisters,” Kace grinned. “Thanks Shorty. So what? Now all of a sudden we work on Sunday? Manda and Bug are working every damned Sunday, they’re never here. Sunday dinner isn’t Sunday dinner if no one’s here. Hell, if I didn’t bring Shane and Kace it’d just be the three of us,” I complained as I reached for my hamburger. “You didn’t bring ‘em. We invited ‘em,” my father pointed his fork at Shane and Kace, then

waved it at me. “And we invited ‘em ‘cause they’re good company. They don’t sit here and bitch, Mike. They eat and offer good conversation,” he said. “Shane don’t talk, Pop. He sits and fuckin’ nods,” I took a bite of my burger and chewed it quickly. “And Kace? Look at her Pop. She smiles. That’s what Kace does. Dekk nods, Shorty smiles,” I motioned toward Kace and Shane who respectively smiled and nodded. “See?” “No nicknames at the table, Michael,” my mother said without emotion. “Kace and Shane, Kace and Shane, Kace and Shane, Kace and fuckin’ Shane, mom. Jesus,” I chuckled. “Don’t cuss at your mother, Mike,” my father grumbled. To be quite honest, I enjoyed eating Sunday dinner at my parent’s home as much as about anything. I looked forward to it all week. I never really viewed it as an inconvenience or an obstruction to my daily routine. To me, it was a way of relaxing and remaining close to family; and now, friends. I seemed to always do my utmost to make it as big of a fiasco as I could by being the center of attention. If I wasn’t talking shit and making a scene, my parents would think there was something

wrong with me. “So, Kace. It’s nice to have you here. How was your week?” my father asked. “It was good. Shane and I cooked burgers at Ripp’s house,” mid-sentence, Shane elbowed Kace, looked up from his plate, and whispered. “Sorry. Mike’s house. And we got in trouble. It was fun,” Kace smiled and took a bite of her burger. “Got in trouble? What did you get in trouble for?” my father asked as he glanced back and forth between Kace and me. “They didn’t get in trouble, I just…” I began to explain. “Quiet, Mike. Company is speaking. Don’t be rude. Go ahead Kace,” my father said softly, wagging his fork at Kace as he spoke. I pressed my forearms onto the edge of the table and leaned forward, attempting unsuccessfully to get Kace’s attention. Her focus was fixed on my father as she responded to his questions. “Well, Shane and I cooked burgers at Mike’s house. I like burgers. A lot,” she turned toward my mother and smiled. “And when we cooked them, the grease dripped down the grille into the bottom. Yesterday, Ripp was cooking,” she shook her head, having remembered the house rule regarding nick names,

“I mean Mike was cooking, and the grille caught fire from the grease. And his chicken caught fire. And Shane and I got in trouble. That’s pretty much it.” “You got in trouble because Mike burned his chicken?” my father asked. “Pop…” I started to explain and got the fork pointed at me. “Well, it didn’t burn. There was just a flame for a minute or two. Until he found the spray bottle,” Kace smiled. “That’s not your fault, Kace. You either Shane. Damn it Mike,” my father turned to face me, “you can’t blame other people because you don’t know where the damned spray bottle is. You always going to need a good spray bottle if you’re grillin’, you know that.” “Pop, they left grease in the grille. It’s a chicken grille. For chicken. Chicken don’t flare up and catch fuckin’ fire. Burgers do. It ain’t a burger grille. They cooked burgers and didn’t tell me. This is a stupid conversation, I’m done with it,” I growled as I shook my head at Kace. “Shane’s your best friend, Mike. He cooked a burger for his fiancé at your house. Burgers make grease and grease catches fire. There ain’t a good way I know of to disassemble a grille and remove all of the grease splatter that gets in ‘em. So, you let it burn off. And you keep a spray bottle handy. I

taught you that. And I know you ain’t got a grille for burgers and another for chicken, so stop callin’ that damned thing a chicken grille. It’s a god damned barbeque grille. For barbequing whatever someone wants to grille; chicken, vegetables, pork, burgers, fish, whatever. And did ya hear that, Shirley? Kace likes burgers,” my father looked across the table toward my mother as he filled his fork with potato salad. “Sure did, thank you Kace,” my mother responded without looking up from her plate. “Fine, I can’t win. Let’s just eat. Jesus,” I barked. “Burgers are fabulous Mrs. Ripton,” Shane said as he stood from the table. “Ass kisser,” I said as I rolled my eyes and picked my burger from the plate. “Michael,” my mother whispered. “I’ll have another if that’s okay,” Shane said softly. “Hell, have two, you’ve got to get ready for that fight, son. You need to be as big and as strong as you can. Hell, have three more,” my father said cheerily. “And speakin’ of fiancés, when are you going to bring that girl over here, Mike? What’s her name, Liv?” my father asked between bites. As Kace covered her mouth and Shane looked over his shoulder toward the table, I did my best to

respond without emotion, “I ain’t seein’ her anymore.” “What happened, Michael?” my mother asked as she looked up from her plate. “She’s a bitch, mom. I’m over her,” I responded as I angrily stabbed a few grilled vegetables with my fork. “What’d she do?” my father asked as he pushed himself away from the table. “She got mad and doesn’t want to talk to me anymore, Pop. It’s fine, I was done talkin’ to her anyway,” I assured him. “What’d she get mad about? Put a burger on here, Shane,” my father said as he approached Dekk, who was still stalling at the kitchen counter. As Shane added another burger to my father’s plate, I hesitated in responding, hoping someone would change the conversation. I really wasn’t in the mood to talk about Liv, and truly wanted to forget about her. My new focus was Vee, and I was excited to see where she and I may eventually settle. As I quietly ate my vegetables and acted as if I didn’t hear my father, he started his inquiry of the table. “Well, someone speak up. What the hell happened?” he asked as he walked back to his seat. “From what she told me she was upset because she thought Mike was going to let the robber take her when he took the car,” Kace said in a matter of

fact tone as she stood from her seat and turned to the kitchen counter. “Oh my word, what happened? Is everyone alright?” my mother gasped. “Robber? Car? What happened to my car?” my father grumped as he dropped his fork onto his plate. “God damn, everyone settle down. Everyone’s fine. Look around you. We’re all fine. Nothing happened to the car, Pop. And it ain’t fuckin’ yours anymore. I bought that son-of-a-bitch fair and square. Some shit-bag tried to car jack me,” I pushed myself away from the table and leaned my chair onto its rear legs as I shook my head. “You were gonna let the guy take the girl with my car?” my father asked in disbelief as he looked up at Kace and then toward me. “No, Pop. I knocked that motherfucker out, right there in front of the cops. She’s a bitch and we ain’t talking about her anymore. I’m done with this conversation.” “The police were involved? Oh Michael,” my mother sighed. “Mom, he tried to steal the car at gunpoint. Yes, there were cops involved,” I chuckled. “I knew it. Keep goin’ to Rundberg, and someone’s gonna get killed. God damned crack heads. Did the car get scratched or anything?” my father leaned forward and rested his arms on the

table as he spoke. “The car ain’t scratched. The girl’s a bitch, and I beat the dude’s ass. When I smacked him, he fired a round into the fuckin street as the cops were rollin’ onto the scene. They were gonna press charges for assault, ‘cause I kicked him in the face, but Shane signed some boxing magazine for the cops and they decided to let it slide. And that’s fuckin’ it. Now, were done talking about it,” I dropped the chair onto all four legs and reached for what was left of my burger. “You shouldn’t kick people’s faces, Michael,” my mother breathed. “He fired a round into the street?” my father asked. “The gun was loaded?” my mother gulped. “Yeah mom, unloaded guns are pretty much nothing more than heavy sticks. People load ‘em. We’re in Texas, you know,” I laughed. “Don’t talk to your mother like that, Mike. You’re lucky you weren’t killed. He was a crack head, wasn’t he? And I told you about fightin’ in Rundberg. When are you going to stop that shit?” my father complained. “Pop, it was two blocks from my house. It wasn’t in Rundberg. And I beat the kid’s ass in Rundberg, Made thirty-four hundred. Maybe took me five minutes,” I clenched my fists, pressed them together, and raised them to my mouth.

“I don’t like the fightin’ Mike. I just don’t,” my father complained, still leaning forward on the edge of the table. “Well, you like it when Shane does it,” I raised my eyebrow and waited for his response. “Shane fights professionally. You do too. But that bare knuckles stuff and fighting over a car is gonna get you killed,” he shook his head, leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. “Pop, listen. Good people act good, pretty much all the time. But bad people do bad shit, as long as they think they can get away with it,” I hesitated, leaned onto the table and looked at my father. “Boxing is a sport, just like football or Lacrosse. But fightin’ is fightin’. They’re two separate things. Someone who’s willing to beat the hell out of life’s shit-heads? We keep the bad people in check. People like me walkin’ around being all mean and intimidating keep the shit-heads in this world guessing. Because there are people willing to beat their asses, they’re always wonderin’ what might happen if they try and pull off some dumb shit. If it wasn’t for me and people like me walking around flexin’, we’d all have to wait for the cops. And we all know there ain’t always a cop around. Shane beats the hell out of people too, Pop. You just don’t hear about it because he sits over there and just nods his damned head,” I pushed

myself away from the table, feeling like I had made my point. “So you’re saving the world now huh? Mike, you beat on people because you like it. That and you’re just mean. If Shane beats on somebody, I’m sure they deserve it. Look at Shane, son. You could learn a lot from him. He’s sittin’ over there with his fiancé. You need a solid woman in your life,” he waved his hand toward Shane as he spoke. “Pop, I met a woman. I’ll see how things go with her.” “Where’d you meet her, Michael?” my mother looked up from her plate and smiled. “Downtown, I met her downtown,” I smiled. “Did ya meet her in the bar? Is she a barfly? Those girls are always trouble, son,” my father interrupted. “She’s an attorney, pop. She’s a Federal Defense Attorney,” I bragged as I leaned into my chair. “An attorney?” my mother and father asked simultaneously. “Yes, an attorney,” I responded as I rocked my chair onto the rear legs. “Well, that might come in handy for you, seeing an attorney. Well, tell us about her, what’s she like?” my father asked. “I met her, Mr. Ripton. She’s beautiful, intelligent, and well dressed. I believe she’ll keep

Mike grounded. We’re all pretty excited about her,” Dekk said as he wiped his hands on his napkin. Dekk rarely spoke, but when he did, he generally had something to say worth hearing. He was my best friend for a reason, and he knew his expressed approval of Vee would prevent my father from grinding on me about her. I looked at Dekk and winked in appreciation. I glanced at Kace and winked. “Yeah, I’m pretty damned excited about this one.” That’s an understatement.

12

RIPP. The thought of being in a D/s relationship excited me. Something about Vee caused me to contemplate what I had never considered in the past. Generally speaking, the thought of actually being in a relationship with a woman made me laugh. The thought of a relationship with Vee, however, made me smile. I wondered if two weeks in the future I would look back on all of my thoughts as being a really bad idea and nothing more than good life experiences. Time, I suppose, would tell. I sat on her couch and waited for her to change clothes. A long night at work changed our plans for dinner and we decided to spend an hour or so together at her house. I suspect this was the life of an attorney, especially one in the position she was in. Work came before anything else. Of the three

nights we had gone out on dates, two of them had been later than we originally planned, all as a result of her late nights at work. As I relaxed on the couch, a fuckin’ cat walked up, stared at me for a minute and jumped on the cushion beside me. Cats are creepy as fuck. They rate right below a clown on my chart of shit that grosses me out. After looking around the room to make sure Vee wasn’t near, I pushed it on the floor and wiped my hands on the couch. Immediately, it jumped right back onto the couch beside me. I looked around the room, stood up and walked to the chair situated in the corner of the room and sat down. I tried my best not to make eye contact with it; but eventually it jumped down, walked to the chair and looked up at me. As I was preparing to toss it down the hallway, Vee walked into the room. “I see you’ve met Candy,” she said as she approached the two of us. “The cat?” I asked as I looked down at the cretin. “Yes, the cat. She’s a lover. She’ll get right up in your lap if you’re not careful,” she chuckled as she sat on the couch. “It ain’t gonna get in my fuckin’ lap, at least not for very fuckin’ long. I ain’t real fond of cats. It just as well be a clown as far as I’m concerned. Fuckin’ thing’s creepin’ me out, it keeps lookin’ at me,” I

complained as I waved my hands in the cat’s direction. “Well, she sure won’t hurt you,” Vee chuckled as she patted her thigh. As if the cat were trained, it looked at Vee, slowly walked to the couch, sprang up on the cushion and relaxed into her lap. As soon as she began touching it, it curled up into a ball and started scratching her legs with its front paws. I rubbed my bicep with my hand as I watched the scratching slow down to what appeared to be a few inadvertent reflexive motions. That’s fucking gross. “So how was your day?” she asked. “It was good. I worked out for a few hours, washed the Chevelle, and Dekk and I went to the bar for lunch. We ended up hanging out there until five. I went home and showered thinkin’ we were going to meet at six. That’s just about it,” I continued to rub my bicep and stare at the cat. “How long you let that thing sit on you like that?” I asked as it rolled over onto its back. “Sometimes we’ll sit here all night. She’s all I have. She’s all I’ve had for, well five years now,” Vee responded. I sat and watched her pet the cat, attempting to recall all of the people I had been with in the last five years. I couldn’t remember the women spanning the last six months very well; and in fact

lost track at about four weeks. The thought of Vee coming home to a cat every night was difficult to comprehend and saddening in some respects. “So, for the last five years, what’s your typical evening been like?” I asked as I tried to relax in the chair. She looked around the room and stroked the stomach of the cat, “Well. Whenever I come home from work, I usually change clothes and relax, listen to some music, study, and go to bed. That’s pretty much it. And I am sorry I was late, I had to get a few motions filed.” “No big deal on being late, Vee. Things happen. Not everyone gets to fuck off all day like Dekk and I,” I sat up in the chair and admired the tone of muscle and definition to her legs. “True. I’m sorry none-the-less,” she said as she lifted her hand from the now sleeping cat. “You, uhhm. You work those legs out quite a bit?” I leaned to the edge of the chair and rested my forearms on my knees. She extended her foot outward and held her right leg parallel to the floor as she flexed her leg muscles. As she did, she looked up and down the length of her leg and smiled. Her skin tone wasn’t dark for the time of year in Texas, nor was it pale. Her muscles flared as she rotated her foot from left to right. “I work out every morning here at home. I

don’t get much time in the sun, so I fake bake in my tanning bed – It makes the muscles look a little more defined. Do you want something to drink?” she asked. “I’m good. Your own a tanning bed, huh?” “I don’t have enough time to tan at a salon. They’re generally closed when I get home. I’m going to get a bottle of water, you sure?” she smiled as she started to get up. Normally speaking, I would have allowed any other woman to get up and get herself a bottle of water. With Vee, for reasons I couldn’t explain or come even close to understanding, I wanted to be better, different, caring and compassionate. It seemed I was doing and considering things I didn’t even know I had the ability to do or consider. As I stood from the chair I wondered what I may turn into as time passed if we stayed together. “I’ll get it; I don’t want you to wake it up,” I grinned, “where do you keep it?” What the fuck is happening to me? “It’s in the fridge in the kitchen. It’s the way you came in, the hallway on the right. Thank you,” she said as she pointed toward the entry hall. As I walked to the kitchen, the overall size of her house became apparent. To live in the home alone, cat or no cat, would be depressing on even a good day. The house was large, very spacious and extremely well decorated. I realized Vee had great

taste in clothes, and after walking through the house it was obvious she had great taste in decorating a home as well. Walking into the living room with two bottles of water, the entire situation felt surreal. Being fully clothed and walking around a woman’s house, sitting in a living room talking while she pet her cat and drinking bottled water wasn’t something I had ever done, nor would I have been willing to do in the past. The thought of Vee being my submissive girlfriend appealed to me, partially because of her submissive nature, and equal parts because of her looks, personality and fondness of me. The fact I felt the way I felt at this juncture; after only a week, was a little troubling. I felt pussy-whipped, without the pussy. “Here you go,” I said as I handed her the bottle of water. “Thank you. Please, sit,” she patted the cushion beside her. “How long’s it sleep like that?” I asked as I looked down at the sleeping ball of fluff. “Difficult to guess. Five minutes. An hour. It’s a cat, they’re unpredictable,” she grinned. “Yeah, that’s part of what I hate about ‘em. You never know what the fucker’s are gonna do,” I shook my head and reluctantly sat down beside her. “It’s a cat, Ripp. It’s not a monster. Cats are soothing creatures. They’re somewhat

unpredictable, but that’s part of what makes each one of them unique. This one only wants to be loved. She doesn’t scratch, bite, or tear the house to shreds. The cat answers to no one, and I answer to the cat, because I must. Without me, the cat would certainly die. It brings me joy to know it cares for my company enough to lie on my lap.” I stared into her eyes as she spoke, feeling almost hypnotized by their color and clarity. As I admired the color of her eyes, I realized I had no idea what the eye color was of any other woman I had ever been with. Ever. I sat and tried to think for the life of me what anyone’s eye color was. Nothing. “Ripp?” her voice brought me back to reality. “Oh, yeah,” I sighed as I shook my head. “I was…your eyes. I thought they were brown. They’re blue. Like really, really blue. They’re uhhm. They’re really pretty,” I said as I brushed her hair away from her face and looked into her eyes again. Her head tilted in the direction of my hand as I swept her hair away from her face. Slowly, her lips formed a soft smile, revealing dimples. I studied her face, realizing there was absolutely nothing wrong with her. Nothing. She was picture perfect and well beyond what I deserved regarding a woman. “They’ve always been blue. And thank you,” she nudged the back of my hand with her face as

she smiled. “You gonna fuck me over, Vee?” I asked as I settled into the corner of the couch. “Excuse me?” she asked. “Look at you. You’re perfect. You’re fuckin gorgeous. You’re an intelligent woman. You have a beautiful house, a nice car, a great job and you’re… well, you’re in great physical shape. You could have anyone you want. You’re just,” I hesitated and raised my chin a little. “Well, what’s the catch?” I asked over my left shoulder. I felt as if I needed to get out before I made a complete fool of myself. I had no business in this situation, not with her. And to think she wanted to be in some form of a relationship with me - and she was going to be my submissive girlfriend - was ridiculous. Simply sitting and watching her was a form of reassurance I had no business actually being with her. “Fuck you over? Seriously? Let me explain myself again, Ripp,” she snapped as she pitched the cat off of her lap and onto the floor. She crossed her legs and twisted her body to the right as she pressed her water bottle in between the cushions of the couch. With my head cocked a little to the left and her now sitting sideways on the couch facing me, she started her rant. “Just in case sir, I’ve done a poor job of making

myself clear the first three or four times we’ve spoken, I’ll make yet another attempt to penetrate the overly thick skull of yours and leave an impression on your feeble brain. Yes, Ripp, I want to piss you off right now, because I’m pissed off. I’m pissed off because you’re questioning me. I have better shit to do than waste time. My time is valuable, and I value it. I’m sitting here for one reason and one reason only; because I want to be. More than I want to sleep, and more than I want to eat, I want to sit next to you and get to know you; because you interest me. You interest the absolute fuck out of me. I’m tired and I’m hungry and I’m frustrated about a legal case I’m defending,” she quickly exhaled a short breath, stood up and started pacing the floor as she spoke - attorney style. “My drug trafficking client, who incidentally paid me in advance and skipped out of the country, is facing life in prison. I’m forced to postpone every meeting, hearing, phone call and any other scheduled potential public exposure where someone might realize he is missing. Meanwhile, I’m attempting to get his case dropped on a technicality; because it’s my job. It’s what he hired me to do. I do, however, have every reason to believe he orchestrated and implemented the attempted delivery of the largest cocaine seizure captured by the DEA in the history of the state of Texas. I’m angry, tired, hungry, and I want to cry -

but I can’t cry. I can’t cry because I’m too hungry and way too tired. But guess what? Guess what? Guess fucking what, Ripp?” she paused in front of me and waited for me to respond. Oh I like this girl. Completely dumbfounded, I shrugged my shoulders and raised my eyebrows. “I’d much rather be sitting here beside you while you eye fuck my cat like you want to toss her down the hallway than eating or sleeping. Not because I think you want me to. Not because I want to impress you, and certainly not because I want to eventually fuck you, or have you fuck me, but because I want to. And, Ripp, I want to because I think your bald headed, tattooed, muscled, I knock motherfuckers out for a living ass is the most perfect example of what I have waited a lifetime for,” she hesitated and pressed her hands into her hips as her eyes worked their way up and down my torso. “That’s all I’ve got. That’s it. And write this date down. Today’s date. If we go the distance, if we end up in a real relationship, and I hope like hell we do, you can punish my little ass and reference today’s date when you administer it, sir. I’ll take whatever you have to offer and respond with a whole hearted and sincere thank you sir. Why? Because, Michael whatever your middle fucking name is Ripton, there’s something about

that boxer fist bump handshake - something about that agreement we made - that tells me for the first time in your fucked up little life you’re not going to fuck me over,” she stood before me, her shaking hands fixed on her hips, and stared. She was impressive. And now I felt better about the entire situation. She was either sincere, or she sure did a good job of presenting herself as such. I wanted to start clapping, but didn’t dare. I wanted to say something, but was half afraid to speak. “Allen,” I muttered. “What?” she snapped as she cocked her hip to the side. “Allen. It’s my middle name.” And she smiled her beautiful smile. And I hoped. I hoped she would do what I did back in 2012 with the guy I fought in Memphis. Go the distance.

13

VEE. Possibly the best relationship advice I ever received was from my mother. “Always date a guy for at least thirty days before you have sex with him. If he won’t wait, he isn’t worth it. If he does wait, it doesn’t mean he is worth it, it means he might be. In those thirty days, see what he’s willing to do to preserve what he has with you. Those thirty days, in the absence of sex, is full of sincerity. What a man does after you have sex with him is always tainted. His vision, his thoughts and his reactions are a result of sex, thoughts of sex and anticipation of more sex. The first thirty days are what counts, Vivian.” I applied her advice throughout my life. I eventually ended up with sincere guys who were devoted to me, but they weren’t what I wanted or needed. Who knows, maybe I was destined to be a

submissive woman. Maybe it’s why I chose the profession I chose. Maybe my profession forced me into a state of mind which caused me to yearn to be sexually submissive. To determine what caused it was or why I felt this way was useless. What mattered was I was aware of it, prepared to act on it and would accept nothing less than what I was of the opinion I wanted, needed and deserved. I deserved to be satisfied. Spending time with Michael, not having sex and knowing we weren’t going to have sex forced me to get to know him. We didn’t sit and have silly question and answer sessions about favorite colors or favorite places to vacation; we actually got to know each other. Through being together, exposing ourselves to day-to-day activities and doing it with a greater degree of frequency allowed us to develop a better understanding of who we each were. Michael appeared to be very alpha, very opinionated, and very, very witty. He was the equivalent to a two hundred and fifty pound child a very protective child. “I really like it when we take your car. That thing excites me,” I confessed as we walked through the poorly lit parking lot. Seeing Michael dressed in a shirt with buttons on it was nice, but difficult to get used to. We had voted to eat sushi - something he had never tried. He was as excited to try it as I was to expose him to

one of my favorite foods. Sharing our likes and dislikes was becoming very satisfying. Dressed in jeans and a button down shirt, Michael appeared to be just another normal guy. He was still very large, but not near as intimidating with his muscles and tattoos covered. “I like doing different shit with you, Vee,” he said as he looked down at the sandals he was wearing. “I do too,” I admitted. Holding his hands in front of his stomach, his arms were bent at the elbow and his forearms were parallel to the ground. When we walked together, it was typical of Michael to walk this way. As we walked, I held onto his elbow lightly. Touching him when we were together provided me with a degree of comfort. The restaurant had an entrance through an outer door which led down a glass encased hallway to an inner door that opened into the restaurant. It was mid-week and later than normal dining hours, so the restaurant was not overly crowded. As Michael held the outer door for me to enter, a lone gentleman walked toward us as he approached the exit. “Damn,” the man said as he passed, drawing the pronunciation of the word out for a long second or so. “Damn what, bro?” Michael turned and asked

sternly. “Oh, nothing,” he said as he nudged his way between us. “Don’t nothin’ me. You was either sayin’ it to her or sayin’ it to me,” Michael turned toward the exit door as the man began to walk through. “And if you was sayin’ it to her, you’re a disrespectful fool. If you’re saying to me, you got me mixed up with someone else. I don’t swing like that,” he wiped his hands on his thighs and bent his knees slightly as he released the door. The man turned, looked down at Michael’s shoes, and slowly up at his face. “Pffft,” he hissed as he turned and walked through the exit. “Stay here, I’ll be right back,” Michael said as he turned and walked outside. I stood in the entrance in my little black dress and nervously shook. What was going to be a nice night out turned into a potential catastrophe in a matter of seconds. Something about, no…everything about Michael defending what he believed to be my honor was very gratifying. Personally, if I was alone, I would have probably kept walking. Having men make comments in public was one of the reasons I rarely dressed the way I was dressed. As I stood in the entrance, I heard voices escalate in volume, and the unmistakable sound of Michael’s deep tone.

And it stopped. Silence. Well, sort of. After a very short time, the door opened halfway and Michael stuck his head inside. “Uhhm, come here for a minute, Vee. I need you out here for a sec,” he smiled as he waved his hand toward the parking lot. Michael held the door open as a couple walked toward the exit. “Have a nice evening,” he said as he held the door open for them to pass through. “Come on,” he said as he motioned with his free hand. “You want me to come outside?” I asked. “Yup,” he nodded. “Are we leaving?” I asked disappointedly as I walked toward him. “No, Vee. Damn, we’re gonna eat sushi, remember?” he laughed as I walked between him and the door. As I turned toward the car, I saw the rude man from the entrance standing under one of the few light poles littering the parking lot. He had a very noticeable cut under his left eye. Shocked, I alternated glances between Michael and the man. Michael turned his palm up and looked into it, squinting in the dim light. “Bryan. Is it Bryan?” he said as he looked into

his palm. The man nodded and visibly swallowed. “Uh. Yeah,” he said softly. “Seemed weird, with a Y in it. Ok, Bryan has something to say, Vee,” he said as he lowered his hand to his side. “Ma’am, I’m sorry for being rude earlier. It was distasteful of me. I hope you accept my apology,” he said slowly and carefully. Standing under the lamp as he spoke, it was clear his teeth were covered in blood. I tried not to smile. The feelings I felt weren’t immediately understandable or describable. An odd comfort of being safe, loved and feeling full washed over me. Slowly, I turned to face Michael. As I did, I realized I had become excited. Very excited. Michael scowled at me and gestured toward the man. “Oh, I’m sorry. Yes, I accept your apology,” I said as I turned and nodded in his direction. “It won’t happen again,” he muttered. “Thank you,” I said. “Well, here you go,” Michael said as he walked toward the man and handed him something. “Well, it’s probably because of the vibration; the vibration and the noise. You know I’m thinking that’s a…what do you call it? A, uhmm, like a psychological deal,” Michael said as he extended

his elbow toward me and turned toward the entrance. “Huh?” I had no idea of what he was talking about. “The car, Vee. Damn, you were talking about the car exciting you when we drove it. I think it’s probably the noise and vibration; well, that and the way I drive it. Maybe we associate those things with power or something,” he shrugged as he held the door open for me to enter. I looked him over from head to toe as he held the door. He wasn’t in any way concerned with what had just happened. In the absence of me speaking about it, I’m quite certain he would have never mentioned it. To him, we were just going to go eat sushi. “I suppose you’re right. It’s the power I like. The car is kind of like you. You’re an alpha male, and the car’s an alpha car,” I laughed as I held onto his elbow. “Alpha car, I like that,” he nodded. Forcing himself to walk slow, we continued down the hallway. As he held the door leading into the restaurant, I turned to him and smiled, “What did you hand the guy in the parking lot after he apologized?” “His driver’s license,” he paused and held his hand in the air, “table for two, please.” I looked at him and smiled. He didn’t know it,

but on that night; on sushi night 2014, Michael Allen Ripton won a piece of my heart. A large piece.

14

RIPP. Trying to decide for certain where our life is headed is impossible. We seem to always have an idea of which direction we want it to go or how we want to end up; but getting there, for the most part, is always a surprise. If we fill our life with events and actions contrary to God’s will, it will inevitably take us in a direction we wish was different. If we act in a manner in accordance with what is good, right and just, life offers us the best of riches. Life’s riches can’t always be measured in dollar signs. Sometimes we need to measure wealth in smiles. I have spent the majority of my days laughing and smiling no matter what is going on. I have a temper and I often get angry, but fifteen minutes after whatever made me angry is gone, I’m smiling again. I am not a perfect example of what God

expects me to be. I make mistakes, and I make a lot of them. All of mankind makes mistakes, because we’re allowed to make our own decisions. Minimizing our mistakes by consciously considering the decisions we make ensures we’re living our life to the best of our ability. The path our life takes and the direction we travel, be it good or be it bad, gets down to one thing; the type of decisions we make. Life is about choices. Making great choices separates those of us who are inherently good from those of us who are undoubtedly bad. With Vee, I was pretty damned sure I made a good choice. Because life after Vee was full of a lot more smiles than it was before she stepped into it. Even if she wasn’t with me, I smiled more often than I did before I met her. “So, you really think you wanna do this?” he screamed out the left window of his car. Feathering the throttle to keep the engine up to speed, I turned to my right and smiled from ear to ear, making sure he saw my gold tooth. I figured it’d be a nice touch to the certain ass whippin’ he was gonna get when the light turned green. The unmistakable sound of a supercharger whined from under his hood. His new model Mustang was a fast car, no doubt. A modified new model Mustang with ten thousand dollars of performance parts and a supercharger was a damned fast car. But, no matter

what this kid had done to his car, one thing would never change. It. Was. A. Ford. “You just wanna go on green?” he shouted. I pushed the gear shifter into first gear, revved the engine a little bit and let it come back down to a loping idle. As the car shook from the race cam which powered the engine, I chewed on my toothpick and turned to face him. I bit down on the mangled wood and grinned as I shouted through my clenched teeth over the sound of the exhaust. “You go when it turns green. We’ll race to Frotenac, up ahead. I’ll catch up, don’t worry,” I laughed. Cars continued to flow through the cross street. The frontage roads which parallel the highway in Texas have extremely long stop lights to accommodate all of the traffic entering and exiting the highways. He shook his head and visibly rolled his eyes as he looked up at the traffic light. The cross traffic light changed to yellow. His engine speed increased and the sound of his supercharger began to spin into a high pitched whine which would warn most people to stay away from his car in a street race. I’m not most people. And the Chevelle wasn’t a typical car. I pressed the gas pedal three-fourths of the way to the floor. With both windows down, the sound

was ear piercing. The smell of the high octane jet fuel I had mixed with the gasoline leeched into the car and began to burn my eyes. At the instant the light turned green, his car lurched forward fifteen feet without as much as spinning a tire. Impressive. I pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and released the clutch most of the way out. As the car yanked me back into the seat and began to slide sideways, I let up off of the gas, released the clutch the rest of the way, and stomped the gas pedal to the floor. The car pulled hard again, shifting to the right. He was a good thirty feet ahead of me as I slapped the shifter into second gear. The sound of the tires screeching as the car went into second gear lasted a second or so, and then the tires gripped. Short of me missing a gear or blowing my motor, this race was just about to end. Quickly, I began to gain what distance I had allowed him to get ahead. As I shifted into third gear, the tires chirped, and I was immediately even with his door. Sorry, dude. Buy a fucking Chevy. The difference between a car that is fast and a car that is god damned fast is the same as the difference between chicken and burgers. The Chevelle, by anyone’s standards, was so god damned fast it should be illegal to drive on the street. As Frontenac approached, I yanked the

shifter into fourth gear, now a good thirty feet ahead of his car and steadily gaining speed. As I passed the intersection, I released the gas pedal and my tension on the toothpick at the same time. As the car coasted down to a more manageable speed, I applied the brakes, slowed down and pulled into the strip center. I parked the car, shut off the ignition and was opening the door when I head the whine of the Mustang’s motor. I smiled as I got out and turned in the direction of the approaching car. The driver pulled into a spot a few stalls over and shut off the car. He was boyish looking and had a really pretty face for a guy. As he got out, he shook his head and smiled. His facial features were well defined and masculine, but almost pretty enough to be an ugly woman. “Dallas?” he said as he walked my direction. “What’s that?” I asked. “Football. You play for Dallas? The Cowboys?” he asked as he walked toward the Chevelle. “Nope. Boxer,” I responded. “You’re a boxer?” he asked. “Yep,” I nodded. “Austin,” he said as he offered his hand. “Yep, born and raised,” I said as I shook his hand. “No, it’s my name,” he chuckled. “No shit?” I laughed, “Mine’s Mike. Call me

Ripp. Your car’s a fast little fucker.” “Well, Ripp. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I thought my car was fast,” he said as he peered past me. “So, what’s the deal with this car?” he asked as he pointed to the Chevelle. “Was my Pop’s car in high school. I bought it from him ten years ago. Restored it. Took the stock 396 out, and put a 502 in it. Didn’t really like the 502 out of the crate, so I put a different cam in it and a few other things. Probably pushing about 800 hundred horses, give or take,” I grinned big enough that he could see Goldie. Just in case he didn’t at the street light. “Nice tooth,” he laughed, “You win that fight?” “Undefeated,” I laughed, “well, for the most part. I lost one sparring match a while back. Shane Dekkar schooled my ass.” “Shane Dekkar? Like Shame on Dekkar?” his voice changed a few octaves when he said Shane’s name. “Yeah, that’s him. Been out of puberty long?” I joked, making fun of his voice. “Fuck you, asshole. I’m thirty, I just look young. I got excited. Watching him fight that guy, uhhm,” he paused, looked down at the parking lot and rubbed his forehead. “Mc Claskey,” I sighed. “Yeah. Holy shit. He looked like he was going

to lose that fight. You know when the camera went to his corner and that little blonde was screaming at him. Holy shit, he came out and beat the brakes off of that dude. It was something. I’m kind of a fan,” he grinned as he looked up. “A fan of Dekk, or a boxing fan in general? And did you tell me to fuck off a minute ago?” I did my best to sound gruff. “Fan of boxing in general, and I probably did. I’ve got quite a mouth on me. I really don’t take shit from anybody, sorry. Always kind of liked boxing, it’s a man’s sport. I’ve never been any good at it, but I’ll fight anyone. I’m uhhm, well…let’s just say I’m far from undefeated. I’ve never backed down from anyone. Probably had my ass beat fifty times,” he chuckled. “I can’t tell from looking at that pretty face of yours. You look like a fucking chick, dude,” I pursed my lips and narrowed my gaze jokingly. “A chick? You think I look like a chick? Well, maybe I’ll have to try my luck at you, you big prick,” he shook his head and pressed the web of his hands into his belt. “Well, a word of advice. If you’re gonna try and take a go at me, you might want to get those hands off your hips, Austin,” I laughed as I threw a right jab at his face and stopped a half inch short of contact. “Holy shit,” he gasped.

“Yeah, holy shit is right. I was the meanest prick in this city until Dekk showed up. I really don’t think he even knows how tough he really is. He fights as hard as necessary to beat whoever he’s fighting. That’s his style. He’s not going anywhere. He’ll be around for a long, long time. Man’s a beast,” I nodded. “So what do you do?” I asked as I looked down at his shoes. He was wearing jeans, a tight vee neck tee shirt, and dress boots. He resembled a lean, Muscular Harry Connick Jr., and looked like he belonged on the T.V. show Dancing with the Stars. “Dancer,” he said softly. “What?” I coughed so hard I spit out my toothpick. “Fuck you, I’m a dancer,” he chuckled. “You get paid to dance? That’s your fucking job?” I asked. His legs shifted, his lower body twisted, and he went into some sort of spin shuffle move that was as graceful as anything I have even seen in my life. I’m not a gay man, nor do I have a single homosexual bone in my body, but I’d be lying if I didn’t admit it was damned sexy seeing him move like that. “That is correct. Well, I teach people,” he said as he came to a stop. “Impressive. Damn, dude,” I admitted.

“I have a studio, Austin Dance. See the irony?” he asked. “Clearly,” I breathed. “So, you teach dudes or just chicks?” I squinted. “Both.” The thought of learning how to dance and taking Vee dancing somewhere seemed like a great idea at the time. I had no idea if she could dance or not, but it seemed all women could dance and men couldn’t. If she couldn’t dance, I’d have Austin, aka. Harry Connick Jr., teach her how. “I got an idea. How about this; you teach me to dance and I’ll teach you how to block that punch I threw at ya a minute ago. What do ya think about that?” I asked. “Seriously? You’d do that?” his face lit up with joy. “Yep,” I half chuckled as I nodded my head. And. He busted out in a dance move, spinning in circles and kicking one leg out to the front, eventually coming to a stop facing me with his arms out to the side. Now, he looked like Harry Connick Jr. doing a Sammy Davis Jr. impersonation. “Damn, dude. Someone’s gonna see that shit,” I laughed as I looked around the parking lot. “Fuck ‘em,” he said. “Yeah, there’s only one problem with that. I’m

the one that’d end up fighting that fight for ya. You can dance, but you have slow as fuck reflexes,” I threw another jab at his face for good measure. His hand came up to block the punch a good second after I had recovered from throwing it. “Fuck you, Ripp,” he grumbled. I smiled and shook my head slowly. I liked the kid. He may not have known how to fight, but he could damn sure dance. And he had a hell of a smart-assed mouth on him. In ways, he reminded me of… Me.

15

RIPP. Sometimes we look at ourselves and ask how the hell did I get myself in this position? Generally, when I have asked myself this, the situation had been something other than favorable. I can’t really think of one time I looked at myself, my current situation, or my current life and thought anything but damn Ripp, you did it again. I had never been disappointed with life, nor had I been dissatisfied with trying to live it. But I had always been on the move. Running. Running toward something else. Something new. Chasing whatever it was at the moment which provided or may provide me with satisfaction. A new piece of ass. A new dude to beat the shit out of. A different car to race. Another bottle of beer. Or one more notch in my almost undefeated belt. Fucking Dekkar.

After meeting Vee, I was completely satisfied with standing still. And it scared the fuck out of me. “The premium ones are sixty dollars a dozen,” the limp wristed flower salesman said. “Did I ask you how much the motherfucker’s cost?” I grunted. “No sir, you did not,” he said with a lisp. “Do I look like I’m fuckin’ broke?” I asked as I pressed my hands into my hips. “No sir, you do not,” he turned to face the cooler full of roses. I pointed to an arrangement of blood colored flowers on the left side of the cooler, “Those, over there on the left. You got any more of those?” “We have various arrangements prepared, yes sir,” he said as he spun in a half circle to face me. “I don’t want pre-arranged shit. I want you to make it special for my girl. I don’t want some shit you made in your spare time last night while you listened to Coldplay. I want you to put this together for her. She’s special like that, got it?” I snapped. He nodded his head, “By all means.” “Okay, I want a vase like that one,” I pointed to a vase on display and paused. “And those flowers on the left. Give me a dozen of ‘em.” “The red roses?” he asked as he pointed at the flowers.

Frustrated, I pointed to the arrangement on the left side of the cooler again, “The ones on the left.” “Is that all you want?” he asked as he slowly raised his perfectly shaped eyebrows. “What else is there?” I asked. “Well, we can arrange them with baby’s breath, and we can…” “Stop. Just stop. Yeah, arrange ‘em however you do it. Make ‘em look like you’d make ‘em look if you were giving ‘em to someone that was, well…” I paused and thought. “She’s just different. You know…” “I know exactly what you mean. Yes sir,” he said softly as he nodded, still maintaining his lisp. He walked through the door toward the rear of the shop and came back with his hands full of fresh flowers, green leafy stuff, and small white flowery sticks. After a few minutes, he had the arrangement complete. He stood back, raised his hands in the air and smiled a she admired his work. “Well?” he grinned. “Looks small to me. Can you add a dozen more?” I asked. “Wow. Well, we sure can,” he said, his face filled with disappointment as he stared at his perfectly prepared arrangement. Slowly and carefully, he added another dozen roses, more filler and some of the little white flowery sticks. After shuffling the flowers back and

forth in the vase, he stepped back, raised his hands in the air and smiled. “And now?” he said cheerily. I looked at the flowers and squinted. “Still lookin’ kinda small, dude,” I shook my head, “can you get another dozen in there?” He placed his hands on the side of his butt and cocked his hip to the side, “Maybe if I had a shoe horn.” “Just looks small. Kinda basic,” I said. “Basic? Excuse me,” he snapped, his hands still pressed into the sides of his butt. “It looks real nice,” I apologized, “can you get maybe six more in there?” He pressed his lips together, pulled six more roses from the counter and carefully inserted them into the vase with the others. He looked up from the vase and cocked one eyebrow. “That thing is as full as…” he hesitated and looked down at the vase. “Well, it’s just full,” he sighed. “Looks great, dude. I love it. I’m gonna grab a card, ring it up,” I said as I turned to the card display. After looking at a few dozen cards which all had things written in them I would never say to anyone, I picked out a card that looked pretty on the outside, but had nothing printed on the inside. As I walked back to the counter, I tried to think of

what to write in the card. “With the card, that will be $166.12,” he said as he looked up from the register. I handed him $180.00 cash. “You got any pens?” I asked. He pulled a pen from the counter and wagged it in the air. “You got any pens for sale?” I muttered. “Uhhm, no,” he hissed. “How about you give me that twenty cent pen, and I’ll let you keep the change?” I asked. “That’s a deal. And uhhm, how’d you know I listen to Coldplay?” he asked as he handed me the pen. “Good guess I suppose,” I said as I grabbed the vase. I carefully placed the flowers into the seat of the Chevelle and opened the card. I’d never really written anything meaningful in a card and the thought of writing in it and having someone find any measure or means of value in what I wrote was almost laughable. Vee, Dekk tells me everything happens for a reason. I never really believed that. I believe it now. I looked at what I had written and smiled. I chewed on the end of the pen and thought of what to write next.

I ain’t gonna lie. I’ve been around, and I ain’t always been good. But the day in the bar we met, that day, that first one… I knew. I knew I wanted to know you. I didn’t know why, but the why don’t matter so much. Now, now that I’ve spent some time with you, I know this… I looked down at the card and reread everything I had written. Hell, I was doing pretty well for a novice. I pressed the pen to the card and continued. The empty space. The silent time. The time when I’m alone. I used to love it. Now I hate it. Because all I can think about is one thing. Filling that time up… With you. I read what I wrote from beginning to end a few times. There wasn’t any changing it now. I looked over at the flowers and smiled. The inside of my car smelled like my mom’s bathroom. I gazed down at the card again, smiled and signed my name. Ripp. I slid the card into the envelope and sealed it shut. There’s a first time for everything, and I tend to remember my first times. Buying flowers for a girl is something I had never done. I’d no more forget this day than I’d forget Dekkar’s swagger when he walked into the gym on day one or the

fact he kicked my arrogant ass. And, truth be told, I didn’t want to forget it. I didn’t ever want to forget it. I wanted to hold onto to it. Cherish it. Remember it. Because at that moment, I felt better than I ever had. I’m Rippin’ it. And life is grand. Fuck yes.

16

VEE. “Tonia, tell Ravenscraft we have that civil hearing set up for Monday. I think our pile is bigger than theirs, and we should get the house returned,” I said over my shoulder into my desk phone as I looked at underground fight clubs in Austin on the internet. Attempting to maintain a level of focus at work since I met Michael was clearly next to, if not entirely, impossible. I enjoyed doing anything with him; even sitting on the couch together was more enjoyable than about anything else I could ever think of doing alone. He was a take-me-or-leaveme type of guy, and there was nothing about him I would change if I had an opportunity to do so. I liked him just the way he was. It had only been about three weeks since we started dating, and in many respects trying to remember life

without him was difficult to even recall. Life with him satisfied me to no end. He often described, or attempted to describe how he felt, and he didn’t have a romantic bone in his body. He stumbled with his choice of words and phrasing - attempting to portray what he wanted to say to a point he sometimes butchered his thoughts into unintelligible muddle. “I have Ravenscraft on two, I told him you were in court. He wants to know the odds of winning,” Tonia’s voice crackled over the speaker on my desk phone. “Fuck, Tonia. I’m busy. Tell him you text me before I walked into court. I’d say based on what I believe, ninety percent, based on what I know, seventy. Fuck it. Tell him we’ll get the house back as long as they don’t have proof of what he did with the real estate. Hell, it was in his nephew’s name, we should be fine,” I barked. “So…” she hesitated. “Tell him eighty,” I snapped. “Okay, eighty it is, thanks,” the phone clicked as she hung up. A criminal case and a civil case are two completely different animals in the eye of the Federal Court. A criminal case, according to law, must be proven beyond a reasonable doubt. If the jury has reasonable doubt, the defendant is found not guilty. In a civil case, however, the case is

decided by a preponderance of evidence. The two sides - prosecution and defense, present their support of their respective case to the court. Whoever has more evidence to support their case, wins. The prosecution already has evidence of guilt; it’s required to allow a Grand Jury to indict a person, charging them with the crime. The defendant only has to provide an amount of evidence which insinuates innocence exceeding the prosecution’s pile to the contrary. Ravenscraft had laundered millions of dollars through his real estate ventures. The money was obtained from the illicit sales of weapons. The illicit sales of weapons allowed a federal search warrant which immediately uncovered evidence of money laundering. Ultimately, he was indicted by a Grand Jury for both. The weapons charges were dropped after evidence presented by yours truly in support of the confidential informant being addicted to drugs at the time of his testimony to the undercover agents. His testimony was used to start the investigation and to indict my client. A snitch with an addiction to pain killers cost the federal government millions of dollars of revenue in seizures. One more small civil case, and the entire thing would be tossed out the window. I often wondered who upstairs pulls the strings of determining who walks away and who does not. It’s sickening at times, to say the least.

“Mrs. Simon, Mr. Ripton is here to see you,” Tonia said cheerily. “Here?” I clicked the mouse and shut the window on the computer I had open. “Yes ma’am,” she responded. “Send him back,” I responded as I shuffled paperwork to the side of my desk. He walked through the door into my office as I was trying to look busy at my desk. I looked up expecting to see him dressed in his shorts, a ribbed tank top, and his canvas sneakers. I saw nothing of the sort. As I heard him enter I looked up and saw… Damn you Michael Allen Ripton. Flowers. It was all I could do to try to maintain some sort of professional appearance and keep calm. I bit my bottom lip to keep it from quivering as I dropped the handful of paperwork onto the desk. At that moment, there was nothing in my office but Michael, me and what appeared to be at least two dozen roses. “Oh my God. Are those for me?” I asked, trying my best not to lose my composure. “Yep. The guy at the flower place asked if I wanted him to deliver ‘em. I said why the fuck would I want some schmuck to deliver flowers to my girl?” he smiled as he placed the vase on the edge of my desk.

I swallowed heavily. My girl. I officially had a little girl moment. His spoken words caused goose bumps to rise on my arms. As he pushed the flowers toward the center of my desk he looked up and smiled again. “Don’t want ‘em to fall over. Asked for a dozen, and it looked like a really small arrangement of ‘em. So I said go ahead and give me two dozen, but it still looked small. Got two and a half dozen. They couldn’t stuff three in the vase. Got a card too,” he pulled a card from his back pocket and placed it on the desk. “Don’t read the card till after I leave, okay?” he asked as he shifted his gaze from left to right. I had received flowers before. Typically when I received them, they brought feelings of joy, affection, appreciation and love. The delivery of these flowers brought something different. I felt almost sick – in a good way. My stomach fluttering, arms full of goose bumps and incapable of speaking, I bit my lip and nodded. I stared at the flowers as my heart filled with joy. He was doing it. He was tipping the scales. He bent at the waist and buried his face in the roses and drew a long slow breath through his nose. He straightened up, looked out the window and exhaled slowly. “They’re uhhm, red roses,” he said as he

pointed at them and smiled again. I’m sure not too many people had ever described Ripp as being adorable. As he stood and smiled, to me, he was absolutely adorable. I continued to bite my lip and nod. I’m sure to him I looked like a damned fool. I was afraid if I tried to speak I’d lose my composure. My father in the hospital, my drug trafficking client on the run and my potential future boyfriend bringing me thirtytwo roses was simply more than this poor little girl could handle at the moment. “You like ‘em?” he expression changed from smiling to an almost disappointment. “No. Love,” I made an effort to swallow the grapefruit sized lump in my throat. “I, uhhm…I love them,” I said as I held my arms outstretched. He took a few steps to meet me and wrapped his arms around me. As he hugged me, he may or may not have realized it, but my feet were several inches from the floor. Suspended in his arms, my legs dangling over the floor, I allowed my shoes to drop. As my heart rose into my throat, I closed my eyes. And. Silently gave myself to him.

17

RIPP. “I don’t know dude, it’s just weird,” I looked out of the patio toward our bikes. “I think she’s really pretty. She’s not arrogant acting like I thought she’d be. I like her,” Kace hesitated, “well maybe you really care for her already.” “No shit, Shorty. That’s what I’m saying. I’m trying to say it seems weird feeling like this. I’ve never really been gaga over a girl. And hell, we ain’t even fucked yet,” I raised my bottle of beer and took a drink. “Now that’s weird,” Dekk laughed as he patted Kace on the shoulder. “No dude, listen. It ain’t the not fuckin’ that’s weird. It’s the fact we ain’t fuckin and I’m completely okay with it,” I laughed. “Yeah, seems strange for sure,” Dekk wiped his

mouth with a napkin and pushed his plate to the center of the table. “We, uhhm,” he finished chewing his sandwich and continued, “we going to ROT this year?” “Fuck yes we are. I ain’t said nothing to Vee yet, but I’m hoping she’ll go. They’re sayin’ there’s gonna be a couple hundred thousand people this year. Should be fun,” I nodded. “I’m so excited, I’ve never been,” Kace grinned. “Yeah, should be a good time,” I nodded. Austin’s ROT rally was a gathering of motorcycle riders and enthusiasts over the course of five days that was full of drinking, outdoor music concerts, venders and tons of testosterone. A few hundred thousand people converged in the city and at the fairgrounds to share one common bond, motorcycles. ROT - Republic Of Texas. People came from every state in the USA and even in from other countries. It was becoming what Sturgis was back in the day. In time, we were certain to pass up Sturgis. We were, in fact, Texas. “Kelsey said he’s going to do a fundraiser deal for it. He’s going to try and get some money raised to rework the gym. He’s thinking about having people sign a waiver and fight over the weekend, maybe have five or six a night. He’s talking about selling tickets and he’ll use me being there as a draw for the crowd. Maybe put fliers up at the

Rally,” Dekk shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. “Sounds like a recipe for a drunken biker brawl. Hell, count me in,” I laughed as I finished my beer. Normally, spending time with Shane and Kace made me feel normal. Typically, I would go from my day-to-day running and being a whore to sitting down with them, relaxing and recharging my mental batteries. Now, sitting with them and talking to them, if Vee wasn’t present, irritated me. Seeing them together made me want to be with Vee. “I got some questions, Kace,” I said as I waived my hand at the waitress and held my finger in the air. “Okay,” she said as she looked at her watch. “Well, it’s about all of the sex shit. I been looking those books over you told me to and it’s just hard to believe people like doing all that shit. Is it just book bullshit, or is it real?” I asked. “Oh lord,” Shane sighed. “Stop it, Dekk. I’m serious,” I said as I leaned the weight of my upper body onto the table and looked at Kace. “Well, yes and no. Women in general? No. That stuff’s not for them. Some women, yes. But being submissive isn’t an invitation for a guy to order a woman around and make her do stuff, Ripp. Some women like the stuff in those books, some don’t. But the stuff in them, the sex?” she hesitated,

looked at Shane and turned to face me. “The sex is just sex. Women who aren’t submissive might enjoy all that stuff. And a woman who is submissive might not enjoy any of it. From my understanding, and all I know is what I’ve read, being dominant is about caring, understanding your partner, and providing structure. The submissive woman wants to do what it is you enjoy because it pleases you. That’s what pleases her, pleasing you. So, you tell her what you want, and she does it to please you. There are rules and requirements, and everyone’s relationship is different. But it’s about desires and communicating those desires. And then, it has got to have structure. I’m going to get you different books. You’re not getting it,” she sighed. “I’m getting it. I just don’t want to fuck this deal up,” I pushed myself away from the table and looked at Shane. Strangely, he was comfortable enough he had his hoodie down and was sitting back in his chair listening intently. Shane was one of those people who could be a closet freak and you’d never know it. He didn’t offer any of his experiences and I didn’t ask. The thought of Kace doing anything weird made me feel squeamish. “Communication. You have to communicate. You won’t mess it up if you communicate. She isn’t just going to pull the trigger one day and say, okay now we’re in a sexual relationship, and you only

have one chance, Ripp,” she chuckled as she looked at her watch again. “I have to get back to work. I don’t want Mr. Martin disappointed because I’m late,” she said. I stood from my chair and gave her a hug. Kace was a great girl, and I couldn’t imagine living life without her. She was good for Shane and she was good for me. She brought my life balance, and lord knows I could use a little of that. “Bye Ripp,” she said as I released her from my arms. “See ya, Shorty,” I said as I sat down. “I’m going to walk her to the car, be right back,” Shane said as he pulled his hood over his head. “I’ll be right here,” I said as the waitress handed me another beer. “Bring me the tab,” I said to the waitress. “One check?” she asked. “Yeah, business meeting,” I nodded. As she walked away I watched her ass wiggle in her shorts. Normally, I’d be trying to get her to let me take her home from work or fuck her when she got off of her shift. But now I could seriously look at her and say she was attractive and leave it at that. I had one thing on my mind and one interest when it came to women. Vivian Simon. “You believe in love at first sight, Dekk?” I

asked as Shane returned. “What’s that?” he asked as he pulled down his hood. “Love at first sight. You believe in it?” I pressed my forearms onto the table and rubbed my hands together. “Oh, I doubt it. I believe in attraction at first sight, I suppose. I think we can be attracted to someone by seeing them. But to say that we’re in love after looking at someone? I doubt it. It just doesn’t make sense, Ripp. Take Vee for instance. What if she would have said, nice to meet you I’m married. Would you have lived the rest of your life loving her? No. What if she would have said, I don’t like big, tattooed, mean, muscled up pricks? Or, I’m gay? You’d have walked away and in two weeks you’d have forgotten about her. Because in two weeks, you’d have fucked two different women,” he shook his head, “nope.” “How long you suppose it takes love to build up? Develop or whatever?” I asked. “Well, I imagine it would depend on the person. Weeks. Months. Hell some people date for a year or so and never get engaged or married. They’ll move on and find another person and repeat the process,” he scrunched his brow and stared at his empty plate. “I suppose it matters what the two people want and how ready each one of them is for a

relationship. You take two people who are compatible, ready and willing?” he waved his hands in my direction. “I don’t know bro, maybe a few weeks,” he chuckled. “I’m serious, dude. It’s just fucking weird. She’s all I think about. I mean I think about her when I lay down to go to bed. Normally, I fall asleep in like thirty seconds. Lately, I lay there and think about her. Dumb shit. Like, I don’t know. For instance what it’d be like to go get ice cream with her. Or what she’d look like eatin’ spaghetti. Maybe how she’d look in a bikini down at the beach. Hell I even wondered about how she’d act in front of my parents at dinner,” I opened my hands and turned my palms up, waiting for an explanation. “Dinner? You’re thinking about taking her to dinner? You’ve never taken a girl to dinner at your parent’s house, have you?” he leaned back in his seat and widened his eyes. “Nope,” I smiled. “And you’re going to?” he slowly opened his eyes a little wider as he waited for me to respond. “Thought about it, yep,” I pressed my chest into my forearms and smiled. “You been smiling a lot lately. Like more than normal,” he said. “Dude, I’m happy,” I leaned back and looked toward the parking lot.

I turned from staring at the bikes to looking at the table as I saw the waitress approach. As I pulled my wallet from my pocket I looked at Shane and smiled. The thought of all of us going to the ROT rally together seemed like a lot of fun. I wondered what Vee would think about being on the back of my bike and whether or not she’d enjoy it. “Let’s get out of here,” I said as I placed my beer bottle over the money and bill. “Dude, your beer’s full,” Shane reminded me. I looked at the condensation on the outside of my fresh bottle of beer, “Yeah. I don’t want it. Let’s run out to the Harley dealer. I need to see about getting a new seat for the bike. Something more comfortable,” I said as I stood. “How long you and Vee been seeing each other?” Shane asked as he stood up. “About a month,” I shrugged. “That question earlier about falling in love? The one about how long it takes?” Shane said over his right shoulder as he pulled his hood over his head. “Yeah?” I responded. “Takes about a month, bro,” he said as he slapped my shoulder. As we approached our bikes, I pulled my key from my pocket. A month, huh? Well, it’s just about time I get that girl a pair of Chuck’s. She’s sure gonna need ‘em.

18

VEE. Michael and I had been seeing each other for just a few days short of a month. The relationship had not, at any point in time, advanced along sexual lines. Knowing someone and being compatible in all respects was first and foremost as far as I was concerned. If the relationship could flourish without sex, it would without a doubt be more stable with it. Sex, on the other hand, was nothing more than fucking if there was not a stable foundation of a relationship or a level of compatibility between the two people investing in it. Knowing Michael and being comfortable with who he was stood as the single most important thing to me in the development of our relationship. It was satisfying to get to know a man who was his own person and didn’t comply with what society expected him to be or become. Michael, by his

admission and my careful observation, was truly his own person. This one thing, more than all other things combined, was certainly his most attractive quality. My profession afforded me the ability to be exposed to all of what life offered regarding personalities and character of people. I had defended drug traffickers, firearms traffickers, murderers, financial criminals, and the occasional human trafficker. Some were innocent and some, although incapable of expressing it, were certainly guilty. I defended them all the same, and gave the best defense, as a matter of law, I could possibly offer. I never became friends with any of my clients, but I admired a few of them. Some had proven to possess an extremely high degree of moral fiber, character and confidence. Michael, although somewhat of natural goofball, exceeded my expectation, hope, and had even set a new standard of comparison for me in regard to moral fiber and character. Being in his presence, now, was increasingly difficult. I wanted more of him. I yearned to have him sexually. “So, you’re in business to sell shoes, right? You want to sell ‘em, not just display ‘em, right?” he asked the clerk. “Well, yeah. We sell shoes. That’s what we do. These are the display models,” the clerk responded as he waved his arms over the display.

“Well, how in the fuck you suppose you’re gonna sell a pair of tangerine Chuck’s if you ain’t got a pair of tangerine Chuck’s?” he placed his hands on his hips, cocked his head to the side and waited for a response. “Well, I suppose we won’t. We can order them. We have all of these in stock. The tangerine ones are sold out,” the clerk apologized as he waved his hands in front of the display. “Well, you should take ‘em off the little rack. It’s like false advertising,” he said as he lifted the single tangerine shoe from the display and handed it to the clerk. “I like the mint ones,” I said softly. “Which ones are mint?” he asked. “That sir, would be these,” the clerk sighed as he lifted the mint shoe from the display. “That’s green,” Ripp said as he stared at the shoe. “Mint is green, sir,” the clerk responded as he tried to refrain from laughing. “Well you don’t have to be a little prick about it,” Ripp said through his clenched teeth. As Ripp turned toward me, I shrugged, “I like them.” “Well, bring us a six in that color,” he demanded as he sat down on the bench in front of the display. “Do you like them?” I asked.

“Yeah, they’re alright. I’ll see what they look like on your feet,” he responded as he patted the bench beside where he sat. “Are you okay?” I asked as I turned to sit on the bench. “Yeah, I’m alright. Just kind of blah. You know?” he said as he rested his chin in between his thumb and forefinger. Eagerly, I sat beside him and inched close enough to allow our thighs to touch. Having him touch me in any way allowed me to feel a degree of safety which was difficult for even me to explain. It wasn’t necessarily his size, although his size helped. More of what made me comfortable was the knowing - knowing he would never let anything happen to me, no matter what. In Michael’s physical presence, I felt as if I, too, was invincible. “Not a virgin for much longer,” I said as I looked down at my sandals. “Excuse me?” he said over his shoulder. “A Chuck’s virgin. Not for much longer,” I smiled. “Oh, yeah. It’s exciting. They’re the best shoe ever,” he said as he raised his foot in the air and inspected his shoe. “Here you go,” the clerk said as he placed the box in front of my feet. “I brought you a pair of socks to try them on with,” he said as he handed me a pair of foot

stockings. I nodded at the clerk and opened the box. After taking off my sandals and pulling on the stockings, I removed the shoes from the box, slipped my feet into them, and laced them snug. As I stood, Michael looked down at my feet and slowly stood up. He raised his right hand to his chin and looked up and down my frame, smiling. As I walked through the store, I was pleasantly surprised at the comfort of the simple sneaker - it felt as if I were barefoot. The shoe was light and comfortable, with minimal support and maximum comfort. As I walked in front of Michael, he smiled and slowly raised his eyebrows. “I love them,” I said. He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Are you okay?” I asked as I continued to admire the shoes. “I’m fine, let’s get the fuck out of here,” he said nervously. “Did I miss something? Did something happen?” I asked. “Something’s gettin’ ready to happen,” he said as he pointed his index finger at my face and shook it. “What’s going on?” I asked, uncertain of what had changed, but something clearly had. He leaned close to me, lightly placed his hand on my neck and moved his mouth to my right ear.

As his left hand brushed my hair away from my face, his warm breath caused goose bumps to rise along my upper arm. “I’m done, Vee. I’m fucking done. I’m done not fucking you. From this day forward, I’m not going to spend one single day not fucking you. Now Vee, right fucking now, if you’ve got something to say about this, say it,” he paused and squeezed my neck with a little more force. Silently I stood there, unaware of everything else around me. For an instant, the entire world consisted of four things; Mike Ripton, me, the thought of his ten inches of pierced cock, and my now dripping pussy. “That’s what I thought,” he breathed into my ear, “that’s what I fucking thought. This little pussy of yours…” He reached down with his left hand and tapped his fingers against my soaking wet pussy. “That’s mine. My pussy. Now,” he whispered as he squeezed my neck a little more aggressively, “tell me who’s fucking pussy you’re carrying around with you.” I swallowed, or at least attempted to swallow the dryness which had developed in my throat. My lips parted as my eyes fell closed. “Yours,” I squeaked in an almost inaudible tone. “Say it like you fucking believe it, Vee.

Convince me,” he grunted into my ear. I squeezed my thighs together and bent my knees. The whispering, his hands, his presence, his size, the thought of what may become of this; it was simply more than I was prepared for. I stood, soaked, not knowing what had happened to my will, my ability to resist womanly desires or my lack of necessity for having sex. At that particular moment, he could have fucked me in the shoe store. I wanted that. Gradually, his hand released some of the pressure on my neck. Oh God, no. Don’t stop. As if he knew what I desired, the pressure of his grip on my neck slowly increased. “Where’s your head, Vee?” he growled. The warmth of his breath caused goose bumps to rise on my legs. I shivered. Confused, horny and soaked from my pussy to mid-thigh, I opened my eyes and immediately closed them again. “Uhhm,” I stammered. “Who’s little pussy is this,” his said as his left hand slapped against my pussy. “It’s yours, Ripp. That’s your pussy,” I sighed. “And, the last question, Vee. Starting today, what are we going to do?” his lips touched my ear as he spoke. “Whatever you want to, just name it,” I breathed. He released my neck from his grasp, slid his

hand to my face, and formed his thumb and index finger along my jawline. As I opened my eyes, he kissed me. The kiss wasn’t long, nor was it overly aggressive. It was, in my wholehearted belief, the most passionate kiss I have ever had in my life. “You’re mine, Vee. Starting today. You are fucking mine,” he said as our lips parted. I nodded, and as with all things Mike Ripton, I knew he meant it. He looked down at my sandals and up at the clerk; who had moved fifteen feet away from the display of shoes. Perfectly, Michael kicked the empty box from where he stood across the floor to within a few inches in front of the clerk’s feet. As the sales clerk looked down at the empty box, Michael individually kicked my sandals to the exact same spot. “She’ll wear ‘em out, box up the sandals, bro,” he said flatly. The clerk picked up the box and placed my sandals in it. “I’m going to fuck you in those shoes, Vee,” he said over his left shoulder. “Okay,” I squeaked. Mike Allen Ripton. Holy fuck.

19

RIPP. I had spent my life, sexually speaking, not caring. I had never cared who I was with or what their desires were. I had always known sooner or later I’d be satisfied with whoever I found to fuck, and although I satisfied them, I always acted selfishly. It was always about me. Not once did I go into a sexual situation with the intent of making anyone happy but myself. Satisfying myself, by nature, caused my sexual partner to be happy. The fact I was selfish remained. And I didn’t care. Thirty days with Vee, and all I could think about was how I didn’t want to disappoint her or cause her to believe I was doing anything for anyone but her. She might have been the right person at the right time, or maybe I was just ready for a change. Whatever caused me to feel the way I felt was

irrelevant, the feeling existed and I couldn’t change it. I couldn’t really say I was disappointed in any manner, because I wasn’t. In fact, I was pleased to feel like there was someone on this earth of the opposite sex I could actually care about. Most mornings I woke up and looked around, not quite believing how I felt. I told myself early on it was something else and I was merely confused. I tried to force myself to believe it wasn’t what it was and I didn’t feel the way I felt. All it took to reassure me was seeing her again. Whenever we met, went to dinner, or met for a drink, it would happen. Immediately I would be overcome with a feeling of not wanting it to end. And as soon as it ended, sometimes even five minutes after she had left, I felt a need to see her again immediately. I felt foolish and weak. I fought with the feelings from time to time, but finally decided if I felt the way I did and we weren’t having sex, the feelings must be genuine. It didn’t make it any easier to accept. I felt vulnerable. I had reservations about her sincerity. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was intelligent, had tremendous wit, and enjoyed the things I enjoyed. She had attended a bare knuckles match with Shane, Kace and I and liked it so much she didn’t stop talking about it for ten days. She, in my mind, was perfect. And I, Michael Allen Ripton, did not deserve perfection.

But perfection stood before me. “I gotta come clean,” I confessed. “About?” she said as she started to untie her shoes. “Don’t take those off,” I said softly as I shook my head. “Okay,” she responded as she looked up from her shoe. “Sit down,” I pointed to the couch as I walked toward it. “What’s wrong, Ripp?” she asked as she sat down. “Nothing’s really wrong. I just need to tell you some things. Just clear up a few things we’ve kinda talked about. Make some things clear. I don’t know. I just need to kind of, well. Kind of come clean,” I said as I sat beside her. Worry washed over her face as she sat down beside me, “Is everything okay?” “Just listen, alright?” I said over my left shoulder. She nodded. “More than anything, I want this to work. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you, and I mean that. Whatever it takes. The thought of not having you makes me feel sick. I’ve never felt like this, ever. Hell, it’s new to me, and it scares the absolute fuck out of me, but I still want it. I want it more than anything,” I paused, rotated to my left and

swung my legs onto the couch between us. “I want to be in a relationship with you more than anything. You said thirty days to get to know each other and all that. Hell, I’d wait thirty years. Some things in life we wonder about, and there are other things we know. I know this. I want to have the satisfaction of calling you mine, and give you the satisfaction of calling me yours,” I slid my hand to her thigh as I spoke. “I want that too,” she smiled. I held my finger in the air, “Well, here’s where it gets sticky.” “You want to be the submissive half of a dominant-submissive relationship,” I inhaled a shallow breath, exhaled, and continued. “And you want to have a dominant significant other. Well, I got news for you. I ain’t dominant. I kind of bullshitted you. I been reading books and asking lots of questions, but I ain’t there yet. I want to try, but I don’t have any experience.” “Is that all?” she asked. I nodded and waited for her to drop the bomb. “I don’t have any experience either. I’ve never been in this type of relationship, I told you that. I just know it’s where I belong. So how about this, we’ll do it together? You and I? We’ll learn together? I just need you to take the reins, I need that,” she smiled. “And that’s it? You’re okay with everything

else?” I asked. She nodded and smiled. “Okay, well,” I inhaled another shallow breath and smiled. “Starting this minute, I’m taking charge. For right now, I think only one thing matters, we can figure out everything else in time. We’re going to come up with a safe word, and if I do anything you don’t want or don’t like, you say it, and we’ll stop,” I paused and waited for her to speak. She nodded eagerly as I rubbed my hand along her thigh. “Okay, and another thing. I might do some things just to see if you like them, so don’t always think that anything I’m doing is because I like it or enjoy it. I’m gonna need to see what it is you like, too. Nobody will ever be in trouble for communicating, ever. Okay?” I cocked one eyebrow and waited. She nodded eagerly. “Snowstorm,” she smiled. “What? What the hell does that mean?” I asked. “I want it for a safe word,” she said. “Really? That’s weird. They say it’s gotta be one you’ll never forget,” I reminded her. “I’ll never forget it. We’ll never see a snowstorm in Austin, and I don’t think you’ll ever hear me say the word. I like it,” she looked down at

my hand then shifted her gaze up into my eyes. “You don’t think you’ll ever say it?” the thought of her not saying it excited me. She raised her eyebrows as she shook her head from side to side. “Snowstorm it is,” I chuckled. “We alright other than that?” I asked. She nodded eagerly. I snapped my fingers sharply, “Starting right fucking now.” “Stand up,” I said in a sharp demanding voice. Promptly, she stood from the couch and looked up into my eyes. Normally, she wore heels, but in her Chuck’s she was almost exactly a foot shorter than I was. I slipped my right hand behind her head and rested my thumb behind her right ear, cradling her head in my hand. As I leaned toward her to kiss her, I pulled her head into mine and held it firmly. The long passionate kiss which followed caused her to moan and twist her hips. I kissed her for a long moment, continuing to hold her head firmly in my hand. As our lips parted, I sucked and kissed each of her lips individually. I turned her head to the right, and moved my mouth to the left side of her face, kissing the portion of collar bone exposed from the neck of her shirt. Slowly, my mouth moved from her collarbone to her neck. As I kissed her neck, her moans became more pronounced. Kissing and licking my

way up her neck to her ear, I nibbled her earlobe and opened my mouth, pressing my wet lips to her ear. “I’m going to make you cum, Vee. Right now, I am going to make you cum, and there will be nothing you can do to stop me,” I growled into her ear. With her head in my hand, and my mouth against her ear, I slid my left hand up the inside of her left thigh and into the bottom of her shorts. As I pulled her panties to the side, I could feel the extent of her wetness. The crotch of her shorts was soaked, as were her panties. Pulling her panties down with the back side of my fingers, I slid the tip of my middle finger up and down the length of her pussy lips. With each stroke, I whispered into her ear. “Mine. Understand?” I whispered. “Yes,” she whimpered. Again, I stroked my finger along her wet pussy, flicking my finger tip against her clit before I started over. “Mine. Understand?” “Mmmhhhm,” she groaned lightly. As I slid my hand along her pussy, I pressed my finger inside of her about an inch and quickly pulled it out. “Oh God,” she sighed as she twisted her hips from side to side.

I gripped the back of her head firmly in my right hand and licked my lips. As I pressed my mouth against her ear, she moaned loudly and bent her knees. “That’s mine. This right here,” I pressed my finger in up to my last knuckle, “you just carry it around for me. It’s my little pussy do you hear me, Vivian Simon?” She nodded her head as she whimpered, “Uhh huuh.” “This,” I slid my finger in up to the knuckle again and pulled it out. “Little,” I breathed into her ear as I pressed my finger inside of her again. She raised and lowered herself on her toes nervously as she moaned. Slowly, I pulled my finger out of her soaking wet pussy. “Pussy,” I bit her earlobe and slowly slid my finger to her clit and began to circle it with the tip of my finger. I could feel my cock pressing against the material of my shorts. Teasing her was torturing me just as much if not more. I wanted her to want me, and to do so in a way she had never desired another man. I slid my finger from her clit to inside her pussy again, and drug my teeth along her upper jaw right below her ear. As I slid my finger inside of her again, I moved my teeth up and down her upper jaw.

“Oh my God. Holy…” she groaned as she rocked back and forth on her feet. I tilted my head upward and opened my mouth, “Is.” I pulled my finger out and immediately pushed it back in as deep as I could. Carefully, I curled the tip of it back and forth inside of her wet pussy. My hand was completely soaked with her wetness. I slid my teeth up her jaw to the bottom of her ear and made a light growling sound as I did. I opened my mouth and encompassed her entire ear, clenching the lobe in my teeth lightly. “Mine,” I growled, “this little pussy is mine.” “Holy fuck, Ripp. I can’t…” she repeatedly bent and straightened her knees. “Grab my cock,” I breathed into her ear. Immediately, her hand reached for the outside of my shorts and squeezed my cock. As she stroked up and down the length of my cock through my shorts, I released the back of her head from my grasp. She watched as I raised my left hand to my mouth and smiled. As I inserted each individual finger past my lips and licked them, she stood, mouth agape, and smiled. “I like the way you taste,” I grinned. “Oh God,” she moaned as she bent her knees again. “You gotta pee, babe?” I asked. “No, my legs are shaky,” she whispered.

“Get on your knees, Vee,” I looked down and whispered. She lowered herself to the floor immediately as I unbuttoned my shorts and unzipped them. As my shorts fell to the floor, I pulled on my boxers and began to work them down my thighs. “Oh my fucking God. We may have a problem,” she gasped. “You’re uhhm. You’re huge,” she said as she reached for my cock. She hesitated, holding her shaking hand in front of the head. “Put it in your mouth, Vee,” I said as I kicked my shorts and boxers to the side. “Are you going to take your shoes off?” she asked. “No, and neither are you,” I responded. She grasped my cock in her hand, looked up and smiled. After a little admiration, she began to lick the pre-cum from the tip, flicking her tongue against my Prince Albert. Generally speaking, I have reasonable control over my cock. At this point in time, I had none. As I watched her lick the tip, I wondered how long I’d actually last. “Does it hurt? When I stroke it or lick it? You know, the piercings?” she looked up and asked. “Did I say snowstorm?” I chuckled. She rolled her eyes and slid her lips over the tip as she stroked the shaft. In tandem motion, she

began to stroke and suck my cock. As she did, she closed her eyes and moaned. The feeling of her moaning while she sucked on my cock combined with the excitement of this becoming what it had become between us was much more than I was prepared to take emotionally. “Stand up and take off your shorts and panties,” I demanded in a low tone. She spit out my cock, and as if her legs were on springs, she bounced to her feet and began to fumble with her shorts. As soon as her fingers found the button, she dropped them to the floor and kicked them off. As she pulled her panties down, it was apparent just how small she really was. Clothes don’t make much difference on most people, but on her, they added considerable size, or the appearance of it. Frantically, she worked her panties down her legs. “Ditch the shirt,” I said as I pointed to her torso, “and bra” “Shoes?” she snapped back softly. “Leave ‘em on,” I whispered. Instantly, she pulled her shirt over her head and fumbled as she unhooked her bra. She dangled her arms in front of her chest, and dropped her bra to the floor. I admired her perky small breasts as her bra fell from her hands. “Vivian?” I whispered as I reached down and started stroking my cock.

“Uh huh,” she said as she stood up. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered. “Oh, thank you,” she smiled. More than anything, I wanted everything to be pleasurable for her. I wanted her to cum, and that was about the extent of my desire. I had no intent of trying to prove some form of sexual point at this juncture what I perceived as the developmental phase of our relationship. Kace had warned me about it more than once. “Vee?” I whispered as I stroked my cock slowly. “Uhh, yeah,” he breathing was short and choppy. “There’s nothing to be nervous about, babe. There are no winners or losers here. It’s just us, okay?” I asked. She nodded. I reached out with my left hand and motioned for her to raise her hand. As she raised her arm, I took her hand in mine and began walking toward her bedroom. Quietly, she followed beside me without saying a word. As we entered the room, I released her hand and lowered myself onto the bed. As I rolled onto my back I motioned for her to get onto the bed. “Well, get up here, babe,” I laughed. “I was. I was admiring you, I’m sorry,” she sighed.

“Don’t be sorry,” I whispered. “Vivian, I want you to do something for me. I want you to pay attention, okay?” I asked softly. Sitting beside me on the bed, she nodded eagerly as I began to slowly stroke my cock. I had developed a plan, a game of sorts, while we were in the living room. I had no idea if she’d like it, but from what Kace said, submissive types like instructions, following, them and believing they were complying with the wishes of their dominant partner. “Okay, listen up. You ready?” I asked softly as I stroked my cock. Her head immediately nodded repeatedly. “Yes,” she blurted in between nods. “Okay, here’s what I want. I want you to get on top of my chest, facing my feet. You’re going to back that sweet little pussy of yours against my mouth and grind it on my face. I want you to press that little pretty fucker against my mouth like you’re trying to fuck my tongue, okay?” I smiled. “Oh God. Seriously?” she asked, smiling. “There’s more, but yes I’m serious,” I nodded, still stroking my cock. “Okay, while you’re fucking my mouth, I’m going to stroke my cock. You’re, out loud, going to count the strokes I make. When I get to ten, you’re going to get off of my face and get on my cock, still facing my feet. You’re going to take whatever

amount of it you can, but this isn’t a contest. If it hurts, take less, and go slow, okay?” I asked. “Uh huh,” she nodded. “While you’re on my cock, you’re going to take five strokes, counting aloud, and then turn to face me without getting off of my cock. Now, if you cum before you face me, we’re not having sex again for thirty days. You got all that?” I asked. “Fuck your mouth for ten strokes of your cock. After ten, on your cock for five, all without cumming, all facing your feet, and all counting aloud. Then spin, face you, and wait for further instructions,” she said quickly. “Wow, you’re good,” I smiled. “I got this,” she said softly. Whoa. What did she just say? “What did you just say?” I asked. “I got this. I said I got this. I say it all the time when I have a task that’s kind of challenging, and I know there’s no way I’ll fuck it up. If I tell you I got this, you can bank on it, why?” she asked. Nobody is ever going to tell me this wasn’t meant to be. “No real reason. I say it too. You ready?” I asked. “I sure hope so,” she muttered. “Fuck my mouth, Vivian,” I whispered. “If you insist,” She said as she raised her leg over me.

As she bent over in front of me, I slid my hand to the base of my cock and held it there. With my left hand, I reached up and gripped her left hip, pulling her back into my face. As my tongue slid into her pussy, she began to press herself onto my mouth with tremendous force. She pays attention well. With my tongue in her pussy, she ground her hips as if she were doing it to music. Slowly, I buried my tongue inside of her. I stroked my cock once. “One!” she bellowed. I stroked it again. “Two!” She continued to fuck my mouth as I forced my tongue as deep as I could. Her hips grinding to the sound of nonexistent music, and my tongue licking and slurping inside of her, she began to moan. “Oh fuck, Ripp. Good fucking God,” She moaned. I stroked my cock twice. “Three, four!” she howled. I pulled my tongue from her pussy and concentrated on her clit region. As I slurped and sucked on her clit the best I could at our odd angle, she continued to push herself against me, groaning the entire time. Quickly, it proved to be far more than I could take. A few more strokes of my cock, and I was

going to be done for sure. I stroked it three times as fast as I could as I buried my tongue into her pussy. “Uhmm, Fuck. Jesus. Five, six, seven!” she shouted. I licked and slurped along her lips, and pressed my tongue as deep as I could once again. The feeling of her skin, the thought of this actually happening, and the taste of her on my tongue was more than I could take. I stroked my cock three more times as fast as I could. “Eightnineten,” she blurted and pulled herself away from my mouth. As she shimmied along my chest and across my lap, she leaned forward and gripped my ankles. After she positioned herself, she rose up from my lap and hovered over my cock. “I got this,” I chuckled as I guided the tip of my cock to her soaking wet pussy. As she slowly lowered herself onto my cock, I had my doubts of it actually fitting inside of her. Softly and steadily, she pressed against the shaft of my cock until she reached the first piercing of my Jacob’s Ladder. Slowly, she rose up, groaning. As her pussy cleared the tip, my cock glistened with her juices. “Holy shit. One!” she screamed as she began to press against the tip again. As her pussy enveloped the shaft of my cock, she groaned and pressed against me harder, taking

it past the second piercing. I raised my hips and gave her a little more than she intended. As soon as I lowered my ass to the bed, she began to lift from my cock, moaning in pleasure the entire time. “Two. God damn you. Two,” she barked. I watched the muscles in her thighs as she lowered herself onto my cock again. Her skin, the shape of her body, her tight muscled ass and her tight shaved little pussy were providing me more pleasure than I had ever recalled having. Taking almost all of my cock into her wetness, her legs shook. I felt as If I was going to erupt. I was done. Completely. This was going to be embarrassing if I couldn’t last. The dominant male who makes it ten minutes. I couldn’t let it happen. Not the first time. Not ever. There was no possible way I would last through another stroke. As she slowly rose up the shaft of my cock, groaning, I let go of her hip and slapped her left ass cheek. “Change of plans,” I shouted, “turn around and face me.” “Is this a trick?” she asked as she pressed against my cock with her pussy, beginning another stroke. She took an inch of it inside of her. I considered shoving up on her ass cheek and pushing her off my cock. There was no way…

Pleasing you pleases her, Ripp. That’s what a submissive desires. I bit my lip and watched as she lowered herself onto my cock, taking it all the way to the base. Oh fuck, here we go. I’m going to fucking cum. Holy fuck. She groaned as she slowly rose up the shaft of my cock. “Four!” she hollered as she lowered herself onto me again. She began to press herself against me as my cock began to swell. I felt as if my head was going to explode as she pressed herself against the shaft of my cock. I grabbed her left hip and buried her pussy onto my cock and held her there as I groaned and rolled my eyes. My cock twitched as I continued to cum in spurts, groaning the entire time. As I regained my vision and composure, I released her hip and sighed. “Don’t move,” I demanded. “Holy shit. Your tight little pussy is amazing. I’m going to have to work up to six strokes. Sorry babe, I couldn’t make it,” I laughed. “So, are the rules out the window?” She asked over her shoulder. “Yeah, don’t move, damnit,” I said as she shifted her wright on my sensitive cock. “So, no repercussion for anything?” she asked.

“No why?” I asked. “I came,” she smiled. “When?” I asked. “How many strokes did we make?” “Four,” I responded. “I came eight times,” she laughed, “each in stroke and each out.” “Seriously?” I asked. She nodded and opened her mouth. Her lower teeth were red with blood. “What the fuck,” I gasped as I rose up on my elbows and looked into her mouth. “Biting my lip between counting,” she said. “Holy fuck,” I breathed. “Precisely,” she responded, “Holy fuck is right.” I couldn’t agree more, I thought. This woman was something else. Holy fuck.

20

RIPP. I pushed my hands into my pockets a little further as the elevator began to rise. I’ve never really cared for riding elevators, and believed my hatred for them was an issue of relinquishing control. Maintaining control of my ability to escape or get out of a situation was completely forfeited when I was on an elevator. Although I tried a few times, I still hadn’t found the stairs in Vee’s damned building. As it stopped and the bell dinged, I exhaled and walked into the hallway. “Hi Ripp, I wasn’t expecting you,” Tonia said as I approached her desk. I held my index finger to my lips and pointed toward Vee’s office as I raised my eyebrows. “Surprise,” I whispered. She smiled and nodded her head. Vee had explained this would be a catch up day at her office

and she had no court scheduled for the remainder of the week. It didn’t seem uncommon for her to go through stages where she was in court for a few weeks straight. I felt sorry for her through the court appearances, because it took so much out of her. When she got home at night she was exhausted mentally and physically. As I stepped through the door and into her office, she looked up and squeaked. Girls. “Oh my God,” she squealed. “What. Is everything okay?” she asked. “Put your hands on your desk Vee,” I demanded in a low definitive tone as I approached her desk and gave her a soft kiss. “Excuse me?” she asked as our lips parted. “The desk, Vee. The big square thing in front of you covered with paperwork. Put your fuckin’ hands on it and don’t move,” I grunted as I turned toward her office door and closed it. I could have closed the door on my way in, but I wanted to give her time to think about it and make the event a little more dramatic. Her mind worked a hundred miles an hour with all situations; trying to figure everything out before it happened. She was a typical attorney, I suppose. I stood at the door and turned around to face her desk. With her hands firm on the edge of the desk, she looked up and smiled. “You know when I texted you earlier and asked

what you were wearing?” I shrugged my shoulders and grinned. She smiled and nodded her head, slightly bent over the desk with her back arched a little. “Well, saying black skirt was the wrong answer. It made me horny. I’m horny all the damned time since we started this fuckin’ mess we’re in,” I grunted as I walked to her desk. “How do you turn the music up and down in this place?” I asked. “Oh God. Uhhm. It’s the remote on the desk, it’s…” she stood up and began to look over the desk. “On the desk, Vee. I’ll find it,” I said as I walked behind her and rolled her chair across the floor and into the window frame. I stood behind Vee and pressed my hips against her ass as I looked over her desk for the remote. “Here we go,” I said as I picked it up from the desk. I pressed the plus button on the remote three times, turning up the music to a level Tonia could hear for sure. I wanted her to know what we were doing. Considering all things, the horny, freshly divorced bitch was probably outside the door listening to what we were doing. “Are you, going to…” I reached around and cupped my hand tightly over her mouth before she finished speaking.

“Here’s the deal, Vee. I gotta go meet that kid I met the other day, Austin. I’m gonna train him how to fight. But I looked at my watch and noticed I had twenty extra minutes. Now, considering where your office is, where the gym is and the fact I can split traffic and haul ass back to the gym, I figure I got maybe six, no five minutes extra. Yep, looks like five. So, I ain’t got a lot of time for fuckin’ talkin’,” I unzipped my shorts and started stroking my cock. I pulled her skirt over her waist and kicked the inside of her shoes lightly, “Spread ‘em.” She immediately stepped to the side with each leg, moving her feet shoulder width apart. I grabbed the waist of her panties on my hand and began to pull them down her hips. I looked down and realized short of her raising her feet from the floor, there was no removing the panties from her legs. I clenched my jaw and yanked on the waist, ripping the panties in two. As I did, she grunted into the palm of my hand. I tossed the panties on the desk in front of her face. “Now, let’s check,” I hesitated and slid my left hand between her legs. Her pussy was soaked. She had told me a week or so prior all I had to do was walk into the room and she got wet. I guess she wasn’t lying, because she was absolutely soaked. I pressed my first two fingers into her pussy up to the web of my hand. As I slowly slid them in and out, she moaned into my

hand and my cock became rigid. I bent over and pressed my chest into her back, positioning my mouth beside her left ear. “You feel those two fingers in that little bitty pussy of yours?” I breathed into her ear. She squeaked into my hand and nodded her head. “Well, I’m going to need to put one more in there,” I said as I pulled my hand back and slowly forced a third finger inside of her. She moaned as I forced them inside of her slowly. “You know why I had to do that?” I whispered into her ear. She turned her hear to the left, looked into my eyes, and raised her eyebrows. I pushed my fingers in and out of her pussy twice, slowly. Her pussy was now dripping wet and soaking my entire hand. “Because I have a big fucking cock, Vee. If I just shove it in you, you’ll scream. If you scream, Tonia will come in here. If Tonia comes in here, I’ll put her ass to work, holding you down on the desk while I fuck you. Now I don’t know Tonia like that, so I think it’s just best we keep her out of this,” I whispered into her ear. She nodded her head eagerly. “See, babe. I’m always thinking,” I sighed. “You feel that big cock against your thigh?” I

bit her ear and spoke through my teeth. She nodded and sighed into my hand. I slowly pulled my finger from her pussy and guided my cock inside of her. As I slowly pushed it in, I released her mouth and slid my hand down to her neck. Gripping it tightly in my hand, I pulled rearward, forcing her to arch her back. I pushed my cock all the way in and rocked my hips upward. “I like this little pussy of yours, Vee. It makes my cock feel really big. Oh wait, my cock is really big,” I softly chuckled as I slowly slid my cock in and out of her pussy. “Holy fuck, Ripp. I can’t…” she strained to talk, my hand still squeezing tight on her neck. “I can’t…” “Well, if you don’t like it slow, let’s do this,” I growled. I squeezed her neck in my right hand as I pulled her toward me. I reached up with my left hand, gathered her hair in my fingers and pulled it about as hard as I could. As her hair became tight, I began to fuck her as hard and fast as I was able. My hips smacking against her ass made a slapping sound. The force I was fucking her with caused the desk to begin to move across the floor as the sound of my hips against her ass echoed throughout the office. She grunted each time I buried my cock into her. As I pulled her hair to the side, I looked down and into her eyes.

“Fucking hell…” she grumbled through her clenched teeth. “Oh…” “Oh…” I could tell from her breathing she was close to climax. “Vee, I’m going to have to get to the gym,” I grunted as I slammed my cock into her. “I need you to finish. I need you to cum all over my big fat cock,” I muttered as I continued to fuck her as hard as I could. “It’ll,” I forced myself into her until the desk moved an inch. “Make,” I slid my cock out to the tip and forced it back in deeply. “Me,” I pulled out and hesitated. “Happy,” I said as I began to fuck her like a jackhammer. I pulled her hair and squeezed her neck as I pounded her pussy full of cock. The sound of flesh on flesh filled the office. She began to grunt and moan as I felt her pussy contract. “Ripp?” she grunted. I pounded myself into her. “It’ll make me happy baby,” I growled. My hips slapped against her ass repeatedly as I forced myself into her. Her pussy convulsed as it contracted. Her hands slapped the desk. She slapped again. And again.

And again… And. Again. I released her neck and hair. Slowly, I stopped fucking her and held my cock in her deep. “Holy shit,” she sighed, “that was intense.” “Yeah, I wonder if Tonia heard you slapping the desk,” I laughed. “I’ll tell her something,” she said over her shoulder, her breath choppy and labored. “So, you’re going to act like we weren’t fucking?” I asked as I slowly slid my cock from her pussy. “Uhhm. I’m certainly not going to tell her,” she sighed. She slowly stood from her bent over position and turned to face me. “I can move my desk back, brush my hair, and act like nothing happened,” she said. “Get on your knees,” I demanded. “Pfft. Even if you cum on my face, I can fix it. I’m not scared of you,” she said as she lowered herself down on the floor. As she knelt in front of me and grasped my cock in her hand, I pulled it from her grasp. “Hold still,” I smiled. As she looked up with eyes full of wonder, I slapped her as hard as I could across the face with my cock. The look of shock that washed over her

was priceless. A red welt began to show up on her cheek as she raised her hand to her face. “Stand up,” I said. Slowly she stood as she rubbed her cheek. I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly. As I held her, I moved her hair to the side and whispered in her ear. “I gotta get babe. I’ll try and hide this hard cock in my shorts and let myself out. Just stay in here hidden for a bit, and she’ll never see the red welt on your face,” I kissed her cheek as I leaned away from her. “That was really unexpected. Is it okay if I liked it?” she asked. “Okay by me. Kind of like fuckin’ and fighting at the same time,” I laughed as I pulled up my shorts. She shook her head as I stuffed my semi-rigid cock into my shorts and zipped them up. I pulled my tee shirt over the crotch and smiled. I shook my head at the sight of the large red welt on her face. “I’ll let myself out. Hide in here, okay?” I said as I leaned into her and kissed her lips. “Have fun. Damn. What a treat that was,” she said as she picked her torn panties up from the desk and ran her fingers through her matted hair. I leaned into the corner of her desk and pressed my leg against it, positioning it back to where it was. As I opened the door to walk out, I turned and

smiled, “I’ll close this behind me.” She nodded. “Bye babe,” she whispered. I closed the door behind me and walked to the end of the hall, pressing against my cock with my hands as I did. Slowly, it was going soft. By the time I got on my bike, I’d be fine; a small price to pay for treating Vee to a little office sex. As I passed Tonia’s desk, she smiled and waved, “Bye Ripp.” “See ya, Tonia,” I waved as I walked toward the elevator. Awwe, fuck it. “Tonia?” I turned around and faced her desk. “Yes, Ripp,” she arched her back and looked over the top of the monitor. “I almost forgot. Vee wants to see you. She said to just go on in,” I smiled. “Okay,” she said as she stood from her chair. Well, there’ll be no hiding it now.

21

VEE. It had been a month since Michael and I started having sex, and my life had changed completely. My focus at work was second to none. My level of tension was non-existent. My father was probably going to be released from the hospital soon, and I felt as if I was on top of the world. Actually being in a relationship with Ripp was so much more rewarding than I thought anything could ever be, and he was proving to be the biggest twelve year old kid on the planet. He was nothing more than a huge goofball who was loving, caring, witty and protective. The only problem, if there was one, was he instantly turned to a monster when someone crossed him. I figured we may need to work on his temper at some point in time. “It’s been three fucking weeks Ripper,” Kelsey screamed.

“It ain’t been three weeks. God damn, give a guy a break,” Michael responded. “You get no more breaks. You’re fighting before this god damned rally. You’re going to turn into a fucking bum. A thirty year old retired fucking bum,” Kelsey hollered as he pointed at Michael. “Damn it, boss, what did I tell you about pointing at me,” Ripp said as he swung his glove at Kelsey’s finger. “What did I tell you about having her in the ring? And you better not be fucking her, losing all your damned stamina and strength. Son-of-a-bitch, Ripper,” Kelsey sighed loudly as he finished speaking. “She’s got ears, boss. She can fuckin’ hear you talkin’ shit. I teach here, remember? The kid, Austin? I’ve been training him. And now, I’m training her. So go fuck off old man. Go eat some of those Tums you have in the locker room and settle that stomach before you have an ulcer,” Ripp laughed. “You go fuck of. You gave me ulcers ten years ago, Ripp. Maybe I’ll just make you a full time trainer if you don’t want to fight,” Kelsey screamed over his shoulder as he turned toward the exit. “And turn off the god damned lights when you leave,” he hollered as he reached for the door handle. “I always do boss,” Mike screamed across the

gym. “Good night, Vee!” he waved as he opened the door. “Night, Kelsey,” I hollered. Kelsey was one of the nicest men I had ever met. Shane and Mike admired him greatly, and he admired them as well. He didn’t scream much at Shane, but he sure screamed at Michael. It made sense, as Ripp was considerably wilder than Shane and would rather fight bare knuckles matches than about anything; because the pay was better. The thought of it angered Kelsey, and if Ripp wasn’t fighting at the gym at least once a month, Kelsey was angry with him. Ripp was a favorite of the fans and drew quite a crowd to the gym. Since Shane had signed to fight for the championship, he no longer actually fought at the gym, and only sparred against Ripp and another fighter who came in from Houston from time-to-time. Most of Shane’s sparing matches were closed door events, not even open to the public. Shane had become quite a celebrity in Austin, and keeping his training and fighting style a secret was becoming difficult. As I leaned against the ropes with my gloves at my side, Mike stepped into the ring. Seeing Ripp in shorts, gloves and no shirt was more than any woman could prepare for. Regardless of whether or not he was fighting or had

a fight scheduled, he never missed a workout. Simply seeing his rippled stomach made me wet. His massive chest flared as he took a breath, and he often made his pectoral muscles jump up and down to tease me when we were fucking. He knew it made me melt when he did it. Topped off with his smoothly shaved head and tattoos, he was a walking aphrodisiac. And he was mine. “So, the ROT rally starts here next week, you ready?” he asked. “Absolutely. Are we done training?” I responded as I pushed myself off the ropes. “Well, we’d been at it for damned near two hours when he showed up screaming,” he laughed. I absolutely loved being on the back of the motorcycle, and enjoyed it as much as riding in the Chevelle. The car was a totally different pleasure, but it was a pleasure none-the-less. The bike was a seven hundred pound vibrator. I could almost climax riding on it. “Okay, let’s call it a day. It’s Sunday and I have next week off,” I paused, “let’s go eat something light and get some sleep. I’m beat.” “Alright. Let’s do it,” he said as he held the ropes. As I stepped through the ropes, I heard it. A thundering rumble from outside the gym, getting increasingly louder. I looked toward the door as it

felt like the walls were beginning to shake. “What in the world is going on?” I asked as I stepped onto the floor. “Sounds like bikes. A lot of em,” he responded as he looked up toward the door. The noise increased until it sounded like it was in the gym. I’d heard motorcycles before, but this sounded like an entire motorcycle gang was pulling into the parking lot. The thundering continued. As the hair on my arms stood up, I could actually feel the rumble. In a matter of seconds, it stopped. “Well, with the rally starting it’s hard to say, babe. Just stay close to me. Probably people looking for that fucking Dekk,” Michael said as we walked toward the door. One problem with the gym was the lack of windows. For reasons of privacy, I’m sure, the facility had no windows. It was an old metal building which had at some time been converted to a gym, and the perimeter walls had no windows. There were windows in the building, but they were in the offices, not in the gym itself. As we continued to walk across the floor toward the door which opened into the parking lot, it opened. The parking lot was full of motorcycles. “Holy shit, looks like about twenty or more. Jesus Christ,” Ripp said as a man slowly walked into the gym. He was tall, lean and muscular. His arms were

covered in several tattoos, and he appeared to be shirtless, but was wearing a motorcycle club leather vest with patches on it. Two other men stood behind him on the sidewalk. “What can I do for ya, brother? We’re closed, just locking up,” Ripp said as we walked up to the door. “Stay behind me, babe,” he whispered over his shoulder. “Okay,” I responded as I stepped behind him. “Well, we rode into town for the ROT. Saw in the flyer for the rally you were having fights over the weekend. It said there were limited spots. We were at the bar on the next street up, and I made a bet with the President. Kind of like to get a fight in, just to say I did it. I ain’t fought since the Corps. To tell you the truth, we didn’t think anyone would be here. We were just going to see if we could find the place and saw the scoot in the lot. You ride?” he asked. “Yep,” Ripp responded. “So, there any spots left?” the man asked. “Yeah, we got some paperwork to fill out in the office, but it’s locked. Can you come back in the morning?” Ripp asked. The first man nodded and turned to the side as another man walked into the gym. The second man was huge. His hair was dark and he had a beard which his facial features. No differently than the

first man, he was also wearing a biker club style leather vest. As he looked around the gym, the first man spoke again. As he began to talk, I noticed he had a Marine Corps tattoo on his arm. “Yeah, we’ll be back in the morning. You save me two spots? One of the other fellas said he’ll fight if there’s another spot. Kind of an inside bet with the club. Bragging rights, you know how it is,” he said. “Yep,” Ripp said, “I’ll tell the boss. His name’s Kelsey. There’s at least two left for sure, ain’t had much traffic on it yet. What’s your name?” “My name’s Alec Jacob. Don’t really go by that. You ride, so call me Train or A-Train,” he said as he held his hand out. “I’m Mike Ripton, call me Ripp. Pleasure to meet you, A-Train,” Ripp said as he held his gloved hand in the air and shrugged. “Alright. Well, it’s a nice place you have here, Ripp. We’ll leave you to it. Appreciate ya,” he said as he nodded his head and slapped the big bearded man on the shoulder. As they turned and walked out to the parking lot, I looked through the door before he pulled it closed. At least two dozen bikes were in the lot, the majority of which had leather vest wearing members of their club sitting on them. “Wow, that was scary for a second,” I sighed. “Awwe, just some fella’s in from out of town

lookin’ for a fight babe. It’s kinda what bikers do; ride, fuck and fight,” he laughed as we walked to the locker room. There was no doubt Michael liked to fuck. No doubt. But adding a weekend of fighting, a few hundred thousand bikes and bikers… Fucking, fighting and riding on the motorcycle had become my three most favorite things to do, ever. Ever.

22

VEE. My back arched and my eyes watered as he pulled the belt which was cinched around my neck a little tighter. We’d been fucking for two hours and I was nothing short of an exhausted, shaking, emotional mess. Using items around the house for BDSM pleasure may not be the safest thing to do, but it sure proved to be effective. Additionally, we both believed the spur of the moment type of sex was far more enjoyable than planned adventures with store bought toys. He pulled the belt tighter as he forced himself into my wet pussy. I bit my lip and groaned. As I arched my back to the point of pain to relieve some of the pressure on my neck, the dried wax on my chest and stomach cracked and fell onto the bed. “What did I tell you, my sexy little brunette beast? What the fuck did I tell you?” he growled as

his hand slapped my ass. The slap forced me forward and added a little pressure to the belt around my neck. My eyes rolled back in my head as I opened my mouth and attempted to speak. “Ten, sir. Ten,” I grunted as I continued to bite my lip. I inhaled a shallow breath and tasted the light scent of the burning candle which filled the air of the room. I closed my eyes and waited for him to let me have it. “That’s fucking right. Ten. And how many times have you cum? How fucking many?” he hollered as he slapped my ass. My pussy felt as if it were on fire. The ache was both annoying and an assurance of what we had been doing for several hours now. For the most part, it was a welcome annoyance. With Ripp I stayed wet for hours, but pounding me with his pierced cock literally pummeled my pussy into a swollen mess. Over time, he had figured out how to keep me from cumming. Slapping my ass and changing positions didn’t allow me to relax. To cum, I needed to focus and/or relax, even if for only a few seconds. I felt the tension on the belt begin to relax. This son-of-a-bitch. “Time to change it up,” he bellowed. His hands gripped my hips and quickly flipped

me onto my back. As I looked up at him, I sighed. I closed my eyes and smiled. Wrong thing to do. “What? You fuckin’ bored?” he howled. On his knees and in between my legs, he looked down at me and shook his head. “Bite that lip,” he demanded as he reached for the candle. As his left hand covered my eyes, he pressed my head firmly into the comforter. I felt the hot wax dripping onto my left nipple. The wax already covering them kept the burning sensation minimal. We had learned shading my eyes while dripping hot wax on me was far more pleasurable for us both. For me, not knowing when it was coming was extremely sensual. “Hell, you probably can’t even feel it, can you?” he whispered. I didn’t respond. Clenching my teeth and biting my lip, I waited. A few seconds passed. “Bend your fucking knees and point that little honey pot of yours up in the air for me, I’m going to beat it up some more,” he demanded as he continued to press his hand over my eyes. I bent my knees until my sneakers were against the cheeks of my ass grabbed my shins with my hands and pulled myself backward, pointing my pussy straight up. A few seconds passed. “How’s my pussy?” he asked.

“Good,” I responded. “How’s my pussy,” he grunted again. “Holy fucking shit!” I screamed as the hot wax came in contact with my swollen clit. I sighed as I felt the bed shift and heard him place the candle on the night stand. I felt his fingers on my clit, removing the small portion of wax he had dripped onto me. “We don’t want that being shoved up in there, now do we?” he asked. “No sir,” I responded. His hand moved from covering my eyes as he pressed his hips against the back of my thighs. I watched as he took his right hand, grasped the base of his cock, and began flicking the pierced tip along my soaking wet pussy. From bottom to top, he flipped the tip along my swollen pussy, tapping the ring which pierced his cock against my clit. “Watch me do this, damn you,” he demanded. “I am,” I whispered as I watched the tip glide across my pussy lips. The muscles on his arms flared as he moved his cock. Slightly bent over, his stomach muscles rippled from the fuck me lines on his abdomen to his lower chest. I looked up at his unshaven face and tried to refrain from smiling. “Don’t argue with me,” he grunted as he looked up. “Yes sir,” I sighed.

I watched as he continued. As he inhaled a breath, his massive chest swelled. I felt my body tingle each time the ring came in contact with my clit. I closed my eyes. I was so close. If he stuck his cock in me, I’d cum in a second. He knew it and he was torturing me. Methodically, and predictably, his cock continued to slide up to my clit until he flicked it with the ring. The tingling was becoming more like an electric shock. I was done. I opened my eyes, afraid of repercussion if he caught me not watching him torture me. A puddle of emotion, tears, cum and candle wax, I laid motionless on the bed with my knees to my chest. I watched as a tattooed two hundred and thirty pound tattooed maniac smiled and tortured my clit into a swollen nub. This was what I thought I wanted. This was what I prayed for. This was what I spent five years reading about. This was my dream. This was Michael Allen Ripton at work. And I watched, grateful he was mine. “I’m getting bored,” he sighed as he looked down into my eyes. I did my best to keep from smiling. I wanted him. Ten inches of thick, pierced, throbbing cock attached to the meanest, most protective, sex crazed maniac in Texas. The combination was sheer heaven. “Fuck it, I want that pussy,” he breathed.

Thank God. “Who’s pussy is this,” he asked as he shook his cock at my pussy. “Yours, Ripp. Ripp’s pussy,” I looked up at the ceiling and screamed. “Mine,” he bellowed as he slowly pushed himself into me. I gasped as I felt the tip bottom out inside of me. This position, of all positions, ensured every last inch of him was inside of me. It was painful, but I loved it the same. I closed my eyes and relaxed as I felt him slide in and out twice. Here it comes. My entire body felt as if was shaking. Tremors filled me from my ass to my nipples. Holy fuck, I can’t breathe. Confused, I opened my eyes and looked around the room. I closed them again. My body began to tingle all over as I felt the tension within me build. His cock slid out and then back to bottom. Out, and then back in to bottom. Out again, and then… I came. Hard. “Ohhhhhhh…” “Fuuuuuckkk,” I groaned. I opened my eyes to a blurry room. My pussy contracted from deep within, clenching his cock like a vise. Slowly and steadily he continued to fuck me,

his cock swelling inside of me. I continued to cum as I heard his breathing become labored. And he exploded. The force of his orgasm inside of me felt like I had been poked. As his warm cum filled me I opened my eyes and smiled. No matter what means caused us to reach this level of pleasure, our simultaneous climax made me want to become a little girl again and cry. I had fallen head over god damned heels for Michael and sharing myself with him made me feel full - it was if I was going to explode. The emotion of having everything I wanted in one man was more than I could take at times, and certainly more than I felt I ever deserved. “Oh fuuuuck, babe,” he groaned slowly as he looked down at me and collapsed onto my chest. He turned his head and kissed the left side of my neck. Goosebumps developed on my left arm as he did. I twisted my neck and forced his mouth from my neck with my cheek. “Don’t move,” I whispered. He laid there on my chest for a considerable time, until his breathing became shallow and his cock flaccid. “I need to pee, babe,” I whispered in his ear. He raised his chest from mine and kissed me on the lips lightly. I smiled, rolled off of the bed, and waddled to the bathroom. On my way out of the

bathroom, I looked in the mirror. Covered in candle wax, my hair a tangled mess of shit, and my face flush, I looked like beautiful shit. After a short consideration of cleaning myself up, I shook my head, flipped off the light, and walked to the bedroom. I wanted to lie with him on the bed more than anything. As I walked into the room I smiled a genuine smile of pleasure. Ripp was lying on the bed on his back with Candy on his upper abdomen, stroking her stomach. She was stretched out with her front legs extended as far as they could stretch. Her rear legs flopped to her side; she was as relaxed a she could ever be. Quietly and softly, I got onto the bed and snuggled up beside him. “She really likes you,” I said as I laid my head on his upper chest and raised my leg onto the top of his thigh. “I like her too,” he whispered. “I remember when you didn’t,” I said softly. He smiled and raised his index finger to his lips, “Shhhh. I don’t want her to hear you.” I smiled. Change. We all go through them at some point in time. My work days had become far less important since we met. Being my own boss allowed me to make my own schedule. I realized after I met Michael just how much of a workaholic I had become. Since

the realization, I had scheduled far less work for myself, giving me much more free time. Ripp hadn’t really gone through any changes, or changed the way he was - short of Candy. I didn’t want him to change. I liked him just the way he was. To me, he was a dream. I nestled against him on top of the comforter and relaxed as his body warmed the surface of my skin. “So,” he whispered. I rotated my head across his chest to face him and looked into his eyes. “With ROT this weekend, my parents decided to have family dinner tomorrow. I know it’s the middle of the week and all, but I was thinking,” he paused. From what Michael said, his parents had never officially met a girl he was seeing. He came from a very traditional Texas family, and he believed bringing a girl around his parents was basically making her part of his family through the introduction. He and Shane attended the dinners, but to Michael, Shane was family. His family was all Shane had. I blinked my eyes and smiled. “I was uhhm. I was thinking. I want you to come. Come and meet the family,” he smiled. Holy shit. In a sense, I work with the worst assholes on the planet. My clients are drug dealers and

murderers. Alone, I stand in front of a court of law and fight for a living. No one who truly knows me would consider me to be a weak woman. I am strong. It was all I could do to fight back tears. To him, this step was beyond huge. This was the biggest commitment he could make. “It’s not necessary, Michael,” I said softly, appreciating the gesture. Oh shit, I just said it out loud. “Did you just call me Michael?” he asked. I nodded. Candy jumped onto floor. He smiled. “So. You ready. To meet the family?” he whispered. “It’s really not necessary,” I sighed softly as I fought back tears. “Who’s in charge of this fucking relationship, Vivian?” he whispered. “You are,” I responded. “Listen carefully,” he said as he rolled onto his side. I blinked my eyes. “You’re going with me to my parent’s tomorrow night. That’s that. I’m going to introduce you to them. I’ve told you about the dinners. It’s a cluster fuck, but it’s a big part of who I am. It’s family time, and family is important. So, shorts and

Chuck’s will be the attire and we’re taking the Chevelle,” he smiled. I’m. In. Love. With. This. Man. “I’ll be on my best behavior,” I smiled, “And thank you.” “For?” he asked. “Trusting me not to fuck you over,” I responded. He smiled and blinked his eyes a few times, “You know, I been thinkin’ about how to describe something, and I can’t get there.” “What is it?” I asked through tear filled eyes. I know going to a family dinner to most women would be nothing. But they wouldn’t appreciate and understand the significance of it the way I did and do. As he twisted his mouth in circles and looked at the ceiling in deep thought, I tried to think of other things to keep from allowing a tear to fall down my cheek. I had waited a lifetime for Mike Ripton, and I truly felt I could spend forever with him. On top of the comforter with my head on his chest I would be happy for all of eternity. “Well, how I feel about you. I don’t know how to tell you what I want to say. You know people feel affection for other people. And people fall in love and such, right?” he asked. “Yes,” I whispered. “Well, the way I feel about you. It’s just. Well, it’s weird. It’s so much more than that. To call it

love would be kind of cutting it short. I need a word to describe it, and there isn’t one. One don’t exist. At least not yet,” he tilted his head to the side and smiled. Until now, the word love had not escaped our mouths. In a sense, he just said it. My eyes began to well up again. “Well,” I hesitated. It was all I could say without looking like a fool. The sex, emotions, exhaustion and the conversation we were having. The word love. It was all simply more than I could take. Sometimes I suppose girls are just girls. “Well, I don’t know. I guess what I want to say is this. I love you, Vivian. I want you to know that. I love you. But it ain’t enough. It just ain’t. I can’t use a word every other shit-head uses to describe how he feels about a woman. It wouldn’t be fair to you, because you make me feel so much more. More than love. I need my own word,” he smiled. I’m going to lose it. He’s adorable. “Pizz,” he said as he nodded his head. “What?” I choked on my words as I almost began to cry. “Pizz. That’s it. Understand I love you, Vee. But I pizz you,” he chuckled as he looked down at me. “Pizz?” I grinned. “Yep. I just made it up. A new word. It’s like love, only stronger. It’s more,” he said as he

pressed his chin to his chest and kissed my forehead. “Pizz, I like it,” I said as a tear escaped my eyes and ran down my cheek. When men speak to women in a sweet manner, a part of us typically wonders just how much of it is true and how much is bullshit. I believe subconsciously, all of us wonder. As the tear ran down my cheek, dripped off my chin and onto his chest, he reached over and wiped my face with his finger. “Vivian Simon, I love you. But always know this,” he paused. “I pizz you. And no one else on this earth has that, baby,” he whispered. And a tear ran down his cheek. And at that moment, I knew. This wasn’t bullshit. And. I pizzed him too.

EPILOGUE

“Pass the potatoes, Michael,” his father said politely. “Pop, sooner or later, she’s gonna know. You’re puttin’ on a fuckin’ show. Taters, you call ‘em taters,” Michael said as he handed his father the potatoes. “The food’s wonderful, Mrs. Ripton,” I said over my left shoulder. “Jesus. Stop it, Vee. You sound like Shane,” Michael said as he winked at Shane. “Thank you, Vivian. Michael, no nick-names at the table,” his mother said. “I’ll call ‘em whatever I want to call ‘em, god damn it,” his father said. “That’s better. Cuss a little, Pop,” Michael said, “sorry mom. I’ll call her Vivian. I got it.” Michael was right. Family dinner at his house

was nothing short of a circus. Everyone sat around a big table eating, laughing and joking. I missed having a family. Eating with my mother and father was enjoyable, but playing a part of the dinner with Michael made me miss it. I looked around the table grateful for Michael, the food and the family he’d introduced me to. As I looked across the table at Kace, she smiled and proceeded to take a bite of her corn on the cob. “We’re gonna go to this rally, Pop. I’ll get you pictures of all the bikes,” Michael said to his father. “I wish I was going,” Michael’s sister Manda said. “You ain’t driving my car out there with all those heathens are ya?” his father growled. “It’s a fuckin’ bike rally, Pop. I ain’t takin’ the Chevelle. And it ain’t your car no more, old man,” he laughed. “It’ll always be my car,” his father said as he dropped his corn cob onto the plate. “Are you going, Vivian?” Manda asked. “Yes, I am,” I smiled. “Sittin’ on the back of that piece of shit he rides will break your back,” his father said. “I got a new seat, Pop. It’s soft as a baby’s ass,” Michael responded. “Probably cost your ass out at the Harley shop,” his father laughed. “Nope. I couldn’t give that much for a seat. I

ordered it from Tucker Rockies,” he responded. “What did it cost?” his father asked. “Two-forty,” he responded. I looked across the table at Michael’s sisters. One, the younger of the two, was visibly crying. As she attempted to wipe the tears from her face without anyone noticing, she began to blubber and stood from the table. As soon as she stood, she ran out of the dining room. “Well, what the hell happened to Bug?” his father asked as he started to stand. “I’ll see, Pop. She lost her job, and she’s upset. Let me find out what’s wrong,” Michael said as he pushed his chair from the table. “Excuse me,” Michael said as he turned and patted me on the shoulder. I nodded and smiled as he walked from the room. “What the hell’s been wrong with Katie lately? Ever since she lost her job, she’s been an emotional wreck,” his father asked. “I don’t know, Dad,” Manda responded. “Sorry for the mess, Vivian. Be glad you got a good job, they’re gettin’ hard to come by,” he smiled. “I am. And yes sir they are,” I responded as I picked my chicken breast from the plate. “You like it on the back of the bike?” Manda asked.

“I like it a lot, yes,” I responded. “She’s a natural, Shane says,” Kace smiled. “Riding’s easy,” Manda said. “You better not be on the back of a bike without a god damned helmet,” Michael’s father hollered. “Dad…” she whined. “I ain’t lyin’. Don’t let me find you on the back of a bike without a helmet,” he complained. The garage door slammed and I heard the Chevelle start. A Horrendous roar followed by screeching tires, another roar and screeching tires that slowly faded into nothing. The entire process took thirty seconds. “What the fuck is goin’ on?” Michael’s father screamed as he stood from the table. “Excuse me ma’am,” Shane said as he stood up. Slowly, Shane walked to the garage. After a few moments, he walked into the room and shrugged his shoulders toward Kace. “He’s gone,” Shane said as he pulled his phone from his pocket. I felt sick. I had no idea what was going on, but to think that Michael needed to leave in such a hurry and without so much as a goodbye to anyone had me extremely worried. I felt something had happened, something with his sister. I sat nervously, hoping and praying everything was okay.

“He’s not answering,” Shane said. “Excuse me,” I said as I stood and went to my purse for my phone. No calls or test messages. Shit. Fuck. Michael’s father remained in the adjoining room with Katie for some time. Eventually, we all fumbled with our food and excused our nervous selves from the table. Repeated checks of my phone produced nothing. As we all sat in the living room and wondered, Michael’s father continued to comfort Katie Bug in the other room. I jumped as my phone rang. A quick look at the screen confirmed it was Michael. I nodded my head and stood up as I answered it. My heart racing and my throat dry, I waited for him to speak. “It’s over. I fucked this deal up babe,” his voice was soft and steady. “What happened?” I asked. “It’s over. It’s settled,” his voice was flat and emotionless. “Michael?” I said softly. I walked out of the room and paced the hallway as I waited for him to continue. “He’s dead. I think I broke his neck, babe,” his voice cracked as he spoke. “Michael. Oh my God. What’s going on? Who’s dead?” I whispered as my heart began to race.

“Tucker.” he responded. “I fucked up, Vee.” “Babe? Explain what’s going on,” I said into the phone softly. “Katie’s boyfriend. My sister, we call her Bug. It was her boyfriend, Vee. Tucker, he raped her, Vee. Tucker fucking raped her. She was a virgin and he fucking raped her. He admitted it to me. Cock sucker smiled and pulled out a gun on me. He smiled, Vee. He pulled a gun and fucking smiled,” his voice was flat and had no emotion whatsoever. As I struggled with how to respond, I continued to pace the floor and think. The attorney in me began to speak. “Was it his gun or yours, Michael,” I asked quietly. “His,” he responded. Thank God. “I fucked up, Vee. He’s dead.” “Michael, listen. You’re going to need to call the cops. Call 911, do not mention a gun. Not now. Tell them you think someone’s dead, and to send patrol and an ambulance. Don’t talk to anyone else. Exercise your right to silence. Tell them you won’t speak without your attorney present. Where are you?” I asked. “His porch. Sittin’. I fucked up, Vee.” “Michael, listen. You won’t spend a night in jail. When I hang up, I’ll call the senior judge and

get an immediate cash bond set. The amount doesn’t matter, I’ll pay it. Worst they’ll charge you with in this state, at this point in time, is manslaughter. I’ll post a cash bond. Do you understand?” I asked, attempting to maintain my composure. “Call 911. Tell them what I told you,” I begged. “I fucked up, Vee.” I can do this. We can make it through whatever this is. This is nothing, Vivian. This is what you do. Talk him through this. This is nothing more than a walk in the park. I paced the hallway in tears. I needed to say something to get him to understand we could get through this. Defending cases like this was what I did, and I was god damned good at it. “Michael, listen. The longer you wait, the worse it’s going to be. I’ll get you out of this, do you understand me? I’ll get you out of it, and you won’t so much as spend a night in jail. We’ll be at that ROT rally come hell or high fucking water. Do you understand me?” I said sternly. “I fucked up, Vee. He’s dead.” He muttered. He’s in shock. “You think you can get me out of this babe? I ain’t lookin’ to go to prison,” he said flatly. I thought of what to say to convince him and it came to me, “Michael, listen to me,” I demanded in a harsh tone.

“Yeah babe,” he said, his voice soft and shallow. I took a short breath, swallowed and told him the only thing I felt he could understand at this point. The only thing he could hear and know everything would be alright. He’ll know. “Michael,” I paused and swallowed the lump in my throat. “I. Got. This.”

This book is dedicated to every person that has taken on the legal system in a head-on battle. It’s a tough fight, but oh so worth it.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

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PROLOGUE

I barely got the Chevelle stopped and the parking brake set before I opened the car door and started running up the driveway toward the front door of the house. As I stepped off of the sidewalk and onto the first step that led to the porch, Tucker opened the door. “You Tucker?” I growled as I stepped onto the second step. As soon as the door was opened all the way, I realized he had a gun in his hand. Although I had never personally met him, he had obviously heard about me and my car from Katie. I must admit there weren’t too many two hundred and fifty pound tattooed bald guys driving Classic Chevelle’s in Austin. “Yeah, you must be Ritt. Get off my porch and don’t ever come back,” he smiled as he motioned

toward me with the gun. “Name’s Mike Ripton, prick. I’m Katie’s brother. Put down the gun. I’m taking you to the police station, dead or alive, you get to pick which one,” I said as I started up the steps slowly. I focused on the gun, and recognized it as a Glock. The size of the barrel led me to believe that it was a .45 caliber. With his elbow bent and his forearm parallel to the ground, he held the gun at waist height. Perfect, a Glock. No safety. Just point and shoot. Fuck. “You must be one dumb son-of-a-bitch. Look, I’ve got the gun, I make the rules. Now get off my fucking porch,” he looked nervous as I cautiously began to step across the porch. Gun or not, the more I looked at him the angrier I became. The thought of what he did to my little sister was more than I could try to make sense of innocent little Katie Bug, who never hurt a fly, raped by this gun toting pussy. As I stepped toward him, I clenched my fists at my side. “You rape my sister?” I grunted as I took another step toward him. “Well, being as I’m gonna shoot you in about two seconds, I’ll sure tell ya,” he said as he continued to point the pistol at my mid-section. I took another step and slowly began to raise

my fists to chest height. I needed to hear him say it. Hear him admit it. As I took the last step, he began raising the pistol until it was level with my head. “She was a tight little bitch. Nice tight little pussy. Yeah, I raped her,” he chuckled, the pistol now eighteen inches from my forehead. “As soon as he said Yeah, I swung my right fist toward his right forearm. Probably not the best choice of what to do in this situation, but it was my most powerful punch. I knew I needed to hit his arm so hard he would drop the pistol. As my hand made contact with his arm, that’s exactly what he did. His eyes widened as the pistol slid across the wooden floor. I stepped into the house, pushing him backward and grabbing his neck with my left hand at the same time. As he started to explain and attempt to reason, I pushed the door closed with my right hand. “She’ll never prove it in court. It’s her word against mine. You’re in my house, asshole. You’re going to jail for breaking and entering,” he bellowed. I pulled his body into mine with my left hand and shifted my body until I was behind him. As I wrapped my right arm around his neck, I placed him in a choke hold. “They won’t even charge me with a crime. You know how many girls claim rape? It’s happened to

me three times, but never made it to trial once,” he blubbered. I stood behind him and attempted to understand what he was saying. I was full of rage, and everything had happened so fast. He’d been charged with rape three times? But never made it to court? The women, when it came time, probably never testified. I tightened my arm against his neck. He began to struggle, grabbing my forearm with his hands, attempting unsuccessfully to pull down on my arm. As he began to cough and choke, I thought of Katie testifying in court, explaining to a jury what this asshole did to her. Not going to happen. Not my sister. I’d much rather explain to a jury what I did to him than have Katie try to explain anything. I reached up with my left hand and pressed against the back of his head, forcing his neck into my forearm. He’ll never do this again, Bug. Never again. I pressed against the back of his head and squeezed his neck harder until I felt it… Snap! I lowered his lifeless body to the floor. Forgive me lord. I opened the front door and walked out to the edge of the porch and sat down. I rested my elbows on my thighs and placed my head in my hands as I looked out into the street at my car. At this point,

there was only one thing I could do. I needed to call the only person I felt I could trust regarding what had just happened. My girlfriend. Vivian Simon. Attorney at law.

UNLEASHED

RIPP. I have never asked God for anything, and I wasn’t about to start because of a situation that was contrary to what I wanted or expected my life to include. Things happen in our life, often times they’re a result of an event or events that we have a difficult time digesting. What Tucker did to Katie was one of those things. There isn’t a soul on earth that would have the desire to deal with something of that nature. If I had the same conditions presented to me a thousand times over, I’d have reacted in the same manner. I know it. Knowing it and even accepting it doesn’t make dealing with it any easier. Taking a man’s life, regardless of the circumstances, seems impossible to come to terms with. I think the difficulty I have processing it proves to me under my savage shell, I am human. When I was a kid, my Pop always told me when

we need God always provides. Not always when we want, but when we need. Knowing the difference allows us to keep from having unmet expectations in life. Sometimes God’s fulfillment of our need comes in a form different than what we may expect. I believe God listens to what we believe our needs to be, and responds by provisions as he sees fit. Some people are just too stupid or stubborn to see it. I may be stubborn, but not to my demise. And stupid isn’t something that I’ve ever considered myself to be. I am, sometimes, more blind than the bats that live under the Congress Street bridge downtown. Today, of all days, I stood grateful that I was able to see; and by the grace of God, hear. On this day, God sent me an angel; an angel in the form of a former United States Marine. “Maybe I’m different than everyone else, maybe I’m not. I’ve never been one to go around taking a poll or anything, so I can’t say what everyone else does, thinks, or feels. To me, it’s about commitment. If we’re committed to whatever it is, it’s confirmed when things go to hell in a hand basket and we stick to our guns. If we falter or change our opinion, we were never committed in the first place. If we believed in it enough to be committed in the beginning, we must stay committed when things go to shit, brother. Commitment isn’t measured by our belief itself or

the depth of conviction regarding the belief, but by what we’re willing to sacrifice to obtain it,” his eyes were distant and his voice steady but with very little emotion. He paused and lit a cigarette. “So what was the other one? Commitment and what? Death?” he asked. I nodded my head slightly, “Yessir.” “Yeah, I know a little about death,” he said through his pursed lips as he took a drag from the cigarette. “You know why today’s a good day?” he asked as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Nope,” I shook my head. “One reason, because I haven’t had to kill anybody yet,” he responded. I nodded softly as he began to speak. “Cruze, Soda, and Cunningham were on my team. It was oh-seven. Cunningham was from here in Texas. I remember that. It’s weird what you remember and what you forget. But we…we uhhm,” his voice began to quake and his lips quivered. He swallowed and looked up. “We went in on the street side. Wish we’d have come in from the back, but it’s easy to say that now,” he took a long pull on the cigarette and exhaled half of the smoke. “Cruze hollered clear as he went in, but it was

far from fucking clear. Two of ‘em came down the stairs, both spraying the room with fire from their fucking Kalashnikov’s. Cruze took one in the neck immediately. He was probably dead before he hit the floor,” he looked down at his boots, exhaled the remaining smoke from his lungs, and took another long drag. “Soda screamed Cruze is hit, and Cunningham went after the Hadji’s. Soda stuck with Cruze. When we got to the second floor, they were gone. There was a hatch that led to the roof sitting there half-latched. It was the only way they could have got out of there. Funny thing about those people, none of them have closets,” he looked up at me, but it was if he was looking through me. He reached down to the toe of his boot, stepped on his cigarette, and put the butt in his pocket. He looked up at the ceiling and stared for a minute before he looked down again. “And they sleep on a half-assed mattress on the floor too,” I watched his hands shake as he lit another cigarette. “So, Cunningham motions clear. And he no more than gets through the hatch and onto the roof, and I’m behind him. And there’s this thing on the roof. This thing. This fucking thing. And, let me tell you. Sometimes you know. You just god damned know. But we’re Marines. And we’re Force fucking RECON Marines. And we’re committed. But god

damn it Ripp. I knew. But you don’t turn around. You don’t run. Even if that little thing inside of you says it knows. You don’t. You know why?” he bit the cigarette in his teeth and squinted as the smoke rose into his eyes. I swallowed and shook my head from side-toside. “Because you’re committed, so fucking committed you’ll die for the cause,” he closed his left eye and took another puff from the cigarette before he pulled it from his lips. “I don’t know how many rounds Cunningham took at first, but he took a few. Each one stopped him for a second. And he screamed. He screamed a scream that I heard Marine’s scream many times after that. The scream of knowing it’s one of the last that’ll ever leave your lips. We both returned fire. And then god damned Cunningham got him. He got him in the hand. Little Hadji fucker dropped his weapon. Right there on the roof. And he stood. Seemed like he was, you know…” he looked up from his boots, paused and appeared to be thinking. “Like slow motion. He stood there, his hand half shot off, and he stared. Maybe he knew. Hell, I don’t know. But Cunningham lit him up. Then he turned, looked me in the eyes, and smiled. Close to me as you are right now. And he said, don’t forget A-Train, there’s one more of ‘em. And he died. Right like that, he collapsed on the roof. He didn’t

say tell my wife I love her. Or tell my daughter I died a hero. Nope, he reminded me we weren’t done. That there was one more.” “Well, when I got to the second Hadji, he was afraid of coming out from behind that damned thing. He could have taken his partner’s AK-47, but he just cowered there and shook, scared to death - holding his hands up, trying to surrender. Well, I knew one thing for sure. I wasn’t taking that little bastard back to interrogate him. I pointed my weapon at his chest and he started hollering and waving his hands,” he held the cigarette at the toe of his boot and stepped on the burning end. “And, as he was screaming, I slowly started to raise my weapon. As the barrel came up, his face looked relieved. But I stopped with the muzzle at his head, and immediately his eyes filled with that oh shit look.” he slipped the cigarette butt into his pocket. “Oh shit’s right, motherfucker. I fired three rounds into his head, from this close,” he motioned toward me as he spoke. “And I kicked him in the gut. When I stepped over his partner, I spit on his dumb ass. Then, I walked over and picked up Cunningham’s body. He was a Lance Corporal. Made that in less than a year. Damned good Marine,” his eyes were moist and full of tears, but none fell. “That was my first. And there were a hell of a

lot that followed. The last? Yeah. The last,” he shook his head and smiled as if the recollection was something he actually enjoyed. “Well, I ain’t quite admitted it to anyone but God. But I’ll tell you, ‘cause you need to hear it right now. The son of a bitch stole a bike from one of the fellas. We voted, and decided to let the cops handle it. I didn’t like it, but I had to honor it. Then, the thieving cock sucker stole a girl’s purse from out of the bags on the bike at our poker run. I fucking swear, once a thief, always a thief. So, long story short. I went to his house, broke in, and found the purse in his garage. Hell, it had her ID in it and everything. And I waited. I waited for that stealing prick to come home,” he clenched his jaw and inhaled a long breath through his nose. “I was maybe a hundred and fifty yards out. Maybe a few more. It was damned near dark. He started walking up the driveway and he turned and faced me. You see, God works in mysterious ways. I believe God looks out for those of us that look out for others. We administer his justice. So, I shot that prick between the fucking eyes. He dropped right there in the drive, dead as fuck. I walked up to him, took out his wallet, and took all of his money. I didn’t steal from him as far as I was concerned. I didn’t want that shirt-bird’s money. I wanted what he stole from that girl, Kelli. I didn’t know for sure what he took from Kelli’s purse and what he didn’t.

So, him being dead and all, I figured he didn’t need it,” he looked up and smiled. “Death. Yeah, I know a little about death,” he paused. “And we all can reach a place where we clear our head of the demons. It takes being right with God,” he smiled and pulled another cigarette from the pack. “So, now we’re back to commitment. What are you gonna do, and are you committed to it?’ he asked as he tapped the cigarette on his lighter. “Well, their offer was five years in prison if I took the plea bargain. Said they’d give me twenty if I took it to trial,” I responded, still in disbelief of what was going on. “You didn’t answer my question. And the amount of prison time they’re offering hasn’t got a fucking thing to do with it. Either you’re right or you’re wrong. If you’re wrong, be a man. Walk in and say it, tell ‘em you’re wrong, and do your time. If you’re right, stand up. Stand up and tell them motherfuckers to suck your cock, and prepare for war, ‘cause you’re gonna bring it to ‘em. Yep, tell ‘em to prepare for war. Let me ask you something. If you had to do all over again, what would you do?” he asked as he lifted the cigarette to his mouth. “I’d do it over, same way a thousand times,” I responded.

“Why?” he asked as he lit his lighter. I thought about his question. I’d never really thought about why. Not really. I told myself that I was in the right, but I never really thought about why. I realized as I sat there and thought about it, my reasoning behind it was not so much about punishment, but about responsibility. I wanted Tucker held responsible for his actions, and I didn’t want him to do the same thing to someone else, ever. What eventually happened was nothing more than a reaction to his action, not a plan that was preconceived. I thought of how to answer what ATrain asked me as I ran my hands along the thigh of my shorts. “Because I was right, and he was wrong,” I responded. In my mind it was just that simple. “Whatever you think you’re right about, do you truly believe you’re right? The cause?” he asked. I nodded my head as I stood from my chair, “Yep.” “You committed to it?” he asked. “Yep. Always have been,” I responded as I popped my neck. “So, what are you gonna tell ‘em about that offer to do time in prison?” he asked as he stood from his chair. I reached into my pocket and pulled out my phone. As I dialed Vee’s number, I swallowed a

lump in my throat. Regardless of whether I thought I was right or wrong, it didn’t make the reality of the situation any easier to come to terms with. “Vee, about that offer they gave me? I’m ready for you to give ‘em a response,” I said into the phone. “Okay, Ripp…” her voice faded as she waited for me to continue. “Tell ‘em to prepare for war,” I said. “Ripp?” she asked. “Yeah, babe,” I responded. “I’ll let ‘em know. I’m proud of you, babe. And, for what it’s worth, I started preparing yesterday,” she said. “How’d you know?” I asked, smiling. “Because that part of you that will stand up and fight for what you believe in, no matter what your opposition is? That part of you, Ripp?” her voice was eager and full of emotion. “Yeah, what about it?” I asked. “That’s the person I fell in love with,” she said. “Well, that’s my decision, babe. Tell ‘em not to ask again,” I reminded her. “I feel like. I just feel unrestrained. I’m ready to defend this thing. I’m ready to get this behind us. I just feel…well, I feel like I’m ready to fight these bastards. I’m still pissed off they even charged you. I feel like you just gave me the freedom to…I just feel like I’ve been…” she paused.

“Unleashed.”

THE SEVERITY OF MURDER

VEE. It doesn’t matter what the law says, or what the circumstances are that surround a particular case. What matters, above all, is how it is presented to the court. A person can be innocent one hundred percent, and if the case isn’t presented to the court properly, or if law that supports your defense isn’t properly referenced, the case will be lost. Regardless of the circumstances or the events in support of the defense, I prepare all cases as if they’re lost from the beginning. The end result? I rarely lose a case that can be won. “It isn’t about guilt or innocence, Michael. It’s about presentation of law. It may sound awful, but that’s what it gets down to,” I paced the length of the conference room table as I spoke. “Well, what are we gonna tell ‘em, babe?” he asked as he leaned back in his chair.

“Well, I’m thinking out loud, so just let me run with this. Let’s see. Contrary to what you or anyone else thinks, what you’ve seen on television, or in the movies, we can’t go into court and tell them what you think or feel. We are allowed to defend the facts that the prosecution presents to the jury in support of their case. For instance, I can’t get you on the witness stand and ask, were you of the opinion, Mr. Ripton, that the deceased raped your sister? I can’t ask, and that fact doesn’t matter. Not in court. It pulls at the heart strings of the jury, and I’d love for them to know. But that also brings in the question of motive. If I asked that, prosecution would object, and the judge wouldn’t allow it. A few of those types of tactics, and I’ll be out of the courtroom on my ear. But, if the prosecution asks you if there was a reason you went to the deceased’s home that day, you can answer. Then, the question and your response will open the door for me to explore it. It may seem different than you think, but that’s how it works,” I stopped pacing and turned to face Michael. He stared at me with his mouth half open. “Close your mouth, dear. A fly will get in there,” I laughed. He rolled his eyes as I started pacing again. “Now, as simple as this case is, it remains complex. Or, well it can be. Not knowing how they’re going to come at us makes it hard to

prepare. I suspect it’ll be something like this; exclude the reason you went there. You went there, it’s undisputed. Now, you’re there, and the deceased sees you. He, in fear for his life, and in an effort to defend his home, pulls his weapon. You, seeing the weapon - which he had a right to possess - react in a manner that utilized excess force, causing the untimely demise of the deceased. Without a doubt, some variation of that presentation will be their case to the jury in their opening,” I placed my hands on my hips, stopped, and raised my eyes. “When you talk like that, you sound so damned smart - and so fuckin’ mean. Hell, I wouldn’t want to go against you in court. It makes me horny as fuck, Vee,” he said as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “Mr. Ripton, let’s get one thing straight. In here,” I pointed to the conference room table. “I’m your attorney, and you, sir, are my client. You’re the accused, the defendant. The man that will go to prison for a long fucking time if he doesn’t take this matter seriously. So, in here, in my playground, it’s my rules. And, when you’re here by appointment, you will abide by my rules, act in a manner that’s respectful, and listen. What you will offer, sir, if you offer anything, will be pertinent to the case, or in response to a question that I may direct you to respond. Is that fully understood, Mr.

Ripton?” I asked without taking a breath until I was done. “Yep,” he responded as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “And that, Mr. Ripton, is another thing. Starting tonight, you will curb the Texas adolescent bullshit. If I may step into my I’m your girlfriend mode for one moment; I will go on the record as stating that I personally like your manner of speaking and acting. There is no place, however, in a court room for Yup, Yep, Ain’t, Bro, Brother, Dekk, Ripp, Fixin’, or anything of the like. So, we will practice your speech, patterns of speech, and we will conduct a mock trial prior to even entering the courtroom. Is that understood?” I asked, my hands still placed firmly on my hips. “Yes, ma’am,” he responded. I stared and waited for a smirk or a smile. None came. That’s a good boy. “Now. That has me thinking about what they may come at us with regarding you. Let’s talk about him. Nothing he has done, in the past, in or through the course of the instant offense, warrants taking his life, according to the prosecution. The facts are as follows; the man is a piece of shit rapist, and I can’t introduce that to the court. The man pulled a gun on you, and you, Mr. Ripton, are the victim here,” I paused and raised my hand to

my chin. “We can’t question the character of the deceased unless his character comes into question. And we can’t raise the question, unless they attempt to paint him in a light that is…” Often when physically preparing for a case, I tend to think out loud and recite law, as I pace the floor. Tonight, as I paced the floor and spoke about what I was thinking, Michael’s eyes followed me, and his mouth began to change from that of uncertainty to a smile. As I spoke, he clasped his hands together and pressed them to his mouth. “I’m going to crawl up that piece of shit kid’s ass with a microscope. I’m going to find out who he was, where he’s been, who he’s dated, who he’s fucked, what sexual diseases he’s had, who and where his parents are, and what he ate for lunch before you broke his worthless neck. Although I can’t introduce any of that in court, I can hold it in reserve. If they so much as bring up his character, good or bad - I’ll be ready. If they even fucking attempt to portray him as being some choirboy that is not deserving of the wrath of Ripp, I’ll shred their asses and his credibility like fucking lettuce,” I stopped, rubbed my hands together and smiled an exaggerated smile. “So, you’re saying that you can’t question his credibility. You can’t go dig up facts that he’s raped or tried to rape a dozen girls, and tell the jurors?”

he squinted and looked as if he was thoroughly confused. “That is a fact. He, Mr. Ripton, is not on trial. You are. He could have fucked chickens in the parking lot of the H.E.B., and we can’t bring it up in the court room. He could have raped every girl in his senior class and been convicted of it, and we can’t say one fucking word. You’re on trial, not him.” “Unless,” I paused and spread my arms apart. “They attempt to say that he’s a saint.” “Now, Mr. Ripton. What about you? What may I expect that they’ll introduce in their efforts to prosecute you for being a killer? A thug? A criminal? All the way back to adolescence, let’s hear your story, every shitty story you’ve got, I have to be aware of everything, you know?” I asked as I pulled a chair from the table and sat down. He twisted his left wrist and looked at his watch, “How much time do you have set aside to discuss such matters, ma’am?” I nodded my head in approval as I pressed my skirt against my thighs, “Much better. You sound like…well, you sound like I want you to sound to the jury. A few hours, how is that?” He’d look much more presentable in a nice suit and some glasses… “That might get us to about the time I turned

twenty years old or so,” he responded. And he wasn’t smiling. Oh fuck. This might be more difficult than I thought.

CAR TIPPIN’

RIPP. Trying to tell myself everything was going to be fine wasn’t as easy as it might seem it should be. Regardless of what I told myself, I felt sick sometimes. As long as I kept moving and filled my days with activities, I never really thought about what might happen. If I had idle time, it eventually turned into thoughts of incarceration, prison life, and confining a man that desperately fears restriction. Idle hands do the devil’s work, my mother always said. “So then, when I told her about burning that car, she just shook her head and said, what in the fuck haven’t you done? That might be a shorter list. Jesus Michael. She calls me Michael all the damned time now. Hell, that is if she isn’t calling me Mr. Ripton,” I raised my hand and waved toward the waitress.

“Anybody?” I asked as I attempted to get her attention. “Yeah, I’ll take another,” Austin said. “Suppose so,” A-Train said as he looked at his half-empty bottle. As my hand caught her eye, I waved it in a circle, letting the waitress know to bring a round of drinks. We’d been at the bar for quite some time, and with the hot Austin weather, the beer was going down abnormally smoothly. “You haven’t touched your water, Shane,” I said as I motioned toward Dekk’s glass of water. “Maybe it’s because I’m scared,” he responded. “Scared?” I asked. “Yeah. Scared of who or what Vee is turning you into. Listen to how you’re talking. You haven’t touched your water Shane. When was the last time you called me Shane that we weren’t eating dinner at your parents? You’re scaring me, Ripp. The new you,” he laughed. “Well, fuck. She told me no Texas adolescent shit any more. I have got to start talking like I’m proper. I am not allowed to say the word ain’t or anything like it,” I said as I finished what was left of my beer. “Save that shit for the courtroom, it makes me uncomfortable,” Dekk chuckled. “Seriously?” I asked. As Dekk nodded his head, Austin spoke,

shaking his head vigorously, “Yeah. Fuck that. I don’t like it either. I agree with Dekk.” “You haven’t been around me long enough to know what to expect, kid. And you can call him Mr. Dekkar or Shane, you don’t know him well enough to call him Dekk,” I said over my right shoulder. “Well, everyone else calls him Dekk. A-Train calls him Dekk, and he ain’t even from here. So what do ya say, Dekk?” Austin asked. Something about Austin forced you to like him. I couldn’t imagine anyone not liking him. He talked a hundred miles an hour, and never took a breath. He was as eager as anyone could ever be, but for some reason, I looked at him as being nothing more than a kid. As soon as he said Dekk again, I looked over my shoulder and raised one eyebrow. “Fuck you Ripp. Whattaya say, Dekk? Huh? Whattaya say? You don’t mind it do ya? See? Doesn’t bother him a damned bit. Not one bit,” Austin babbled. “Jesus, kid. Do you ever breathe?” A-Train laughed as he looked across the table toward Austin. “I’m not a fucking kid. I’m the same age as everyone else, I just don’t look like it. Jesus,” Austin complained as he turned his palms up and shrugged his shoulders. “Call me Dekk. Everybody call me Dekk.

We’re all friends. And quit fucking arguing. It’s freaking me out. There’s way too much going on here for me,” Dekk laughed as he reached back and pulled his hood from his shoulders onto his head. “You ever take that thing off?” A-Train asked. “Not so much. When I sleep or if I’m alone,” Dekk responded as his hands pressed the hood to the sides of his head. “That probably does for you what these do for me,” A-Train said as he raised his foot above the table. “These boots. If I got ‘em on, I don’t think anything can get to me,” he nodded his head toward his boot. Dekk smiled and nodded. It was apparent that he was a little uncomfortable, not knowing Austin and A-Train as much as he probably would like to. Dekk was a person that preferred to be either alone or with one friend, not a large group. Not that this group was large, but it was much larger than he was used to. In time, I knew he’d warm up to everyone. For now he’d just hide behind his hood a little more than usual. “So, tell me about the burning car,” A-Train smiled as he tipped back his bottle of beer. Dekk propped his elbows on the table, formed his palms into a “V’, settled his chin into his hands, and smiled, “Yeah, Ripp. Tell us about the burning car.”

“Fuck yeah, Ripp. Tell us about the burning car, what was that about? Why’d you light it on fire? What was up with that? I can’t believe you would…” “Son of a fuckin’ bitch Austin. You talk too damned fast. Do you ever slow down? God damn, man. Settle the fuck down. You’re like one of those fucking things in the movie, those little yellow things. God damn,” I sighed. “Minions,” A-Train said flatly as the waitress placed the bottles of beer on the table. “Yeah, Minions. You’re like a fucking Minion,” I chuckled. “Fuck you Ripp,” Austin chimed as he alternated glances between A-Train and I. “You sure didn’t tell A-Train to fuck off, now did ya?” I asked. “Fuck no I didn’t. He’d kick my ass,” Austin admitted in an almost inaudible tone. “He ain’t the only one,” I smiled as I lifted my fresh bottle of beer. “Enough of the ass kicking. The car, tell us about the car,” A-Train said. I nodded my head slowly as I took a drink from the bottle of beer. “Well, there was this guy I didn’t like. He said something. I still don’t remember what it was. But it pissed me off. So, we were at this house party out in the country at a ranch, and he was there in his

new car. Everyone was drinking and having a good time. I kept giving him whiskey. Like a lot of whiskey. He got drunk as fuck, but that was my plan; I wanted to get him drunk,” I took another drink of beer, looked around the group, and slid my beer back onto the table. “So, he’s now drunk as a son-of-a-bitch, and I offer to have someone take him home, you know one of my friends. Todd, yeah, it was Todd. So, Todd takes him home and we tell him he can just come back the next day and get his car. We explain to him that he’s too drunk to drive and there’s no sense in driving his car and fucking it up. He agreed and got the ride home, leaving his car at the ranch,” I nodded my head, grabbed my beer, and took another drink. “So, he leaves. Goes home drunk as absolute fuck. And after everyone except for maybe ten of us had left, I got a can of gas from the garage, doused his car in gas, and lit that bitch on fire. And let me tell you what, I doused it in gas. Not a little bit. I filled the inside with gas, poured it on the outside, and poured it in the trunk. Cut the seats up, poured it in the foam seat cushions, everything. When that motherfucker went up in flames, you could see it from about five miles away,” I paused, waiting for a reaction. “Holy shit, did it explode?” Austin asked. “Not like you’d think, but kind of. And that

motherfucker burned into a pile of nothin’. Hell, the wheels even melted. There was like nothing left. The flames were about as high as that telephone pole,” I said as I pointed to the telephone pole across the street from the bar. As A-Train chuckled, Austin shook his head, “And you don’t even remember what he said?” “Nope,” I shook my head. “Whattaya think of that, Dekk? Huh? Ripp torching a car?” Austin sputtered as he took a quick sip of beer. “I’ve heard the story a hundred times. I think it’s just Ripp being Ripp. He’s a little more wild than most of us. He does dumb shit, and reacts differently than the rest of us would,” Shane said as he rubbed the hood of his sweatshirt into his face. “Yeah, he’s a crazy fucker, huh Dekk?” Austin said. “Crazy?” A-Train said slowly as he turned to face Austin, “I’ll tell you about crazy.” “Not to interrupt, but tell them about the finger in the freezer,” Dekk chuckled as he pulled his hood from his head. “God damn, Dekk? Seriously? You want me to tell them that story?” I asked, laughing at the thought of it. A-Train and Austin both turned their heads and stared as Shane and I spoke. A-Train mouthed the word finger as he raised his eyebrows and slowly

shook his head. “Sure,” Dekk said as he sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the table, and rotated my head slowly as I made eye contact with everyone, “Alright fellas, listen up. This is a good one. Couple a years back, Dekk came to town. We met at the gym. Crazy fucker rode his raggedy ass Harley here with those ape hangers on it. He gets off the bike, walks into the gym, and changes into his gear. He put on a pair of gloves and knocked me the fuck out,” I said as I nodded my head toward Shane. “He knocked you out the night he rode into town?” A-Train asked as he leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “Yep, now listen. He was the first and he’s still the only one to ever knock me out. I’ll say it was a little blind luck on his part, and a lot of stupidity on mine,” I smiled and pointed at Dekk, who smiled in return. “So, he meets Shorty for the first time, the girl he has now. They meet at the parking lot of the CVS Pharmacy up on 63rd. Dekk’s renting a movie. And Shorty and her husband were renting one at the same time. Dekk rolls in oh his raggedy assed bike, and gets off,” I paused and reached for my beer. “So, he walks up into the parking lot, and this

fucktard of a husband was stomping on Kace’s fucking Kindle deal. Right there in the parking lot. You know the little deals you read books on?” I asked as I glanced between A-Train and Austin, who both nodded. “Well, Dekk goes up and asks this dude what the fuck are you doing? And dude responds none of your fucking business. My boy Dekk here says well it’s my business now, you fuck bubble,” I nodded toward Dekk and took a drink of my beer. “So what happened? Where’s the finger come into the story?” Austin chimed. “Dude. Jesus. Learn to listen. I’m tellin’ the story, you’re listenin’. So listen. Fuck. Where was I, Dekk?” I asked. “Smashing the Kindle,” Dekk said as he tilted his head back. “Yeah, so let’s see. Dekk asks Kace, you alright? She says yeah, I’m fine. Dekk says you sure, you can tell me. She says she’s sure. And that’s that. Then two years later he goes to pay his insurance, and she’s working in there. He says you remember me? She says, fuck dude, I never forgot you. This is a good little love story. Anyway. They kick it for a few lunch dates, and she tells Dekk her husband is an abusive prick. Dekk tells her if he ever lays a hand on her to let him know. See, Dekk and I don’t put up with that shit. Where you from Dekk? Your old neighborhood?” I asked as I raised

my beer to my lips. “Compton,” he responded. “Yeah. Well, I’d drive to Compton to kick a motherfucker’s ass that fucks with a girl. Cocksucker’s have no respect for women. So anyway, one day Dekk and I are grillin’ chicken and the phone rings. It’s Shorty. She says she got beat up by her douchebag boyfriend,” I raised my hands to my chin and looked back and forth between Austin and A-Train. “So Shorty and Kace they’re the same person?” Austin asked. “Pay fuckin’ attention. Yes they’re the same person. Dude, you’re startin’ to irritate me. You’re here because I invited you to be. You keep acting like a fucking dork, and I’m not askin’ you again. Now pay fucking attention,” I narrowed my gaze and shook my head at Austin. “Anyway, where were we Dekk?” I asked as I grabbed my beer and sat back in the chair. “When Kace called that Saturday,” Dekk nodded. “Yeah, so listen up, Austin,” I joked, “I ain’t lookin’ to repeat myself.” “So, she called and drove over. Came back to the deck in the back yard. Dekk and I are grillin’ chicken. She’s covered in blood. Says she’s okay, and that she don’t need any medical attention. She’s a mean little bitch, Kace. So, anyway. Dekk

says he’s gonna go take care of the fuck bubble that did it to her. I ain’t about to let Dekk take care of shit, not that he can’t, but if he did, and he got nabbed by the cops, hell. Hell, he’d be in the same boat as me. So, I said to Dekk, I said…tell ‘em what I said Dekk,” I motioned toward Dekk with my beer bottle as I leaned back into my chair. “Well, you said you need to take care of the girl, Dekk. And you said I got this,” Dekk nodded as he smiled. “God damned right. I got this. That’s what I said. Same thing I always say, which reminds me of another story. So, Austin. When we get done with this story, remind me to tell you ‘bout the phone call,” I hesitated, recalling Vee’s attempt to convince me to turn myself in to the authorities. “So, I said I got this. And I drove over to shithead’s house. Got the keys from Kace. Now this fuckin’ poor excuse for a man, when I get there, is on the couch. I give him a couple in the gut to settle him down, and he starts cryin’ like a girl,” I raised my beer bottle, realized it was empty, and waved at the waitress for another round. “So, he starts running his gob, telling me how sorry he is. I ask him if he’s got any tools,” I paused and rubbed my chin in my hand as I thought. “Tools? Like tools? Like pliers and saws and shit?” Austin scrunched his brow as he spoke. “Yeah, motherfucker, tools. I wanted to torture

this asshole,” I laughed. “That’s what I’m talking about,” A-Train laughed as he exhaled smoke and nodded his head. “So, I think I’d smacked him in the mouth maybe. Seems like he had a bloody face at this point. I ask him about the tools, and he motions to the back room. I go back there and get a handful of shit. I get back in the front room, and this dumb asshole is still sittin’ there, waitin’ for me to torture him. Now if I was him, and he was me, and he was comin’ to torture me, and getting’ shit in my back room? I’d have run like a motherfucker and left his ass in my house scratchin’ his fuckin’ head wonderin’ where the fuck I’d run off to. Something. But no, he sits and waits,” I hesitated as the waitress placed three more beers on the table and refilled Shane’s water. “Well, I walked back into the room with a handful of tools. I hold up a hammer and a pair of sheers. I asked this dumb fuck if he wants to lose teeth or a finger. And he did something. Hell, I don’t remember what it was. But it was disrespectful or something and I was tired of fucking with him. So I hauled off and hit him in the mouth with the hammer,” I paused for effect and looked around the table. A-Train slowly shook his head and smiled. Austin raised both of his hands to his mouth and covered it as if he were protecting it. Shane was

leaning back in his chair shaking his head at me as if I were some form of idiot. As Shane rolled his eyes, I started speaking again. “So, he did something else, fuck I don’t even remember. But he pissed me off again. I think he was spitting and crying. But I was thinking I wanted to do something he would be sure to remember. That way he’d never really want to fuck with another girl again. I sat down beside him with the sheers, and I was gonna just cut off the tip. So I get the tip of his finger in the sheers, and tell this dumb fuck to hold still. But I started squeezing the sheers, and this dumb fucker flinches just at the time I squeezed ‘em,” I squeezed my right hand as if I were squeezing the sheers. “Oh holy fuck. Did you? You didn’t?” Austin squealed. “The fuck I didn’t. That’s what this story is about. I did. So I squeeze these sheers, like I squeeze ‘em a little bit. And this dude has some sheers from hell. They’re as sharp as little goddamned razors. I squeeze, he flinches, and plop. His entire goddamned finger drops in my fucking lap. Just plops down there,” I pointed to my lap and raised my eyebrows as I looked at Austin. “Holy shit,” Austin said as he covered his eyes with his hands. “Holy shit is right. Now this fucker’s bleeding like a stuck pig and slobbering and shit and I’ve had

enough of this weirdo. I wrap his hand in a towel, and duct tape it to his wrist and remind him if he ever gets a notion to fuck with Kace or any other woman for that matter, to just forget it. I put his finger in my pocket and went home. Now when I got there, I wanted to kind of keep it like a trophy. You know, show it to Dekk and say look at what I did. But I stuck that bad boy in the freezer in a ZipLock bag and forgot it,” I laughed and leaned back into the chair and crossed my arms. “Holy,” Austin uncovered his eyes and stared. “Fuck,” he continued. “Tell them the rest,” Dekk laughed. “There’s more?” Austin gasped. “Oh yeah. This is funny. So, we’re grilling outside a few months later and Dekk goes in the house, for ice. He comes outside with the finger, screaming about shit. No wait. He came out screaming about it. Yeah, he saw it in the freezer and he came outside sayin’ I was gross for keepin’ it. Well, I get this little frozen morsel, and I stick it in my pocket, and hell I have no idea what I’m thinkin’ half the time. But anyway. I decide to grill this little fucker and get rid of the evidence. So I try and grill it, and the little fucker just falls through the little bars into the grill. Now, at the exact minute I’m grillin’ the finger – or tryin’ anyway, here comes Shorty and her friend. They open the gate, and some hot ass blonde walks through and is

like, hi, nice to meet ya. Well, I ain’t gonna let ‘em see it, and the grillin’ of it ain’t goin’ so smooth, so I toss it in my pocket,” I raised my beer, realized it was empty, and waved at the waitress again. “Damn, Ripp. Slow down. You’ve had like seven of those fuckers,” Dekk laughed. “Hell, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it Dekk, damn. So anyway. So I got this finger in my pocket, and I’m walking around hittin’ on this girl and I realize that I got this finger in my pocket and it’s a hundred fuckin’ degrees, so this little frozen fucker is melting. So Shorty and Dekk are talkin’. No wait. Shorty and Dekk were in the house fuckin’, and this chick and I are talking, and she reached for my leg. I thought she was goin’ for my cock, so I stand there and smile. But she ain’t goin’ for the cock. She pokes my fuckin’ shorts and says oh my God, what’s that? And I look down at my shorts and there’s a fuckin’ spot where this fuckin’ dude’s finger has thawed out and blood stained my shorts,” I paused as the waitress dropped off another round of beers. “So did you get busted?” Austin asked. “No, check this out. I tell this chick that Dekk and I had been eatin’ grapes and I left one in my pocket. Told her the thing must have got squished and left a stain. And she buys the story. So I reach in my pocket and act like I’m pullin’ out the grape and tossin’ it in the yard. But instead, I open the

grill and toss that fucker in there and just let it cook with the chicken. So, nobody knows what’s really up but me,” I paused and leaned into the table, pressing my hands against the edge of the top. “So, this fucker starts stinkin’, smellin’ like burnin’ flesh. Stinks up the whole yard. Smells like a burnin’ god damned body. That one little fuckin’ finger smokin’ and stinkin’ to the high heaven. Dekk comes out, and I get the chicken pulled off the grille, and we all eat, and nobody knows nothin’. Next day, I tell Dekk about the whole grape bullshit story and the finger, grillin’ it, and that I only let the girls eat the dirty shit. That’s the funny part, Dekk and I ate the clean chicken and the girls ate the dirty chicken,” I clapped my hands together and smiled as I picked up my fresh beer. “And that’s the finger story,” I chuckled as I tilted the bottle against my lips. “You’re mistaken, it was all dirty,” A-Train said as he took a drag from his cigarette. “Excuse me?” I looked over my left shoulder in disbelief. “The chicken, if it was cooking in an enclosed grille. Every bit of it was contaminated. The airborne particulate matter from the burning finger got on all of the chicken. So, from a cleanliness standpoint, it was all dirty chicken,” A-Train laughed as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “You fuckin’ sure?” I looked across the table at

Dekk as he shrugged his shoulders, and turned to face A-Train. “Hundred percent. Contaminants don’t rise straight up, especially if they’re heated. They expand. P V over T equals P V over T is the gas law. Pressure and Volume over Temperature. Temperature increased when you cooked the chicken and the finger over a flame. Volume didn’t change. The enclosed grille didn’t get any fucking bigger. So, according to the perfect law of gasses, the pressure increased. The way it increases is that the gasses, or in this case, the smoke from the finger, expanded. Bottom line? Every bit of that chicken was contaminated. I wouldn’t have eaten that shit. But that’s a righteous story, cutting off the dude’s finger and all. Loved it. I’d have done the same thing,” he said as he took another drag from his cigarette. “Holy shit. Are you a Marine or some kind of scientist?” Austin asked. “Shut it Austin,” I interrupted, “You fucking sure?” “Yep. I’m sure. And no Austin, I’m not a scientist. But I know a little bit about a lot. You never know when things are going to come in useful. So, you ever tell the girls about the chicken or the finger?” A-Train asked as he bent down and stepped on his cigarette butt. “No, never told ‘em. Dude, that’s fucked up.

You hear that shit, Dekk? We ate dirty chicken. Son-of-a-bitch,” I shook my head and tipped up my beer bottle, shocked that it was empty. “I heard what he said. I never thought the chicken was clean. I don’t let stuff like that bother me, so it’s no big deal,” Dekk smiled as he slowly shook his head in disbelief. “You fuckers are all crazy. I love it,” Austin laughed as his head swiveled back and forth, glancing at each of us for a fraction of a second. “I don’t know that I’d call the fella’s crazy. A battalion of drunken Marines with weapons is crazy. These guys are just having fun. I don’t know how you wear that damned thing in this heat, Dekk. It’s fucking night time and it’s still a hundred fucking degrees. Damn,” A-Train said as he slowly stood from his seat. “Well hell, I need to hit the head, I’m about to split wide open,” he continued. “Huh?” Austin immediately remarked. “Piss, dude. That’s Marine speak. It means I need to piss too,” I said as I pushed myself away from the table. “Yeah, me too,” Austin said as he stood. “I’m alright. I’ll watch the table,” Shane nodded. As I stood, it became immediately apparent that I had consumed far too many beers. My head began to spin slowly, and the ground began to move under

my feet as I walked to the bathroom. Relieving myself provided minimal relief from my drunken state, and as we walked back from the bathroom Austin made note of my inability to walk. “Damn, boss. You alright, you’re kind of staggering,” he chuckled as his hand slapped against my shoulder. The slap knocked me off balance and caused me to take a step to catch my footing again. Attempting to time my steps perfectly as I walked provided little assurance that everything wasn’t going to come crashing down. I focused on my feet, hoping that staring at them would cause them to provide more stability to my quivering legs. “I need to exercise,” I stuttered as we reached the table. “Shit we just worked out yesterday,” Austin said as he sat down. “No dude, I mean right now. I’m getting tipsy,” I said as I moved my chair from the table, stared into the seat, and braced myself on the flimsy metal arm. “You aren’t getting tipsy, you are tipsy. And you think you’re going to exercise, drunk, at eleven o’ clock at night?” A-Train chuckled as he held an unlit cigarette in between his fingers. “Do it all the time. If I drink too much, I’ll do something to use up the alcohol,” I nodded as I sat down in the chair.

“Use it up?” A-Train asked. “Yep. Use it up. You know, get rid of it. I’ve gone for a run at midnight half-drunk. It’ll sober you up quick,” I explained. Dekk reached back and pulled his hood from his shoulders as I spoke. As he pressed the hood against his cheeks, he smiled and shook his head. Sometimes I wish I knew what he was thinking, because he sure shakes his head at me without speaking an awful lot. On a Tuesday night in Austin at a seedy bar in the north end of the city, there’s not too much to do for entertainment or exercise. As I looked out into parking area, I noticed a new model Fiat 500 sitting in the dimly lit parking lot. A quick glance around the patio revealed no patrons other than the four of us. The heat prevented most people, short of smokers, from sitting outside. “Anybody see that shit on YouTube, the videos about car tippin’ and stuff?” I asked as I stood up and looked at the car. “What? Car tippin’? No, Ripp. We’re not tipping over cars. You’re in enough trouble as it is. Let’s pay the bill and just go,” Dekk said as he pulled money from his pocket and tossed it onto the table. For Dekk to pay the bill after a night of drinking, he must have seriously wanted to make sure he kept me out of trouble. I stared across the

lot at the car, which from where I was standing in the outdoor seating area, appeared to be about as tall as my waist. “What do you think that little fucker weighs, Dekk?” I asked. “No, we’re leaving, come on,” he said as he grabbed my shoulder in his hand and tried to turn me toward the bar entrance. “A-Train?” I asked. “I don’t know. Maybe fifteen hundred pounds. It’s the size of a fucking go-cart,” A-Train responded. “I can tip it. I know I can,” I said. The area where we were seated was an outdoor covered patio that was attached to the front of the bar. A handrail separated the seating area from the parking lot and provided a little discouragement to patrons considering leaving before paying their bills. Typically, we walked in through the bar, out the front door, and into the parking lot. Texas law prevented entering and leaving an establishment that served alcohol through the patio. As Dekk walked in the direction of the door that entered the bar, I stepped over the handrail and began walking across the parking lot toward the Fiat. “God damn it Ripp,” I heard him wail. I turned and looked around amongst the sparsely parked cars. There wasn’t a patron in the lot, or any cars coming or going. The overhang

from the covered patio prevented the customers in the bar and restaurant from seeing into this portion of the parking lot. I pressed my hands against the side of the car, close to the top, and pushed as hard as I could with my arms. The tires lifted in the air about two feet as I pushed the top upward. I released pressure and let the car drop to the ground. As it bounced up and down from my releasing it, Austin and A-Train stepped beside me. “Well, what’d you decide, boss?” Austin chuckled as he approached. “I think it’s a doable deal, but I’m going to need help,” I blinked my eyes and stared at the top of the car. “Well, let’s push this little fucker over. Car tippin’,” Austin said as he looked over each shoulder and leaned into the top of the car, pressing his hands against the top of the window. “Car tippin’,” I repeated as I pushed against the top of the car. The tires lifted above the ground roughly three feet, hovering at the height of my belt. I groaned and grunted, pressing with my legs against the weight of the car. Although it teetered back and forth, two men alone weren’t enough to push the car beyond the center of gravity, and cause it to roll over. As we released the weight, allowing the car to once again come crashing down, Shane walked up to the car.

“Almost,” A-Train laughed as he lit a cigarette. “You dumb drunken fucks. Let’s go before someone or everyone gets arrested,” Dekk said as he walked up to the group. “Car tippin’. Come on Austin, let’s get this,” I laughed as I pushed against the top of the car. Austin pressed against the top of the car, and together, we tipped it back to the same spot. The tires hovered above the parking lot at waist height. Although the car weighed a few thousand pounds, once it reached this point, it wasn’t difficult to hold it in this position. As we grunted and groaned, Dekk looked over his shoulders nervously. “You know,” A-Train said as he bit his cigarette in his teeth and stepped beside me. “Fucking men,” he shook his head and looked at Austin and me as we grunted and growled. “Even the best of us,” he grasped the rear fender of the car above the tire and looked over his right shoulder. “Need a reminder from time to time,” he grunted as he lifted up on the fender. “That there are some things we just can’t accomplish alone,” he pulled upward on the fender, lifting the car another six inches. As the three of us pushed against the car, and as soon as he finished saying what he had to say about things we just can’t accomplish alone, A-Train looked over his shoulder at Dekk. As he bit down

on the butt of his cigarette with his teeth, he took a slow drag and exhaled the smoke, stared at Dekk, and waited. Although I wasn’t sure, I believed A-Train was strong enough to help Austin and I tip over the car without any additional assistance. But he waited. “Sometimes it takes a friend to get us through the tough times,” A-Train turned his head to the right, looked me in the eye, and winked. After hearing that statement, Shane Dekkar walked up and shoved against the top of the car with all his might, growling as he did. With his assistance, immediately, the car toppled over. As we all stood and stared at the car, now on its side, I turned to my left and faced A-Train. He took another drag from his cigarette, pulled it from his mouth, and bent down to step on it. “Real friends don’t let their friends get in trouble alone,” he said as he stood and nonchalantly dropped the cigarette butt in his pocket. “That enough exercise for you Ripp, or you want to try and tip over that truck?” Dekk laughed as he pointed to the pickup truck parked a few stalls from where we stood. “Let’s get the fuck out of here,” I chuckled as I quickly started walking to where we parked. Teamwork. Friends. Until now, my only close

friend was Dekk. With this group, for some reason, I felt as if I could overcome anything. I stepped over the seat of my bike, and turned the key on. As I started the engine and revved it to a loud roar, I looked at the toppled car in the parking lot. Teamwork. Brotherhood. If I ended up in prison, I knew one thing for sure. These guys would take care of everything while I was gone. They’d have my back. And during this sure to be tough legal battle that I was beginning, they would certainly hold me up when and if I become incapable of standing on my own. The motor in Austin’s Mustang began to whine as he revved the engine. I looked to my left at Shane and A-Train, both sitting on their bikes, smiling and waiting. “Lead the way,” A-Train paused and nodded his head, “we got your back, brother.” And without hesitation or looking back, I released the clutch and grabbed a handful of throttle. My motorcycle sped through the parking lot and toward the street. And a former RECON Marine, a future Heavyweight Champion of the World, and a fucking dance instructor followed close behind. And I felt as if I could conquer the world.

AUSTIN FIGHTS

RIPP. “That fucking kid doesn’t have any god damned business in the boxing ring, Ripper. He’s a hot headed street fighter, and not a boxer. This gym isn’t yours, it’s mine. It’s for training boxers, not dicking around,” Kelsey crossed his arms in front of his chest and spit into the bucket on the floor beside the ring. “We all weren’t born boxers, boss. We all had to learn. I’m training fighters, and he wants to learn. So I’m training him,” I crossed my arms and spit in the bucket as I finished speaking. “You making fun of me, Ripper?” Kelsey asked as he spit in the bucket again. “Nope,” I said as I spit in the bucket. “And what’s the deal with that war torn crazy assed Marine that’s been hanging around?” Kelsey whispered as he nodded toward the ring.

“He stayed here when his friends went back from the ROT rally. He’s from Kansas. About ten hours north. It sounds like he might stay through the trial. And don’t talk shit, boss, he’s a good man,” I uncrossed my arms and turned toward the ring. A-Train and Austin were in the ring sparring lightly. Both wearing head gear, shorts and gloves, if it wasn’t for Austin’s visible hair and A-Train’s tattoos, they’d look like twins. Their body structure was almost identical. Long, lean muscle and a ripped torso, they both looked like fighters. “Well, if you’re actually going to train him, get your ass busy. Stop fucking around. If you’re just dicking around, go home and dick around. Don’t be dicking around here,” Kelsey bellowed. “Now when is the trial?” he asked softly as he leaned toward me. Kelsey could try as much as he wanted to be a hard ass, but deep down inside he truly cared for Dekk and I. We were like sons to him. His concern for my trial was genuine. Most states take forever to prosecute crimes. Some are quicker. Texas stands alone in that respect, with a lightning fast turnaround on the legal proceedings for felonies. They view it as a deterrent to commit crimes. Personally, I’d rather have it completed quickly. “She’s trying to get it moved up now. She said we have a right to a speedy trial, and most people

postpone them a few times. She’s asking to be pushed to the front of the docket. We’ll know in a few days. She filed a motion or something. So, I’ll know here pretty soon,” I responded. “Well, if you need anything Ripper, anything at all,” he opened his arms and shrugged as he took a few steps back. “Thanks. And it ain’t your gym, old man. It’s Joe’s. Now beat feet,” I said in a stern tone as I pointed toward the offices. “Asshole,” Kelsey responded as he spit on the floor. “If you two women don’t want to fight, get out of my god damned ring,” he screamed over his shoulder as he turned and walked toward the locker room. “Don’t spit on Joe’s floor old man,” I laughed as he walked away. I shook my head and turned to face the ring. “Well, what do you think, A-Train?” I asked as I leaned against the ropes. A-Train extended his arms toward Austin and locked his elbows. Austin pounded his gloves against A-Train’s, signaling a momentary truce. ATrain stepped to the ropes and worked the mouthpiece loose from his teeth. “He’s got good form, and great feet, but he’s damned slow to react. He’s about a second short on everything. He’s a good offensive fighter, but he

sure as fuck isn’t big enough, strong enough, or experienced enough to rely on offense. He’s got to learn to protect himself. Let me work with him for a week or two, I have a few ideas,” A-Train said as he caught his breath. “You think you’re better than me at teaching him?” I chuckled as I pushed against the ropes. “Not at all. I mean away from here. I want to teach him hand to hand combat. The basics. He’ll learn really quick how to react, and he’ll do it as second nature, not as a defense mechanism. It’ll all come natural to him after that. At least that’s what I’m thinking,” he raised his gloves to his sides with the palms turned up. “Shit, sounds fine to me,” I shrugged, “you guys ready to call it quits for now?” “Yeah, he’s worn out,” he responded. “Austin, let’s hit the showers,” I hollered. “Alright boss,” Austin said. As Austin and A-Train stepped out of the ring and began walking to the locker room, I looked around the gym. I’d been coming here for fifteen years or so, and this place, more than any other place, was home. I knew every crack in the concrete, every nook, and every little secret about what has happened here over the years. Kelsey and Joe were not only friends, but like uncles to me. This gym would soon enough be a stepping stone for every want-to-be fighter in the central United

States if Dekk won the championship. The thought of possibly sitting in prison for murder and not being here, not training fighters, and not being able to do what it is that I love doing began to fill my mind. Win or lose, I was ready for this to end. Mentally, it was becoming hard to accept. Not knowing your fate is a difficult thing. My future, by my own choice, would soon be on the shoulders of twelve of my peers. What they decided would be my fate, my future, and my life. I rubbed my hands on the thighs of my shorts and attempted to swallow the lump in my throat. As I looked around the gym, my phone rang. The ring tone was assigned to one person and one person only. My heart raced as I pulled my phone from my pocket and swiped the screen. “You at the gym, babe?” Vee asked. “I sure am, what’s up?” I asked. “We got a response to the motion,” she stated calmly. “And?” I asked. “Sixth,” she stated. “What does that mean?” I asked. “The sixth, Michael. The jury selection is the sixth, we need to get busy, babe,” she sighed. “The sixth, as in here in a few weeks?” I asked, feeling as if I was in shock. “Yes, Michael. The sixth. We talked about this,” she said softly.

“Yeah. Just. I don’t know. My heart’s racing. It’s weird to think about it,” I admitted as I kicked a piece of trash across the floor. “Well, you’re experienced at fighting in the ring, Michael. I’m experienced at fighting in the courtroom. Take a deep breath and trust me,” she said. “I’ll do my best,” I said as I bent over to pick up the trash. I felt bile rising in my throat as I thought about the trial. To talk about it was one thing. Now it was reality. Mere weeks away. As much as I wanted it to be over, this was almost too much to comprehend. To be brutally honest, I never want this date to arrive. But. I got myself into this mess, and I needed to be a man and stand up. “Are you alright?” she asked. I walked to the spit bucket at the corner of the ring, and dropped the trash inside. I attempted to swallow what had risen in my throat and provide an answer to Vee’s question, Are you alright? I wanted to say, fuck no I’m not alright. I’m going to trial for murder. I stared into the trash can, full of emotion and incapable of speaking. My knees felt weak. I reached out with my left hand and grasped the rope to steady myself as I stood clenching my phone in my right hand.

“Michael, are you alright?” she asked again. I stared into the trash can. I pulled the phone from my ear, looked at the screen, and pushed the mute button. She didn’t need to hear this. I centered my head over the spit bucket and vomited. As I knelt down on my knees and vomited until there was no more to vomit, I wondered if I made the right decision. Risking my freedom to stand up for something I truly believed in was not an easy thing. It was, without a doubt, right. But it wasn’t easy. I took a man’s life. Be it accidental or be it intentional, it happened. I needed to convince a jury that it was not my intention. According to Vee, I could not tell the jury the truth. I accidentally killed a man that raped my virgin sister. I hovered over the trash can and thought of Katie. Bug. My little sister. No matter the outcome, she’d live the rest of her life remembering what happened and how she lost her virginity. That piece of shit raped her. And he laughed about it. If I couldn’t stand up for myself, I needed to stand up for Bug. I grabbed a towel that hung from the ropes, wiped my mouth, and stood up. I turned my phone screen to face me and pressed the mute button, making the phone operational. “Babe?” I said as I wiped the side of my mouth with the towel. “Yes, Michael. Are you okay?” she asked.

“Sorry, babe. Yeah, I’m fine. I was just trying to find something. I found it, I’m okay,” I said softly. “What was it?” she asked. I looked into the trash can but I didn’t immediately respond. I had found what I was looking for. Courage. And I found it.

MENS REA

VEE. “So, beyond reasonable doubt does not mean beyond all doubt. Understand that. If the jurors believe that it’s reasonable to believe your guilty, you are just that; guilty,” I said as I paced the floor in front of the conference room table. “Now, your case is somewhat unique. You’ll stand before the jurors, guilty. You killed him, Michael. There’s no denying that you did. You admit it. What it gets down to is why. Why did you kill him? What I, no, I guess what we need to convince the jurors is this – that you killed him for a reason that every one of them would have chosen as well. All we need is one juror to side with you and stick with his initial belief, and we’ll at minimum have a hung jury,” I stopped pacing and focused on Michael. “What’s that mean, really?” he shifted his focus

from the table to my face. “It means they, the jurors, were incapable of reaching a decision in a reasonable amount of time. You can be retried, because you weren’t found guilty or innocent. A lot of times when the jury is hung, the state will refuse to retry it, for fear of losing or having another hung jury. It’s kind of like a tie, no one really wins,” I raised my right hand to my mouth and thought. “The facts of this case are simple. If we get a hung jury, they probably won’t retry it. They’re not going to go dig up any additional facts about you or the alleged crime. They’re not going to make a better case, a more solid case. Like I said, you did it. But why you did it is our ticket out. You were in fear for your life. Do you understand that?” I asked. “Yeah,” he responded as he ran his hands along the edge of the table. I slapped my hands against the conference room table. Immediately, Michael sat up in his chair and stared at me. “What the fuck,” he whined as he looked up. “Talk like that again, Michael. Talk like a fucking southern Texas boy, and that jury will hang your dumb acting ass. Say yeah in court. I fucking swear, you can either get on board, or find another god damned attorney. Do you understand me?” I growled.

“Yes,” he responded. “One better,” I paused. “Yes ma’am,” I said in a stern tone. “You were in fear for your life. Do you understand me?” I asked harshly. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “You went there to talk to him about your sister. We’ll make something up. Who gives a fuck? He’s dead and no one can say why they think you went here. There is no place for thoughts or opinions in the courtroom. This is a room full of only facts. So, you went there to talk about your sister. He was dating her. It was to be a friendly talk. Tests have shown that although he wasn’t completely drunk, he had been drinking alcohol, and was on the cusp of being legally drunk. He made a judgment call, and he didn’t recognize you. He pulled a gun, and you reacted. You were in fear for your life. That’s all you know. Remember that, scared to death. You saw a gun and you freaked out,” I hesitated and looked down at where he was seated. “Good answer. Okay we’re going to play as if I am the prosecutor, like we did earlier. Remember, they can’t just ask random blanket questions, and if he tries, I’ll attack his ass like a fucking shark. Now, anything he asks; anything at all. Don’t fucking answer. He asks what color your fucking watch is, you don’t respond. You count to three.

One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three onethousand. White, sir. It gives you time to think, and me time to object. So, no matter what, you count to three. Everything he asks. Okay, you ready?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Uncross your arms. It makes it appear as if you’re defensive or uncomfortable. Learn that. You’ll need to sit with your hands on your thighs. No matter what, keep your hands in your lap, one on each thigh. If you get nervous, stop and take a drink of water, regroup mentally, and start over. But always keep your hands in your lap. It’ll drive the prosecution crazy because he won’t be able to figure out what you’re thinking,” I said as I patted my thighs with my palms. “So, Mr. Ripton, on the night in question, you drove to the home of the deceased, is that correct?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he waited a few seconds and responded. “Where were you prior to arriving at the decease home?” I asked. “And I will object. Because it isn’t any of his fucking business,” I added before he could answer. “If questioning like that is introduced, and I don’t catch it, it opens a line of questions that will allow him to make mincemeat of our case. Let me

explain how this works. Stick with me. Are you paying attention, Michael?” I looked across the table, making note of his hands being placed firmly in his lap. “Yes ma’am,” he responded after a few second delay. That’s my Michael, you’re doing well. “Okay, if I let him come at you with a question like that, to some attorneys, it may seem like no big deal. To me, it’s suicide. He asks if you drove. You say yes. He asks some other question or questions to make you comfortable. Your age. Where you went to school. Then, he asks where you came from. You say your parent’s home. He asks if you’re nervous. You say yes. He’ll ask if you’ve ever been in a court room, and I’d object. Then he asks what you were doing at your parents. You say eating. He acts surprised for a moment, and walks to his desk in the courtroom, opens a file, and walks back to in front of where you’re seated. He then states, well, Mr. Ripton, the day in question is a Sunday. The Sabbath. You left Sunday dinner with your family to drive to your sister’s former boyfriend’s home, and you want us to believe you did so just to talk? And I’d be standing there with my dick in my hand. That is if I had a dick,” I turned to face Michael. He blinked and stared, as if confused. “I’m fucked,” he sighed as he looked down at

the table. “No, you’re not. You have me. I may let you run over me in the bed room, but in the court room, I’ll tear this prosecution team limb by mother fucking limb like the savage little bitch that I am. You see, Michael, the reason I need you to take charge in the bedroom is simple. In the courtroom, something inside of me takes over. It takes charge. And when it’s over, I feel like I’ve been possessed by a beast. I need someone to just take over when I’m done. But in that courtroom, you do what I say, how I say, and in the manner I advise you to do so, understood?” I asked as I pulled the chair from the table. “Yes ma’am,” he responded softly as he stared at the edge of the table. “Michael?” I asked as I sat down in the chair. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he looked up. “Do you trust me?” I asked as I reached over the table, holding my hand in the center. He nodded his head and wiped his hands on his shorts. “You didn’t possess the mens rea element of the crime, and it’s required that you possess a criminal mind to be convicted. The guilty mind. The proceeding with the crime after you realized the act itself was criminal. You had no guilty mind. You never believed you were doing wrong. You were in fear for your life. It’s just that fucking

simple. You remember nothing. You remember a gun. You remember trying to save yourself. You don’t remember direction. You don’t remember anything. You don’t remember anything but a gun, and you reacted. And when you finally realized what had happened, you were on the porch, calling the police. “Do you trust me?” I asked again, my hand still hovering over the table. He swallowed an audible lump and nodded his head. “Yes ma’am,” he said softly. “Prove it,” I clenched my fist. He raised his right hand and extended it to the center of the table, holding it a few inches from mine. As he looked up and into my eyes, he smiled. “I pizz you,” he said as he bumped my fist. “I got this,” I said as I pressed my knuckles into his. “And I pizz you back.”

GRAND DAD JACK

RIPP. A person can physically prepare for trial. Going through the motions, practicing testimony, practicing how to sit, what to say, and what not to say, and when to say it might prepare me for the courtroom, but the fear of going to prison filled me as the court date approached. My family and my friends were more important to me than anything, and I’ll stand up for them as long as I’m able, but it didn’t make it any easier. I didn’t admit to my family or my friends how scared I was about the court, trial, or potentially going to prison. I didn’t even tell Vee. I wanted each and every one of them to think that I was as together mentally as I was physically. Fact of the matter was nothing could be further from the truth. I was scared to death, and I wanted this nightmare to end.

“I figured I’d find you here, son,” my father said as he walked up to the merry-go-round. I looked up and nodded my head. I thought for a moment about speaking, but no meaningful words came to mind. As I slowly swung in a circle on the contraption, I felt like two hundred and fifty pounds of absolutely nothing. I looked at my father partially filled with shame and a little embarrassed. “I remember when you were a kid you used to run up here naked. You’d be wearing nothing but those damned shoes, those Chucks,” he stood and waited for the merry-go-round to catch up with where he stood. As the ride rotated me past where he stood, he stepped quickly to catch up, and plopped down beside me. “Never much cared for these damned things. Always made me want to puke,” he said over his left shoulder. As my toes drug through the dirt, I gripped the edge of the platform I was sitting on and looked up into his eyes. “What’s going on, son?” he asked as he looked down at the trail of dust I was kicking up. I swallowed what appeared to be a now permanent lump that resided in my throat and opened my mouth. “Kind of scared a little, I suppose,” I said softly.

I sounded like I was a child again. The presence of fathers and fear tend to do that to even the toughest of us. “I’m gonna call bullshit on that one, son. You ain’t never been scared of anything in your life. I believe you’re filled with a little uncertainty. That and maybe a small slice of regret. Uncertainty is or I suppose could be expected. Hell, your freedom is in question. I can’t imagine you being locked up. It’d bring me to my knees if that happened. Hell, the amount of time they’re talking about locking you up,” he hesitated and looked over his shoulder again. “Twenty years? Shit, I’ll be dead by the time you get out. But you want to know something, Michael?” he asked. I knew better than to try and answer. I did what I’d been doing a lot of in Vee’s office. I nodded slowly. “I’ll die proud as fuck of you, boy. Let me tell you something. When I’m done talking, you and I are going to stand up and go to dinner. They’re all waiting - your friends, your girlfriend, and the rest of the family. I know this is Sunday. And I know the trial starts tomorrow, but all I have to say - I can say it real quick,” he paused and placed his left hand on my right thigh. I drug my toes through the dirt until the ride stopped.

“That boy, Tucker. He raped your sister. As far as I’m concerned, that’s a crime far worse than murder. I hate to sound like a man without a soul, but I imagine, and I can’t say that I’d disagree, that there’ll be a time in her life or maybe many times when Bug wishes that son-of-a-bitch would have killed her. But he didn’t. You went there, he pulled a gun, and we all know what happened next. You did what you had to do to protect yourself. You’re a fighter, son. You come by it naturally. You remember my father, don’t you?” he asked as he tapped his hand on my leg. “Yes sir,” I responded as I looked up. “Well, your grandfather fought in the second World War. He fought to preserve your right to fight in court, holding the Constitution in front of you as preservation of those rights. So, now you have been charged with a crime, murder, and you have an opportunity to stand up and fight, and say I’m not guilty, it was self-defense. You have that right because your grandfather, and people like your grandfather were willing to fight to preserve your right to fight against people, systems, or factions of our government that attempt to try to take that right or your freedom from you,” he paused and looked over his shoulder. “What do you think your grandfather would do if he was charged with this murder?” he asked. I blinked my eyes and thought of my

grandfather, who had now been dead for a few years. He was a fighter, and died fighting cancer. He never gave up. He was the most sensible man I had ever met. He had a little bit of a temper, and a lot of enthusiasm for any and everything that he believed in. He was a difficult man to convince that he was wrong, but he’d be the first to admit it if he was. As I recalled my grandfather, his simple way of living, the way he carried himself, and his moral fiber, I turned to my father and smiled. “Grand Dad Jack?” I asked, my voice cracking under the emotion I was feeling. He nodded. “He’d fight these bastards,” I responded without hesitation. “Regardless of what the risk was, regardless of the offer of a lesser prison sentence, and regardless of what he stood to lose?” my father scrunched his brow and looked as if he didn’t know the answer. “Yes sir,” I responded. “Why?” he asked. I swallowed and thought of an answer that would give my grandfather the recognition he deserved. “Well, because he was a fighter. He stood up for those who couldn’t or wouldn’t stand up for themselves,” I said proudly. My father lifted his hand from my leg, stood from the merry-go-round, and turned to face me.

“And who are you, son? What do you stand for,” he asked as he crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m a fighter,” I said as I stood from the merry-go-round. As he uncrossed his arms and spread them as wide as they were able, I hugged him. I couldn’t recall the last time I hugged my father, or the last time we had a serious talk. Although I was thirty one, I stood, wrapped in his arms, feeling as if I were a twelve year old kid again. In many respects, I have never grown up. As he held me in his arms, I realized that on the following day, for the first time in my adult life, I needed to be accountable. I needed to be a man, and I needed to be responsible for my actions. “I’ll make you proud,” I breathed over his shoulder. “You already have son,” he responded, “You already have.”

NOODLE ANYONE?

RIPP. Anyone that believes they know what God’s will is, in my mind, is mistaken. We all have an idea, if we believe in God, what we believe his will to be. No one knows. We like to believe that we do, but we don’t. It all comes down to what we believe. From the time that we’re children, we begin to develop a system of beliefs of what we choose to categorize as right and wrong. Most people share the same beliefs on matters of morality. When were exposed to an event that requires us to make a split second decision, we all react differently. I try to expose myself to everything that life offers me. It causes me to make a lot of decisions, some of which I’m sure make God look down on me and shake his head. Other times, I’m sure he nods his head and smiles, knowing I did what he wanted me to. I am able, regardless, to live my life

knowing that no matter what I do or did, I did so believing at the time that it was what needed to be done, considering all things. There’s absolutely nothing a man can do to prepare to go to trial. Mentally preparing to walk into a room and allow twelve people you don’t know decide what their thoughts are on an event that they didn’t see, participate in, or witness in any way is impossible. Maybe there are things that can ease your mind. But preparation? I don’t think there’s anything a man can do to prepare. “Well, tomorrow’s the big day, are you ready?” Vee asked as she pulled back the comforter. “I suppose so,” I said as I sat on the edge of the bed. “I have your shirt, shoes, tie, suit, and glasses all out and ready. I even have extra shirts pressed just in case you spill something, so no worries,” she smiled. Yeah, no worries. “No worries,” I did my best to grin. “Well, starting tomorrow, it’s going to be hectic until it’s over,” she said as she climbed into the bed. “Yeah, I know. I’m as ready as I’m going to get,” I raised my hands and rubbed my head. “You know, if we don’t have sex now, we might not be able to for a while. I mean, it could be…” Her voice trailing off was a reminder of what could be. I could go into court, have a two day trial,

and be found guilty. That guilty verdict would cause them to arrest me for murder, place me in jail, transport me to prison, and there I would sit for anywhere between ten and twenty years. The thought of it made me sick. The thought of losing Vee made me feel even sicker. I sat and realized I may never see her again. Who would wait ten years? Not one person. As she pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the floor, I looked at her athletic body and her soft tanned skin. Her perky nipples stood at attention. My cock, on the other hand, didn’t. She reached up and started pinching her nipples in between her fingers and thumbs, something she often did. I enjoyed watching her do it, and it always made me want her immediately. Tonight, as I watched her. Nothing. “I uhhm. I need to go to the bathroom, I’ll be right back,” I said as I stood and turned to the doorway. “I’ll be right here, babe,” she smiled. As I walked to the bathroom, I reached into my pocket and felt my cock through the fabric of my pocket. Soft. I pulled the bathroom door closed and turned on the faucet at the sink. I pulled my shorts down

and gripped my cock. As I started to stroke it, I knew in advance what was going to happen. I could just tell. This was a man’s worst nightmare, and something that had never happened to me, and I hoped never would happen again. Frantic, I stroked faster and faster. Nothing. I thought of Vee sucking my cock. Nothing. I thought of her bent over the bed, her perfect heart shaped ass below me as I pounded her full of ten inches of pierced cock. I looked down. Two inches of shriveled flesh looked back. This was probably something I should have expected. My mind was full of every possibility of what the detectives might say, who might show up to testify, and what a monster they might try to convince the jury that I was, had been, and had become that day at Tucker’s home. I pulled up my shorts and turned off the water. As I walked back into the bed room, Vee was still playing with her nipples. I pulled off my shirt and tossed it on the floor as I sat on the edge of the bed. I reached for the waist of my short, began to unbutton them, and hesitated. “You know, babe,” I said as I smiled and knelt down on the bed. I couldn’t let this woman down. And I didn’t want her to know what I was going through

mentally, physically, or emotionally. “I don’t want to cheapen this night up with making it feel like we’re forced to have sex when what I really want to do it this,” I said as I pulled back the covers and began to force my way between her thighs. As I lowered my face between her legs, she spread her thighs apart and exhaled a heavy sigh. Slowly, I began to lick her pussy and finger her softly. As she moaned in pleasure I looked up and into her eyes and winked. I closed my eyes and realized if I couldn’t give her what she hoped for, I could sure attempt to make her happy with what it was that I could offer her. I buried my face in her pussy and began to tickle her clit with my tongue. “Holy fuck, Michael. Oh…my…God. That feels…so,” she raised her hips and paused. “Good,” she sighed. I continued to work my finger in and out of her pussy and suck her clit. As she began to moan, I flicked the tip of my tongue along her clit as rapidly as I could. I increased the speed of my finger as I slid it in and out of her soaking wet pussy. Slowly and with rhythm, she began to buck her hips against my face. After less than a minute of her hip gyrations and my Lickle trick, her breathing changed. She began to breathe heavily and moan loudly.

“Ripp…” “Stop…I think…I…think…I’m going to…die,” she breathed. I continued to flick my tongue against her clit and lick her pussy as rapidly as my tongue would allow. I have great control over my tongue and I was giving her all I had. As I did my best to please the woman that I loved, she pulled her hips from me, attempting to bury her ass into the bed. She was almost there. I continued to torture her clit with the tip of my tongue as my finger worked in and out of her wetness. As I felt her begin to contract deep inside, I pressed her clit between my upper lip and the tip of my tongue. “Holy fuck, I’m…” “Oh…” “Oh my…” “God…” I continued to suck and lick as I held my finger deep inside of her, curling the tip of it upward. As I licked her clit, she moaned and groaned as she attempted to pull herself away from my mouth. As she pulled away, I followed her, pressing my face into her further. “Stop. I can’t…” “I can’t, Ripp. Michael. Whoever you are. Just stop. Give me…” “Give me a minute. Jesus. What the fuck was

that?” she raised herself onto her elbows and looked at me, confused. “Lickle. It’s…uhhm,” I wiped her cum from my face. “It’s licking and tickling at the same time,” I held my tongue out and wiggled the tip of it so she could see. “So you can repeat it?” she asked. “Yep, I invented it,” I responded. “Lickle?” she asked. “Yep,” I smiled. “Huh. Okay. Well, give me a minute, I really need it. That was intense, holy crap. I uhhm. I’ve never really had an orgasm like that,” she breathed. “From having your pussy licked?” I asked. “No, yes. I have, yes. Just not like that - from doing anything. That was….well, it was intense. It felt like there were a million little pins inside of me poking me or something. I don’t know, it’s difficult to describe,” she blinked her eyes and grinned as she shook her head. “Well, maybe here in an hour you’ll have a better understanding of how to describe it,” I chuckled. “In an hour? Why’s that?” she asked. “Because,” I slid my finger inside her pussy and curled the tip upward. She tilted her head back and moaned. “I’m going to,” I curled the tip of my finger

again. “Oh God, Michael,” she sighed. I curled the tip of my finger again and pressed my lips into her pussy. I licked from my finger to her clit, twice, and looked up. “Do this to you,” I licked her pussy again. “For an hour,” I kissed her clit and looked up toward her face. Her head was tilted backward and all I could see was her chin and neck. I held my finger still and waited. As she tilted her head forward, she smiled and shook her head. “An hour?” she grinned as she shook her head. “Well,” I turned my wrist and looked at my watch. “Fifty-eight minutes now,” I grinned. “You’re serious?” she asked. I nodded my head and looked at my watch. “Fifty-seven,” I chuckled. She reached back and gripped the headboard in her hands, squeezing it tightly. She looked at me and shook her head, flipping her hair over her shoulders. “Well, who would have thought the best night of my life would be the night before my boyfriend went to trial for murder? You sure know how to make a woman happy, Mr. Ripton,” she paused and blinked her eyes, still gripping the headboard in each hand.

“Now get busy, we’re wasting valuable time,” she grinned as she nodded her head. And with that nod of approval, I buried my face into the pussy of the only woman that I trusted with my life. And I treated her to the only thing I could, at his particular moment, treat her to. Complete and utter satisfaction. Fifty-six minutes worth.

OPENING STATEMENTS

RIPP. “You may be seated,” the bailiff said sharply as the judge sat down. This could have been just another day in court for Vee, but it was nothing short of a nightmare for me. Covered in sweat, wearing a new suit, new shoes, and black glasses, I looked like a misplaced Wall Street executive with a shaved head. I felt as if I was aware of my surroundings, but incapable of truly understanding what was happening. The courtroom was extremely large, full of ornate wood trim, and wooden benches. The overall feel was very intimidating to me. The judge sat on the right side of the courtroom on an elevated platform. Vee and I were seated in the center at a large desk, and the prosecution team was seated to our left. The jurors were directly in front, but across the courtroom from where Vee and I were seated.

Immediately behind the prosecution, somewhat hidden by a series of large wooden column, was a seating area for spectators and family. “For the record, this is in the matter of the state of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton. The charge,” the judge looked down over the top of his glasses onto the upper desk and shuffled through a stack of paperwork. Does he not even know why we’re here? He has no idea what’s going on. I’m so fucked. “Murder in the second degree,” he said as he looked up from the sheet of paper that he held. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have selected the jury, which I might add took considerably longer than I expected. This case was pushed to the front of the docket for reasons unknown. I feel compelled to remind you the court’s time is valuable, and I ask that you remember this as we proceed through this simple case of murder in the second degree. We’ll begin with opening statements,” he paused, looked down at his watch, and hesitated. “And I imagine following that, I may provide the jury with their instructions, and we’ll call it a day. Now, there are people in my courtroom, seated in the rear. I like to know who is in my courtroom, and I will ask that each of you stand, one at a time, and introduce yourself. Please explain to the court

if you are here in support of the plaintiff or the defendant, and your association, if any. Please begin with the far right seat in the front and proceed in order,” he removed his glasses and held them in his hand as he looked across the courtroom. As Vee had instructed me, I stared straight ahead, emotionless. “Alec Jacob, sir. Decorated force RECON Marine, sir. Five Purple Hearts, four tours, sir. I am a friend of the defendant, sir.” “I’m Teddy. I mean, uhhm…Kelsey Theodore Wilson. I’m friends with the defendant, sir.” “Kelli Parks, your honor. The defendant, we’re good friends.” “Dr. Erik Ead, your honor. Here in support of the defendant.” “Sir, Derek Jackson. The defendant. Close personal friend, your honor.” My heart began to feel strange. As if it was on the verge of exploding. A-Train and his crew had arrived originally to box in a fund raiser we were having at the gym during the ROT Rally. It started as a joke, or a bet that they had made in the club. Erik and A-Train had boxed, and both had won their matches; A-Train by forfeit, and Erik by an almost immediate knockout. In two days, the Motorcycle Club went back to Kansas, and A-Train remained in Texas. After A-Train learned of my legal problems,

and what I had been charged with, he explained that dealing with death wasn’t easy. He further clarified by explaining his military involvement, his knowledge of dealing with the emotions associated with death, and his belief that I would be incapable of going through this alone. Alone, to him, meant not having someone that had dealt with a similar situation. He was, by his explanation, experienced in dealing with death. He assured me he’d stick around as long as he had to. A-Train’s motorcycle club traveling seven hundred miles to support me was far more than I was capable of comprehending. As they spoke, my heart and mind filled with emotion. I felt small. Humble. This was brotherhood. This was friendship. These people came to provide me with support. As they continued to speak, I swallowed my permanent lump, stared straight ahead, and slowly inhaled Vee’s scent. “Steve Easter, your honor. Here for the defendant.” “Gene Parks, your honor. Retired United States Navy and decorated Vietnam veteran. Here in support of the defendant.” I started to understand what was happening. The jurors were seeing and hearing this level of support. The court room was full of people supporting me. There were none for the deceased. They’d have to wonder why. Now, I looked like I

was in the right from the beginning. I had so many people supporting me, some of which were decorated military veterans, and one a doctor. Regardless of the value these people held as a matter of the legal process, it would look good in the eyes of the jury. “Lewis Ripton, your honor. Father of the defendant.” “Shirley Ripton, your honor. Mother of the defendant.” “Austin Malone, sir. Friends of the defendant.” “Kelsey O’Reilley, your honor. Close personal friend of the defendant and local business owner.” “Murphy, your honor. Joe Murphy. Local business owner. Close friend of the defendant for fifteen years.” “Kace Meadows, your honor. I work for Mr. Martin’s office, and I am fiancé to the future Heavyweight Champion of the World.” That damned girl. I love her. “Shane Dekkar, your honor.” Fucking Dekk. Humble bastard. “Well,” the judge said as he fitted his glasses onto his face. “I ask that you stay seated through the proceedings. Barring any emergencies, I ask that you remain in the courtroom. I am not a fan of people going in and out of my courtroom - it’s disruptive to the process. Lastly, and this is an

important one to me, cell phones will remain off. No exceptions. Even Doctors,” he looked over the top of his glasses toward the rear of the courtroom. “Now, I will allow five minutes for openers. No more. Use your watches if you have them, but we’re going by the book in my courtroom. Counsel, proceed at will,” the judge stated as he leaned back into his chair. The prosecutor stood, walked to the center of the courtroom, took a deep breath, turned to face us, and began. “Counsel,” he nodded his head toward us and turned to face the jury. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, Judge Black, friends and family, I’m the prosecutor, Matthew Triston. I represent the great state of Texas. I proudly do so, because in my mind, Texas stands well above the rest of the states. Why, you may ask?” he slowly paced before the jury as he spoke. “Because Texas is a state that is known to prosecute criminals for crimes other states may look beyond. Texas is the largest state in the United States of America. From border to border the state is full of people, and although we might attempt to prevent it, full of crime. One thing, ladies and gentlemen, which separates this state,” he slowly turned to face me and paused. “Would be our willingness to prosecute those that have gone beyond what our laws allow. In this

case, the state will present facts ladies and gentlemen, facts in support of the charges against the defendant, Mr. Ripton. The facts will support that the defendant,” he paused and pointed his finger to where I was seated. “Did, on the date in question, choke the deceased to death as he attempted to defend his home with a legally owned and registered firearm. As you may or may not be aware, firearms in the state of Texas are not only legal, allowed, and utilized by residents - they’re encouraged. A firearm in this state may be used to defend your life or the life of your family if you feel that your life is in danger. One doesn’t need to prove their life is in danger, only reasonable belief is needed,” he paused and turned to the right. Vee slowly stood. “Your honor, I have never objected to an opening statement in my career, but I feel compelled to do so now,” she said in a voice I was unfamiliar with. She sounded mean. Tactful, but mean. The prosecutor stopped speaking. “Are you objecting, counsel?” the judge asked. “Yes, your honor, I certainly am,” she responded. “Grounds?” he asked. “Prosecutorial misconduct. Your honor, respectfully of course, I will remind the court of the

following,” she paused and inhaled a short breath. “The opening statement is utilized to present the jury with the intent of the state as well as the defense in regard to intended presentation of the case. The instruction of law to the jury is a matter of the honorable court, through the judge, to direct to the jury as the case requires. The opening statement is not, however, a vehicle for prosecution to opine in regard to law. The prosecutor is currently instructing the jury as to what the law will or will not allow. Our laws, and cases that precede this one, your honor, prevent this. Instructions to the jury, regarding law, are to only come from you, your honor. Thank you,” she pressed her hands against the backs of her thighs, straightened her skirt, and sat down. The judge sat up in his chair and leaned onto the large platform in front of him. “Mr. Triston, counsel raises a valid argument in regard to law. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this is not television. This is not a movie, this is as real as it gets, and sometimes it is not pretty. There are laws in place which prevent prosecution, defense, as well as courtrooms from overstepping particular boundaries. Defense counsel raised a question regarding Mr. Triston’s presentation of his intent, in regard to the case, to you. I side with the defense. Mr. Triston, you have been warned. Instruction of law will come from this court and this court only.

Proceed,” the judge said as he leaned into his chair. Holy. Shit. This is getting good. “Stare straight ahead, Michael. No emotion. No smirk, no smile,” Vee whispered. I stared straight ahead through the remainder of prosecution’s short opening statement. All I heard after Vee’s outburst were muddled statements. “Counsel,” the judge said into the microphone. Vee stood and slowly walked to the center of the courtroom. “Your honor,” she nodded toward the judge. “Mr. Triston,” she turned to face the prosecutor’s table. “Family and friends of the defendant,” she nodded at the people seated in the rear of the courtroom. “And ladies and gentlemen of jury, I am Vivian Simon. I am hired legal counsel for the defendant, Michael A. Ripton,” she walked toward the short wooden wall that separated the elevated jury platform from the open courtroom. “What we believe and what we know. This case is so simple, I don’t need nor will I use the five allotted minutes. I will, however, take a few moments of your time to ask you to listen to what I have to say. As this case proceeds, regardless of the information that is presented, I will ask that you continually ask yourselves how you would have reacted in the same situation. This is a case that is

supported by beliefs, ladies and gentlemen,” she paused and turned to face the prosecutor. “Prosecution,” she gestured to the prosecution’s table. “Believes the defendant acted in a manner that is contrary to law,” she turned to face the jurors. “I believe the defendant acted in self-defense. I will present facts that will support the following,” she raised a finger. “One, the deceased was at home with alcohol in his bloodstream, and possessed a loaded weapon.” She raised another finger. “Two, the deceased was an associate of the defendant, a friend of the defendant’s family, and had no reason to believe his life was or would be in danger.” “Three, when the deceased was approached by the defendant, he brandished the weapon.” “And the defendant acted in self-defense.” “It’s.” “That.” “Simple.” “Now, I will leave you with this. Ask yourselves through this legal proceeding, have you ever had an occasion to drink alcoholic beverages? And if so, have you ever through the course of drinking these beverages believed you were not intoxicated at the time, but woke up with regret as a result of the drinking?” she hesitated and raised her hand again.

“Even once? Ever?” she asked. “One. Simple. Regret?” her voice elevated as she extended one finger in the air. “Beliefs ladies and gentlemen. What we believe and what we know. I believe that the deceased, God bless his soul, would be here today filled with regret for having pulled that weapon on someone that he knew. But we can’t ask him. He threatened a life by pointing a loaded weapon at the head of the defendant. The defendant acted in a manner that was necessary to save his own life. The deceased cannot express his regret.” “If we, as citizens, are allowed to point a loaded weapon at anyone who comes to the door, and shoot them, this isn’t a state that I will continue to live in. Ladies and gentlemen, what we believe and what we know,” she turned from the jury and began to walk toward where I was seated. As she almost reached the table, she turned around and began to speak in her mean voice. “Believe, ladies and gentlemen, what you believe. I will have a seat knowing. Knowing I would have reacted in the same manner as the defendant. Ask yourselves as we proceed, and as prosecution rests their case. How would you have reacted?” “That is all, your honor,” she said as she turned to face the judge. I wanted to stand and clap my hands.

Holy. Fuck. “Mr. Triston?” the judge said into the microphone. “Nothing further your honor,” the prosecutor said as he stood. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I will leave you with this. Do not talk about this case tonight with others or amongst yourselves. No outside influence should be considered or allowed. Only what happens in this courtroom as presented by the two sides is to be considered. Please do not research on the internet regarding law. Law, as it is applicable to this case, will be provided through yours truly after the entire case is presented. I thank you for your time in this case and for your service,” the judge said clearly into his microphone. “You are dismissed until tomorrow,” the judge said to the jurors. After the jurors walked out of the courtroom in a single file line, the bailiff placed his hands on his hips. “All rise,” the bailiff bellowed. As we stood, the judge rose from his chair and walked through a door in the rear of the area where he had been seated. I turned to face Vee and smiled. “Good? Bad?” I whispered. She bent down, and clutched the files that were placed on the desk in front of us. As she stood up,

files in hand, she turned to face me and said exactly what I expected her to say. “I got this.”

AT THE HANDS OF A SAVAGE

VEE. The presentation of the prosecution’s case was simple, and uncovered no surprises or hidden jewels. In their expressed opinion, Michael went to the home of the deceased, the deceased acted in a manner that would support defending his home, and Michael overreacted - choking him to death. One thing, in my professional opinion, that we had in our favor was the fact that there are no living witnesses with the exception of Michael. The opera isn’t over until the fat lady sings, I’ve always said. And this was far from over. Prosecution had completed questioning the detectives, the medical examiner, and had finished direct examination of Michael. Michael, still seated in the witness stand, appeared nervous, but no more than previous clients I had defended. His testimony had been clear, concise, and without emotion. I

stood as his attorney, and as his girlfriend, but I stood proud of him. Very proud. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ll break for lunch. One hour,” the judge said as he looked at his watch. “Be back in this courtroom no later than twelve fifty. Jurors, the deputy will direct you to your lunchroom. I ask that you not leave the courthouse,” he stated. He turned and spoke to Michael, who immediately rose from his seat and walked to where I was seated. Seeing him in a suit, a tie, and wearing the Rayban glasses was quite a sight. He looked like a bald headed GQ model. As Michael reached his seat, he quietly sat down. “You’re adjourned,” the judge said to the jurors. After the jurors cleared the courtroom, the bailiff barked. “All rise,” he stated. As we stood, the judge rose and exited into his chambers. “There’s a café downstairs. We’ll go down there and eat. I hate to say this, but we’ll need to eat alone. I’ll need your attention for the entire time, and not have you focused on your friends and family,” I stated as I slid my files to the edge of the table. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “In case I forget, when we’re there, you’re

going to get hot peppers on your sandwich. Don’t forget. No matter what, okay?” “Hot peppers? Why?” he asked. “Because I said so. And we need them,” I responded. With a confused look, he nodded his head. After the courtroom was clear of Michael’s friends and family, prosecution exited the courtroom, followed by the detectives. I lifted the files from the desk and nodded at Michael. “We’ll stop at the bathroom on the way down the hall. Now, follow me, don’t talk to anyone, and if you see a juror, stay clear and do not speak. Understand?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he tapped the temple of his glasses lightly. After exiting the courtroom, we quietly walked down the corridor to the bathroom. As I stood in the hallway and began to speak to Michael, a detective from the trial exited the bathroom. As he walked past where we stood, he turned and looked at us over his shoulder. “You always defend the men you’re fucking, counsel?” the detective said under his breath as he walked away. “What’d you say motherfucker?” Michael turned to face the detective and removed his glasses. “Stand down, Michael. Not a word,” I said

sternly as I held my files at arm’s length. “Take these,” I demanded. “Yes ma’am,” he grunted as he accepted the files. “You listen to me you simple minded prick. What I do on my time is my business, and not one fucking bit of it involves, should concern, or has a god damned thing to do with you,” I walked toward the detective, paused, and took a breath. As I paused, he scoffed and turned to walk away. “Stop asshole, I’m not done with you,” I stated. He continued to walk toward the elevator. “Texas penal code thirty-six dot zero five, witness tampering, motherfucker. A person commits an offense if, with intent to influence a witness, he offers, confers, or agrees to confer,” I half screamed down the hallway. He immediately stopped walking, and turned to face me before I finished citing the law. “That is state law. Federally, which is my forte, it will get you prison time, not jail time. Eighteen USC fifteen twelve, more specifically, section “Two”, subsection “A”, I believe; whoever attempts to influence, delay or prevent the testimony in any official proceeding…” I paused as he began to slowly walk towards where we stood. “What do you want counsel?” the detective

asked as he stopped about ten feel from us. “Want? Want? What do I want? I want world peace, a dozen roses, gasoline below two dollars a gallon, and to live in the perfect weather in sunny San Diego, but you can’t solve those problems. You see, you’re a lowly detective third class in Austin, Texas, and you can’t grant wishes. So, I want respect from you and every other cock sucker in this courtroom. I don’t want it because I’m an attorney, a woman, or because I have some selfesteem issues that require praise. I want it because I have earned it, and I am continuing to earn it. I’m kicking the prosecution’s ass, and we both know it. It’s why you talked shit when you came out of the bathroom,” I paused and shook my head at his ridiculous childlike behavior. He turned toward the elevator and took one step. “I’m.” “Not.” “Done,” I growled. He hesitated, and turned to face me. “Listen detective. In this courtroom, stay clear of us. Your intimidation tactics aren’t going to work. On the street, you want to walk up and talk shit, fine. But just remember, that big motherfucker behind me,” without turning around, I pointed over my shoulder at Michael. “He’ll be with me. And one thing he hates more

than people that disrespect women is fucking cops. Have a nice day detective,” I nodded, pressed my hands against my pencil shirt, and pursed my lips. “Holy shit,” Michael breathed. “Shut it, Michael,” I said as I turned around. “I explained this once. The courtroom is my playground. In the bedroom, I’ll cower at your feet and be your submissive little girl - but in here? Everyone’s my bitch. And, just in case you’re wondering, that includes you. Now hand me my motherfucking files,” I demanded as I held my hand out. “Yes ma’am,” he said as he handed me the files. “Now, go piss and let’s go get you fed. You have an afternoon of testimony at the hands of a savage,” I said as I tucked the files under my arm. “Who? Prosecution again?” he asked. “No, me,” I responded. “Now go piss,” I pointed to the bathroom door. “Yes ma’am,” he said wide eyed over the top of his glasses. Yes ma’am. I like the sound of that. Until tonight.

UNDERFUCKING STANDING

VEE. Obtaining testimony from a witness is a balancing act. The facts in this case, in its entirety, could be summarized in one simple sentence. Michael went to the home of the deceased, entered the home, was challenged with a weapon, and broke the now deceased plaintiff’s neck. It’s that simple. Presentation of the facts in that manner, to the jury, would be suicide for Michael. Properly worded questions prompt proper responses. Proper responses lead to additional questions, which if presented properly, continue the process. The jury, exposed only to the testimony they are presented in court, must decide the case based on the testimony. This case had very little evidence. Testimony was the primary case. Testimony is not evidence, nor is it fact. It is testimony. Evidence, when introduced to the court,

must be done according to law. Testimony may expose evidence. That exposure, if clear, opens the door for the introduction of proof, through the evidence, that the testimony is accurate. “Mr. Ripton, when you went to the home of the now deceased, upon his greeting, what was he feeling?” I asked from behind the lectern. Count Michael, just like we practiced. Now, Triston, object. Do it. “I do not know what he was feeling, if anything, ma’am,” he responded into the microphone after a lengthy delay. “No feelings? Interesting. Let me see,” I raised my hands to the top of the lectern and gripped the edge as if I were frustrated. “Let me rephrase. What, Mr. Ripton, was the state of mind of the deceased when you went to the home,” my voice echoed through the ornate courtroom. Do it you simple bastard, object. Count Michael, count. “Your honor, I object,” the prosecutor barked from the rear of the courtroom. The judge lowered his glasses, leaned forward, and focused on the prosecutor as I paused. “And your grounds for objection?” he asked. “Your honor, counsel is attempting to introduce to the jury the state of mind of the now deceased. The defendant is incapable of accurately testifying

as to the state of mind of the deceased. The testimony would be a matter of opinion, and not a matter of law. Opinion is not, your honor, testimony,” he stated. “Granted. Counsel, you’re cracking the ice. Don’t fall through,” the judge remarked. “Duly noted, your honor,” I turned from the lectern, inhaled, looked up at the jury, and exhaled slowly. The jurors were all focused on me. “Mr. Ripton. When you went to the home of the deceased, upon arrival – how was your arrival announced?” I asked in a frustrated tone as I turned to the lectern. “I don’t understand the question,” he responded after a short pause. We’ll get their attention, just stay with me Michael. “Your arrival to the home, Mr. Ripton,” I barked. The judge looked up from his desk and removed his glasses. “When you arrived at the home, did you ring a bell? Honk your horn? Clap your hands? Mr. Ripton, how did you bring the resident of the home to understand that you had arrived? Kick in the door? Pound on it? What, Mr. Ripton, did you do to announce your arrival?” I screamed as I gripped the top of the lectern until my knuckles whitened.

Count Michael, god damn it count. “Counsel, you’re on the threshold of badgering your own witness. If this continues,” The judge paused and pushed his glasses onto his face. “Answer the question, son,” the judge said softly over his right shoulder. You’re doing good Michael, they’re paying attention now. Every fucking one of them. “I rang the doorbell,” he responded. I hesitated and looked up at Michael. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear your response could you repeat yourself?” I asked. “I rang the doorbell,” he said into the microphone. The amplified sound resonated through the courtroom. “The doorbell?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “So, given any other means of announcing your arrival, you chose something as simple as the doorbell?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “Who answered the door?” I asked. “Tucker, ma’am. The deceased,” he responded after a short pause. “Was he armed?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “So, the door was answered. And the man, who you identify as the now deceased, was armed, and

was the one who opened the door, is that correct?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “How did you react?” I asked. Give it to them, Michael. They’re listening. He removed his glasses and looked down at the desk in front of the witness stand. As the glassed dangled from the fingers in his right hand, he continued to look down and focus on the desk. Slowly, he reached to his face, and wiped his eyes with his left hand. “I. I uhhm. I don’t remember everything, ma’am,” he hesitated, still looking down. Do it Michael, you got this. He sniffed audibly through his nose, rubbed both eyes, and looked up. His eyes were red and full of tears. Those must have been some hot peppers. “It happened really fast. He answered the door, pointed the pistol at me, and asked me to leave,” he responded, his voice cracking with emotion. “Did you know the deceased, Tucker?” I asked. He nodded his head. “Yes ma’am.” “Were you shocked?” I asked. “Yes ma’am.” “Did you see, hear, or smell anything else at this time? Were you able to think clearly? Can you recall?” I asked.

Here we go. He looked down at the desk, hesitated for several seconds, and provided the response that I could not obtain through prosecution’s testimony. As he rubbed his eyes, he looked up. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “Tell the court, Mr. Ripton. I ask questions, you provide answers, it’s simple. Tell the court, if you recall clearly,” I stated as I gripped the top of the lectern. Michael looked up at the ceiling, hesitated, and looked down. His focus seemed distant, and he was facing the jury. “Alcohol, ma’am,” he stated. I suspect, Triston, you will… “Your honor, I object. The defendant cannot accurately testify as to what he believes a now deceased man consumed prior to his arrival,” the prosecutor snapped. No but a toxicology report can, asshole. “Counsel?” the judge said with a voice of uncertainty. “Your honor, may I approach?” I asked. Holy shit, this couldn’t be any more perfect. “Both of you,” the judge stated as he waved his hand toward his chest. As we approached the judge, I tried to contain a smile. The jurors are ignorant as to the procedures in regard to law. They don’t know the rules,

regulations, and procedures of introduction of evidence or questioning witnesses. Had I asked Michael a question, obtained testimony, and introduced evidence to support it, it would appear rehearsed. The rehearsal of the testimony would, in the juror’s minds, make the statements less valid. Now, after meeting the judge and talking out of earshot of the jury, the request for the evidence would seem as if it were exposed in the short meeting. “Your honor, I merely asked if the defendant could recall anything. Sounds, odors, what he may have heard. He expressed his recollection of the events was not clear. I was attempting to prompt a thought process. His recollection appears, your honor, to be smelling alcohol, not claiming that the deceased had been drinking, but merely smelling the odor,” I whispered as I turned toward the prosecutor and pursed my lips. The judge looked at the prosecutor. “Your honor, the witness cannot testify opinions, we’ve been through this and case law prohibits it,” the prosecutor stated. “I’m well aware,” the judge sighed. “Counsel,” the judge breathed as he shifted his focus to me. “He can, your honor, testify as to what he smells,” I stated. The judge pushed his glasses up his nose and

looked up from his desk. As he looked back down, he nodded his head slowly. “Counsel is correct. He may testify as to a smell, if he smells it. Where are you headed with this charade, counsel?” the judge asked. “Charade your honor? I beg to differ. With all due respect, I’d now like to ask to introduce evidence to support or deny the presence of alcohol in the blood stream of the deceased. The medical examiner’s office surely had a toxicology report, didn’t they, I don’t recall,” I lied. “Counsel?” the judge asked, now focused on the prosecutor. Triston nodded his head sheepishly. “Yes, we have a toxicology report. 16B,” he stated as he rolled his eyes. The judge relaxed into his seat, nodded his head, and smiled. “Continue counsel. Tread lightly,” he stated. “Always, your honor,” I said softly. As I walked slowly back to the lectern, I focused on the floor. Upon reaching my station, I turned, lightly placed my hands on the edge of the lectern, and looked at the judge. “Your honor, it appears the medical examiner’s office has performed a toxicology report,” I paused, looked past the jurors, and at the prosecutor’s desk. Slowly, I turned my head to face the judge. “And, based on the testimony of the witness, I

would like to request that exhibit 16B be introduced as evidence,” I stated. “I’ll allow it. The exhibit?” the judge asked. Prosecutor Triston slowly walked to the clerk of the court and handed him a report in a transparent protective sleeve. As he turned to walk back to his desk, I attempted to contain my smile. The toxicology report could have been introduced by me into evidence. Defense is provided the same evidence as prosecution. Had I introduced it, it would appear to the jury as being less dramatic, less revealing, and would have held far less value. As it was introduced, through the judge, Michael’s tearful testimony, and the prosecutor’s hand, it had more of a dramatic effect. The clerk of the court looked at the evidence and handed it to the judge. After a precursory glance, the judge handed the evidence to the clerk, who walked to the lectern and handed the evidence to me. “Your honor?” I asked as I motioned toward Michael. The judge nodded his head. I walked to the witness stand and handed Michael the report. “Mr. Ripton, I have provided you a report, which was provided to the court by the courteous Mr. Triston, who I thank graciously. It should have a line item for BAC, or blood alcohol content

somewhere. Do you see such reference?” I asked as I turned to face the witness stand. Michael, well familiar with the report, appeared to be confused. He slipped his glasses on, looked through the glass lenses, and followed his finger along the report. “BAC, ma’am?” he asked. “Yes,” I responded. “Yes ma’am,” he stated. “Can you read the numeric value if there is one listed, I haven’t taken a look at the evidence yet. Read the value listed to the court, Mr. Ripton,” I said pleasantly. “Point zero six, ma’am,” he stated. I stepped from the lectern and raised my hands to my face slowly. “Excuse me, did you state point zero six?” I asked, holding my fingertips to my cheeks. Michael looked back at the report, studied it for a long second, and responded. “Yes ma’am. Point zero six,” he stated. “Thank you Mr. Ripton. Now, where were we? Ah, yes. By your testimony, you arrived, rang the doorbell, and Tucker, the deceased, which was an associate of yours, had answered the door. Upon opening the door, he was armed with a handgun, and you smelled what you identified, and the toxicology report supports, was alcohol. What happened next?” I asked.

“That’s where it gets kind of fuzzy. I was scared. I don’t remember every detail, but I remember most,” he said as he slowly removed his glasses again. “Please, if you will. Do your best to recall the events accurately, and express to the court your recollections, Mr. Ripton. Only what you’re certain of,” I stated in a kind voice as I turned away from the lectern and listened. “Well, I said, I’m Mike. What are you doing? And he told me to get off the porch and leave,” he paused. “Please, tell the court exactly, ver batum, what was said if you recall, Mr. Ripton,” I stated. He looked up from the witness stand, hesitated, and straightened his glasses. “Ma’am. An exact statement would include expletives,” he said quietly. “Please, state exactly what happened and what was said,” I stated. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. “Tucker opened the door with a gun in his hand, and his hand was roughly at his waist. I was shocked that he had answered the door with a gun. The firearm scared me. The way it was pointed at my mid-section, it could have killed me even if it accidentally discharged. I said, what are you doing? It’s me, Mike. He responded, get off my fucking porch. It was then that I smelled the

alcohol. I said, put the gun down, you’re making me nervous. I remember at that time he raised the pistol, pointed it directly at my face, and said something. I do not recall what he said,” he said very clearly and methodically as if he were recalling facts. Perfect. “What happened next?” I asked softly as I slowly shook my head in disbelief. “I remember hitting the pistol, and we struggled. The next thing I knew, He lay in my arms and wasn’t moving,” he responded. “Did you strike him?” I asked as I turned to face the witness stand. “No ma’am.” “Did you punch him?” I asked. “No ma’am.” “Did you push, shove, or kick him?” I asked as I raised my right hand to my cheek. “No ma’am, none of those things,” he responded. “Well, Mr. Ripton, what exactly, did you do? The deceased is reported to have expired from a broken neck,” I stated. “I reacted,” he responded, nodding his head slowly. “You reacted?” “Yes ma’am.” “Have you experience at disarming gun

wielding homeowners, Mr. Ripton?” I asked. Here we go. Eat this, Triston. Michael looked down, removed his glasses and looked up toward the jurors as he held his glasses in his hand. “A few months ago, I was preparing to eat at a Japanese restaurant. A man attempted to hijack me. To car jack me. He approached my car with a loaded weapon. He threatened me, the woman with me, and said he was going to take my car. I was scared, and I did as he asked. I got out of the car, and asked the woman to call the police,” he hesitated and stared at the jurors. “Did she call the police?” I asked as I raised my eyebrows, my voice full of suspicion. “Yes ma’am. She did. In the time it took the police to arrive, he made it clear he intended to kill us if he had to. She was scared, and remained in the car. He continued to make demands, and as he focused on the car, I hit his right hand with my left fist, and disarmed him. The police arrived at the exact instance of the incident, and witnessed the criminal being disarmed,” he said. “So, to recite your testimony in summary, a man attempted to carjack you. He threatened your life, and the life of your female companion. You reacted by hitting the hand that held the pistol, and disarmed the attacker. This incident was witnessed by police?” I asked.

“Yes ma’am.” “Was there a police report filed, Mr. Ripton?” “Yes ma’am.” “Were there any shots fired?” I asked. “Yes ma’am, one at the time I disarmed him.” “Was anyone injured?” I asked as I turned to face the jury. “No ma’am. By the grace of God, he missed.” he responded. “And this time, Mr. Ripton. The event in question, was a shot fired?” I asked. “No ma’am. I’m not so sure this time, the shot would have missed. I was scared, and I reacted in a manner I felt was necessary to save my life,” he sighed. “To save your life from an armed intoxicated attacker. I have no further questions your honor,” I stated as I turned to face the defense desk. “Counsel, have you anything for redirect?” the judge asked. “Just a few, your honor. I’ll be brief,” the prosecutor stated. Be careful Triston, you’re going to get bit. “Mr. Ripton. You said you were attacked a month ago or so. Oddly enough, I believe I read that report. Sorry for your string of bad luck. Now, in the first attack, the criminal was disarmed, and if memory serves me correctly, later in an attempt to flee, fell in the parking lot, and received contusions.

Other than you striking his hand, and disarming him, he was not injured by you, is that correct?” the prosecutor asked. “That is correct sir,” Michael responded after a brief pause. “Mr. Ripton, if you were able to disarm him without killing or injuring him, what was different about his attack, as defense counsel likes to call it. What was different? What caused you to choke the attacker?” the prosecutor asked. You asked, asshole. After a long pause, Michael sat up in his seat. A quick glance toward the jurors confirmed all eyes were on Michael. “Sir, after the first attack, I suffered from what I believed to be PTSD. I have not been diagnosed. I found sleeping difficult. Immediately following the attack, I met a decorated United States Marine, who suffers from PTSD. The Marine began teaching hand-to-hand combat at a local gym that I frequent, and I accepted his invitation to the classes. The classes included disarming attackers and some chokeholds, one of which I attempted to use on the deceased,” Michael paused and pushed his glasses firmly against his face. “So, you chose upon seeing the pistol raised at your face, as you testified, to use a Marine choke hold to save your life. Or let’s say to prevent a further attack?” the prosecutor asked.

“No sir. I didn’t choose. From the extensive training by the Marine mentioned, it was instinct. I did not think. I did not make a decision, I reacted. It was a reaction without thought,” Michael said flatly. Triston placed his hands on his hips, inhaled, and audibly exhaled. “That is all for this witness, your honor,” he sighed. “Counsel?” the judge asked. “Nothing further,” I stated. “You’re dismissed, son,” the judge said. Michael got up and walked slowly to the desk where I stood. The prosecution team talked briefly and turned to face the judge. “Your honor, we’d like to call one additional witness,” the prosecutor said. “Your honor, there are no witnesses listed that haven’t been called,” I stated as Michael sat down. “Your honor, we just learned of this witness. The state would like to call Joshua Jackson. This is significant to show a pattern of behavior on Mr. Ripton’s part, your honor,” he stated. What the fuck? “Your honor, by my watch, it’s three o’ five. To allow direct, cross, and redirect may take hours. As a matter of respect to the court, to the jurors, and considering the fact that I am unaware of this mystery witness, I respectfully request that the

court consider adjourning until tomorrow morning,” I stated. Fuck. The judge looked at his watch and looked at the jurors. Another quick glance at his watch, and he looked up and into the courtroom. “I’ll allow the witness. Considering the timeframe and Mrs. Simon’s request, I will consider this day over. We will reconvene in the morning, at zero nine hundred,” he stated. Thank God. “Who the fuck is the witness, Michael?” I whispered as I sat down. Michael raised his hand to his face, and stared straight ahead. “Remember the story about me cutting the finger off that guy? And hitting him in the face with a hammer? It’s him.” he whispered. I looked down at the desk and covered my mouth. “When we’re dismissed, you and I are going to talk. I am not going to lose this fucking case. I am not. Underfuckingstand that Michael,” I whispered between my clenched teeth. Underfuckinstand it.

THE PROTECTOR

A-TRAIN. This entire earth is filled with three types of people. There are those that need protected. These are the people that are incapable or unwilling to stand up and protect themselves. They lack whatever it is that is required mentally or physically to stand up and take a stand against a potential attacker or foe. There is nothing inherently wrong with the people in need of protection. Personally, I’m glad they exist. Solely, they give me reason to live. They live their lives deaf and dumb of what is required to maintain a level of protection for them to live an otherwise peaceful life. Then, there are the people that the protected need protection from. The criminals, outlaws, and members of society that aren’t willing to abide by the rules and regulations set forth as a guideline to

allow the protected to live a risk free life. These people typically will continue to prey upon the protected until someone or something challenges them. Lastly, we have the people that protect. The police, military, some vigilantes, and an occasional member of society with broad shoulders and a big heart. Naturally, they will never allow the people that need protected to go without peace of mind of being protected. They will, if required, sacrifice their life to save the lives of a person or persons in need of protection. I am a protector. “Listen, I’m going to make this simple,” I said as I placed my pistol on the kitchen counter. “I won’t testify,” Josh stuttered. “Yes you will,” I paused and shook my head. “Unless I ask you to speak, don’t speak again, or I will cut off one of your ears. That sir is not an idle threat. It is a promise. I’ll add it to the collection I already have. Make note that I do not like you or those like you. People like you make me feel sick,” I sighed as I pulled my knife from the sheath. “Nod your head,” I said. He nodded as I placed the knife on the counter beside the pistol. “I’m sure you still have nightmares about our mutual friend visiting you and relieving you of a

finger and a few teeth. Smile and hold up your hand,” I said as I lifted my chin slightly. He smiled, revealing snow white teeth and held up his right hand, which was missing seventy five percent of an index finger. A small, almost unnoticeable stub remained. “That cleaned up quite nicely. And those teeth look remarkable. They’re nice, really nice. Well, for what it may be worth Josh, I’m not at all a pleasant person. Not like Ripp. Right now I really want to cut your tongue out. You were given an opportunity by our mutual friend to keep your mouth shut. You made a poor decision, and chose to speak. I do not know, nor do I fucking care to know the circumstances surrounding your involvement with the authorities. I will say this. I hate most cops about as much as I hate you,” I paused and pressed my hands onto the edge of the counter. “Now, your testimony. You spoke to police, and I suspect you told them of the removal of your finger, the ass whipping, and the fact your teeth were knocked out. They now expect you to testify tomorrow regarding what happened and why. That sir, will not happen. It will not. I will not allow it. Do you understand me?” I asked. He remained silent. “Speak,” I said as I shook my head. “Yes, I understand,” he responded. “Did you ever file a police report on your loss

of teeth or finger?” I asked. “Speak,” I said after a few seconds of silence. “No, I did not.” “Until this particular case, did you or have you ever discussed with authorities your loss of teeth or the finger?” I asked as I ran my finger down the edge of the knife. “Speak.” “No, I have not. Not until now.” “Alright. You will testify tomorrow. I will make clear what you will say. Phrase it how you prefer, but you will say this,” I paused and thought as I picked up my knife. “You will state, when asked, that your association with Mr. Ripton is through your former girlfriend. You will further state that you chose to concoct an utter lie regarding the loss of your finger to attempt to get back at her, because she is friends with him. That, in effect, is all you will say. Is that understood?” I asked as I rotated my wrist and twisted the blade of the knife back and forth. He nodded. “I need to hear it. Speak,” I sighed. “Yes. Understood.” “You see. It’s disappointing - this entire process. You being smacked with a hammer and having a finger cut off has nothing to do with this case. Not one damned thing. One has nothing to do with the other. But, if the jury hears what you have

to say, they’ll assume Ripp is a violent man and they’ll certainly side with the state. They’ll find him guilty. If you don’t testify, they may find him innocent. In all honesty, they should give him a good Samaritan medal for doing what he’s done. It irritates me to have to be here. People like you disgust me. Understand that,” I paused and shook my head lightly “Now. I will close with this. I like killing people. I really do. It’s the only fucking way I can make that God forsaken war make sense in my head. If I stop killing people, it means all the killing I did for years over there was wrong. And, killing people that wreak havoc on others must be God’s will for me, because the government paid me for over a decade to do it. I like to think it was justified, killing all of those people,” I hesitated and thought of what I was saying. We are raised to understand killing is wrong. It’s one of the Ten Commandments, if you are a religious person and a Christian. It’s one of the ten things not to do. The government, in times of trouble, takes every adult male that is willing and capable and teaches them how to kill. They don’t teach you how to obtain a home loan, or balance a checkbook. They don’t assist you or encourage you to make any changes to your mental process regarding killing when they’re done with you. They merely expect you to flip a switch and become

human again. It is difficult for me to believe that I am anything but human. I am human. I am a protector. “You know, the only way I can convince myself it was justified, all of the killing…is to continue killing people that take from society. You’re a taker. And I administer justice by attempting to balance the scales. I do, however, believe people can change. I hope you’re one of them. I’m assuming Ripp’s previous visit left a little doubt in your mind. I want to remove that doubt. I want clarity. Are we clear?” I asked as I looked up from the blade of the knife. “Jesus fucking Christ. Speak,” I breathed. “Yes sir. I understand.” “Now, I will not be in court tomorrow. Would you like to know where I’ll be?” I asked as I picked up the pistol. He shook his head. “Humor me. Say you want to know,” I laughed. He swallowed and stared. “I want to know where you’ll be tomorrow,” he said, his voice quaking as he spoke. “Josh, I’ll be where ever you go. But you won’t see me. You’ll never see me. If you testify as to any other facts than what we discussed here, I will find you. And, I can assure you of two things after I find you. One, I will torture you. And two, when I get bored with torturing you I will kill you. I will

promise you those two things,” I placed the pistol into the holster and nodded my head sharply. “Oh, and one more thing,” I said as I slid the knife into the sheath. He raised his eyebrows and swallowed. “Never, regardless of the circumstances, come in contact in any way with Kace again. Clear?” I asked as I stepped in his direction. He nodded. I tilted my head to the side and rolled my eyes. “Say it,” I sighed. “I, uhhm. Yeah. It’s crystal clear. Never again,” he responded. I turned and walked to the door. “I’ll let myself out,” I laughed as I walked to the door. As I reached for the door handle, I looked over my shoulder toward the kitchen. Josh remained standing by the countertop, staring down at his feet with his hands at his sides. “You see Josh, the entire world can be separated into two groups; those that give, and those that take. Those that give provide something to the rest of the people on the earth. Something useful,” I turned the door handle and opened the door partially. “The takers? Well, they’re only concern is themselves. They take from society, providing little, if anything, to others. In the future, start asking

yourself what you’ve done lately for society. For others. If the answer is nothing, you’re doing something wrong.” I turned the handle and stepped through the door. Today I did something for my brother Ripp. He didn’t ask for assistance, and I didn’t tell him what I intended to do. To me, a friend should always be able to rely on me to be there for him or her. Always. The Marines have a motto. Semper Fidelis. Always faithful. Always.

A MOMENT OF CLARITY

VEE. “Your honor, the state calls Josh Jackson,” the prosecutor stated. The court deputy opened the door, and allowed Mr. Jackson to enter the courtroom. As he walked in, dressed in khaki pants and a pressed shirt, he held his head high and walked directly to the witness stand with the deputy. “Raise your right hand,” the judge said over his left shoulder. “Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?” the judge asked. “Yes sir, I do,” he responded. “You may be seated,” the judge said. “Mr. Jackson, we haven’t met. I am the prosecutor for the state of Texas, Matthew Triston. I am going to have a few questions for you,

alright?” the prosecutor said “Yes sir,” the witness responded. “Are you familiar with the defendant seated on your left, Michael Ripton?” the prosecutor asked as me motioned toward Michael. “Yes sir, I am,” he responded. “Now Mr. Jackson, how did you come to know Mr. Ripton?” the prosecutor asked. The witness leaned toward the microphone and cleared his throat. “He is friends with my ex-wife’s, well no…my ex-girlfriend’s fiancé. I know him in that regard,” he said into the microphone. “Very well. Has the defendant, on any occasion, taken an opportunity to pay you a visit at your home?” the prosecutor asked. “Yes sir, he has,” he responded. I took a shallow breath, pursed my lips and looked at the witness. “Please explain the nature of that visit to the best of your ability,” the prosecutor stated as he turned slightly toward the jurors. “Well. I was in a relationship with Kace Meadows for ten years. I was very abusive to her mentally, physically, and emotionally. One day, in a drunken rage, I beat her,” the witness paused and looked down. I glanced up at the jurors. Several covered their mouths with their hands. I glanced toward the

witness stand as Josh took another slow breath. “In fact, I beat her unconscious. When she. When she uhhm. When she woke up, she left. She uhhm left me. Mr. Ripton, on that evening, came to my home to speak to me,” he looked up at the prosecutor and stopped speaking. “Please, explain to the court the nature of that visit,” the prosecutor said as he gripped the edges of the lectern. I glanced at Michael, who stared, without emotion, straight ahead. “Well. He uhhm. He came to my house and introduced himself. He said he was friends of the man that she uhhm, the man that she eventually became engaged to. He said he wanted to make me aware that mistreating women was wrong, that abusing women was wrong, and that being violent to a woman wasn’t acceptable,” he paused and poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the stand. “Now, when you say he, you’re referring to Mr. Ripton, correct?” the prosecutor asked. “Yes sir,” the witness responded as he placed the glass on the stand. This sounds so rehearsed. These bastards. “Now, what else transpired during this visit? Please be specific,” the prosecutor sighed. “Well, we talked for about thirty minutes. He spent the entire time explaining to me the need to

be respectful to women at all times. He said if I continued to be violent toward my girlfriend, he would turn me in to the authorities,” the witness stated. “Go on,” the prosecutor said as he tapped his hands against the lectern. “Uhhm, that’s pretty much it. He excused himself and left,” the witness said as he picked up the water glass and raised it to his mouth. Thank God. A moment of clarity. A spiritual awakening. The prosecutor stepped a few feet from the lectern and rubbed his hands together, studying the witness as he walked. As he stepped back to the lectern, he placed his hands on the edges, and gripped the wooden platform. “And that was the extent of the visit? He came, spoke to you, and left? Without incident?” the prosecutor asked, clearly frustrated as the tone of his voice changed. “Yes sir. In fact, it was…well…it uhhm. It was kind of a turning point for me. It caused me to realize I was wrong. I’m trying to turn my life around now, thanks to him,” he picked up the glass again and raised it to his mouth. I sighed and smiled as I covering my mouth with my hand. I glanced at Michael, who miraculously continued to stare straight ahead, without emotion, his glasses resting high on his

nose. The prosecutor shook his head slightly and released the edge of the lectern. “No further questions your honor,” he said as he turned and walked away. “Your witness. Care to cross?” the judge asked. I slowly stood and studied the witness as I thought of what I could potentially gain from cross examining him. Sometimes it is best to leave things just the way they are. This was one of those times. “No, your honor. I have no questions for this witness,” I pressed my skirt to my thighs and sat down. “Mr. Triston?” the judge asked, his glasses dangling from his fingers as he spoke. “You honor,” the prosecutor hesitated. “The state rests its case,” he said flatly. Thank God. “Mrs. Simon?” the judge asked. “Your honor, defense has nothing further,” I responded as I raised my hand to my face. “You’re dismissed son,” the judge said to the witness. I think I should ask. You never know. I stood from my chair. “Your honor, with all due respect. I respectfully request that the court strongly consider dismissal of the charges. Citing The State of Texas versus Blackshere, based on the evidence presented, and

the lack of supporting evidence to indicate guilt on the part of the defendant for the charges against him, I request dismissal based on insufficient evidence,” I smiled and stood, waiting for the judge to respond. “Mrs. Simon, you may file the motion,” he hesitated. “Which will be denied. I believe there is sufficient evidence to proceed, allowing the jury to decide innocence or guilt, not this court. Have you anything further?” he asked as he pushed his glasses up his nose and looked down at his desk. “No, your honor.” Fuck. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, you have been presented all of the evidence in this case that you will be presented. In a moment, you’ll hear closing statements. After that, you will decide innocence or guilt on the part of the defendant based on the evidence presented. Amongst yourselves, you will assign a foreman, which will act as the head spokesperson for you as a group. Correspondence will go through him or her to the court. Counsel, are you prepared for closing statements?” the judge asked the prosecutor. “Yes your honor,” he responded. The prosecutor stood and walked in front of the jury. I expected, considering the botched witness at the end of the trial that he’d keep his statement

simple. “Ladies and gentlemen. This case is simple. In the beginning, I told you that we would prove the defendant murdered someone who had attempted to defend his home. We did just that. Defense presented no evidence to dispute her client killed the man in question. The circumstances surrounding the murder are things that we will never know for certain. Why? Because that man,” the prosecutor pointed at Michael. “Made sure he wouldn’t be here to testify. I request you ask yourselves this: if he knocks on your door tonight, what will you do? Find in favor of the prosecution, find guilt,” he turned and walked back to his seat. “Counsel,” the judge said over his glasses. “Thank you your honor,” I said as I stood. “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. You’ve been robbed at gunpoint in a botched carjacking. You attempt to feel less vulnerable and take hand to hand combat classes. Self-defense becomes second nature. A few weeks later, you go see a family friend. A drunken man answers the door with a loaded gun. He points it at your torso. You ask him to put it away, and he points it at your head,” I pointed my index finger at my head. “You react. In an effort to save yourself, you react,” I moved my extended finger from my head and pointed it, like a child makes his hand form a

gun, at the jury as I walked the length of the jurors. “Unfortunately, the man with the gun dies from a broken neck. You’re filled with emotion and sorrow. But it was either him or you. I asked you before this trial started, to think. If it was you, how would you have reacted? Is it acceptable to pull a gun on anyone that comes to your door? I’ll ask you one more thing. Gun owners need to be responsible, and not handle firearms when they’re drunk. If the defendant had not reacted in the manner that he did, what do you think would have happened?” I paused, my finger now pointed at the center juror. He stared, confused. He began to visibly shake in his seat. “What would you have…” I hesitated and raised my eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. “Boom! Too late. You made the wrong decision. You should have reacted differently,” I shook my head. “That’s all I have,” as I turned and walked to my seat I held my index finger to my mouth and blew at the tip loud enough for the jury could hear. “Counsel?” the judge asked the prosecutor. “Nothing else your honor,” Triston responded. “Jurors, you will now be released and receive your instructions in what you must find to determine innocence or guilt as a matter of law in regard to this specific case. If there are any

questions that arise during the deliberation procedure, the foreman may ask the court in writing,” the judge pushed himself away from the desk and nodded at the bailiff. “You are dismissed to the confines of the deliberation room,” the judge stated. As the deputy guided the jurors out of the courtroom, I sighed. I felt as if I had done my best to defend all of the evidence presented against Michael. Now comes the tough part, the waiting. I turned slightly and looked at Michael. As he had through the course of the trial, he stared straight ahead. “All rise,” the bailiff howled. As we stood the judge exited to his chambers. “What now?” Michael whispered. “Well, now we wait. It could take hours or days. We wait here until the jury is dismissed for the day. As early as it is, I suspect they’ll deliberate all day. I know it’s exhausting and difficult, but it’s part of the process,” I whispered over my shoulder. “How long until he gives the instructions to them?” he asked. “He’ll do it right away. He’s already got them typed. Probably did it last night. He’ll give them the instructions within a few minutes, they’ll read them, and then they’ll begin deliberating. Deliberation consists of whatever they want. It could be reenacting the crime, reading testimony,

recollection of facts, or discussing the case. Like I said, it could take days. “I feel sick,” he sighed. “That’s normal. Do you want to go to the bathroom or get a drink?” I asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he stood. Seeing Michael like this was difficult for me. A man that is certain of who he is and what he stands for questioned by the government for standing up against the very thing that he believes in. In the last month he had become an emotional mess. Through the course of preparing for the case we had both become far less interested in being affectionate toward one another. The lack of affection had led to a non-existent sex life. I didn’t want the lack of sex to cause Michael to wonder where my devotion lay. My devotion was now and would always be with him, regardless of the outcome. “Michael,” I said as I stood from the chair. He turned to face me and raised one eyebrow slightly as he pressed his glasses against the bridge of his nose. As he stood, he tugged at his tie and straightened his jacket. He looked remarkable the way he was dressed. I looked at him slightly disappointed as I realized the events that required him to dress in this manner. “I pizz you,” I whispered. “I pizz you back,” he responded, smiling.

“Now Vee, I’ve got to piss,” he smiled and whispered. “Alright, let’s walk. Remember, just like before. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t make eye contact with or talk to the jurors if you see one, understood?” I reminded him. “Yes ma’am,” he responded. I looked around the courtroom and realized that we were the only ones left in the room. Everyone else had left after the jury was released. I glanced to where the jury had been seated and attempted to understand that twelve of Michael’s peers would decide what his fate would be. The man that I love was facing a decade in prison or more for a murder that wasn’t necessarily a murder. “You alright, babe?” he asked over his left shoulder. “Yes. I’ll be fine,” I shook my head and turned toward the exit, “come on.” As we started walking to the door, I stepped in front of him and grabbed the door handle to pull the door open. Immediately, the door opened and the deputy walked in, clearly short of breath. “Is there a problem,” I asked. “No ma’am. The jury has reached a verdict,” he stated. “In this case?” I stammered. Please no, this is not enough time. Please no. “Yes ma’am. They asked me to find you. The

jury is coming back in,” he exhaled. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. “Vee?” Michael said softly. “Vee?” he repeated. “Yes,” I looked up and into his eyes. “What’s this mean? Fifteen minutes is all?” he asked, visibly nervous of the fact that this would soon be decided. I couldn’t tell him what I thought. I couldn’t tell him the beliefs of attorneys regarding quick verdicts. Typically there were always people on a jury that believed a person is guilty if he is charged with a crime. Instead of the defendant being innocent until proven guilty, in these people’s eyes, they are guilty until proven innocent. As each jury typically has at least two people who believe in this manner, swaying them to believe innocence takes time. A quick verdict is almost always a guilty verdict. “It’s hard to say,” I said as I looked around the courtroom. People began to come into the courtroom and sit down. Slowly, we walked back to our desk and stood behind the chairs. “Well, say. Tell me what your gut tells you,” he whispered as he looked around the room. “Michael, I hate to say what…” I began to

speak. “Tell me,” he said sternly through his clenched teeth. “It’s just hard to say, Michael…” “Tell me, Vee,” he grunted. “I love you Michael,” I said, attempting to maintain a professional posture. “Vee…” his voice trailed off. “Guilt. Typically it means guilt,” I admitted, nodding my head slowly. “Well, I ain’t your typical guy,” he pulled his chair from the table. “Sit down and attempt to show no emotion,” he reached over and pulled my chair away from the table, “you look like you’re going to cry.” He sat down, interlocked his fingers, and placed his elbows on the table. As I sat in my seat, he looked to his left and attempted his best to force a smile. “Here in a few minutes all of this will be over, Vee. One way or another. If I’m guilty, will they take me to jail right now?” he asked. I nodded my head. “Okay. Well, either way. I love you. And, if they find me guilty, I want to appeal the decision. But, I want you to wait for me. I know this, and I don’t know how it happened, and I’d never believe it if it didn’t happen to me, but it did. There’s one woman on this earth for me, Vivian. Just one. That

woman’s you. I want you to wait for me, okay?” he said calmly. I felt as if my heart was going to beat out of my chest. A guilty verdict for a client in the past meant a loss and an appeal of the decision. Now, a guilty verdict meant a life changing experience. The man I loved would be taken from me, and placed in prison. I swallowed and nodded my head. “I will wait as long as it takes,” I responded. As long as it takes.

HAVE YOU REACHED A VERDICT

RIPP. There was absolutely nothing about going to prison that appealed to me. My talks with A-Train and my father had provided me some reassurance that regardless of what happened, I was doing what was expected of me and what was best by standing up to fight the charges against me. I sat in my seat and stared straight ahead, full of an emotion I was not familiar with. I felt sick, slightly delirious, and full of fear. I didn’t fear the outcome as much as I feared not knowing. I wanted this nightmare to be over. “All rise,” the bailiff bellowed. I rose from my chair and stared straight ahead. My legs shook as I attempted to stand. Fifteen minutes of deliberation could only mean one thing. These assholes were going to fry me. According to Vee, I’d be guilty.

I stood and stared at the jurors with my lips pursed. “In the matter of The State of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, for the charge of second degree murder, have you reached a verdict?” the judge asked. “Yes your honor, we have,” the jury foreman responded. “Is the decision unanimous?” the judge asked. “Yes your honor, it is,” the foreman responded as he unfolded a sheet of paper. “Please read the verdict,” the judge said as he pulled his eye glasses from his face. I heard a dull ringing in my ears and felt as if I was going to pass out at any moment. “In the matter of The State of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, for the charge of second degree murder, we find the defendant…” he paused and looked down at the paper he held. Are you serious? What don’t have enough guts to say it? In what was more than likely a fraction of a second of hesitation on the foreman of the jury’s part to read the verdict, I felt as if I aged a few years. The words hung on his lips for a long moment. When he finally read the verdict, I felt as if I was going to collapse. I stood in shock and attempted not to hear him. No emotion, Vee had said show no emotion. I wanted the foreman to

repeat it, over and over, each time sending a jolt of electricity through my spine. Finally, this was over. “Did you hear what he said?” Vee whispered over her right shoulder. I nodded my head once and stared straight ahead. “Just stand there, respectfully, until the jury is dismissed,” she breathed. My lips still pursed, I nodded my head once and looked straight ahead. “Juror number one is this verdict consistent with your finding?” the judge asked. “Yes your honor.” “Number two?” “Yes your honor.” “Number three?” “Yes your honor.” “Number four?” “Yes your honor” the foreman stated. “Five?” “Yes your honor.” “Six?” “Yes sir.” “Seven?” “Yes sir, it is.” “Eight?” “Yes, your honor.” “Nine, juror nine?”

“Yes sir, it is correct.” “Ten?” “Yes sir.” “Eleven?” “Yes sir.” “And juror number twelve?” “Yes your honor, it is.” The last juror responded. Well then, it is unanimous. I thank you for your service. “In the matter of the state of Texas versus Michael A. Ripton, the defendant chose trial by jury, and the jury finds the defendant…” I needed to hear it again. One more time, just to be certain I heard the foreman correctly. One more time. Just one.

I GOT THIS

VEE. The verdict left me speechless. I attempted to maintain an emotionless face as the jury was polled. Although it was difficult, I think Michael and I both did well. Waiting for the jury to be polled seemed to take forever. The only thing I could think about as the judge questioned each of them was how bad I wanted to just leave. I wanted to go away, to walk out and never step foot in a courtroom again. As many trials as I had played a part in, I had never actually been involved emotionally in one of them. As an attorney, we must separate ourselves emotionally from our clients. This particular client was an emotional attachment. And for that, I was grateful. I stood, staring ahead for the judge to make the verdict a matter of record. “In the matter of the state of Texas versus

Michael A. Ripton, the defendant chose trial by jury, and the jury finds the defendant, Michael A. Ripton, not guilty.” “Jurors, you are dismissed. Thank you for your service,” the judge sighed. “Mr. Ripton, you are free to go,” the judge said as he removed his glasses. “Thank you your honor,” Michael said as his shoulders slumped and he exhaled a breath he had been holding for who knows how long. “What did I fucking tell you?” I said as I slid the files to the edge of the table. “Stare straight ahead?” he responded. “No,” I shook my head and clutched the files in my left hand. “Be respectful? Yes ma’am, yes sir, all that stuff?” he responded. “No, Michael. That’s not it. I said,” I took a shallow breath. Saying it was difficult. The emotion was almost more than I could stand. I swallowed a lump in my throat and acted like everything was fine. I wanted to remind him. I wanted him to be proud of me. I really wanted him to carry me out of there and take me home and fuck me senseless. “I got this,” I said sternly. “You damn sure did,” he smiled as he looked toward his family and friends. “You want to know what else I’ve got?” I

asked. “Yes ma’am,” he responded as he pushed his glassed tight to his face. God he looks good in that suit. “A wet fucking pussy. Something about winning this case made me horny as fuck,” I sighed. “We should take care of that,” he said as he looked down at his feet. “But I can’t fuck you in these slippery fuckers. They’ve got slick leather soles. We’ll need to go get my shoes,” he shrugged as he smiled. “They’re in the car. I have them in the trunk,” I said as a smirk formed on my face. “You brought them with you?” he said over the top of his glasses. I nodded my head and smiled. “Just in case they found me not guilty?” he asked. “No. I told you once. And I’ll tell you again. This? This?” I pointed in a circle around the perimeter of the courtroom. “I got this.”

TRAUMATIC EFFECT

VEE. Sometimes when people are exposed to traumatic events or circumstances, it changes them. Often the changes last a lifetime. Some people eventually adjust back to their former self, or a different version of their former self. Others, after the trauma is over, immediately revert back to who they were previously. Those people that are capable of shrugging off one of life’s tragedies without much or any effect are rare. Meet Michael Allen Ripton. “If they catch this on film, we’re both going to be in court. There are cameras in here,” I sighed as he picked me up by my armpits. “I don’t give a fuck,” he mumbled, his mouth pressed firmly against my neck. I was well beyond wet. I was absolutely soaked. My feet well off of the surface of the parking

garage, he held me suspended in the air and kissed me. As he pressed me against the car window, I moved my feet, confirming I was still unable to touch the concrete surface. This man drives me insane. As his lips moved from my ear, along my neck, and to my clavicle, goose bumps rose along my arms. Now focusing on my shoulder, his fingers pawed at the fabric of my jacket and the neck of my top. His teeth dug into my skin lightly, sending chills down my spine. I pressed my knees together, and twisted my hips in agony. Squish. “You’re killing me, Ripp. Let’s get out of here,” I muttered as he nibbled at my shoulder. “I can’t fucking wait, and we’re supposed to meet everyone for dinner in a few minutes,” he looked into my eyes, removed his glasses, and tossed them on the top of the car. As I heard his glasses land on the car, he picked me up until my waist was even with his chest. Dangling in the air over the surface of the concrete below, my eyes widened with shock as he tossed me onto the top of the car. Most people that drove a $120,000 car would have concern about being tossed onto the top of it for fear of damaging it. At this point, I really didn’t care or have an ounce of concern about the

condition of my car. Right here, right now, I wanted one thing, and one thing only. “Get up here and fuck me,” I demanded as I wrestled to remove my jacket. I really need to feel his cock inside me. “Who’s runnin’ this show?” he responded as his hand slipped up my skirt. I’d reached that point - the point where nothing else matters. I had no concern with the fact that we were in the parking garage of the courthouse, or that almost every attorney in the city would be coming out of the courtroom for a lunch break in roughly thirty minutes. I looked at the structure above as I tossed my jacket onto the hood of the car, making note of the security cameras positioned above us. The thought of some second rate courthouse security guard watching us fuck made me even wetter. I kicked off my heels and heard them land beside the car. “Fuck me, you’ve got to fuck me,” I begged. His hand pulled at my panties until they reached mid-thigh. As they became hung up on my knees, I attempted, frantic, to help him remove them. “These mother fuckers,” he growled as he ripped my panties in two, tossing them on the ground beside him.

“You need to stop wearing those damned things,” he said as his hands slid up my inner thighs. “Okay,” I breathed before I realized what he had said. “Pull up your fucking skirt. I can’t get your legs spread apart,” he grunted as he gripped my legs and pulled me across the top of the car. I fumbled with my overly tight pencil skirt, attempting to get it up to my waist. As my skirt slipped up my thighs and over my ass, he began to spread my legs wide. My knees bent, and my legs dangling over the side of the car, my heels banged against the window glass as he forced his head between my legs. Oh God yes, do that pussy thing you do, please. Fuck yes, lick my pussy, Ripp. As he buried his head between my thighs I groaned in anticipation of what would come next. His ability to successfully bring me to immediate climax from oral pleasure exceeded his ability to do damned near anything, including fighting. As I felt his tongue against my clit, I rolled my eyes and moaned. I began to shake as I felt a tingle work its way through my pussy. Holy fuck, that didn’t take long. “Mmmm,” he moaned as he flicked the tip of his tongue against my clit. “Ripp…oh my fuck…” I tossed my head from side-to-side, quickly losing touch with any form of

what was reality. He continued to moan as he sucked and licked my clit. I tensed my stomach muscles and raised my legs along the sides of his torso, until the backs of my knees rested on his shoulders. As his tongue worked its way in and out of my wet pussy, I opened my eyes and squealed. This is crazy. I’m going to cum again. Oh my God. “Oh my fucking…” I blurted. “God damn, Ripp, stop. You’re going to kill me, stop,” I begged as he sucked my pussy and flicked his tongue along my clit. I squeezed my thighs against his head, attempting to get him to slow down and give me a moment to recover. His hands pressed into my ribcage and picked me up from the top of the car. As he carried me across the floor of the garage, my imagination began to run wild. The thought of someone watching us over the security system filled my mind again momentarily as he stumbled to the front of the car. Wham! He dropped me onto my back on the hood of the car. “Don’t fucking move,” he demanded as he removed his jacket and reached for his belt. He fumbled with his belt and dropped his slacks around his ankles. His cock fully rigid, his boxers

stood straight out in front. As I raised myself onto my elbows, I smiled at my half-dressed GQ model standing in front of the car. “What are you laughing about?” he asked as he pulled his boxers down to his thighs. “You’re sexy,” I smiled. “If anybody comes, we’re just gonna keep fuckin’, got it?” he asked as he grabbed my ankles and pulled me across the hood of the car. “Got it,” I smiled. “You’re crazy, you know that?” I asked as he worked his hips between my legs. “Crazy in love with you,” he growled as his hands gripped my shoulders. “Oh my fucking God, that feels so good,” I muttered as his cock slowly penetrated my wet swollen pussy. I closed my eyes and tilted my head backward as he found his rhythm. Forcing himself in and out of me, he held me in place by my shoulders. As his huge cock filled me, I grunted and rolled my eyes. It had been too long. There was no way I was going to last. I felt myself reaching climax as I got lost in the feeling of him inside of me. I began to think of someone watching us fuck from some control room somewhere. The thought of someone watching him pound himself into me made me begin to reach orgasm. “I’m…” my breath choppy, I fought with

finding my words. “Going to…” “You ain’t the only one,” he grunted as his fingernails dug into my shoulders. “Oh God, yes,” I opened my eyes and tried to focus as one of his hands slid to my neck. “Oh fuck. Yes…oh God,” I begged, wanting him to choke me, but not wanting to say it. Something about having his hand around my neck was a sexual trigger for me. As his hand gripped my neck, I felt myself immediately begin to contract. I closed my eyes tightly, and bit my lip. As his hand gripped tighter, I felt his cock begin to swell. “Oh God yes. Cum inside of me…please,” I pleaded. He pressed himself deep inside of me and held himself there. As he held his hips in place, I bucked my hips wildly and bit my lip – attempting not to scream. His cock deep inside of me, and his hand firm on my neck, he pressed my shoulders and head onto the hood of the car. This was more than I could take. “Oh fuuuuucccckkkkk!” I blurted as I opened my eyes. His grip grew tighter on my neck. “I’m cumming inside of you baby,” he grunted and squeezed my neck firmly as I felt his cock explode.

I sighed and batted my eyes as his cum filled me. “Oh my God, don’t move,” I sighed as his breathing slowed. “Holy fuck, babe. I went blind there for a minute. That was crazy,” he said as he released my neck. “Now you know how I feel,” I blinked my eyes and rocked my head from side-to-side, surveying the garage for passersby. “There’s going to be cum everywhere. It’s been a long time. God, Ripp. Do you ever jack off?” I laughed as I felt him begin to pull himself from inside of me. “Well, I haven’t in a while. My mind’s been on other shit. Yeah, that’s a biggun’ for sure,” he smiled as he pulled his cock from inside of me. “Here, use these,” he said as he handed me my torn panties. I smiled at the thought of him ripping them off of me. It’s funny as women that we hand pick panties to match the clothes that we wear, and never have anyone see them. These lace panties cost me three times as much as any others I have had in years. As I shook my head and half sat up on the hood, I made my best effort to wipe the cum from my throbbing pussy with one side of the panties. As Michael pulled up his shorts and slacks, I

smiled. Fucking in the parking garage of the courthouse was something I never expected to do. I must say the intensity of it was far more than I would have ever expected. As I swabbed my pussy with one side of the torn panties, I shook my head from side to side. He unloaded a month of cum inside of me, and the mess dripping from me onto the hood of the car was proof. “That was intense,” I admitted as I wiggled down the hood. “Yeah, been a bit since we did anything like that,” he said as he pulled his jacket over his shoulders. “Too long,” I admitted as I slid of off the hood of the car. As I landed on the concrete, I realized I was barefoot. “Where are my shoes?” I asked, forgetting what had happened with my shoes. “You kicked them off over here,” he said as he stepped to the side of the car. “Here,” he said as he handed me my shoes. “Here,” I said as I held the cum drenched panties at arm’s length. “Uhh. No. Toss em on the ground,” he said as he shook his head. “No, I don’t want my DNA here on the garage floor. I folded them up, the outside is dry, all the cum is in the middle,” I said as I shook my hand up

and down, attempting to get him to accept the panties. “I don’t give a fuck. Keep ‘em,” he laughed as he grabbed his glasses from the top of the car. I pulled my shoes onto my feet and walked around to the driver’s side of the car. Clutching the panties in my fingers, I lifted my purse from the top of the car and unlocked the doors. “Ready?” I asked. “Yeah, I don’t ever want to come back to this fucking place,” he sighed as he opened the door. I tossed my purse in the rear seat and fastened my seatbelt. As I started the car, I looked for a place to stick the panties. After a precursory look around the car, I placed them between my legs and backed the car out of the parking stall. As we drove down from the fourth floor of the parking garage, I smiled. Seeing Ripp’s parents was always a treat, and seeing them after this victory would be icing on an otherwise perfect cake. Turning the corner to the second floor of the garage, I noticed a figure walked up the drive toward the car. I slowed the car to almost stopped and stared. “Is that…” Michael asked. “It sure looks like it,” I shook my head in disbelief. Probably going to lunch or back to his office, Matthew Triston nonchalantly walked up the drive

toward his car, obviously parked behind where we were currently sitting. I watched as he walked along the driver’s side of the car. As he approached, he looked through the windshield, recognized us, and smiled a shallow smile of recognition. I pressed the window switch and rolled my window down. “Counsel. Taking your client home?” he smiled as he looked in the window of the car. I heard Michael growling under his breath. I ducked my head out the window and looked up at him. His smug shitty smile irritated me. In some respects, I felt as if I had just beaten his ass on the playground. Sometimes winning just wasn’t enough. Calling that last unannounced witness was a sneaky trick on his part. I hesitated, and then thought what the hell. “Well, as a matter of fact, I could use your assistance,” I smiled as I looked up at him. “Certainly, what can I help you with, counsel?” he asked cheerily. Phony bastard. “Well I haven’t been able to find a trash receptacle,” I reached between my legs and pulled the cum soaked panties from my lap and held them in my fist. Holding my clenched fist out the car door and smiling, he naturally held his hand out under mine,

and waited for the trash I was going to offer him. “If you could toss these in the trash for me, I’d be very appreciative. I hate to litter,” I said as I opened my palm and dropped the soiled panties into his hand. “And no, I’m not taking him home. I just fucked him on the hood of my car. Have a nice day, prosecutor,” I smiled. As he looked down at the panties that were slowly unfolding in his hand, I pressed the gas pedal and sped down the drive toward the exit on the first floor. “You didn’t just…” Michael started to ask. “I did,” I smiled as I turned out of the garage and onto the street. “Technically,” I said over my shoulder. “The parking garage is an extension of my work, part of my playground. And, like I told you, I play rough,” I grinned. As Michael turned to face me, he smiled. He was still wearing his glasses. He had more than likely become so accustomed to wearing them he didn’t even realize they were on his face. I’d remind him later if someone else didn’t first. As I smiled in return, I realized that this was the beginning. The court case was over. This was the beginning. The beginning of what would be the rest of our lives together.

Without a doubt Michael went through changes during this process. He was not, however, a changed person. He remained true to himself and what he was willing to stand up for. Some people are almost impossible to alter. Michael was one of those people. He would remain unchanged until the day he died. “Babe?” he asked softly. “Yes?” I responded. “Can we stay overnight at your house tonight?” he asked. “Sure, what’s up?” I asked as I stopped at the traffic light. “I miss my cat,” he smiled. The man who would never change… Mike fucking Ripton. Cat lover.

BUGGIN’

RIPP. “It’s a shame your friends couldn’t make it, Alec,” my father said. “They just came down to support Mike, sir. As soon as the trial was over, they had to get back to Kansas. As early as it was over, they could drive back tonight before it was too late,” A-Train explained. “I knew it was all over as soon as Vee said Boom! Too late, you made the wrong decision and blew on her finger. That sent chills down my spine. I like you, Vee,” Kace smiled from across the table. “Pretty dramatic, I know. And I like you too, Kace,” Vee laughed as she reached for her glass of water. “Ma’am, the chicken is fantastic,” A-Train said as he held a bare bone in his hand and nodded his head in the direction of my mother.

We had just about finished our meal. Everyone was about done eating and down to stuffing food in their mouths out of habit. The celebration of our victory in court by having a family meal together was nice. Being with family instead of being in jail was a relaxing experience. I sat and watched everyone eating and smiling through different eyes than I had in the past. This group, as mismatched as it was, had become my family. “I cooked it, thank you. Have some more,” Bug said as she lifted the plate of chicken from the tablecloth. “I want to make sure everyone gets plenty. No thank you,” A-Train said as he raised his napkin to his mouth. “No, really. There’s plenty, have some more,” Bug insisted. “Alright, just one more,” A-Train smiled as he reached for the plate. “Called Bug and told her the news. Told her to get to cookin’, cause we was comin’ home. Glad that mess is over,” my father sighed. “No nicknames at the table,” I chuckled. “It ain’t a nickname, and you know it. We been callin’ her Bug since she was a baby. Katie Bug. It’s her God damned name, Mike,” my father growled as he shook his fork at me. “It ain’t her name, Pop. Her name’s Katie. I just think it’s funny. If I say one, you all get on me. But

you and mom say Bug all the time like it’s her name; and it ain’t her name,” I rotated my chicken bone and made sure all of the meat had been gnawed from the bone. “Her name’s Bug, and that’s the end of it. I ain’t got to be nice to you, Mike, the trial’s over,” my father pulled his fork from his mouth and pointed it at me. “Well, after we eat, Dekk, Shorty, Vee, A-Train, The Kid and I are going to go out for a drink,” I laughed. “No nicknames at the table, Michael,” my mother sighed without looking up from her plate. “I don’t like it when you call me Kid,” Austin said softly. “Shut up, Austin. Feel lucky you’re even invited. You’re still proving your worth,” I said as I reached for another piece of chicken. “Don’t say that word Michael, it’s a bad word,” my mother looked up from her food and stared in my direction. “Yes ma’am,” I responded apologetically. “I want to go,” Bug said as her fork dangled from her fingers. “Go where?” My father asked. “I want to go with you guys tonight,” Bug smiled from across the table. “Bug, we’re going out drinking and acting like fools. It ain’t a place for you,” I said as I pulled the

skin from my chicken. “Well, Vivian and Kace are going. So girls can go, and I want to go,” she wagged her eyebrows and smiled. “Bug, you’re just a kid, you can’t…” before I finished she interrupted me. “I’m not a kid. I’m old enough to drink. I’m four years younger than Kace, basically. So kiss my ass, Ripp. I want to go,” she batted her eyelashes and smiled. “Let her go, Ripp. It’s fine with me,” Austin shrugged. “Bug, Austin, no nicknames at the table,” my mother said flatly. “Sorry, ma’am,” Austin chimed. “Ain’t nobody asked your opinion Austin, shut up and eat,” I grunted. “Michael…” my mother whined. “So, you were a Marine?” Bug asked as she rested her hands on the sides of her face, batted her eyelashes, and stared across the table at A-Train. Shane turned to face Bug as she spoke. “Once and always,” A-Train nodded. Shane glanced at A-Train. “What’s that mean,” Bug asked, still smiling and staring. Shane turned toward Bug and pulled his fork from his mouth. I jumped as Vee slid her hand to my thigh. I

turned to her and smiled as she pushed her plate away from the edge of the table. I rotated my head and glanced at A-Train, then turned toward Bug. She continued to smile and bat her eyelashes as she waited for an answer. After ATrain swallowed the chicken he had been chewing, he responded. “Well, it means once you’re a Marine, you’ll always be a Marine. What is instilled into you lasts a lifetime. Once a Marine always a Marine,” ATrain responded as he delicately placed his chicken onto his plate. “He’s teaching me hand-to-hand combat. Selfdefense,” Austin smiled and turned to his right, facing Bug. Bug turned to face Austin and gave him a stop talking to me glance. Slowly she turned to face ATrain again and smiled. “So, you were in the war?” Bug asked, still smiling and staring. “Bug, don’t be rude,” my father said sternly. “It’s alright sir. No offense taken,” A-Train said as he wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I was over there for almost a decade, yes,” ATrain admitted. “Did you kill anyone?” Bug asked matter-offactly. “Bug!” my father howled. “Bug!” my mother screeched.

I dropped my fork onto my plate and stared at Bug. Manda smiled and shook her head. As Kace raised both her hands to her mouth, Shane shook his head. There isn’t a handbook on how to treat a decorated Marine that spent ten years at war, but it should be common sense not to ask certain questions. I knew the answer to the question, but knowing made me feel as if A-Train and I were closer than most people were with him. He was a quiet man, polite, and kept to himself. As with any men that have seen the atrocities that he’s seen, I’m sure recalling the events is difficult at best. “It’s quite alright, ma’am,” A-Train nodded at my mother. “And sir,” he turned and nodded at my father. “I’m not ashamed. Yes, I killed people. It was my job. In a perfect world, a RECON Marine mission is complete without anyone dying. Anyone. We’re reconnaissance. We gather information, we interrogate. We’re like Navy SEALS on land. We gather intelligence through interrogation. In that war? Well, it was different. There was nothing to gather and no one wanted to talk. So, we killed most of the people we encountered. Before they killed us,” he nodded his head slightly and slowly rotated his plate in a circle. “How many?” Bug asked, her face still resting in her hands. “Bug. Damn it,” my father dropped his fork

onto his plate and stared. Bug faced my father, rolled her eyes, and turned toward A-Train. As she started batting her eyes, I began to wonder just what was happening. She was either infatuated with A-Train, the military element, or killing. I wondered as I considered everything that had happened if it may be the killing that she was concerned with. More than likely it was a natural and healthy thing for her to wonder about. She’d been through a huge range of emotion in the last few months. As Vee squeezed my thigh, I turned to her and smiled. “Again sir, no concerns here. I have no shame,” he paused and turned from my father to Bug. “I don’t know how many. I never counted. More than most, I’d guess. I was either in the right place at the right time, or the wrong place at the right time. I was combat wounded five times. I don’t know,” he paused as the tone of his voice changed. His voice changed to a softer, more pleasant tone. Generally, when A-train spoke, regardless of what he was speaking of, he sounded stern. Not angry, but very concise. His voice had depth, and he used it to his advantage. He didn’t have to raise his voice to make a point, and I am sure he could make a grown man cower just by speaking to him. This voice? This was the voice that he used the day he told me if the killings.

This was his voice of recollection. He stared at his plate and twisted it slowly in a circle as he spoke. “We had to rescue some trapped Army Rangers on hill 571 in 2005. I remember on that night there were eight. I didn’t think it would ever end. I got shot as soon as my boots hit the dirt. Took a round in the thigh. I knew it happened, I just don’t really think I cared. I had a job to do, and there were Rangers that were pinned down. We were all they had. Well, it was us and a hand full of SEALS. We got them out of there. That, I suppose, is what’s important. But a count? Like a total number? It’d be a guess. But every one of them? Every one? They had one thing in common. They were trying to kill me, I just got to them before they got to me,” he looked up from his plate and forced a half-smile. “I like Marines,” Bug sighed. “You don’t know any fuckin’ Marines, Bug. Leave the man alone,” I scowled. It was high time this conversation changed. “Amen. Thanks for your service son,” my father sighed apologetically. As Manda stood from her seat, Kace, Shane, and Austin stared. Recollection of those events was obviously something that A-Train hadn’t expected to do when he agreed to come to dinner. This was supposed to be a celebration. For him, I suppose being alive, in itself, was a celebration.

Or a curse. “I do too,” Bug screeched, “well, I did.” “Just stop, Bug. You don’t know any Marines. Leave it alone. I’m sorry Alec,” I said as I patted A-Train on the shoulder. “He was a senior when I was a freshman. I’ll never forget him, Ripp. You knew him too. He came here for dinner once. He joined the Marines and went to Iraq. He was some special Marine. Like Special Forces. He got killed, I remember reading it in the paper and they talked about it in church and at school. If you ever went to church, you’d know,” she became angry as she spoke. “Well, I have no idea who you’re talking about,” I said as I shook my head and picked up my glass of tea. “I went to that house party, the one I got in trouble for. And Greg Shook was grabbing me. He said I filled out young. He was being a dick. And Billy pushed him and told him to stop. But he didn’t stop - he kept saying stuff - suggestive stuff about my big boobs. Billy took him outside and beat him up, and then came in and apologized for Greg being a dick. I remember his knuckles were all bloody. And he came here for dinner a few weeks later,” obviously a little upset, she paused and looked up at the ceiling. “And he got married. And his wife had a kid while he was gone. And he never came back,” she

looked back down and stared at me. Her eyes were glassy and full of tears. “I remember him. Big kid. Tall. Bug made a big deal of him kickin’ that Greg’s ass. Billy Cunningham. Yep. He was a nice kid,” my father said. A-Train pushed himself away from the table and stood, staring at my father. “Billy Cunningham? Billy Ray Cunningham?” he asked. I turned to my right to face A-Train as he stood up. He looked as if he’d seen a ghost. “Yeah. That’s him. Billy Ray Cunningham,” Bug blurted out. “You went to school with Billy Ray Cunningham?” A-Train stood erect, as if he were standing at attention. “You alright bro?” I asked. “Billy Ray Cunningham saved my life,” ATrain said softly, yet full of emotion. “I told you about him, on the roof. Remember?” he asked me as he wiped sweat from his face. “Hold on,” Bug said as she jumped from her chair. “Excuse me,” she said as she ran from the room. “What’s going on?” Manda shrugged. “Leave your sister alone, Manda, she’s been

through a lot,” my mother said as she looked up from her food. A-Train continued to wipe sweat from his face and stare at his plate as he stood behind his chair. Soon, Bug ran back into the room - holding a book in her hand. Frantically, she began flipping through the pages. “Here. Come here Alec. Look at this,” Bug said as she pointed to a page in the book. Slowly, Alec walked around the table. My father and Shane were obviously uneasy about the discussion and not certain of what to think. Both sat, eyebrows raised, and focused on me. Austin seemed unconcerned as his eyes darted back and forth across the table. As I shrugged my shoulders and looked at my father, Vee patted my thigh. I turned to face her and shrugged. “That’s him. That’s Lance Corporal Cunningham,” A-Train’s hand shook as he pointed to the page in the high school year book. “What happened? You said he saved you…” Bug asked. “Bug…” my father drug her name out for a long second, attempting to get her to stop asking questions. A-Train turned and looked at my father, “I’m squared away, sir. It’s alright.” He turned back to face Bug and took the yearbook from her hand, “He was a good Marine.”

As he stared at the pages, his lips began to quiver. I didn’t know what to say or what, if anything, to do. As I sat and watched, he opened his mouth twice, but didn’t speak. The third time he opened his mouth, his eyes became distant and he began to speak. It was as if he was speaking to someone that didn’t exist. To a ghost. “We followed two of them on the roof of a building. They’d shot one of the Marines on my team as soon as we’d entered the building. Cunningham and I followed them on the roof. I had a feeling. You know that deep down in your gut feeling?” he looked up from the book and turned to face my father. My father nodded his head slowly without speaking. “Well, I was right,” he nodded his head and looked down at the book again. “One of them stepped out from behind a structure on the roof that was being used for cover. Cunningham was hit half a dozen times. He acted like it didn’t faze him. Probably adrenaline. Adrenaline or desire. Maybe just plain courage. Hell, who knows. He returned fire, striking him in the hand, chest, and torso. I returned fire, killing the second gunman. Cunningham died right there on the roof. He was uhhm. He had a daughter,” A-

Train looked up from the year book and swallowed. “She’s uhhm. She’s probably,” Bug paused and counted on her fingers. “She’s probably six or seven now,” she nodded. “I’d like to meet Cunningham’s wife,” A-Train said as he handed Bug the year book. “I know where she used to live. I bet I can find her,” Bug grinned. A-Train nodded his head and slowly walked around the table. As he sat down, I had a revelation. Some things began to make sense, and in doing so, other things made no sense at all. I had a gun pulled on me by a man as I approached him in his home. In retaliation, I put him in a choke hold. In doing so, I broke his neck, killing him instantly. A court of law found me not guilty of the crime of murder. They had, today, all agreed that I did nothing wrong. This wasn’t the opinion of one person. It was the unanimous decision of all twelve of them. Additionally, it was the decision of the court. It was final, and it was official. What I had done was acceptable, and in the eyes of my peers it was moral, humane, and justified. I had been released from court to live my life absolved of having done any wrong. A-Train is forced to live his life constantly second guessing himself. Wondering and never knowing. Living his life and never being absolved of acts committed that he may question.

So, he spends his life helping others in whichever way he feels he can do so best. Making amends. Tipping the scale back to even. Making up for the mistakes he feels like he has made in the past – or maybe trying to make them make sense in his head. I looked around the table. In the last three years, things had surely changed. The table was full of friends, lovers, brothers, sisters, and parents. I loved each one of the people at the table, every one of them a little differently. I realized as I looked at them, not only had circumstances changed, I had changed. I was still me. I sat at the dinner table a man who had just murdered someone, yearned to get into a bare knuckles fight - just because - and wanting to take Vee into my parent’s room and fuck her on their bed. But. I sat at the table different. Changed. Full of a love for my friends and family that I had never felt. As I glanced around the table, my mouth formed a smile. I realized everyone was still talking, I just wasn’t hearing what they were saying. I looked down at my lap and noticed Vee’s hand was still resting on my thigh. A-Train and Bug were still talking, and Austin’s eyes were darting back and forth as people spoke, attempting to absorb it all. Shane sat back in his chair taking it all in, his face

covered in that Shane Dekkar smile. And Kace. Kace did what Kace does. She sat and smiled. “If we aren’t focused on living life to the best of our ability, we’re slowly dying a death that’s of our own choosing. The odd thing is we get to pick the course we take. Why would someone choose not to live life at full capacity?” I looked around the table and smiled. “Wow. I like that. Who said that? I know it’s not a Ripp original,” Kace laughed. “My father. Jack Ripton,” my father responded proudly. “Come on everybody. Let’s get out of here,” I said as I stood from the table. “Where we going, Ripp? Huh? What are we gonna do? What’s the big plan?” Austin stammered as he stood. “We’re all gonna go pound down some beers, see if we can get in a fight, and then I’m going to take Vee home and fuck her until she passes out,” I pressed my hands into my hips and smiled. “Michael, we don’t like it when you fight in the bars,” my mother said softly. “Damn it Mike…” my father began. “Pop. Stop. Here’s the deal,” as I directed my response to my father, Vee stood - blushing, but smiling from ear-to-ear. “I can change what I feel. Or, I don’t know…

maybe what I allow myself to feel. And, I can change how I act. But I can’t change who I am. I like fuckin’ and I like fightin’. Today is a victory for me - a big one. I’m going to celebrate. Doing the two things I love. Come on, let’s get out of here. Bug, Manda, this includes you,” I smiled. It’s time to start living again. And, if we can’t live life being ourselves, why even be?

CAN’T STOP A TRAIN

RIPP. Trying to find a fight in a bar in Texas is like trying to find water in the ocean. As they say, everything’s big in Texas, and that includes the ego of every male Texan sitting in the bar. Austin and I had fought two guys in the parking lot after an argument in the bar. We started the argument, and did so knowing what we wanted out of it. We wanted to fight. We got our wish granted, and it ended up in a brawl in the parking lot. Dekk and A-Train stood back and shook their heads and watched for the majority of the time we fought, until the end of Austin’s mismatch. The girls stood well behind where we were as we had instructed them to. Austin’s hand-to-hand combat lessons had paid off, and he won his fight handily. A-Train, upon the fight ending, was challenged by one of Austin’s

foes friends. A-Train scoffed and laughed as he attempted to walk away, which the challenger really didn’t accept as being respectable. It was at that point in time that he shoved ATrain while he was walking away. It was a shove that changed A-Train’s mind from walking away to teaching the man a valuable lesson. “You’re going to want to turn around and walk away from this, and I’m going to let you,” A-Train warned as he tugged against the thighs of his pants, loosening them. As he tugged on his pants he slowly spread his feet apart. “Fuck you. You guys beat the shit out of Steve. I’m gonna whip your ass,” the man nodded his head and raised his hands into his best fighting stance. “Listen. We didn’t whip anyone. That pretty fucker standing beside you whipped Steve’s ass – all by himself. And, to tell you the truth, Steve needed it. You see, he has an alligator mouth and a hummingbird ass. He needs to learn when to keep his mouth shut. Now my best advice to you is to go home. This is over,” A-Train spread his feet apart a little wider than shoulder width. “It ain’t over till I kick the shit out of you for what you did to Steve,” the man narrowed his gaze and clenched his fists as he raised them to his chest. “You see, that’s where things are getting kind of cloudy for you. You’re obviously confused. You’re

not going to win this fight. Not even if you get all your friends to join in. You see, I don’t think I can whip you. I know I can. Just go home. It’s probably best for us all,” A-train stepped forward with his right foot slowly. “My Pappy always told me the guy that’s a runnin’ his mouth is the one that can’t fight a lick,” the man laughed. “Well, I’m afraid to tell you that this time your father is sadly mistaken,” A-Train chuckled. “You calling my pappy a liar?” the man growled. “No. See? Here we go again with the cloudy judgment. I said he was mistaken. I didn’t call him a liar. Go home. Save yourself being disgraced in front of your friends,” A-Train said as he nodded toward the man that Austin had beaten. In the time that A-Train had been talking to this idiot, the girls had slowly migrated to where we were standing. In their minds, the fighting was over. This talking, although it hadn’t lasted for long, certainly changed the pace of what was going on before it started. Five minutes prior, Austin was bending a guy’s arm behind his back and punching him in the side of the face while I landed a perfect one punch uppercut to an asshole’s chin. Now, everything had slowed down to a dull roar. “I’m fixin’ to disgrace you,” the man laughed as he began to circle A-Train.

Bug slowly walked up behind A-Train and began to speak. Before she actually said anything, the man started running his mouth again. “Probably be a good idea if you and those big titties of yours get back away from him so you don’t get hurt, little girl,” the man said as he stepped toward A-train. I’ve been in countless fights in my lifetime. Being a boxer and a bare knuckles fighter, I’ve probably witnessed as many as I’ve participated in. I have never, however, seen anything like what happened next. It materialized so fast, if I wasn’t standing immediately to A-Train’s right, I’d have never seen a thing. A-Train’s right foot moved slightly forward, and he struck the guy in the upper chest once with the palm of his right hand, causing the man to cough and bend at the waist. His left hand immediately swung behind the man’s head and gripped his neck as his right hand struck the man’s lower neck, directly above his collarbone. Almost instantly, he released the man’s neck, and struck him violently on each side of the neck with the bottom of his open hands. The strike to the man’s neck caused him to immediately go limp and collapse, all of which Atrain was obviously prepared for. As the man began to crumble into the parking lot, A-Train caught him by his shirt and held him up. The entire fight was

three lightning fast punches, and lasted for less than five seconds. “Holy fuck!” Dekk screamed. “It’s going to be tough, but try and stand up, so you can apologize,” A-Train said as he held the man upright. “Come here, Bug. He won’t hurt you,” A-Train said as he turned around to face Bug, holding the man in his arms. The man appeared to be unconscious, but his eyes were open. His lips moved as if he wanted to talk, but the connection between his brain and his motor skills seemed miles apart. He was on another planet altogether. Bug walked up behind A-Train, stood at his side, and peered over his shoulder at the semiunconscious man. “Now, I know you can hear me. This isn’t the first time I’ve done this. Apologize to the girl,” ATrain sighed. The man stared at Bug glassy-eyed. “I’m going to count to three,” A-Train said. “One…Two…Three. That’s a bad decision on your part, really. Like I said, I know you can hear me. If you try, you can talk. Austin, come here. Hold him while I light a cigarette,” A-Train said over his shoulder. Austin stood and stared as if he were confused. “Dude, you fucked Randy up bad, let him go,”

Steve said as he approached A-Train. “Steve, you’ll need to back the fuck up, right now,” the tone of A-Train’s voice sent chills down my spine. Steve stopped and stood still. “Austin?” A-Train raised his eyebrows as he looked at Austin. “Hold this prick up. I need a cigarette,” A-Train said as he held Randy up by the front of his shirt. Reluctantly, Austin walked up behind Randy and slid his hands under his armpits, holding him from falling. He was beginning to regain full consciousness as A-Train pulled a cigarette from his pack and lit it. As Randy became more aware of his surroundings, he began to struggle with Austin. “You see. This is always the problem with certain people,” A-Train took a long drag from the cigarette and clenched it in his teeth. As he rolled his shoulders and popped his neck, he raised his hands, palms open, to the height of his shoulders. With lightning speed and tremendous force, he drove both hands into Randy’s neck, causing him to go limp again. “Dude what the fuck? He wasn’t doing anything!” Steve screamed. “You’re correct, Steve. I counted to three earlier,” A-Train paused as he exhaled smoke. “I gave him an opportunity to apologize, and he did not. I will allow him another opportunity in a

moment,” A-Train nodded at Steve and reached for Randy’s shirt. “I’ve got him,” A-Train said as he clenched Randy’s shirt in his hands. Austin released Randy from his grasp and stood back. Shane, Kace, Bug, Manda, and Vee all stood ten feet to the side of A-Train and watched in awe of what was happening. The entire event had only taken a matter of two or three minutes, but was excruciating to watch. “Randy, you need to apologize to the girl. I will count to three again. Tell her you’re sorry for being an inconsiderate asshole. One…Two,” as A-Train released Randy’s shirt with his right hand, Randy opened his eyes and mouth. “I’m…” he blinked his eyes. “Sorry,” he said as saliva dripped from his mouth onto the parking lot. “Tell her why you’re sorry,” A-Train said as he took another pull from the cigarette that dangled from his lips. Randy blinked his eyes and stared up at ATrain. “Use your imagination,” A-Train said as he bit the cigarette in his teeth and took another drag. “I…I uhhm. I’m sorry…I was. I’m sorry I was disrespectful,” Randy labored with his speaking. “And? Will it ever happen again?” A-Train said as he exhaled smoke.

“It uhm. I. It won’t happen again,” Randy said. “Bug?” A-Train said over his left shoulder. “Uhhm. Yes?” she smiled as she stood behind A-Train and looked over his shoulder. “Satisfied?” A-Train asked. “Very,” Bug smiled. A-Train pulled up on Randy’s shirt, holding him erect, steadied him, and released him. Initially, Randy stumbled, and then he slowly walked to Steve. “You’ll feel funny for a minute or two, but you’ll be fine,” A-Train assured him. As Randy walked away and A-train turned to the crowd that stood behind him, everyone stared. Well, everyone except Bug. As A-Train turned around, she took a few steps back. As soon as he was facing her, she jumped into his arms and hugged him like a rabid spider monkey. “That was so awesome. And sexy. What did you do to his neck?” Bug screeched. “Knife hands,” A-Train smiled. Huh? Knife what?” Bug asked, her arms still firm around A-Train’s neck. “I’ll show you some time. It’s a good way to gain control of a situation,” A-Train replied as he held Bug in his arms. Vee walked to my side and slipped her arm around my waist. “You see what’s going on don’t you?’ Vee asked

as she looked up and puckered her lips. “What’s that?” I asked as I kissed her. “Someone’s got a little crush on your boy Alec,” she said. “No. She’s just…” I began to say. “She’s just about all over his ass,” Vee laughed as she nodded in the direction of A-Train and Bug. “And now that you boys are all done fighting, what was the other thing we were going to do? Oh yeah, the other “F” thing. Fuck,” she smiled. “Vee’s got a stomach ache. We need to get the hell out of here. It’s been a long day,” I turned to the crowd and announced. “You’re full of it, Ripp. We know what you’re going to do,” Kace giggled. “Well, you guys do whatever it is you want to. It’s still early. But we’re leaving. I need to make up for some lost time. Austin?” I said over my right shoulder. “Yeah boss?” he responded. “Look after Manda until the end of the night,” I raised one eyebrow and stared his direction. “Got it, boss,” he responded. “A-Train?” “Semper fi,” he bellowed, Bug still dangling from his shoulders. As Shane pulled his hood off of his head, he pressed it to his shoulders with his left hand and smiled. Kace stood beside him holding his right

hand and shaking her head. If there were ever two people that were meant to be in my life - and in it to a degree and depth that had the ability to fuel me to improve my life from a relationship standpoint, it was Kace and Shane. “Have fun, Vee,” Kace giggled. As I walked by Shane, he held out his clenched left fist. I clenched my right hand and drove my fist into his. Brotherhood. Family. Friends. As we walked to the car, I took a deep breath in through my nose and smelled the sweet Austin summer air. All of this was new to me. New friends, a new relationship, and a new chance at living a trouble free life. I had a chance at a new beginning, of sorts. With each step toward the car, I realized my nightmare was truly over. I would be in charge of my life from here on out. I could make it as good or as bad as I wanted to. I looked down at Vee as she squeezed my left hand in hers. And I wondered if I’d fuck this up or make it work. Naaah…I’m Mike fucking Ripton. I. Got. This.

WHERE I BELONG

VEE. “Don’t you dare touch my pussy, you big dumb fucker,” I grunted as I attempted to look up, my chin tight against the comforter. My butt muscles tensed as I felt his hand move up my inner thigh. As his finger slid into my pussy, it was apparent just how wet I had become as he restrained me. A month ago, I had purchased expensive leather wrist restraints, ankle restraints, and every chain, fastener, furry leopard print sleeve, paddle, and dildo the store had available. Everything had remained in my closet in a bag since I had purchased them. Until now. Now, I was stretched out on my bed, face down and naked. My arms were stretched to eleven o’clock and one o’clock, and my legs to about four o’clock, and eight. I felt helpless, and the feeling

filled me to my core. The satisfaction I obtained as I pulled against the restraints was one of absolute helplessness. And absolute satisfaction. I felt Michael’s chest against my back, pressing me into the bed. One hand clenched a fistful of my hair while the other continued to finger my soaking wet pussy. “You’re fucked now. You couldn’t get away if you wanted to,” his breath against the back of my neck caused me to shiver. Holy fuck, I like this. A lot. I pulled against the restraints. The best I was able to manage was to tense my muscles. No movement at all was possible with any of my limbs; my legs and arms were stretched to the point that my knees and elbows were locked. I buried my face in the comforter and grunted as he fingered me. This is exactly where I belong. “Don’t you dare fuck me, asshole,” I groaned as I lifted my face from the blanket. He pulled my hair taught until my neck arched and I was facing straight ahead. I groaned in pain as he held my hair in his fist. The pain quickly turned to pleasure as his fingers brought me to climax. “Fuck you, I’ll do whatever I want and you can’t do a fucking thing about it,” he breathed against my right ear.

I felt his cock against my inner thigh as he grunted in my ear. “Don’t you dare,” I groaned as he pulled my hair farther, his fist resting against the small my back. “You mother fucker let go of my hair,” I groaned as tears ran down my cheeks. I pulled against the restraints and attempted unsuccessfully to kick my legs. Incapable of moving as tightly as I was bound, all I was able to do was wiggle. His weight pressing down on my back, and my hair in his hand, I was truly helpless. “Fuck…” he paused as his fingers slid from my wet pussy. You,” he pressed his chin into the side of my neck and breathed into my ear. I felt his massive cock begin to penetrate my pussy. As soon as the tip was inside of me, he grunted and forced himself inside until I could feel his balls against my clit. My groans were muffled as he released my hair and pushed against the back of my head, smashing my face deep into the comforter. Oh God yes. This. This is what I want. “How do you like being full of that big cock, little girl?” he growled as he pushed my face into the comforter and began fucking me with more

force. I groaned and slobbered as he pounded himself in and out of my soaking wet pussy. Holy fuck, I’m not going to last, this is too much. I raised my head as I felt my pussy start to contract. As soon as I opened my mouth, I began to groan a moan of sheer ecstasy. The sound echoed through the sparsely furnished bedroom as he continued to shove me full of his fat cock. Being with Michael and becoming satisfied with him sexually had very little to do with his cock, and almost everything to do with his presence. Having him on top of me - holding me down with his weight and muscle - caused me to feel small, weak, and like a woman. Absolutely nothing else, when he was on top of me, mattered. I was who I yearned to be - a woman under the control of the man I loved. “Holy fuuuuuccckkkk!” I groaned. The orgasm ran from my pussy to my eye sockets. I closed my eyes and opened them. My entire body shook and tingled inside. This was far different from a typical orgasm, and absolutely nothing like the self-satisfaction I had become accustomed to. “Don’t fucking touch me. Jesus fuck,” I blinked and stared at the wall. My entire body shook.

Slowly, he pulled himself out of my pussy. “You alright? You’re shaking,” he asked. “Don’t fucking…” I opened my eyelids in the middle of an eye roll and stared at the wall. “Talk. Just don’t,” I sighed as I closed my eyes, exhausted. He rolled over beside me and looked up into my eyes, “You didn’t last very long.” I shook my head and opened my eyes, “Don’t…speak…to…me.” He lay beside me on his side, looking up at my face, smiling. After a few minutes, I felt as if things were as close to normal as they were going to get. I opened my eyes and turned to face him, my face flat on the comforter. “I got a question, babe,” he said softly, his chin resting in his hand. I blinked my eyes and smiled, “Okay?” “I was thinking about having my gold tooth removed and a real tooth put in place of it,” he said as he smiled and tapped his tooth with his index finger. “I like your gold tooth,” I responded softly, still somewhat overcome from the earth shattering orgasm. “I like it too, but I think it’s time for a change,” he rubbed his finger over his teeth as he spoke. “Huh? Going to get you some Air Jordan’s too? And start driving a Mercedes Benz?” I chuckled

sarcastically. “Oh hell no. I’m not changing like that. I just. I don’t know. I want to look good for you. I been thinkin’ about it,” he pulled his index finger from his mouth and rested it beside his mouth. “Well, I have a dentist that’s, well, he’s kind of into me for some money. I’m sure I can get it done for basically free,” I smiled. “I can’t take you seriously all stretched out on that bed like that, let me get you undone babe,” he said as he rolled over on his back and sat up. “No!” I responded sharply. “Leave me. I want to stay like this for a while. I don’t know. I uhhm, I really like this,” I closed my eyes as I spoke. “Just touch me,” I breathed as I opened my eyes slightly. The final witness, closing arguments, the jury’s verdict, having parking lot sex, dinner with Michael’s family, a bar fight, and being tied up and fucked - all in one day. This was a day to remember, a day full of accomplishments. As Michael’s hand slid across the small of my back and rested on my hip, he pulled himself into me, resting his chest against my shoulder. My eyes closed and my cheek flat against the comforter, I relaxed, closed my eyes, and got lost in the moment. I could feel his shallow breathing against my ear, his chest against my shoulder, and

his hand gripping my hip. Having his hands on made me feel complete. Protected. “You made me proud today, Vee. Very proud,” he breathed into my ear. And with those spoken words, I exhaled slightly, filled with pride, allowed Michael to melt into me… And fell asleep.

JUSTIN AND JARHEAD

KELSEY O’ REILLEY. For me to try to count all of the men that I have trained over the years would be comparable to counting all of the grains of sand at Corpus Christi’s beach. Of all of the men, only two stood out as being different. I’ve trained good fighters, exceptional fighters, and great fighters. I have had the best fighter that I believe would or could ever exist dropped into my lap. The two men who rose to the top did so not because of their ability to fight, but because of their ability to be great men. I’ve never been as proud of any man in my life as I have become of Shane Dekkar and Mike Ripton. Shane is just an all-around gentleman. And although Ripper is an animal in most respects, he’ll stand up for anyone that can’t stand up on their own. Those two boys make me proud to be

associated with them – each for very different reasons. To cause them to continually respect me, listen to me, and apply what I demand of them through my teachings requires that I never let them fully understand what I think of them. To let them know how much I love them would lead to their failure. For me, it can become sad to think of. These boys are my life, and I love them like my own children. “What in the absolute fuck are you doing in my ring in those fucking shoes, Ripper? What did I tell you about those fucking things,” I screamed as I gripped the bottom rope. “I thepped in here for a jutht a thecont, bauth,” he responded. “Spit whatever is in your mouth out, I can barely understand you. Jesus Christ. And I don’t give a rat’s fucking ass how long you stepped in there for, step the fuck out. Good God damn, Ripper. Street shoes in my fucking ring? Really? I wonder about your fucking brain sometimes. All those fucking bar fights you get into are swelling your fucking brain. And what the fuck are your two monkeys doing in there, playing grab-ass?” I shook my head as I watched the Marine flip Austin over his shoulder onto the mat. Ripper walked over to the opposite side of the ring, ducked under the ropes, and stepped onto the floor. As he walked up to me, he reached in his

mouth and pulled out a handful of what appeared to be cotton and threw it in the spit bucket at the corner of the ring. “What in the absolute fuck are you doing? What the fuck was in your mouth, son?” I howled as he stepped away from the bucket. “Cotton. I went to the dentist this morning, boss. My gums were bleeding and he told me to keep that cotton in my mouth for thirty minutes. I just got here. Shit old man, settle down,” he responded as he rubbed his teeth with his index finger. “Dekkar already told me about your fucking fiasco last night. You know he tells me everything, don’t you?” I snapped. “Well, I didn’t even get hit. Did he tell you that? I one punched that dude,” he said as he swung his fist into an imaginary uppercut. “You look different, did you shave or something?” I asked. “Nope.” “Well, you look different. Maybe it’s because you ain’t wearing those goofy glasses.” He smiled from ear to ear. “You big weird fucker. Stop acting like an idiot. Now just what the fuck are Justin Timberlake and the jar head doing here?” I pointing into the ring just as Austin flipped the Marine over his shoulder. Damn, that was impressive.

“What do you know about Justin Timberlake, old man? And. Well, they’re practicing hand-tohand combat,” he responded as he rubbed his teeth with his fingertip. “I know he’s a little dancing fag. I know that. I’ve seen that dick sucking little skinny prick on T.V. flopping all over the place. Fucking pole smoker. And your boy Austin? He’s about one slap away from sucking someone’s cock,” I took a breath and shook my head. “A dance instructor. In my fucking gym. And in my god fucking damned ring. Good fucking God, Ripper. Keep your cock away from that kid, I’m warning ya,” I wagged my index finger in the air between us. Immediately, he slapped my hand out of the air. He’s still got it. Damn near as fast as I’ve ever seen. “Don’t be talking shit on that kid, boss. He’s a good kid. He just needs to learn some basics,” he smiled. “Well, they don’t let us choke people or flip them in a boxing match. You might have forgotten that, because you don’t box anymore,” I hesitated and slowly shook my head. “You sure you didn’t shave or something?” I asked as I spit in the spit bucket. “I been kind of busy boss, and I wanted to talk to you about the boxing,” he responded as he spit in

the bucket. “You smart ass. Stop spitting in my bucket. And what do you want to talk about?” I asked as I looked at the spit bucket and shook my head. “Well,” he turned and began to walk toward the locker room. “Where you headed, Ripper?” I asked as I followed him across the gym. I knew where he was headed. To these boys the locker room was their sanctuary. It’s where they thought, talked, and solved their problems of the day. It was a place of refuge and of relaxation. It smelled of sweat, bile, and old leather. It smelled like the champions that I developed. “Locker room, boss,” he said over his left shoulder as he turned the corner into the locker room. I followed him into the locker room and watched as he sat down on the wooden bench in the center of the room. For the last two month’s Ripper had looked tired. He was in shape, but he appeared to be worn out mentally, physically, and emotionally. With good reason I’m sure, but worn to a frazzle none the less. Today, he looked great. Amazing what an emotional relief and a little bit of sleep provide. “So, what ya got, Ripp?” I asked as I looked around the locker room. “Well, boss. I was thinking,” he sighed as he

looked down at his feet. “About changin’ them shoes?” I laughed. “Leave the shoes alone, boss. I’m being serious, can we talk?” he asked. “Son, you know you can talk to me about anything. You needing money?” I asked. “No, not money. I uhhm. I been wondering,” he said softly. “Stop beating around the bush. We’re grown men here, Ripper. Spit it out,” I pushed the web of my hands into my hips and stared at him as he sat on the bench. “Hear me out, okay?” he asked as he looked up. As I nodded my head, he looked back down at his feet. “I want to stop boxing. I want to train fighters full time. I’ll still fight in Rundberg, I ain’t gonna even try and lie about that, boss. But I want a steady and predictable life. It ain’t really about the money; I know I won’t make any money to speak of. But…I been thinkin’ a lot. I want to become a trainer, boss. I want it bad. I want to become…well, I guess, I want to become you,” he looked up from his feet and smiled. I looked down at him, squinted, and clenched my jaw. I don’t know if he was trying or not, but he was making me proud of him. In the last month or so, Joe and I had discussed needing another full

time trainer. The walk-in business that had been generated from Dekkar’s rise to fame was well beyond what we had ever imagined. Discussion of a significant remodel and potentially an addition to the building had begun, but finances were far from sufficient from making those changes in the near future. As the big fucker looked up at me waiting for an answer, I felt like smiling. He was truly waiting for my response like a child waits for approval from his father for a job well done. He stared down at his feet, placed his elbows onto his thighs, and rested his chin in his hands. “I don’t think we have room for another full time trainer, kid,” I said as I shook my head and looked over at the freshly painted lockers. “We been getting’ a lot of people coming in, Kelsey. A lot. Hell, you probably don’t even know how many. Every day, someone else comes in and is interested about where Shane Dekkar trains,” he said as he stood from the bench. “Well, having fuckin’ interest in meeting a celebrity doesn’t make a man a potential fighter,” I said sternly as I stared at the lockers. I looked over my shoulder and waited for his response. “No, it don’t. But a lot of these guys could be convinced to train here, boss. I’d still train with Dekk. I’d still spar with him. You know, until the

fight. But I want to try this,” he rubbed his hands against his khaki shorts and smiled. “You really think you’re ready to stop fighting? To settle down and train people professionally?” I asked over my shoulder as I rubbed my chin in my right hand. “Yes sir, I do,” he responded, nodding eagerly. “There’ll be no hot-head horseshit, you fucking understand me?” I growled as I turned from the lockers to face him. “Not even once, boss. Not even once,” he smiled. “And no fighting in Rundberg,” I placed my hands on my hips and waited for his rebuttal. “Boss, you can’t take that from me. My time is my time. I got to keep fightin’ those young kids. It keeps me…well, it keeps me young. You know I love schoolin’ those fuckers,” he grinned from ear to ear. I looked up at the ceiling and paused. As I raised my hand to my face, I looked down and into his eyes. Still smiling, he waited for my response. “I tell you what. I’ll go out on a limb here. I’ll probably have one hell of a time convincing Joe, but you caught me in a good mood. Probably still reeling in the wake of that trial, I suppose. And that girl of yours? Good fucking God, son. Keep her. She’s as mean as a fuckin’ rattle snake. Here’s what I’m thinking. We’ll let you do it. Under one

condition,” I paused and waited for him to acknowledge my upcoming demand. Joe and I had done some research about the Marine friend of Mike’s. In doing so, we’d found two articles written about him in Leatherneck Magazine, both available online. He was a true war hero. Humble son-of-a-bitch had been shot five times. Each time, he was given an opportunity to come home and retire safely. Each time, he refused. Once, he was shot in a rescue mission, and refused medical treatment until every man was out of harm’s way. Even then, he refused true medical treatment, and only allowed a field dressing. A Marine removed the bullet from his leg with a knife and stitched the wound in the field. He was declared disabled after the Marines were done with him, given a hero’s discharge, and received a compensation check every month for the rest of his life. He didn’t need money, a job, or anyone to guide him. He only needed to feel like his life had purpose. It would be the least we could do, considering what he’d done for this country. Ripper looked into my eyes, and nodded his head, ready for my demand. “That Marine? You get him to work under you. He trains hand-to-hand combat here. Not all god damned day, but maybe a few hours. Maybe like a

women’s defense class or something. That’s for you two fuckin’ idiots to figure out. But he charges just like you do. It costs money to keep this place afloat,” I held my finger in the air. “You get as many as you can fit into your schedule. You two morons are in charge of your schedule. You can use the east ring, not the west one. West one’s mine, and will always be mine. Keep your schedules in Joe’s office, and have them sign the waivers. Everyone signs a waiver, no exception, including Justin fuckin’ Timberlake. Understood?” I hesitated and narrowed my gaze. He nodded eagerly and smiled. “Charge ‘em whatever you like, but we like to get $45 an hour. Gym gets $15, you get the rest. Don’t disappoint me, Mike,” I extended my hand, clenched my fist, and smiled. “You won’t regret it boss,” he grinned as he clenched his fist and pounded his knuckles into mine. “You sure you didn’t shave or something?” I asked. “No boss,” he grinned. “Whatever. Now I got shit to do, I can’t stand around and dick-off all day like you three dip-shits. Tell the Marine what’s going on. And keep your cock away from Timberlake’s mouth, Ripper. I’m tellin’ ya, he’s just one slap away from being a fag,” I smiled as I turned toward the door.

“Boss?” he said firmly. “Yeah, kid?” I turned to face him as I reached the door. “Alec and Austin. That’s their names, boss. Alec and Austin,” he nodded his head sharply as he spoke. “Jarhead and Justin,” I laughed as I walked out of the locker room and into the gym. As I walked toward the offices, I looked up and saw Alec and Austin sparring in the west ring. Austin was making good progress. The hand-tohand combat was teaching him how to react. Alec threw a pretty well telegraphed right, which Austin successfully blocked. After Alec landed a few light body punches, Austin countered and threw an uppercut. He possessed good form and great feet; he just needed practice and training. “Tuck your fuckin’ chin, Austin. If you don’t, Alec will break your God damned jaw,” I snarled as I walked past the ring. I knew as I walked away that Austin would get everything he needed here. Mike Ripton was probably the wildest human being to ever grace the great state of Texas, and he never ceased to surprise me with his shenanigans. But there’s one thing he’s never done and never would do. Disappoint me.

KNIFEHANDS

RIPP. Naturally, we resist change. The fear of not knowing prevents us from stepping into situations with an outcome that we are incapable of predicting. Predictability has advantages, but taking risks opens doors into hallways of life that we would never travel down if we weren’t willing to accept changes. Becoming open-minded and enthusiastic to entertain something different doesn’t necessarily mean we are living out of our comfort zone, it merely means we’re prepared to explore a path of life that we’ve never traveled along. Being an adult and having never danced isn’t necessarily an accomplishment, but it was something I had accomplished none the less. The best that I could recall, I had never danced, not even at the proms in high school. I had always

thought I was much too cool to dance, and stood in the corner drinking alcohol that I had snuck into the facility while the other kids actually danced. Now, at thirty-one years old, I wanted to learn how to do so to impress a woman. “It ain’t tough at all. Only weird part is holding your hand,” I said as we stopped. “Just remember. It’s like a box, top and bottom,” Austin reminded me as he turned to walk away. “Yep, got it. Shit there’s nothing to it,” I responded as I nodded my head. As I stood staring at Austin, I became a little uneasy. Having danced with him slowly for the last hour and a half, it seemed strange being alone with him. I looked around the empty studio, and through the window out into the dark parking lot. It was him and I. Not another soul around. As he turned and walked to turn down the music, I watched him take graceful steps toward the stereo equipment. His walk was perfect, probably similar to a male model walking along a runway. “Hey, I’ve got a question,” I asked, hesitating as he turned around. “You ever sucked another dude’s cock?” “Are you serious?” he screeched over his shoulder as he turned off the music. “Yep,” I nodded. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Ripp? Fuck

you,” he screamed as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Well, you still haven’t answered,” I pressed my hands into my hips and stared as I waited for him to answer. “No. I told you. I’m not gay. I haven’t sucked a dude’s cock. What the fuck is wrong with you?” he continued to stand with his arms crossed, giving me the stink eye. “What if I slapped the shit out of you and told you that you had to suck my cock. Like pimp slapped you. You know, bitch suck my cock?” I asked as I raised my right hand from my hip and held it at shoulder height as if I were going to slap him. “Fuck you Ripp. I’d beat the shit out of you if you tried to get me to do that. You’re one weird motherfucker,” he turned his palms up in wonder as he spoke. “No, dude. I don’t want you to. I ain’t no fuckin’ queer. Damn. It’s just. Well, that fucking Kelsey said you were like Justin Timberlake. He said you were just one slap away from bein’ a queer. I was just wondering,” I rubbed my hands on my shorts and smiled. “Hold on a fucking minute,” he demanded. “So, Kelsey’s old ass tells you that J.T. and I are a couple of fags, and you believe him? Dude, that’s fucked up. You believe everything someone tells

you? Hell, on any given day, someone can tell you anything,” he looked up at the ceiling and shook his head. “You gonna question me every time someone tells you some fucked up shit? Or you gonna get to know me and know who I am and stick up for my character? You fucking asshole. If someone told you Dekk was sucking cocks down on dirty sixth for twenty-five bucks a pop, what would you say?” he raised his shoulders and waited for a response. “I’d smack their ass, Dekk don’t suck cocks. What the fuck’s wrong with you?” I snapped back. “Exactly. And I don’t suck ‘em either. Asshole,” he said as he sat down on the bench along the wall. “Okay. I’m done with the queer talk,” I sighed. “Well, it’s not just that. It’s that everyone is so fucking quick to listen to and spread a rumor anymore. You know, I’m not that old, but I can say when I was fifteen years old, Facebook, Twitter, Snapchat, Instagram and Pinterest didn’t even exist. Today, everybody is on Facebook or whatever. Updating their status, posting a picture of a donut, a beer, a butterfly, or whatever the fuck they’re eating or doing. Taking a selfie at the bar bathroom and posting it. And it’s like a fucking competition. People use Facebook as a platform to start fucking rumors and in a matter of hours there’s a mountain of people that swear that this

happened or that happened and not one of them know a damned thing,” he crossed his arms, clenched his jaw, and shook his head. It was very obvious he was actually angry. “Dude, I didn’t mean to piss you off. It was a joke more than anything,” I shrugged, doing my best to try and ease his temper. “It’s a sore subject with me. The entire rumor mill,” he shook his head and his lips pressed to a thin line. “You know. I used Facebook for this studio a few years ago, before I really developed much of a customer base. One of my first customers was kind of like you. I was teaching him to dance. He wanted to impress his girl, and hadn’t told her a thing about taking lessons,” he got up, walked to the small refrigerator, and pulled out two bottles of water. As he walked back to the bench he handed me a bottle of water and sat down. I unscrewed the lid from the bottle and sat down a few feet from him on the bench and took a drink. As I drank, he shook his head and began to talk. “Well, one night, it was him and I in here alone. His private session was about over, and there was this lady that had a session after him. She waited while we finished. Eventually, he left, she had her session, and that was it. Well, for a few days anyway,” he took a drink of his water and shook his

head from side-to-side. “Fucking bitch took a photo with her cell phone of us dancing. Probably from here on the bench,” he stood and pointed at the bench. “Anyway, the angle of the photo was strange. Like up and at an angle. It looked like I was kissing him. The truth was my head was probably eight inches from him. But, she posted it on Facebook. I never saw her original post that I can remember, but I saw the ones after it. People took the picture and cropped the bottom half out, just leaving our hands and faces in it,” he tipped up the bottle of water and turned to face me. “So, here I am, holding his hand beside his face and kissing him. Thing is all over Facebook. People swearing this was proof that I was gay. You couldn’t even tell we were in the dance studio. I was dating a girl at the time, but as soon as that went viral, she left me. I ended up cancelling my Facebook account and haven’t had one since,” he stared out the window of the studio into the dark parking lot. “People do dumb shit sometimes, dude,” I said as I stood from the bench. He continued to stare out into the parking lot, “No, people are inconsiderate and selfish. They want to use others for their own benefit - to draw attention to themselves. It makes them feel important when people pay attention to them. You

know the bad thing? Originally I was mad at the girl that took the pic and posted it. But she really didn’t do anything wrong. It was all of the others that followed that made it into a mess.” “Sorry dude,” I said as I patted him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. But you know,” he paused and turned around. “If you don’t know me, don’t talk about me. If you get to know me and don’t like me, realize we’re different or maybe even incompatible. Go find someone you do like. But don’t bash my name to others just because you don’t like me, something I do, or something I have done,” he tossed his empty water bottle into the trash can beside the door. “Yeah, kinda like kindergarten. If you don’t have anything nice to say about someone, don’t say anything at all,” I screwed my lid on the empty bottle of water and tossed it toward the trash can, missing by six inches. “Not much of a basketball player, huh?” he laughed. “Nope,” I shrugged as I turned to face him. He smiled and rolled his eyes as he shook his head. “So, getting you to suck my cock is out of the question?” I chuckled. I blinked my eyes and looked up at the ceiling.

Confused and dizzy, I tried unsuccessfully to focus my eyes. I was flat on my back on the floor of the studio. I turned my head to the left. The windows. I turned my head to the right. The dance floor. I blinked my eyes. As I raised myself onto my elbows, I shook my head and tried to clear my mind. I looked toward the windows and saw Austin standing by the door smiling. “Dude,” my mouth felt numb and my lips were slow to move. “What the fuck happened?” I blinked again and rubbed my neck. With his palm flat, he raised his right hand in the air and smiled. “Knife hands, motherfucker. That shit works,” he laughed. I blinked my eyes and stared. Fucking A-Train. “I tell you what. You quit talking shit about me sucking cocks, and tell Kelsey I’m not a fag, and I won’t put knife hands on you again,” he said as he reached down to help me up. As I reached for his hand, he pulled it away. “Deal?” he asked, his hand hovering at his waist. “Deal,” I agreed as I reached up into the air.

As he helped me to my feet, I blinked my eyes and looked around the room, still somewhat uncertain of exactly what had happened. I felt like my brains had been scrambled. I knew one thing for certain; I’d been knocked unconscious by a fucking dance instructor. One that resembled a homosexual male model. Austin and I would need to discuss keeping this on the down low. As soon as I’m able to think clearly.

CHILDISH BEHAVIOR

VEE. Spending time with Michael, regardless of what we did, satisfied me greatly. Now that I had found someone who actually connected with me on an emotional, spiritual, physical, and sexual level, I was able to look back upon my life - and the men that accompanied me - and truly realize that they were doing nothing more than filling the space between what was the beginning and what I know now to be the ending. They were something to keep me temporarily satisfied until I found the real one, the right one, the one that caused me to stop midstride and say I’m done fucking looking. Everyone should find the one person that fills every void within them on a permanent level. Michael Allen Ripton fills me up. The search is over. I do not want to live another day on this earth

that doesn’t in some way include the presence of Michael. This man, in his own odd little way of living life, captured my heart and caused me to realize what I had been missing all along. The only problem, and it wasn’t necessarily a problem, was that on the surface as well as on the inside, Michael was still a very large child. “Fuck you Austin, put that skinny little bitch up on your shoulders,” I teetered on Michael’s shoulders as he clapped his hands together and growled. “Dude, you don’t even know her, don’t call her that. Think of something else, or let’s just cook dinner as a group. There doesn’t have to be a winner and a loser,” Austin complained as he nodded toward Nikki. Petite, blonde, and well dressed, Nikki stood beside Austin and appeared scared. “Michael! That wasn’t very nice,” I shrugged at Nikki and Austin as I looked down at the top of Michael’s tan head. “He didn’t mean it like that. He meant bitch in a good way,” I smiled. “It’s okay,” Nikki did her best to provide a phony smile. Michael, Austin, Nikki, and I had all gone to a movie together. In lieu of eating out, Michael had insisted we eat at home and have a relaxing evening together as a group. I had driven to the movie,

because my car comfortably seated four adults. After the movie, we had driven to my home, and were now in the front yard. Michael decided that we should have a chicken fight to determine who was going to cook the meal and who was going to relax. “It ain’t what you think. If you’ve never done it, it’s fun. He and I don’t fight. It’s you and it’s her. And you two are equal. Well hell, actually you are bigger,” Michael said as he let go of my right ankle and pointed toward Nikki. “You try and knock her off my shoulders. She tries to knock you off of his. Whoever gets knocked off loses. The winner gets to sit and relax. The loser cooks. Come on, she’s been up there for ten minutes and my shoulders are startin’ to ache,” Michael complained. Austin looked at Nikki and shrugged his shoulders. Dressed in black slacks, heels, and a peach colored sleeveless top, Nikki peered through her Cartier glasses at Austin and rolled her eyes. Truth be known, she looked like she needed knocked off of Austin’s shoulders - maybe just once. Uppity little bitch. “Kick off your shoes, it’ll be fun,” I lied. Until I get a fistful of your blonde hair. “Well, if I take off my glasses and shoes, maybe,” she sighed.

“Just place them on the porch. That way they won’t get hurt,” I smiled and rubbed Michael’s head. After Bryan and I divorced, I wanted out of the home that we had shared for the extent of our marriage. I purchased the home that I was in now, which was in the middle of a gated neighborhood that consisted primarily of doctors, attorneys, and executives. As Austin crouched down and Nikki climbed onto his shoulders, I chuckled at what the neighbors would think. Put that hair in a ponytail so I have something to hold on to. “I love your hair,” I grinned. “Dude, come on. Jesus,” Michael whined as Austin stood up, balancing Nikki on his shoulders. “Oh my God. This is scary,” she squealed as Austin stood up. Not as scary as when I yank your ass down. “Okay how do we do this?” I smiled and clasped my hands together as I looked at Nikki’s skinny little chicken legs. She didn’t stand a chance. “You two try and knock each other off our shoulders. Whoever gets tipped over loses. It’s that easy. Ready?” Michael asked. “Ready. You ready?” Austin looked up at Nikki. “Ready,” she smiled. “I guess so,” I grinned as I dug my heels into

Michael’s chest. “I’m not a fucking horse. You don’t have to kick me to get me to go,” Michael growled as he stomped through the grass toward Austin. Nikki teetered back and forth across Austin’s shoulders. We were roughly the same size, but she was about two or three inches taller than I was. The entire night she hadn’t said two words, and seemed like a little stuck up bitch to me. I didn’t mind being around Austin, and in fact found him rather entertaining. She, on the other hand… I reached out and attempted to grab her shoulders. As she leaned back, I ended up with a handful of her tits. Wow. She had very nice tits. Probably fake. I pushed against her boobs and attempted to topple her and end this quickly. As she fell backward, she reached up and grabbed my forearms, pulling me toward her. Michael, caught off balance, leaned toward Austin, laughing the entire time. As I fell forward into her, she continued to pull on my arms. “Get her babe. Don’t let that skinny bitch get ya,” Michael screamed. “She isn’t a skinny bitch. She’s a friend from high school,” Austin huffed as he tried to run to the right.

She may have been taller, but she was nowhere as strong as me. I pushed my forearms down against her grasp, grabbed a handful of her boobs again and squeezed hard. She had really nice tits. “Oh my god, she’s got my boobs,” she squealed as she let go of my arms and reached for my boobs. I released her tits from my grasp and clutched her left ankle in my right hand. As I pulled forward on her leg, she toppled backward and screamed. Almost immediately, Austin grabbed her shin and pulled down with his hand, securing her place on his shoulders. “Oh no you don’t,” Austin howled as he took off running across the yard. As he came to a stop in the middle of the yard, Nikki almost fell off of his shoulders. As she tipped forward, she reached down and grabbed a handful of his hair and steadied herself. Michael immediately followed after Austin, screaming the entire time. I held my arms extended and screamed along with him. As Michael approached Austin, he slowed down somewhat. When he was about four feet in front of Austin he planted his feet and flexed the muscles on his tree stump sized legs. My weight on top of his shoulders caused him to take one more step than he had planned. We came to a halt about a foot in front of Austin and Nikki, and my hands immediately found her neck.

“Babe, I don’t think you can choke in a…” Michael said as he caught his breath. Nikki closed her eyes and smiled as I squeezed her neck in my hands. “Okay never mind, she looks like she likes it,” Michael laughed. Nikki smiled and turned into putty in my hands. She really appeared to enjoy having my hands on her neck. I squeezed a little more firmly with both hands just to get her attention. In return, she relaxed and smiled. Weird bitch. As I let go of her neck her eyes widened and her mouth slowly formed a weird little frown. I reached down, grabbed each of her ankles, and pulled upward. As she toppled backward and I held her ankles in my hands, she made eye contact with me. If the look on her face could have spoken, it clearly would have said only one thing. She looked at me like Really? Really? You’re seriously going to do this to me? Yes bitch, really. I lifted her ankles over my head, and toppled her off of Austin’s shoulders and into the grass. “Oh my God, that knocked the wind out of me,” she complained as she looked up from the ground. “You’re a couple of fuckin’ losers. That’s what you are,” Michael laughed as he lifted me off of his

shoulders. “I really don’t think you landed very well. Here, let me help you up,” I said as I reached down and offered her my hand. “We’ll cook dinner. That was fun. Grab your shoes and glasses and we’ll go in and relax. Maybe have some wine,” I said as I pulled her to her feet. “We won, why are we gonna cook?” Michael whined as he placed his hands on his hips. “Because they’re our guests,” I smiled. “Our guests. I like the sound of that,” Michael grinned as he began walking toward the front door. Being alone at home for years, I often thought of what it would be like to have guests over for dinner. A year ago, having a party or inviting a few couples as guests into my home was as far-fetched of a fantasy as anything could possibly be. Now, as the four of us walked down the hallway and into the living room, it had become a reality. Some people, without a doubt, would look at having Michael in their life as being a problem. For me, not having Michael would be a problem. Having experienced what it was like to have Michael in my life, I couldn’t imagine trying to live even a moment without him. “There’s a bathroom down the hallway on the left. And I’m sorry I knocked you down in the grass,” I said apologetically as I smiled at Nikki. “That’s okay,” she smiled in return, “I’ll go

wash my hands.” “I’ll bring you some wine. There’s music over there, just pick something. Make yourselves at home,” I said to Austin as Nikki walked down the hallway toward the bathroom. I turned to hug Michael and grinned, “Let’s go make dinner.” “I still think it’s bullshit, but fine. Dude, don’t forget, you and that skinny bitch lost. You’re a couple of fuckin’ losers,” Michael laughed toward Austin as we walked away. “Be nice, it isn’t her fault she’s a bitch,” I whispered as we walked toward the kitchen. Once in the kitchen, I removed steak from the refrigerator, and what I needed to make salad and pasta. After looking over the wine options, I decided on a Coppola Rosso. While Michael sliced vegetables, I pre-heated the oven, uncorked the wine, and poured two glasses for our guests. “I’m going to take this wine to Austin and Nikki,” I said as I wrapped my arms around Michael’s waist and gave him a hug. “No, I’ll take it to ‘em. I have no idea of what to do with the steaks. So, you do that, I’ll take the wine,” he said as he wiped his hands on a towel. “Fine, I’ll get the meat seasoned,” I agreed. As I seasoned the meat and heated the skillet, Michael prepared the salad. Preparing dinner with him was satisfying on an entirely different level. It

was almost as if we were a married couple preparing dinner. In many respects, I guess there’s not much difference between being married and dating one person exclusively. Ultimately it’s what you believe in your head, and how you treat the other person that matters. “So you’re going to cook perfectly good steaks in a skillet and they’re going to be worth eating?” Michael asked. “Believe me, they’ll be better than grilled, I promise. You pre-heat a cast-iron skillet to five hundred degrees, and cook them in the oven. They’re amazing, one of my specialties for sure. Will you ask them if they’ll eat kale in the salad? I don’t want to add it if they won’t eat it,” I asked as I pulled the kale from the refrigerator and began to rinse it in the sink. “What the fuck is kale?” Michael asked. “It’s…well it’s like lettuce, but kind of bitter and a weird texture, see?” I held up a handful for Michael to see. ”It’s crinkled. Okay, I’ll ask,” he said as he walked toward the hallway that led to the living room. I rinsed the kale and began tearing it into manageable sized chunks for the salad. If Austin and Nikki didn’t want to eat it, Michael and I certainly could. As I was patting it dry, Michael came scurrying back into the kitchen – giggling like

a child. “What in the world did you do now?” I chuckled. “You aren’t gonna fuckin’ believe it,” he whispered. “What happened? Spilled the wine?” I raised my eyebrows in wonder. “Fuck, hard sayin’ but nope. Not that. Just come look. Be quiet,” he whispered as he motioned to the hallway. “They fall asleep?” I asked. “Nope. Shhh. Be really quiet,” he motioned for me to follow as he tip-toed toward the living room. Half way down the hallway, he stopped and motioned for me to stop. From where we stood, I could see into the edge of the living room, but not to the sofa where I expected Austin and Nikki were sitting. The music was playing fairly loudly, but as we stopped, over the music, I heard grunting. “What the fuck are they doing?” I whispered. “Shhhh,” he held his index finger to his lip. As he motioned for me to walk ahead of him with his hand, I slowly walked past him and down the hall another six feet or so. As soon as my view to the living room opened up, I saw them. Nikki, still wearing her top, was bent over the arm of the sofa, with her face buried in the cushions. She was naked from the waist down, and Austin was behind her, totally naked. One of

Austin’s legs was raised over her back and he appeared to be smashing her head into the cushions of the couch with his foot as he fucked her very aggressively from behind. Holy kinky shit. Nikki’s a freak. Slowly, I backed up to where I could no longer see them. I stood for a moment in disbelief of what I had witnessed, and walked down the hallway again quietly. As the room came into view again, Austin was still pounding away as Nikki grunted into the cushions of the couch. I backed up until I bumped into Michael. “Holy fuck. Are they really doing that in there?” I whispered as I pointed toward the living room. Michael grinned, raised his eyebrows, and nodded his head slowly. As Michael tiptoed toward the kitchen, I paused and attempted to recreate a visual of what I had witnessed. Incapable of much accuracy, I held my finger in the air, motioning for Michael to wait for me. Slowly and quietly, I walked to the opening in the hallway. As I peered around the corner, Austin was still in the same position. This time, Nikki’s face was so far into the cushions it appeared she was headless. The muscles on Austin’s thigh flared as he stomped her head into the couch and buried his cock into what I assumed was her pussy. I

watched in awe for five seconds or so, and turned toward Michael who remained standing at the opening into the kitchen. Squish. Like a young school girl that had witnessed her best friend making out for the first time, I ran down the hallway toward Michael, giggling. Squish. Squish. Squish. “Okay, that’s just fucking hot as hell,” I whispered as I walked around Michael. Michael ran into the kitchen before he spoke, “He’s flat giving it to her, that’s for sure.” “What is the…did you see his foot?” I asked as I twisted my hips uncomfortably, pressing my right knee behind my left. Squish. “Head steppin’,” he whispered. “Head what?” “Steppin’. It’s a long story. Kace read about it in some dumb book. She brought up reading about it at dinner a while back and we all talked about it. Then, Dekk said he tried it and Kace loved it. Looks like Austin’s tryin’ it now,” he said quietly as he pulled a bar stool out from the bar. As he reached for the barstool, I slid my hand into my pants, beneath my panties, and checked my pussy.

Soaked. “You think you can do it?” I asked as I pulled my hand from my pants, excited at the thought of trying it. “Oh, I don’t know, probably. I’m pretty limber,” he shrugged as he looked over his left shoulder. “Well I’m ready to find out,” I sighed as I held my finger up for him to see. “Well, I ain’t really lookin’ to have Nikki find us fucking in here. Or Austin for that matter,” Michael shrugged. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” I tilted my head toward the hallway as I spoke. “We got to walk by them,” he complained as he rocked back and forth on the stool. “Do you not want to fuck me?” I asked. “No, babe. I always want to fuck you,” he responded as he dropped the stool down on all four legs. I’m so fucking horny I feel sick. “Well, I’m not going to let them keep us from it. If they’re still fucking, we’ll walk past them. If they’re done, we’ll walk past them. I really don’t care. We’ll just walk past them and smile. All I know is that watching them fuck made me horny as hell, and I’m soaked,” I turned my palms up and stared, waiting for a response. “You leading the way or am I?” he chuckled as he lowered himself from the stool.

I looked at Michael for a split second, and turned toward the hallway that led past the living room and into the bedroom. I turned back to face Michael and smiled a grin from ear to ear. He scrunched his brow, stared, and whispered “Well, how we gonna do this?” I kicked off my flats and smiled. As I took off down the hallway screaming, I realized that being exposed to Michael had brought out the inner child in me. As I heard him screaming and thundering down the hallway behind me, I further realized that we were meant for each other. And I loved the fact that in his presence I could be me. Vivian Simon, Attorney at law. Child at heart.

A LIFETIME OF LIFETIMES

VEE. Climbing deep into the bowels of the human mind, determining what causes us to be happy, what causes us to be sad, and understanding why is a task that is not able to be confirmed with any degree of accuracy. It is and has always been a matter of opinion. I don’t particularly care for obtaining an opinion of what makes me happy or why. I’m always certain when I’m happy, though. I smile. Michael’s hand was on the back of my head, his foot was on the base of my skull, and his cock was balls deep in my dripping wet pussy. The groan that escaped my lips sounded like I was being murdered, but inside I was smiling. A smile that one person had control of. The person that had had found an extra inch of

cock somewhere and shoved it, along with the other ten inches, deep inside of me. “I love fucking you, Vee. You know why?” he asked as he pressed my face into the comforter with even more force. “Why?” I groaned into the comforter. “It sounded like you said why. I’ll assume that’s what you said,” he grunted as he continued to fuck me as if he was on some form of a time limit racing against the clock to get as many strokes in as he could before the bell rang - ending the fuck-athon. His cock felt like it was in my throat. I don’t know who invented this entire head steppin’ thing, but whoever did was a fucking genius. Maybe it wasn’t for everyone, but for me it was damned sure everything I needed at this moment. I was helpless, and I was so full of cock I felt like I was going to explode. My calves felt as if they were on fire from standing on my tip-toes for the last fifteen minutes while Michael pounded in and out of my pussy. “Because you know who’s in fucking charge. Now, remind me, who’s in charge, Vee?” he screamed. “You, Boss,” the sound of my screaming was muffled by the three inch thick comforter that my face was being forced into. “I like that. Who’s fuckin’ cock is in ya, Vee? Who’s?” he screamed as he pressed his foot against

my skull. “Yours is Boss,” I screamed. I felt his fingers dig into my scalp as he pounded his massive cock in and out of my swollen pussy. Each stroke filled my body with a tingling sensation that was orgasmic, but not an orgasm. Whatever absolute idiot ever made the statement that size doesn’t matter has obviously never had Mike Ripton’s cock inside of them. Size does matter. And right now, as I reached climax for the third time, it was all that mattered. “Oh my fucking…fuck me god…damn. Michael…I…fucking…ahhhhhh…fuck…I… ahhhh…love you,” I screamed as I felt my pussy clench into what was another mind-blowing orgasm that made my ears ring. He didn’t slow down. In fact, as I came, his foot pressed harder against my skull. I felt as if I were being stretched in a wooden rack as his cock stretched its way in and out. I was in heaven. A heaven full of thick, hard, throbbing, pierced cocks. My heaven. My pussy was so full of cock Michael couldn’t have slipped one of his toothpicks between his cock and my pussy. It throbbed with every stroke. It felt as if it were going to tear open each time he

smashed his balls against my throbbing clit. It was actually painful. A tremendous pain I now could not imagine living without. I bit into the fabric of the comforter as he forcefully pounded himself in and out of me and prayed. God – Please help me find the common sense to make choices to allow this man to become happy and remain happy, because I never want him to stop fucking me. Never. Amen. I felt his hand release my head. As the pressure from his foot lifted from my head, instead of immediate relief, I felt disappointment. I didn’t want this to end. I wanted him to abuse me, own me, and make sure I knew who was in charge. This sexual position was a prime example of what it was about sex with Michael that I loved. I felt him slowly pull his cock from inside of me. No, don’t stop. Step on me some more. His hands moved to my ribs as he twisted my torso, turning me over onto my back. I blinked my eyes as they adjusted from the darkness of being buried in the comforter for the last thirty minutes. As he crawled on top of me, I felt his weight against my body and immediately became pleased that this wasn’t over.

His right hand grasped my neck as I felt the tip of his cock pressing against my swollen pussy. As he began to penetrate me I raised my ass from the bed, allowing him a better angle of entry. He pressed his hips against mine, forcing me onto the bed as he squeezed my neck firmly. I closed my eyes and got lost in the feeling of him fucking and choking me at the same time. “Who’s in charge of this, Vee?” I heard him ask. Oh God this feels… So… Good… His cock worked in and out of my wet pussy as I began to focus on the feeling of his cock inside of me. Slap! I opened my eyes and looked up, shocked. The pain on my cheek wasn’t severe, but the shock of being hit startled me. I blinked my eyes and looked at him in shock. His left hand hovered over my face. “Who’s in charge?” the intensity of his voice sent chills down my spine. Slap! The sting of his hand on my cheek felt hot. I blinked my eyes and rotated my jaw. Fuck yes. I like that a lot. Slap me again. Choke me and slap me.

“God damn it Vee,” he raised his hand. I remained silent and widened my eyes. I wanted to watch. Do it. Fucking do it. His right hand squeezed my neck firmly as his hips worked back and forth. Aggressively, he forced himself inside of me as his left hand raised to the height of his shoulder. I raised my ass from the bed, hoping for a little more depth. Oh God, that’s it. Right….there. I’d found the perfect spot. I gazed down at his stomach muscles as they rippled from the motion of his hips. And. I saw the flash. Slap! And, like he’d pressed the magic button, I began to feel myself contract. This was going to be it. The orgasm that was going to end it all. I ran my tongue between my cheek and my teeth and closed my eyes. “You are Boss. You’re…in,” I paused as I felt myself reaching climax. “Charge,” I breathed as felt a tingle start inside of me. A life ending orgasm started within me and escaped out every erogenous zone in my body. As he continued to work his way in and out of me, I felt myself explode. My eyes tingled as my eyelids

fluttered. Deep inside of my pussy, I felt myself throbbing and tingling. I reached up and pinched my nipples between my forefingers and thumbs. Electric shocks zipped through my body from my pussy to my nipples as I pinched them. “God…” “Daaaaaamn…” I opened my eyes and mouth, both of which were currently useless. I was incapable of speech and of seeing anything other than basic shapes and shadows. I blinked my eyes and attempted to focus. “Please….don’t…” “Move…” I said as I let go of my nipples and raised my hands. As I covered my face with my hands, he slowly stopped fucking me. I felt his weight shift on the bed as I lay still and attempted to enjoy every emotion that filled me throughout the absorption of the orgasm that was certainly what I would compare every orgasm in the future to. I felt him nudging his head between my legs. I opened my eyes to his smiling face as he burrowed between my legs. As the palms of his hands pressed up my thighs, I licked my lips and prepared to do my best to speak. “Please…just…” “Who’s in fucking charge?” he growled. I rolled my eyes and shook my head from sideto-side.

“You are, Boss.” “Don’t fucking forget it,” he said sternly. “Yes, Boss.” His tongue darted on and off of my clit as his mouth made a humming and vibrating sensation. I buried my hands on his head and held firmly as he licked, sucked, and tortured my pussy with his tongue. I lasted all of about fifteen seconds before I reached climax. “Holy fuck, Michael, I can’t take it…” I complained as I opened and closed my eyes repeatedly, hoping for some sort of relief. He looked up, his face covered in my wetness. “Don’t take it. Cum,Vee. Cum on my face. Fuck my mouth. Wrap your God damned legs around my head and skull fuck me,” he laughed as he buried his face into my crotch. Immediately, the vibrating, flicking, tongue lashing Lickle started again. His lips, tongue and vocal cords worked me into a frenzy. I raised my legs and wrapped them around his shoulders and lifted my ass from the bed. As he continued to suck and lick my clit, I bucked my hips against his face. As I began to reach a climax of an entirely new level, I began to scream as I worked my hips against his face. “Suck that pussy, Boss. Make me…..oh my fucking God…” “Make…me…”

“Suck it, Boss…” “Oh hell yes,” I screamed as I opened my eyes and attempted to stare at the ceiling. Exhausted from my previous two most recent orgasms, I relaxed, collapsed onto the bed in a pile, and shook as I reached climactic bliss. Slowly, I worked my hips upward twice as he continued to force his tongue deep into my pussy. A tingling sensation shot through my entire lower region – from my hips to my pussy and back. I blinked my eyes and looked in his direction - uncertain of what might have happened. “What the fuck did you do to me?” I huffed. He held up both thumbs and wiggled them in a circle. I shrugged my shoulders and turned my palms up in wonder. I watched as he pressed his thumbs into the recessed area beside my hip bones and worked them into a slow soft circle. Immediately, I felt as if I were going to explode. “Holy…stop…Jesus. What the fuck?” I yelled. “The hip trick,” he chuckled. “The hip trick?” I repeated. “Yep. The hip trick,” he laughed as he pressed his thumbs into my hips and rotated them. Instantly, I had a mini orgasm. “Jesus fuck, Michael! Okay, off limits for a few minutes. I can’t fucking think. I can’t anything.

Holy fuck. I feel like I’ve been in a car wreck. I need a few minutes. Maybe an hour or so,” I shook my head and did my best to laugh. As he rolled past my legs and relaxed beside me, he turned to his side and smiled as he wiped his face. Slowly, I slid my hands to my hips and pressed my thumbs into my hips. Nothing. I shook my head and turned on my side to face him. “What are you doing to me?” I breathed. “Doing my best to love you, Vee. I don’t want you to ditch me,” he smiled. “Ditch you? You mean leave you?” I asked. “Yep,” he responded. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” I pressed my elbow into the bed, my head in my hand, and kissed him on the lips. “Not,” I kissed his upper lip. “Going,” I kissed his upper lip. “To happen,” I kissed him long and passionately, holding his chin in my free hand as we kissed. As our lips parted, I looked into his eyes, “I’m here for a lifetime, Ripp.” “Me too. And I like it when you call me Michael. Kind of,” he smiled. “Kind of?” I asked. “Yeah. I guess I like both. But it’s cute when

you call me Michael,” he smiled. “I’m here for a lifetime too, Vivian,” he said as he slapped my ass with his hand. “Good, it’s settled. And I like it when you call me Vivian. Kind of,” I smiled. “Kind of?” he asked. “Yeah, I like both. And I’m here for a lifetime of lifetimes,” I said as I slapped him on the ass with my free hand. “Speaking of here for a lifetime, you suppose they’re still here?” he asked. “Who?” I narrowed my gaze and stared, confused. “Nikki and Austin,” he smiled. “Holy shit. I forgot about them,” I sat up and grinned. “Me too,” he chuckled as he sat up and grabbed his shorts from the floor. “I’m starving and my legs are rubbery,” I said as I attempted to stand. “Who’s leading the way?” he asked as he zipped his shorts. I pulled my shorts up, buttoned them, and zipped them. I pulled the dresser drawer open and grabbed a sports bra and tee shirt. After I worked myself into my bra and pulled my shirt over my head, I walked to where Michael stood and held out my hand. “How about let’s go together, as an us,” I

laughed as I held my hand out, waiting for him to hold it in his. “An us,” he grinned “Together,” I said. He reached down, slid his arm behind my legs and picked me up from the floor. As I wrapped my arms around his neck, I sighed. There was more to Michael Ripton than most people would ever know. And I was ready to spend a lifetime of lifetimes making him the happiest man on earth. Effortlessly, he walked to the bedroom door, holding me in his arms. As we reached the door, he nodded his head. “Get the door babe,” he said as he tilted his head toward the door. I reached down, turned the door handle, and opened the door. “You ready?” he asked. “Ready?” I asked, confused. “I suppose so,” I said as I looked around the room. And as he took off running down the hallway screaming and laughing as he held me in his arms, I was certain. Absolutely certain. A lifetime of lifetimes.

DON’T GET MAD, BUT…

RIPP. Life offers us changes as time passes and we grow older. Sometimes these changes are what we see in the lives of others. Not always are the changes that we witness in the lives of those around us what we may expect, hope for, or are prepared for. I think living life with an open mind and a heart filled with love allows us to understand and accept changes for what they truly are. Opportunities. Opportunities to grow. “I’m going to eat the Italian salad with grilled chicken,” Bug said as she handed her menu to me. “I always just have them bring me the chicken. They bake it and it’s fuckin’ good. That’s what I’m having,” I placed my menu on top of hers and laid them on the edge of the table. “So how’s everything going?” I asked as I

leaned forward and rested my forearms onto the table. Bug sat back in her chair and crossed her arms, “Good.” “Bug, I know this is a tough time. I know that there’s a lot that you probably don’t want to talk about, and maybe a lot you do, but just not with me. I want you to know you’re my sister and beyond that…well, you’re just a great girl. Always have been. So, anything at all, I’ll talk to you about it. Now what did you want to talk about?” I said softly as I smiled. “Your tooth!” she giggled. “Huh?” I shrugged. “You got rid of Goldie!” she covered her face with one hand and pointed at my mouth with the other. “Oh, yeah. I did. The other day,” I grinned. “That’s crazy. Wow. You look good, Ripp. So how’s Vee?” she asked. “Thanks, Bug. And Vee’s great. She ain’t going anywhere. Hell, I love her. Can you believe that?” I leaned back into my chair and smiled. “I can tell. It makes me happy. I like her a lot. And I like the fact that you’re uhhm. Well, settling down,” her voice changed to one of uncertainty as she spoke of settling down. “I’d say that’s partially true,” I laughed. “So, you didn’t text me and have me meet you

so you could talk to me about Vee. What’s up, Bug?” I asked as I leaned onto the table again. Her eyes shifted to below the table as she crossed her legs and took a shallow breath. She was obviously nervous. I needed to give her time, let her get comfortable, and say whatever she had to say in her terms, not mine. I leaned back in my chair and took a drink from my glass of water as I looked into the parking area by the edge of the patio. “Have you decided?” the waitress asked. “I didn’t see you walk up. Yeah,” I said as I handed her the menus. “She’ll have the Italian salad. Add grilled chicken. I’ll have that chicken plate I always get,” I smiled. “Six pieces?” she asked. “Yep,” I nodded. “And an Ultra?” she asked. “No, I’ll just have water today,” I responded. “Okay, let me know if there’s anything else,” she smiled. As she walked off, Bug looked up and started speaking. “You know. It’s weird. I don’t really think about it the way you think I probably do. I always think about it. I always wonder what I did wrong. I mean, I know I didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s all I can think about. What should I have done differently?”

she raised her hands and shrugged. “Probably nothing. I mean, he was going to do it anyway. But I think about it. Like all day. I imagine one day it’ll go away, or fade, or whatever. Maybe it won’t, Ripp. I don’t know. Having him gone helps. I hate to say it, but it’s true. I hate him. Even now that he’s dead, I still fucking hate him, Ripp,” she shook her head lightly and stared at the top of the table. “It’s okay to have that hatred, I think,” I said softly. It hurt to listen to her say these things. I hated to think of my sister going through this, and especially going through it on a daily basis. Thinking of what he did to her every day. For me, after his death, it was over. I had the trial to think of, but I really didn’t focus on Bug and what her thoughts or feelings would be. Tucker being gone made the problem go away for me. I guess, in hindsight, the problem never goes away for the victim. They just find a way to live with it, and she needed to find her way. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. I don’t want to have it, Ripp. I don’t want to hate him. Hating him is allowing me to acknowledge what he did. To remember it. I don’t want to remember it. I want to forget it. I know that will never happen, but I sure want to get as close as I can,” she twisted her mouth, looked past me, and raised her eyebrows

slowly. “Okay. Let me say what I have to say, okay?” she asked as her focus shifted to me. “Okay,” I agreed. “No getting mad, and no screaming and taking off on your bike, Ripp. Okay?” she asked. “Okay,” I said hesitantly, wondering what she was going to say. “I mean it,” she waited, her eyebrows still raised. “Okay, Bug. I’ll just listen,” I leaned back in the chair, crossed my legs, and rubbed my hands on my shorts. “Well, if I was going to, you know, like make up my perfect boyfriend? He’d be a lot of things. He’d be tall. I like tall guys. They make me feel like they’re real men. Short guys are creepy,” she paused and wrinkled her nose. “So, a tall guy. And he’d be sweet. Really nice and polite. And he’d think before he acted. He’d always be thinking. Not a hot-head, like you,” she held her index finger in the air. “You’re a hot-head, Ripp. I love you, but you’re a hot-head. He wouldn’t be like that. And. He’d be romantic. He’d say all kinds of nice loving things. Sweet things. But he’d be tough. Like, uhhm, when he had to be. You know, like when it was necessary. He’d never be mean. Like never. But when he had to, he’d be tough. He’d make me

feel safe because he could take care of me,” she nodded her head and grinned. “And he wouldn’t ever pressure me, Ripp. Never pressure me. You know, about…well, he’d never pressure me. Just never. It’d always be my decision. The sex. I’d decide when. And that would be that. He’d wait for years if that’s what I said. Years, Ripp. And he’d be okay with that. Oh. Last thing,” she paused and smiled a huge smile. “Yeah?” I chuckled, wondering where she was going to find this perfect specimen on a man. “He’d ride, Ripp. He’d ride a motorcycle. Oh my God, riding on a motorcycle makes everything better. You know, nothing matters when you’re on the back of a bike, Ripp. It all goes away,” she nodded her head slowly. “What do you know about motorcycles?” I asked. “Well. Okay. Don’t get mad, Ripp. I mean it,” she pointed her finger at my chest and shook her hand. “I found him, Ripp. That guy. The one I just described. I found him. I’m so excited. He’s perfect. And I know right now is probably weird, and I’m like way full of emotion, and all of that stuff but I know that he’s perfect and I want to like spend forever with this guy. I never want to let him go and I never want him to leave. It’s just crazy but when he’s around I feel things I’ve never felt. And

he can take care of me when you’re gone, Ripp. You’re not always going to be here for me, you know?” she paused and inhaled a shallow breath and turned her palms up. I leaned forward onto the table and released the grip my teeth had on my bottom lip, “I want to meet him. No exception. I’m going to interview this prick, Bug. I’m sorry, but this asshole is going to have to answer to me.” “Ripp…” she said softly. I stood from my chair and pushed my hands into my pockets. The thought of someone seeing my sister, especially after what she’d been through, wasn’t going to settle well with me. He’d have to be considerate and understanding. He’d have to be kind and soft and slow. Guys aren’t slow. They want one thing and one thing only. Guys are after pussy. “Where does he stay?” I asked. “Ripp…” she shook her head. “Where’s he fucking stay, Bug?” I clenched my jaw and stared. “Ripp, you promised…” “Where does he stay, Bug? Simple question. Now answer it,” I demanded. “Ripp, seriously, you promised,” she sighed. “Where?” I demanded. “Okay, don’t get mad, but,” she paused. “He’s perfect, Ripp. And he wants to talk to

you. That’s why I’m here. I’m talking to you before he does. Because I want you to know he’s perfect for me. Perfect, Ripp,” she said as she stood from her chair and crossed her arms. “Bug, answer me,” I crossed my arms and slowly shook my head. “It’s Alec, Ripp. Alec,” she sighed. I stared at her, confused. “A-Train,” she raised her eyebrows and waited for my reaction. “A-Train?” “Yeah, A-Train,” her mouth slowly formed a smile. If there was one person on this earth that I felt like I could trust with my sister, it’d be A-Train. Not only would he never harm her, he’d make damn sure no one else did, either. I uncrossed my arms and shoved my hands into the pockets of my shorts and smiled. “You’re not mad?” she asked. “Nope. In fact, I guess you’d probably have to say I’m a little surprised. But, you know, the happy kind,” I chuckled as I sat in my chair. She pulled her chair from the table and sat down, “Thank God.” “You tell Pop?” I asked as I reached for my water. “No. He uhhm. He wanted to take me on a date. Like an official date. He wanted to ask you

and Dad for permission first. He said he wouldn’t do it any other way,” she grinned and shook her head from side-to-side. “That’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” I smiled. “What do you mean?” she asked as she slowly shrugged her shoulders. “Well, A-Train’s made up of a whole bunch of little fibers, little moral fibers. Not everyone is going to understand him, and not everyone is going to agree with him, but in his world there are only two things - right and wrong. To him, life is black and white. There’s no grey. And he’ll never do anything, ever, that he sees as being wrong,” I leaned back into my chair, crossed my legs, and smiled. “Here you go,” the waitress said as she placed our plates on the table, “there’s silverware wrapped in the napkins.” “Thank you,” Bug smiled. “Anything else?” the waitress asked. “No, everything looks good,” I smiled. As the waitress slowly walked away, I picked up a piece of chicken from my plate and pulled the skin from the meat. As I held the skin over my mouth, Bug shook her head and grinned. “Well, get to eatin’. I need to get to the gym,” I said as I dropped the skin into my mouth. “You and that gym. Take your time, we have all

day,” Bug rolled her eyes. “Well,” I said as I chewed the skin. “We need to eat so I can get out of here. You see, A-Train’s at the gym. I need to get there so he can talk to me. Then, he can go talk to Pop. And then, he can ask you on that date. The sooner we get out of here, the sooner you go on that date,” I smiled and bit into the chicken. Bug dropped her fork onto her plate, leaned her chair back onto the rear legs, looked to her right, and raised her hand in the air. “Check please!” she screamed. “Damn, Bug. You in a hurry?” I laughed. “Uhhm. Yeah. Shove that shit in your pockets and get out of here. Eat it at the gym. I’ll pay the tab,” she nodded. “Shove this chicken in my pockets?” I chuckled, pointing to my plate. “Yep,” she grinned. “Ripp, now that you have Vee. Now that you two have whatever you have. You know, the love? Can you imagine being without her?” she asked. As I gnawed the meat from the breast bone, I shook my head, “Nope, she’s the best thing that ever happened to me. My life is like, I don’t know. Perfect.” “All started with a date, right?” she asked. I nodded my head and swallowed. “Yeah, I’m in a hurry. I’m ready, Ripp,” she

paused and crossed her arms. “For that date,” she batted her eyes and waited. And with that statement, I stood up, pulled my pocket open with my left hand, and carefully started stuffing the remaining five pieces of chicken onto my shorts.

GIRL TALK

VEE. Having Shane and Kace as our best friends was a real gift. Sometimes, and probably more often than not, the best friend and spouse of a woman’s significant other are people that she cannot stand to be around. Shane and Kace were the opposite. Shane kept Michael grounded, and did his best to attempt to cause Michael to see life the way it should be seen. Without Shane, Michael would be living life with blinders on. Kace was one of the sweetest women I had even met, and not only was good for Shane, but a great friend to Michael. I was grateful to have them both in my life. “No, it’s not like the other Lancome’s. It’s better. Just try it. It really makes a difference. It’s all I’ll use. Hypnose Doll Lashes,” I said as I pulled the mascara from the display.

“I don’t know, but it’s thirty dollars for mascara,” Kace wrinkled her nose and touched the lid of the mascara lightly. “But look,” I batted my eyelashes and smiled. “But you have great eyelashes. They’re full. And so long,” Kace grinned. “They’re shit, Kace. They’re little, short, and thin. Until…” I lifted the mascara from the display and held in between my finger and thumb. “You want to try it? It’s wonderful, I love it,” the sales clerk said as she reached for the mascara. Her eyelashes looked as if they were four inches long. As she cleaned the brush on a tissue, and sprayed the tip with disinfectant, she smiled. Her hair was silver, shaved on one side and long on the other. Her makeup was dramatic on her gaunt face, she looked like she weighed a hundred and ten pounds, and her boobs were massive. I was jealous. “Here, try this,” she said as she handed the tube of mascara to me. Kace took the tube, pulled the brush and twisted it onto her lashes as she looked in the mirror. She placed the brush back into the tube and leaned toward the mirror and blinked her eyes. As she twisted her head left and right in the mirror, she smiled. “Oh my God,” she turned to face me and

grinned. “I know, right? But do the other one, you look lop-sided,” I giggled. “Vee, this is amazing. I’ve always wanted good eyelashes. This is good eyelashes in a bottle,” she twisted the brush against her lashes, raised her eyebrows, and blinked her eyes as she looked in the mirror. “Holy crap,” she said, still batting her lashes. “Amazing, huh?” I grinned. “You want one?” the clerk asked. “Yes, please,” Kace responded as she placed the sample into the display. “Don’t tell Shane what it cost,” she sighed as she reached into her purse. “What happens at Dillard’s stays at Dillard’s,” I responded. “Shane’s kind of frugal or whatever,” she smiled as she pulled her wallet from her purse. “Thirty-seven eighty,” the clerk said. Kace handed the clerk two twenty dollar bills and smiled, “I pay for this stuff with cash so he doesn’t have a chance to get mad at me.” “He’d really get mad?” I asked. “No, he never gets mad at me. But he doesn’t like to spend money. So, I don’t know, maybe it’s respect. I just don’t want to cause him to have any reason to be disappointed with me. If I use the debit card, he sees it. If I pay with cash, he doesn’t. It’s

probably still me acting the way I used to act with my ex. You know the asshole in court, Josh,” she rolled her eyes as the clerk handed her the mascara and her change. “Thank you,” Kace smiled. “Old habits are hard to break sometimes,” she said as she dropped her change into her wallet. “I suppose so. He was pretty bad?” I asked. “Uhm. Worse. He beat me for ten years. I told myself it was my fault. I tried over and over to fix it, but finally realized it couldn’t be fixed. Shane gave me the courage to get out of it. One day, he kicked me in the face. Josh, not Shane,” she turned and smiled as we walked out of the store. “He kicked me in the face, and knocked me unconscious. Oh, and he knocked out a tooth,” she smiled and tapped her front tooth with the tip of her index finger. “And that was it. I was done. When I woke up he was playing video games. I grabbed a cast-iron skillet and hit him as hard as I could while he was sitting on the couch. It felt pretty good. You know it was nice to have him say what he said in court,” she nodded her head as she pulled the strap of her purse over her shoulder. “And that’s when Ripp went to see him?” I asked. “Uh huh. That’s the day I met Ripp. I’d never met him before. Shane was so mad he was shaking.

He said he was going to go. Ripp wouldn’t have it. He told Shane she’s your girl. If you go, and you get caught, this is all for not. You stay here with the girl, I got this. I love him, Vee,” she batted her new lashes as her eyes filled with tears. I turned away, not wanting to make her feel self-conscious about her emotional state. After a few moments of silence, I turned to face her. She was smiling and walking through the mall, looking in the windows of the stores as we passed. “He said that? I got this?” I asked. She nodded her head, “Yeah. That’s Ripp. Mister I got this. It’s what he says. And when he says it, he’s got it. He’s my big brother, Vee. And that’s something we need to talk about, I suppose,” she stopped walking and turned to face me. “I like you, Vee,” she smiled and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I like you too, Kace,” I widened my eyes and smiled. “If you hurt him, Vee. If you hurt my Ripp, it isn’t going to be pretty for you. I’ll come find you, and I mean it. Don’t you dare hurt him,” she said in as stern of a tone as she could manage. She’s so cute. “I’ll never hurt him, Kace. Not even a little bit, I promise,” I said as I opened my arms. As she leaned into me and hugged me I realized just how much she loved Michael. He was, to her, a

big brother, her protector, and a friend. He was someone she could rely on when life got tough. In her mind, Michael was the fireman that saved her from the burning house. Shane was where she decided to settle and who she loved, but Michael stopped the nightmare for her. He’s the one that made it possible. He would always have a special place in her heart. And in mine. As we continued to walk through the mall, she looked in the windows of the shops as we passed. From time-to-time she’d stop and point, making a comment of how cute something was. I really enjoyed spending time with her, and how much of a no-nonsense woman she really was. So many females these days want to try to compete with everyone. Bragging about what they do, who they are, and what they have. Kace was the opposite. Kace was real. As we walked through the parking lot toward the car, I pulled my keys from my purse and unlocked the car. As the alarm chimed, Kace looked up. “Maybe we can all go on a date. The three of us,” I said. “Austin? And Nikki?” she asked. “No, Bug and A-Train,” I responded as I opened the door to the car. “Okay, yeah. Sounds good, Vee. You know,”

she paused as she opened the door to the car. “That Nikki? She was at the gym the other day. She uhhm. Well, her boobs, do you think they’re fake?” she asked over the top of the car. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I do,” I smiled. Yeah, Kace and I are going to be the best of friends. I’m sure of it. “That’s what I was thinking,” she said as she got into the car. Oh hell, I just as well ask. “What are your thoughts on getting your head stepped on? You know, during sex? Head steppin?” I asked over my shoulder as I buckled my seatbelt. She coughed and giggled. As she buckled her seat belt, she looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I love it,” she giggled. Yeah, Kace and I are going to get along just fine.

WITH RESPECT

A-TRAIN. I believe, when it comes to women, most men just don’t have a clue what they need to do to keep them happy. Human beings, in general, are all equal until they provide some reason or exhibit a particular behavior which causes us to place them in a location that is different than the masses. Women are human therefore they belong beside men, not in front, and certainly never behind. I have always believed you get what you pay for. If I prefer to be treated with respect, I need to provide respect, as my payment, to receive respect in return. The more you respect you pay, the more you receive. When men treat women without respect, in return they receive a woman that treats them accordingly. The men, who were disrespectful from the beginning, then use the behavior of the

woman as an excuse for acting in a manner that is contrary to what is acceptable behavior. Generally speaking, I am a quiet observer. If I have something to say, I say it. I rarely say anything that isn’t meaningful, and make sure when I speak whoever I’m speaking to understands what it is that I intended to say. A clear line of communication is essential to living a meaningful life. Sometimes saying nothing is a scream loud enough the entire world can hear it. Knowing when to speak and when not to is something the military taught me that I will cherish for a lifetime. I took a breath and knocked on the door twice. I’ve always looked at a doorbell as a lazy way of knocking, and I’m far from lazy. I waited with my hands at my sides nervously until the door opened. “Alec, how are you?” he said as he opened the door. “I am well sir, thank you,” I responded as I stepped into the home. “So, what’s the occasion,” he said as he walked into the living room. “Well sir, I’d like to speak to you about your daughter,” I responded as I followed him into the room. “Have a seat,” he said as he sat down in the recliner positioned in the corner of the room. I chose the seat next to him and sat down. I placed my hands in my lap, turned to face him, and

smiled. “I’m guessing when you all went out the other night you had fun. The girls said it was a pretty good time. Hell, you never know with girls, they’ll tell you whatever you want to hear, wont they, son?” he chuckled. “Yes sir, I’m sure that’s a true statement,” I nodded. “So what’s the problem? Did one of them act up the other night?” he asked as he rubbed his chin with his hand. “No sir, certainly not. It’s not anything like that. I wanted to ask your permission for something sir,” I responded. My mouth was dry and I was nervous. I hadn’t done anything like this in years. I’d walk into a firefight in a minute, but sitting here talking to Katie’s father made me feel like a nervous wreck. I swallowed the lump in my throat and smiled as he looked at me with a face filled with confusion. “Permission? Hell you don’t need my permission for anything son. What the hell you needin’?” he asked as he continued to rub his chin. “Sir, we went out the other night, and I was able to spend considerable time with your daughters. Austin, Mike, Shane, Vee, and Kace were present as well. We had a nice time. In doing so sir, I was able to get to know Katie a little better,” I paused, took a shallow breath and

allowed him to digest what I had said. “In getting to understand her more, I realized a few things. One, she wants a man in her life. Two, she needs a man in her life. And three, I believe sir I can be that man. I’d like to ask your permission sir to take her on a date,” I said as I rubbed my sweaty palms along my thighs. “You called and came here to ask my permission to take my daughter on a date? Bug?” he removed his hand from his chin and smiled. “Yes sir, that is correct,” I responded. “Well, normally I suppose I’d have a lot of shit to say. You know, be respectful. Or remind you that she’s been through a lot lately, and she doesn’t need a guy trying to get in her pants right now. Maybe I’d offer a few choice words about wearing protection, birth control, and how there’s plenty of kids in this country that don’t have parents,” he paused and looked around the room. “But with you, I don’t think I need to say any of those things directly. Instead, I’ll say this; Mike and I have talked about you. At length, I might add. He thinks the world of you. If Mike thinks the world of you, I believe him. He’s a hard man to impress. I have, however, formed my own opinions about you, and I’ll have to admit you easily rise to the top of the pool of men that I’d choose for her. Brings me, I suppose, to this,” he turned to face me and grinned.

“Two things. First one is this. You’re not from here. And I ain’t lookin’ to have my daughter taken from me, Mr. Jacob. Not now or ever. As far as I’m concerned, she can leave Texas when I’m dead; if she prefers. Not before. Now, before I get to number two, what do you have to say about that?” he nodded his head once and placed his hand on his chin. “Well, sir. I have been offered a job at the gym. I intend to teach a women’s self-defense course as well as a hand-to-hand combat course. Kelsey and Joe made the deal with Mike and me last week. I’ve already started scheduling people. Short of the men I ride with, I have nothing in Kansas, and I’ll stay here as long as your daughter will have me,” I responded. “Does that job at the gym pay you enough money to survive?” he asked, still rubbing his chin with his thumb and forefingers. “I suppose not, sir. The United States Government does. I get a check monthly. A very healthy one, I might add. Being shot half a dozen times pays pretty well, I suppose,” I grinned. “I suppose so,” he chuckled. “Alright, number two. Sunday dinners. We have ‘em here, on Sundays. I realize there are times when you may not be able to come. Hell, things happen. But you’ll never miss more than two weeks in a row, is that understood?” he asked as he slowly

raised one eyebrow. “Yes sir. I like to eat, and your wife is a great cook,” I nodded. It seemed, in some respects, that he felt as if I was asking his permission to marry Katie. I suppose it was possible he was merely doing his best to look out for what he believed was in her best interest. If the things that were important to him were not important to me, he probably saw no value in letting me take her on the first date. As he began to rub his chin again, I waited for his approval. I wanted this. Katie was a sweet girl, and I expected she would be good for me. I needed a woman in my life to provide balance and keep me in check. A woman would give me reason to act like a human again, and less of a machine. “Well, I lied. There’s one more thing, and I’m afraid although I might discuss it, I won’t bargain much,” he hesitated and turned to face me directly. “Yes sir,” I responded as I rubbed my palms along the thighs of my jeans. “My understanding is you’re a smoker. You smoke a lot. I don’t want my future son in law, who by the grace of God almighty has made it out of wars in Iraq and Afghanistan unscathed, to die of lung cancer. I’ll need you to figure out a way to give up those cigarettes, son. I’ll need that to happen here real soon. No exceptions. We have a deal?” he asked as he stood from his chair and

extended his hand. I stood from my chair and proudly shook his hand, “Deal.” “Well, I must say, I couldn’t be happier for you or for Bug. She’s a damned fine girl. I like it that you came here like this, son. It was real respectful of you. I’m anxious to see how this thing pans out,” he smiled. “Can you excuse me, sir? I have something on the bike I need to give you. I’ll need to go get it,” I said as I released his hand. “Sure. Hell whatever you need to do. And when you come back in, don’t bother knocking. Family doesn’t knock,” he grinned. When I walked back into the house, I didn’t knock. I walked into the room where we were sitting. He and Katie were now sitting in the room, she across the room from him, smiling. I walked to the front of his chair, and reached into my back pocket and pulled a pack of cigarettes from my pocket and handed them to him. He furrowed his brow and looked at the pack of cigarettes. “What are you doing, son?” he asked. “Take them. If I ever want to smoke one, I’ll ask you for it. Other than that, I’ll never smoke another sir. Fair price to pay for what’s on the port side of your living room, sir,” I said as I motioned toward Katie.

He smiled and accepted the pack of cigarettes. “Now, the last thing,” I turned to face Katie. “Katie, would you like to accompany me on a date this Saturday night?” I asked. “Possibly. At what time?” she asked. “I expect ma’am, I would like to pick you up around six o’clock. And bring you back at let’s say,” I hesitated and turned to face her father. He held one finger in the air. “One o’clock in the morning,” I said. “I’d love to,” she answered. “Great. Well, I’ve got to get to work now. Sir,” I said as I extended my hand toward her father. He stood from his chair and shook my hand. “Katie,” I nodded toward Katie. She smiled in return and rolled her eyes. I nodded to her father and smiled, “I’ll let myself out, sir.” As I walked to the door, I grinned at the thought of starting over. Potentially developing a long term relationship and maybe even having a family. As I opened the door, I heard Katie’s father yell. “Alec?” he yelled from the living room. “Yes sir?” I responded. “Welcome to the family,” he yelled. I opened the door and stepped onto the porch. As I pulled the door closed, I stuck my head into the opening between the door and the frame. “Thank you sir,” I responded.

I won’t disappoint you.

THE GOOD EGG

RIPP. “Now, you’re probably thinking that because I got you tied up on your back, things are gonna go easy for you. But that ain’t necessarily the case,” I said as I reached into the bag and pulled out the egg shaped vibrator. She shook her head as I reached into the bag and grabbed the tube of lube. “Now, we’ve been fucking for about an hour. Right now, you’re a fucking mess. I can tell, because you’re lying there shakin’. If you could talk, you might tell me you were done. But, you can’t say a fucking word,” I squirted a little lube onto the egg and rubbed it over the surface. Holding the egg and controller in my hand, I squirted lube onto my fingers and thumb. As I knelt down between her legs, she began to groan loud enough I could hear her through the leather strap

that covered her mouth. “You bought the shit, Vee. I’m just using it,” I smiled as I reached down between her thighs and slowly slid my thumb into her pussy and my index finger into her ass. “Your little ass is tight as fuck, Vee. Virgin ass. That’s a good thing. After tonight, it won’t be. After tonight, it’ll be my ass. The Boss’ ass. I’ll have you say that later, even though I won’t be able to understand you,” I smiled up at her as I slid my finger and thumb in and out of her ass and pussy, respectively. Her thigh muscles tensed and her eyes closed as I fingered her ass and pussy. I felt her pussy contract as she had another orgasm. I continued to slide my fingers in and out as she convulsed on the bed. “I think that’s thirteen. Or fourteen. I bet you’re keeping track. Either way, that’s a lot. I bet you’re worn the fuck out. We’re damn near done, babe. You know, the funny thing is you get so damned worn out that the orgasms come quicker. You notice that?” I asked as I reached down between her legs with the egg. She moaned loudly into the leather strap as her muscles tensed along her torso. Slowly, I removed my finger from her ass and pushed the lubricated egg inside. A small diameter cord attached to the control I held in my hand allowed the egg to be

controlled remotely. I sat up on the bed between her thighs and smiled. “Well, that was easy. You probably can’t even feel it now, but guess what? That little fucker’s inside that cute little ass of yours now, Vee. Here in about half an hour you’re either gonna be really glad you bought that little guy, or pretty fucking mad about it. We’ll know here in a bit, I suppose. I held the controller in the air so she could see it and pressed the button, turning it on a mid-level speed. Her eyes closed as she moaned softly into the leather strap. “Feels good? Well, tell me what you think of this,” I grinned as I placed the controller beside her hip and began stroking my cock. As I moved my body along her thighs, I positioned myself between her legs and guided my cock into her soaking wet pussy. As I slowly started fucking her, I reached for the control and turned off the vibrator. Slowly and methodically, I began to fuck her pussy deeply. I made each stroke slow, deep, and predictable. “I really like that little pussy of yours, Vee. It’s so fucking wet and tight. God damn, it feels good on this big fat cock of mine,” I grinned as I reached for her nipples and began pinching them between my fingers and thumbs. “Oh shit, it feels like you’re going to cum again.

Are you going to cum on my cock, Vee?” I asked as I continued to fuck her slowly and deeply. She opened and closed her eyes rapidly and nodded her head. “Yeah, I can feel it. Hold on,” I said as I raised my chest a few inches and placed my hands on either side of her torso. I began to fuck her harder and with much more force as she started to cum. Her eyes closed and she arched her neck as I felt her pussy contract on my cock. If the depth and degree of contraction were a means of measuring satisfaction, this one was huge. Her entire pussy contracted on the length of my cock as I angry fucked her harder and harder. After about ten seconds of her screaming into the strap, I reached for the control and turned on the vibrator. Her groaning turned to screaming. Her eyes opened. I looked down at her and smiled as she continued to scream into the strap. “Feel good, babe? I asked as I continued to fuck her. She blinked her eyes rapidly. I turned the speed to high and fucked her as if it was my last opportunity. Her eyes closed and she continued to scream into the strap. As she screamed, I reached up and pulled the strap, snapping it free from her mouth. “Oh holy…” she screamed, her eyes blinking

slowly. I continued to fuck her hard. As my cock worked in and out of her pussy, she raised her head and stared at me, confused. Her body convulsed and her hips bucked up and down as much as they could, considering the degree which she was restrained. “Ripp…” “I’m done…” she said as her pussy stopped contracting. “Is it snowing in this motherfucker?” She blinked her eyes and looked at me as if I’d spoken Greek. As soon as she realized the reference, she responded. “No, hell no!” she yelled. “Alright then,” I said as I reached over and turned off the vibrator. I continued to pound away at her swollen pussy. We’d been fucking solid for over an hour now, and her little pussy was red and swollen. She’d had somewhere between fifteen and seventeen orgasms. Initially, she had informed me she was able to have three, and that was her upper limit. Now, she had realized not only that I was some form of Superman, but when you care for someone and you relax, you can have as many orgasms as your body will allow you to. Her body and my body seemed to mesh well together.

She closed her eyes and sighed as I continued to fuck her with my entire cock. Every inch of me was being forced into her pussy until I felt my balls smash against the crack of her ass. As I raised my hips, I pulled out until I felt the tip clear her lips. “I’m about there, babe,” I grinned as I continued to fuck her long and hard. She continued to lie there with her eyes closed. I reached for the control and turned on the vibrator. “Holy…” “Fuck…” she screamed as she opened her eyes. “Snowing yet?” I asked. “Fuck no!” she yelled. I continued to fuck her deeply and turned the vibrator to high speed. After about thirty seconds, I felt her pussy begin to contract again. “Here we go babe, this is it, let’s do this together. Where you want this cum, babe. Face? Tits? Ass? Pussy? Stomach?” I asked as I continued my pace. “Inside me…” “Please…” she grunted as she bit her lower lip. As I listened to her labored breathing and the sound of the vibrator, I turned to face the corner of the room and focus. My cat sat in the corner and stared. I shook my head and turned to face Vee. As she contracted, I began to feel my balls rise. This was going to be massive. We’d been going too long,

and I was far too excited. As my cock began to swell, she screamed. “Do it, Ripp. Cum. Holy…” “Fuck…” “Oh…” Slowly, I stroked in and out. As I felt my cock explode, she opened her eyes and stared. I buried myself into her and groaned. “Grrrrrrr…..fuck yes…..you sexy little fucker…” I growled. “Ripp….” “I fucking…” “Pizz you,” she groaned. I held still and looked at the most beautiful woman in the world as she stared back at me. Covered in sweat and twenty orgasms richer than she was when she woke up, she smiled. “I pizz you back, babe,” I said as I turned off the egg. “Holy shit, that was intense, huh?” I sighed. “Uh. Yeah. That’s a good word choice. Intense. Let me stick that thing up your ass, fuck you, and see what you think,” she chuckled. “Well, the night’s still young. And you took the week off. You never know,” I slowly pulled my cock from her pussy and rolled over and collapsed beside her. “Don’t take it out yet, I may not be done,” she sighed.

“Seriously?” I asked. “Yeah. I don’t know. I feel like a shit sandwich right now, but it’s hard to say. Those orgasms? Holy fuckity fuck. Yeah. Give me a bit. I may want more. Why? Is it snowing in this motherfucker?” she asked as she raised her head up to face me. “Hell no,” I laughed as I leaned up to kiss her. I grasped her face in my hands and kissed her deeply. In a short period of time, we’d made tremendous progress. My life now was much richer than it ever has been. I was surrounded by good friends, a great job, and a woman who just by being herself challenged me in ways that no one else could. By being in my life, she challenged me to do things that I never thought I’d do. When I got dressed, I thought of what she would think of my clothes. I even found a pair of jeans that fit my thighs and started wearing them from time-to-time when we went for sushi. I had become more careful of my speech and attempted to talk like I was intelligent, and not a country ass Texan. I was learning to love her and do it in a manner that made her glad she was giving me a chance. Vivian Simon was the one person that I could see myself spending my life with and being satisfied. Completely. As I reached for the restraints to free her from her bindings, she opened her eyes.

“What are you doing, babe?” she asked. “Unbuckling you,” I responded. “No. I’m not done,” she sighed. “Seriously?” I asked. “Seriously,’ she responded. “Okay…” I breathed. “Flip that little guy on and do that deal you do with your tongue on my pussy, big boy,” she smiled. “Alright,” I smiled. As I reached for the control, I realized I may have just met my match. I flipped the control to high and rolled between her legs. As I looked up, I watched as she rolled her eyes and slowly closed them. “Fuck…” “Yes…” she moaned. In fact, I was sure of it. I have met my sexual match. And I’ll be grateful. For a lifetime of lifetimes.

THE PLUS SIGN

VEE. I had called Michael and let him know I was coming to his home to see him. I had only been there once before, and the majority of the time that we had spent together had been at his parent’s home or at my home. Nervously, I drove to his house. As I pulled in the driveway, I looked around the well-manicured lawn and neat landscaping. It would stand to reason he would be a neat person, but I didn’t realize the level of detail to his yard in the past. Maybe now I was looking through a clearer set of eyes. Maybe I was more open-minded and prepared to see what I was able to see, and not what I wanted to. I smiled as I looked around, grabbed by purse, and got out of the car. The smell of fresh cut grass made me smile. I paid a lawn service to

manicure my lawn and service my shrubbery and landscaping. With the hours I normally worked, I rarely smelled the freshly cut lawn. As I walked up the walk, I felt sick. I wondered what his reaction would be to the discussion we were going to have. As well as I thought I knew Michael, I had no idea of what to expect. I rang the doorbell and waited. “Hey babe,” he said as he opened the door. As I walked into the house, he hugged me and gave me a shallow kiss. “Sorry, I’m still all stinky from cutting the grass. I haven’t had time to shower yet,” he shook his head and stomped into the living room. “You cut your own?” I asked. “Yeah, it’s how we poor folk do it,” he laughed, “you want a bottle of water or anything?” “No, I’m fine,” I smiled as I sat on the couch beside him. I placed my purse in my lap and clutched it in my arms. As I sat and stared at my knees, my right leg bounced up and down nervously. Consciously, I stopped it from moving twice. Twice, it began to bounce again as soon as I stopped it. “You alright, babe?” he asked. “Yeah. I’m fine,” I said as I stared at my knees and clutched my purse. “So, what’s up?” he said as he leaned into the corner of the couch.

“Well, there’s a couple of things,” I sighed, “I just don’t know which one to tell you first.” “Well, they say you should always end on a good note, so pick the best of the two for last,” he grinned. I wish it was that easy. “Well, I need to decide which is first, just give me a minute, okay?” I asked as I stared at my bouncing knee. I felt as if I may vomit. And cry. I did not want to cry. Not even for a second. Nothing is worth crying over, no matter what it is. I stared at my knee and attempted to hold myself together. I thought about what to say and how to say it. After a few moments silence, I decided to begin. “Well,” I swallowed the lemon sized lump in my throat. “Maybe I will take that water,” I sighed as I shook my head. “Coming right up,” he grinned as he jumped up and walked into the kitchen. I felt the order that I told Michael the news may have some bearing on how he responded to my statements. I needed to know for certain how he felt about what I needed to tell him, and not have him respond based on what he felt I wanted to hear. As he handed me a bottle of water, I took a slow

drink and placed the bottle between my legs. “Okay, ready?” I turned to face him and attempted to smile. “Yep,” he grinned. I took another drink from the bottle and glanced down at my knee. “I think there’s three things, total,” I said. “Okay,” he said softly. I felt sick. Here goes. “You know how I told you I wanted to buy the law firm from my father?” I attempted to form a smile. “Yep,” he nodded. “Well,” I hesitated. “I’m the sole owner now,” I smiled and took another drink of the water. “Well, that’s good, right?” his eyes widened and he looked confused. “Yeah. Great,” I sighed. “Okay, next thing,” I took a deep breath and reached into my purse. I felt around in the side pocket and pulled it out. As I clutched it in my hand, I began to attempt to speak and maintain a level of sanity. “You know how you’ve told me over and over that you love me?” I asked. “Yep,” he smiled as he took a drink of his water.

“Did you mean it Michael?” I asked. “Fuck yeah, I did. Why would you ask me that?” he said. “I need to know Michael. These aren’t just words. I need to know,” I said as I fought back tears. “I love you baby,” he said as he scooted across the couch. I held my left hand in the air between us. “Let me finish,” I said. “Do you mean it?” I asked. “Yes, I love you,” he said sternly. “This is your chance to back out, Michael. Do it now if you’re going to do it,” I said. “What the fuck, Vee. Back out? What the fuck is wrong with you. I fucking love you. Get over it. What are you going to do, ditch me?” he asked as he stood from the couch and placed his hands on his hips. “No. I’m not going to ditch you. So, you love me. No bullshit, no lies?” I asked. “Nope. I love you. You’re ditching me, aren’t you? I fucking knew this was too good to be true. “No Michael,” I said as I held my hand out. “What is it?” he asked as he reached for my hand. I fought back tears. “A pregnancy test, Michael, I’m pregnant,” I said as he took the test from my hand.

He looked at the pen shaped device and up into my eyes. He looked down at the device again and turned it slightly and smiled. He raised it in the air and began to talk. As his voice cracked, he started over. “This one. Is this one mine?” he asked. “Yours? What do you mean, Michael? It’s a fucking pregnancy test. I’m pregnant,” I blurted. “I heard you Vee. Jesus. Is this one mine? The one you handed me? Is this mine to keep?” he asked. “Sure, why?” I snapped. “I want to frame it baby. It’s our first kid. I don’t want to take it from you if it’s the only one,” he smiled. He wants to frame the pregnancy test. Could he be any cuter? “You’re not mad?” I asked as the tears began to fall. “Mad, hell no. I’m happy as fuck baby. Having a baby with the woman I love? Shit, life couldn’t be any better. You might think I’m a big dork, but I’ll make you proud when it comes to being a father,” he smiled as he pulled his phone from his pocket. Slowly, he walked over to the kitchen and plugged his phone into the docking station that sat on the bar. As the music began to play, he turned it up loudly. As the music filled the room, I looked up at him confused.

He stood on the throw rug that separated the kitchen from the living room and waved his arms. “What are you doing, Michael?” I asked as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I have something to show you,” he said, “come here.” As I walked over to the carpet, I shook my head and dropped my purse on the floor. Whatever I did in my life to deserve this I wasn’t aware. I could ask for nothing more than Michael could give me. I came here expecting to be told to get the fuck out and go away. Instead, I was welcomed with open arms by someone who wanted to frame the pregnancy test of our first baby. God I loved this man. As I stepped onto the carpet, he reached out and grabbed my hands in his. “I been saving this for a special occasion,” he smiled. “Waltz, you know it? If not, I can do the Foxtrot, the…” Is he serious? “I can Waltz,” I responded. As we began to Waltz across the carpet in the edge of the living room, my tears began to dry up. My heart began to fill with joy as I watched Michael proudly lead me in an almost perfect Waltz as the music played from the kitchen. “So what is this?” I asked as I looked up into

his eyes. “Celebration, I guess. Let’s call it the baby dance,” he said. “The baby dance?” I asked. “Yep. The baby dance,” he said as he continued to dance to the music. “How many people in Austin do you think are doing the baby dance right now?” I smiled. “Including us?” he asked. I nodded my head. “Two. You and I. And I can tell you something else. If there is anyone else doing it, they aren’t as happy as I am right now. They just aren’t,” he grinned. “So, what was the third thing?” he asked. “I’ll tell you later,” I responded, “I don’t want to lose this moment.” “Okay,” he smiled as he continued to step from corner to corner of the rug. And, as we danced a Waltz across the carpeted dance floor in Michael’s home in celebration of a new life we were bringing into the earth, I began to come to terms with the one I had just lost. I’d tell him later. I needed this. The baby dance. Michael was right. He’d make a great father. And with uncles like A-Train, Shane, and Austin, this kid would never live a dull moment.

Or be abused by anyone. “Baby?” Michael sighed. “Yes, love?” I responded. “Your thoughts on getting married?” he asked. “Well. I don’t suppose I care. It doesn’t matter,” I said softly as I looked up into his eyes. “It matters to me. I want to get married. Prove you love me. Will you marry me?” he asked as the music stopped. As I began to respond, he pulled the pregnancy test from his pocket, looked at it, and smiled. I felt like I was two inches shorter - because in many respects, I began to melt. “Yes,” I breathed. Michael Allen Ripton. The man dreams are made of.

EPILOGUE

“Babe, will you bring me my phone? I’m sick again. I’m going to need to call Mr. Martin,” I yelled from the bathroom. As Shane brought me my phone, I hovered over the toilet. For the last three mornings, I’d been sick. The yogurt that we bought was making me throw up. I’d missed the last two days of work from vomiting. “Here, Kace. You going to be alright, I’m worried about you? And I’m throwing the yogurt out. I don’t care what it cost. If it’s making you sink it’s not worth it,” Shane said as he handed me the phone. I nodded as I looked into the toilet. “It’s weird. I feel better in the day, kind of. Maybe it’s some weird flu. Shut the door please,” I said softly.

As I sent Mr. Martin a text message apologizing for being sick again, I realized today I didn’t eat any yogurt. I stood up, set my phone on the vanity and rinsed my face in the sink. I lowered the lid to the toilet and thought of what might make me sick. Slowly, I reached under the sink and pulled out the box. I opened the box and removed the package, and tore it open. I’d used the tests before. I pulled up the lid to the toilet and held the test underneath me and peed. After I was done, I shook the test dry and pulled some extra tissue from the roll. I placed the tissue on the countertop, and the test on top of the tissue. Shane and I had talked about getting pregnant. He wanted nothing more than to be a father. He made that clear. More than anything on this earth, he wanted to be a father. Secondly, he wanted to win the championship and retire. The fight was in four months. If I was pregnant, he’d be fighting before we had the baby. It would be like Christmas three times in one year. I glanced at the test. Nothing. I thought of what I had been eating and wondered if there was some virus or something going around. I had taken a dozen pregnancy tests, and never been pregnant. I didn’t want to disappoint Shane, but I often wondered if I could

become pregnant. I picked up the box and looked at the back of it. 99.785 percent accurate. Well, that’s basically a hundred. I picked up the test and looked. Plus sign. Oh. My. God. “Shane!” I screamed, “Shane!” “Shane!” As the door opened he looked down at me with a worried look. Crying, I held the test in the air. I tried to talk, but I couldn’t speak. He gazed at the test from the doorway. “Yes?” he asked, staring at the test. “Are you?” I nodded. He reached down and scooped me from the floor and took off running through the house with me in his arms. “I love you so much. This is great news. Not the yogurt. Let me get my hoodie. We’ll run to the doctor’s office and find out what we need to do to make sure you and the baby are healthy. I’ll need to call Ripp and tell him he’s going to be an uncle. Kelsey is going to want to…” he word vomited as he ran through the house. “Babe?” I said as he ran into the bedroom. “Yes, babe?” he breathed. “I can walk,” I said. “Okay,” he said as he lowered me to the floor

and grabbed his hoodie from on top of the bed. “I just want everything to be perfect,” Shane sighed. “It is,” I responded. It is.

This book is dedicated to my real life Kace Meadows. Jessica, this one’s for you. Life is simple. Breathe in, breathe out… And let me love you between breaths.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, are coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Scott Hildreth

All rights reserved. In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the author or publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use the material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the author at [email protected]. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

Covert art by Jessica www.JessicaHildrethDesigns.com Follow me on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/sd.hildreth Like me on Facebook at: www.facebook.com/ScottDHildreth Follow me on Twitter at: @ScottDHildreth

PROLOGUE

“Jake! Get your shoes on and hurry up. The bus will be here in a few minutes,” mom yelled down the hallway. “Got ‘em on ma,” I yelled back. “Be sure to bring home your homework, I want to see what you’re studying,” I heard her say as she walked away. “Okay, ma.” Thirteen is a tough age to be. You’re not old enough to be a man, but you’re too old to be a little boy. “I’m stopping at the bar tonight. I’ll be home late, so just go on and eat without me,” I heard my stepfather say. “Okay honey, I love you,” my mother whispered. “I’ll see ya when I get home,” he said.

I heard him walk down the hallway and go out the front door. Mom says we’re not supposed to hate anyone, but I come real close to hating him – especially when he drinks. He’s not nice to ma, and he calls me a little fucker. He says my real daddy was a dip-shit. I don’t know my real daddy, but I bet he was a good man. Better than Jasper, that’s for sure. My real daddy wouldn’t talk to ma the way he does. And he sure wouldn’t push her and slap her either. “When are you going to be home from school,” ma hollered. I pulled my hoodie over my head and looked in the mirror. My hoodie. My protection. It keeps me safe from the bullies at school and keeps Jasper away. I turned away from the mirror and shoved my arms through the straps of my book bag. As I lifted it up to the middle of my back it felt lighter than normal. I’m getting stronger. As I bent over and grabbed my gym bag, I yelled down the hallway. “Probably 6:00, ma. I’m going to the gym, it’s Tuesday.” “Okay,” she responded. Going to the gym is the best thing ever. They have a program for teenagers for free. They give us free boxing training if we have no grades worse than a “B”, and we don’t have any juvenile delinquency problems after we start the program.

Anyone breaks the law, lies to a trainer, or drops their grades below a “B”, they’re out of the program. No exceptions. Since I started learning to box, I’ve been a straight “A” student. The trainers have a classroom for us to learn in. They teach us about respect, manners at home, manners in the gym and discipline. They tell us it will make a difference in how people see us. They say we’re an extension of the gym therefore we must walk proud, act proud, and be proud. Ma says she can see the difference already. “I love you, ma,” I said as I looked into the bathroom. Ma stood in front of the mirror, putting on her makeup. With or without makeup, she was the prettiest woman in the entire state of Texas. “Want me to pick you up at the gym? Jasper has to work late, maybe we can get a pizza,” she said. I know where Jasper is gonna be, ma. “Sure, around 6:00?” I smiled as I adjusted my book bag. “Okay. What’s the name again?” “Awwe, ma. You can’t miss it. On Picadilly, a few blocks from here. It’s called Kidd’s, geez.” “Okay, see you at 6:00,” she said. “Okay ma. I love you.” “I love you too, Jake.” A night at the gym and a pizza with my ma. Life

is as good as it gets. Maybe one day if I train real hard, listen to all the instructions and apply myself I can be the champion and have a shadow box in the gym with my stuff in it. A silk robe with my name stitched on the back on one side. A big picture of me in the middle. And my hoodie on the other side. If I was Champion of the World, I wouldn’t need protection. I would be the protection.

1

SHANE. No one knows better than I do. Not a single soul. Sometimes when you least expect it, life throws a curve ball your direction. One that breaks at the last minute and flies right past you – leaving you standing there wondering what the hell just happened? The happiest moment in my life was the day Kace told me she was pregnant. I have never felt the level of joy, depth of emotion, or the height of anticipation I experienced from hearing her say those words. Sharing a child with the woman I loved so dearly was something which excited me greatly. One person created by the love of two others. He’d have Kace’s smile – my facial structure. Her smooth skin – my muscles. Her compassion – my reasoning. One human being comprised from

the souls of the two people who loved each other so much they chose to bring him into this earth. The happiest day of my life. The joy lasted all of twenty-two weeks, three days and roughly four hours. Today? Today anger fills me. Today I am – and will remain – an empty shell which houses the host of demons residing inside of me. The small portion of my blackened heart which prevails is incapable of feeling true emotion. We are who we are, and there is nothing I can do to change this one simple fact. I am filled with demons, therefore I am. A demon. The tall bearded guy wearing the Keep Austin Weird baseball cap eagerly stepped to the front of the group. As he reached up and twisted his hat around until the bill faced backward, he grinned and gave his honest opinion in my odds of winning the brawl we were preparing to get into. “There’s three of us, and one of him. This ain’t a movie, John. Nobody can take all of us on and win. Fuck this guy. And he’s wearin’ boots and a goddamned hoodie – fucking weirdo. He ain’t about to do shit. Get behind him, Steve.” “Yeah, fuck this dude,” Steve responded as he stepped from away from the booth and began to walk in my direction. The other two men stood directly in front of

me. Earlier, the taller one with the beard had begun talking shit about my wearing a hoodie in the eighty degree Dallas heat. Although I would normally just sit and listen to such talk, I had come to the bar with the intent of fighting. After repeated attempts to get me to react to his rude behavior, he eventually did what all men do, and questioned my manhood. My standing from the booth, turning to face their table, and staring blankly as I finished my non-alcoholic beer was enough to get them to slide from their seats, stand up, and take their trashtalking to the next level. As I placed a twenty dollar bill on the table under my empty beer bottle, I’m sure they suspected I was going to attempt to leave without incident. But I came for a fight. Now, the man with the big mouth was making it easy for me. I’d had just about enough of his mouth, and he was having a hard time keeping it closed. Although I had not planned on him having his two friends help out, I wasn’t necessarily opposed to it either. This definitely wouldn’t be the first time I found myself in a bar brawl with three people at once. I slowly widened my stance and spread my feet shoulder width apart “Steve and John, huh? What’s your name, mouth?” “What did you call me?” the man with the backward baseball cap asked.

I tilted my head from side to side and popped my neck. As my hands weren’t going to do me much good in the pockets of my hoodie, I cautiously removed them and clenched my aching fists. I curled the left side of my mouth upward slightly and smiled, “Mouth. I called you mouth – because you’re the one doing all the shit talking.” “Look at his hands, Cody. Look at ‘em. He’s a fuckin’ scrapper,” John said as he pointed toward my hands. I had spent the last few nights around Garland, a city north and east of Dallas. My time here was no different than the other cities I had stopped in; I came here looking for a fight. With my hands clearly showing the wear from my previous night’s events, I carefully raised them a little closer to my chest. As Steve reluctantly walked along my right side, I gave my typical speech regarding my beliefs on respectful behavior. “You know, if you guys weren’t acting like a bunch of assholes, it would have never reached this point. You shouldn’t be disrespectful; especially to someone you don’t know. Hell, you never know who he or she might be or what they’ve been through. Now, I’m going to give you one chance to apologize, Cody. One. Tell me you’re sorry for being a dick and I’ll go out to my bike and ride out of here. Or, choose not to, and we’ll settle this in a

more brutal fashion,” I hesitated as Steve began to clear my field of vision. “Fuck you…” he responded. Although Cody continued to talk, I didn’t hear one single legible word. Forgive me lord. I stepped forward slightly with my right foot and swung my right forearm toward Steve’s neck. Curling my arm around his neck, I thrust his body backward as I swept my right foot rearward – knocking his legs out from under him. As his upper body was forced one direction and his legs the other, he appeared to float in mid-air. Thud! Steve’s body hit the floor and remained motionless beside me. “Holy shit,” I heard one of them scream. “Don’t get up,” I screamed as I glanced down at Steve. Lying there groaning, he didn’t look like he had any intent of doing otherwise. Shocked at Steve’s immediate elimination from this bar brawl, and probably partially from my hand speed, Cody stood still and stared straight ahead – with his hands at his sides. Not a particularly good defensive posture for a bar fight, but it seemed to be his current choice. Although I could have knocked him out in a single punch, I wanted him to at least raise his hands and appear to defend himself.

Almost playfully, I threw an intentional and extremely slow left jab, making sure it fell about two inches short of his jaw. As he raised his hands reflexively, he snapped out of his trance and gave me fair warning. “I’m gonna beat the shit out of you,” he growled. I’m going to guess you’re sadly mistaken, Cody. He threw a well telegraphed right hand as he continued to babble expletives and unnecessary warnings. I blocked his right with my left forearm, and responded with a quick right of my own to his midsection, directly below his ribcage. As he gasped for breath and doubled over in pain, I was fairly certain this brawl was just about over. An immediate left uppercut to the chin connected perfectly, and provided a subtle reminder of the fact my knuckles were swollen and needed a rest. As Cody fell unconscious to the floor, John immediately raised both hands in the air to surrender. “I uhh. I don’t want any trouble,” John stammered. “Neither did I,” I responded as I glanced down at a still motionless Steve. A small crowd of four or five curious people had gathered around us as the argument began. As

things started to unravel into an actual fight, the crowd tripled in size. Now, fifteen or so people were standing around us and blocking my path out of the bar. I motioned toward the crowd with my right hand, “I’m going to walk out of here and get on my bike. If any of you three follow me, it won’t end well.” “We won’t,” John assured me. I nodded my head sharply once in the direction of the crowd. “You know who he is?” I heard someone whisper as I walked toward the parting group of people. “Shane Dekkar. Shame on Dekkar,” I heard someone else respond. “Excuse me, fella’s,” I said as I walked between them, making my way toward the door. “Yep. Sure as fuck is, that’s him,” the first voice acknowledged as I walked past the crowd. “Ain’t he getting ready to fight for the Heavyweight Championship of the World?” the second voice asked. I shoved my swollen hand into the pocket of my jeans and looked down at my ragged boots. As I pushed the door of the bar open with my shoulder and pulled my keys from my pocket, I shook my head in frustration. Slowly, I felt a rush of warmth wash over my body.

Not anymore, he’s not. When I got the news, I told Kelsey to postpone the championship fight. Continuing to do anything seemed impossible to me. Simply breathing became difficult. Training became impossible. Fighting any form of organized fight was out of the question. The only thing I wanted to do – or felt I was able to do – was run. As I walked to my bike, the anger continued to fill me. I looked over the dozen or so cars which littered the parking lot and studied the traffic on the highway in the distance. Wednesday night in a bar outside of Garland, Texas isn’t necessarily a busy night – the sparse traffic and empty parking lot was a clear reminder. As I raised my leg over the rear fender of the motorcycle and lowered myself into the seat, I began to dwell on what my life had become. Clear your head Shane or this is going to be an extremely long life you’re about to live. I started the bike and stared at the highway as the V-Twin motor warmed to operating temperature. North to highway 40 and I could head east to unchartered territory. South on 20 would take me to highway 10, and I could head west to Compton – where all of this started. I pulled the clutch lever, shifted the bike into gear, and released the clutch. As I pulled through the underpass to the highway, I

studied the road signs. East or West? As the warm westerly Texas wind blew into my face, I would have sworn I heard familiar voices calling my name scattered throughout the breeze. Compton it is.

2

SHANE. “You know, there are three types of people who eat here - locals, those passing through, and a few who are hiding from something,” the waitress slid the cup of coffee and creamer to the center of the table. “You don’t live here, and you haven’t ridden that motorcycle out of town yet. So, are you trying to get the courage to cross the border to Mexico and hide?” she chuckled and tilted her head to the south. I smiled and reached for the creamer. Anthony, Mew Mexico was ten minutes north of Ciudad Juarez, Mexico – a city known for drugs, violence, and killing. I had stopped in Anthony for the night because it seemed peaceful – a nice place for me to collect my thoughts and prepare for what was ahead. A night turned into a few days, and a few

days became a week. South of Las Cruces and north of El Paso, the small town of 5000 people was a tranquil little place to relax. The local diner, which had become a daily stop for me, was a step back in time - red round vinyl topped chrome bar stools from the 1950’s, a jukebox, old fashioned malts, milk shakes, and one waitress working her ass off to serve everyone who entered. The nametag pinned to her uniform said it all. Bea. More than likely it was short for Beatrice. Without a doubt, a local who grew up here, and had never had the opportunity or a good reason to uproot and leave the area. “I have no business in Mexico. No ma’am, I’m just relaxing, that’s all,” I smiled as I poured the creamer into my coffee cup. “Anthony is quite a hot spot, yeah I can see that,” she rolled her eyes and smiled. “So, four over medium, the breakfast steak medium rare, and dry wheat toast?” she tilted her head slightly to the side, undoubtedly proud she had recalled my breakfast preferences. “Yes ma’am,” I nodded. As she smiled and walked away, I sipped my coffee and looked around the empty restaurant. One man, probably in his early seventies, sat at the bar sipping from a coffee cup. He had shared the restaurant with me every morning – he in his spot,

and me in mine. Purposefully I came late - around 9:00 am - after the locals were off to work, and before the lunch crowd began. As the waitress turned and walked away, he looked over his left shoulder and tipped his coffee cup my direction. I returned the gesture and smiled as I lowered my lips to the rim of the overfilled cup. Without a doubt, there were things I missed about being in Texas. Kace, Ripp, Kelsey, Vee, Austin, and A-Train were extremely close to me. Additionally, Ripp’s family had become a family to me – or the nearest thing I had ever experienced. Together, the entire group was the closest thing to a family I would ever be able to enjoy. But now… now I couldn’t face them. Not now. In staring out the window, I began to wonder why God would ever make a place as ugly as Anthony, Texas. As I studied the traffic driving through town, I considered the existence of God entirely. At least the God I had come to understand as being. As I tilted the bottom of my coffee cup upward, I realized it was empty. I would have sworn she just filled it. “Lemme refresh that for you, and here’s your breakfast,” Bea said as she slid the plate of food in front of me. I lowered my cup to the table and smiled. As she poured coffee from the pot, she studied my right hand.

“Your hands look better. Actually, much better,” she smiled and tilted the pot away from my cup. “Not that I was looking. It’s just,” she paused and scrunched her brow. “They were swollen and terrible looking that first morning you came in.” “I’m a boxer,” I smiled as I raised my right hand from the cup and pressed my knuckles into my left palm. She shook her head slightly and grinned, “Boxer’s wear gloves. Boxer’s protect their hands. You may be a boxer, but your hands didn’t get that way from boxing.” Beatrice the insightful waitress. “That’s a fact. And your attention to detail didn’t come from being a waitress,” I grinned. “No,” she sighed. “Criminal Justice, I wanted to be a cop,” she smiled. “What’s keeping you from it,” I asked as I unraveled my napkin and removed my fork. “Three little ones. I have three little ones at home. One, two, and four. Wouldn’t trade ‘em for the world. Maybe one day I’ll go back to school. For now I’ll work here and raise them the best I can,” she grinned proudly. I nodded my head and shifted my gaze toward the plate.

Walk away, lady. I don’t want to talk. Not now, and not about this. “You have any? Any kids?” she asked. As I reached for my knife and began to cut my steak, I shook my head from side to side and stared down at my plate. “No ma’am, I sure don’t.” “Well, when you do someday, you’ll never regret it. They’re a true gift. Enjoy your breakfast,” she smiled, nodded her head toward my plate, and walked toward the jukebox. Often it seems we’re forced to hear exactly what it is we aren’t willing to listen to when we want to hear it the least but need to hear it the most. Johnny Cash’s I Hung My Head began to play as Bea stepped away from the jukebox. Although I had heard the song countless times in bars and taverns over the years, it sounded much different this time. As I ate my steak, the words from the song made sense in a different manner than they had previously. I had always thought the song was about killing. This time it wasn’t. Acceptance. The song was about acceptance. My inability to accept circumstances in my life brought me here. I took another bite of steak and stared out the window as I chewed, as if I were looking for some form of answer to a question I

was too afraid to ask. As Johnny Cash’s When the Man Comes Around began to play, I closed my eyes and listened intently. And I heard as it were the noise of thunder… One of the four beasts saying come and see and I saw… And behold a white horse. The sound of the music was quickly overshadowed by the loud noise of a motorcycle exhaust rumbling from the small parking lot which adjoined the diner’s glass front. Aggravated, I opened my eyes and stared into the lot. I blinked my eyes, uncertain of whether or not my eyes were playing tricks on me. And behold a white horse.

3

SHANE. I have always lived a simple life and kept to myself, not needing or desiring the opinions of a stranger to assist me in understanding life or the complications associated with it. Oddly enough, a simple statement or expressed opinion from an outsider is often the one thing which causes us to veer from the peaceful road we were previously traveling along. One person’s transparent opinion has the ability to lift us from our feet with pride, or crush us into the depths of some God forsaken hell we can’t seem to find a way out of. From deep inside the fiery pit from in which I was currently living, I looked through the window into the parking lot and shook my head in disbelief as my hand fumbled along the table for my cup of coffee. Sitting on his motorcycle with one hand resting

on the handlebars and the other searching for a cigarette, he stared blankly toward the front of the diner. His hand shaking as he held it to his mouth, he puffed eagerly on the cigarette as he lit it. After a few long drags, slowly his head pivoted 180 degrees, inventoried the empty parking lot, and he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Methodically, he stood from his motorcycle, bent over, and stepped on his cigarette. As he placed the butt into his shirt pocket and began walking toward the door, I turned toward the counter where the old man was seated. “Bring me another cup of coffee. Black,” I said to the waitress. She nodded her head and reached for one of the many cups which were hanging behind her from hooks below the bottom shelf. I looked down at the table as she placed the cup down and began pouring coffee into it. Before she filled the cup, I heard the bell attached to the front door jingle. “Friend or foe?” she asked quietly as she lifted the coffee pot from the cup. I looked up and grinned, “Right now, probably a little of both.” “He looks like he might be a handful,” she said as she tilted her head in his direction. “We’ll be just fine,” I smiled. The sound of his boot heels echoed through the empty diner as he walked toward the booth I was sitting in. Somewhat embarrassed, I looked down at

my plate as if I had no idea he was approaching. “You might need a lesson or two in how to hide, Dekk,” he said as he lowered himself into the seat across from me. I shook my head slightly in disbelief as I looked up, “I won’t even ask.” “In the future, you need to use cash. That debit card of yours is like a flashing beacon of fucking light,” he chuckled. After a precursory glance over the interior of the diner, he turned to face me. “I’m going to tell you a story. Say my peace, so to speak. When I’m done I’m going to walk outside and smoke another cigarette then ride out of here. I hate shitty little dusty towns like this. They remind me of places I’m trying to forget about.” he said. “You know, if God was going to give the world an enema, he’d more than likely stick the tube in this shitty little town,” he hesitated as he stared out the window and slowly shook his head. He turned toward the table and looked down at the coffee. “When I leave you can either head out with me or stay here, I don’t care either way,” he smiled as he pointed at the coffee cup in front of him. I nodded my head. He picked up the cup, took a slow sip, and held it in front of his face as he began to speak, “During my first tour, we were looking for al-Zawahiri. Hell,

we were searching for a lot of al-Qaeda officials, but at this point in time, he was our target. We received intel on where he was and why he was there. It seems he was having a summit meeting of sorts with every other high ranking Islamic militant within a three hundred mile radius. Without a doubt, on this particular night, we were going to bag this shit-bird and bring the war to a screeching halt. At least that’s what we were told.” “Go ahead and eat, this is going to take a minute,” he said as he tilted his head toward my plate of food. As I began to cut my now cold steak, he lowered his coffee cup to the table and took his pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. With a shaking hand, he lifted one of the cigarettes to his mouth and bit it between his teeth. Flipping his cigarette lighter between his fingers, he began to speak through his clenched teeth. “So, based on this intel, they assembled a handful of us; three Marines, and seven or so SEALS. They indicated al-Zawahiri had gone into some shit-hole home earlier on this particular day, and he hadn’t come out. Hell, from what they said, no one came in or out after he arrived. It seemed his little meeting was underway, and all we had to do was get there before he left,” he pulled the unlit cigarette from his teeth and lowered his chin into his hand.

I chewed the last bite of my steak and pushed my plate to the side. “Now this being my first tour, I didn’t have much experience – and none in extraction to speak of – only training. All the brass wanted him alive if possible, so they’d preached protocol and rules of engagement to us all fucking day. We all sat around and waited for the cover of darkness while we planned what we were going to do. You know, studying the chicken-shit map they’d given us showing the supposed layout of the home, cleaning our weapons, and talking about how we were going to get this prick,” he paused, shook his head lightly, and took another sip of coffee. He leaned into the edge of the table and rested the coffee cup beside his pack of cigarettes, still flipping the cigarette lighter between his fingers. Nervously, he released the cup and lifted the unlit cigarette to his lips. “So, it’s zero dark fucking thirty, and we’re all waiting. About oh two thirty they round us up, take us as close as they can get us, tell us good luck and god fucking speed. We surround the front of this little mud hut and blow the door on this place, toss in a few flash-bangs, and in we go,” he pulled the cigarette from his lips and inhaled a deep breath as if disgusted. “Needless to say, I’m as nervous as a fucking whore in church service. I’ve got diarrhea, my

stomach is all fucked up, my head’s full of all kinds of thoughts on what may happen to me or to someone else, and what I’m gonna do when it does. I’d gone over every possible god damned scenario based on the intel we have and who’s supposedly in this shit-hole,” he paused and shook his head from side to side and looked out into the parking lot. “You see Dekk, men are just that; men. And men make mistakes. A man will give you an opinion, and portray it as an absolute fact. If you’re either gullible enough or dumb enough to believe him, you then make a life changing decision based on the inaccuracies of his beliefs. And you see, Dekk,” he stopped gazing through the glass into the parking lot and turned to face me. “It’s just that. It’s an opinion. It’ll never be any more or any less. If I had all of the lives we lost based on one man’s opinion of what was sure not to happen, I could fill this fucking diner with good god damned Marines. But I can’t, because they’re all fucking dead.” “The opposite happened on this particular night. The shit-hole home was empty. No hidden exit. No tunnels. No way out except the doors which were in full view. And we had eyes on every fucking corner of this place. And after an assurance he and his band of merry men walked in and never came out – we went in after him. I was mad as fuck. Let down, depressed, and I felt kind of

betrayed. They were wrong Dekk. They’re wrong more than they’re right. You know why? Because they’re fucking human and they gave their opinion.” “You see,” he lifted the cigarette to his mouth and bit the filter between his teeth. “If we’re forced to make a decision that has the potential to have a profound effect on our life, and it’s based on the opinion of one man, we must weigh the legitimacy of the man in question. And in my humble opinion, if the man in question is not God, his opinion is nothing more than an educated guess.” He slowly stood from his seat and removed the cigarette from his mouth. As if he’d forgotten if it was lit or not, he lifted it, looked at the tip, and grinned, “I’m going to go burn this. I’ve been chewing on it for too damned long. Come out and join me?” I nodded my head sharply as I reached for my wallet. And I paid in cash.

4

SHANE. As A-Train smoked his cigarette, I walked across the parking lot toward the motorcycles. Although what he said made perfect sense, I didn’t necessarily want to hear it. For some reason I found comfort wallowing in believing the pity I felt was warranted, and everything I was doing was for good reason. As I got within a few feet of where he stood, he sat down in the seat of his motorcycle and continued to puff on his cigarette. “So, you riding out with me?” he asked dryly. “I don’t know. I just…” “You just what?” he interrupted in a gruff tone. He stood and momentarily straddled his motorcycle as he took one last pull on the portion of the cigarette which remained. As he exhaled the smoke, he stepped over the motorcycle and tossed

the butt onto the parking lot. “You wanna give me your honest opinion as to whether or not you can whip my ass?” he asked as he turned to face me. “Excuse me?” I responded, knowing full well what he had said, but for some reason needing to hear him say it again. “You heard me,” he said as he positioned himself in a fighting stance. “I have an opinion you won’t get one punch to make contact. Not a fucking one. You know why? Because you’re a washed up piece of overweight shit who’s scared to fight for the title fight. You’re scared to be amongst your friends, and scared like a little bitch you might have to become a man and raise a child who doesn’t fall well within the limits what you perceive as perfect,” he paused and twisted his feet firmly in place. My blood began to boil. “Did I hit a nerve? You afraid if you and Kace raise a special needs child someone might eventually call him a retard? Call your little boy a fucking retard? Huh Dekk? Your little retard boy?” I swung a thunderous right jab toward his left cheek. I have no idea what he did to counter the punch, all I know is it happened with lightning speed. Somehow my right forearm wound up positioned under his left armpit, and he turned approximately ninety degrees to his right, wrapping

his right arm around my neck. As I felt the blade from his knife pressing against my neck, I exhaled and stood as still as a statue. As he laughed a dull laugh and twisted his foot on the cigarette he had earlier thrown onto the parking lot, he pressed the blade of his knife against my neck a little tighter with his left hand. Fearful for what was next, I stood motionless and waited. “You see Dekk, you threw the punch under the opinion you were going to teach me a lesson. But here’s the thing. I made those comments about your child knowing, absolutely knowing I had to do so to make my point. You swung because you’re going to defend your child regardless. Special needs or not, he’s yours. Subconsciously, you’re already committed to him being your son. And you’re his father. You’re just fucking scared. And there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he spit on the ground beside where he stood. “That doctor gave you his fucking opinion based on the amnio test they performed. He told you the kid might have some chromosomal disorder. He said he could be born with Down Syndrome. And you fucking disappeared. Well, I got news for you. My nephew is special needs. More specifically, he has Down Syndrome. And he’s one of the best damned people you’ll ever meet. Ever,” he growled into my right ear. “You see, special needs means just that. He has

needs that are special. It doesn’t mean he isn’t deserving of anything and everything that every other person on this earth is deserving of. It only means he has a few needs unique to him – and they’re described as special. Special. You know the definition of special?” he released my neck and pushed me six feet or so into the parking lot. I rubbed my neck and turned to face him. “Better or more important than others,” he folded his knife and clipped it onto the pocket of his jeans. As he stared at me with watchful eyes, he lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. After he stood for a moment, he exhaled what little smoke was left in his lungs and took another long pull from the cigarette. “Just to clarify, I said what I said about your boy to make you realize something – you’re already committed to this – emotionally, physically, and spiritually. You just needed to feel it. You’re too damned blind to see it,” he exhaled a cloud of smoke and shook his head lightly. “Now, you know what we’re gonna do?” he asked. I stood and stared, still angry over what he said, regardless of why he felt a need to do so. “We’re going to get on our sleds and ride to Austin. You’re going to apologize to Kace, Ripp, Vee, Austin, the old man, and everyone else who’s

been worried about you. I could give two shits whether or not you’re going fight for the championship, makes no difference to me. But you’re going to support Kace through this. And the day will come when your little boy will be born. And every fucking one of us will love him – because he’s part of you, and he’s part of Kace. Now, you ready to ride or you want me to wad you up into another ball and cut you this time?” maintaining eye contact, he bent down and stepped on the cigarette. “A-Train?” I asked. “What is it, brother?” he raised his eyebrows and smiled, waiting for me to continue. I swallowed a lump in my throat and said the only thing I could think of that accurately described how I felt. “I’m scared.” As I spoke, I began to cry. “Been there plenty of times, Dekk. Generally, I’ll ask the man upstairs for spoon full of courage. He hasn’t let me down yet,” he said as he wrapped his arms around me. As he held me in his arms, I continued to cry. And I came to understand there are times when we’re incapable of understanding life entirely. When the time comes, all we can do is hope we have friends and family to guide us in the direction we may not be able to see in their absence. As he

released me from his grasp, he patted me on the shoulder. “Let’s ride,” I said as I wiped the tears from my eyes. “You lead the way, brother,” he hesitated and grinned, “I’ve got your back.” And there was no doubt in my mind he meant exactly what he said. A-Train had my back.

5

KACE. I truly believe the greatest gift God has ever given me was Shane Dekkar. He changed my life and allowed me to see things in myself I would have never seen without his guidance. He taught me what love was truly about, and how to accept it without becoming self-possessed. Today, I am a truly different person, and I have Shane to thank for opening my eyes. And although he is the greatest gift ever, he’s like any other gift; he can be returned for a refund if he doesn’t quite fit. Standing just inside the doorway, unshaven, filthy, and tattered, he attempted to plead with me. “Babe, I’m sorry,” he said softly. Standing at the edge of the kitchen island, I looked up from my making my sandwich, “Don’t you dare babe me.” “You didn’t go on a ride with the boys, Shane.

You didn’t get drunk and end up at a titty bar. Hell, you could have cheated on me and I’d have felt better. No Shane, you didn’t do those things. You left me. You fucking left,” I hesitated, picked up my sandwich, and gazed down at the bread as I squeezed it angrily in my hands. I looked toward where he stood and cleared my throat, “You know what kind of bread this is?” He stared at me blankly. “I asked you a question, Shane. Do you know what kind of bread this is?” I shouted. He shook his head slowly. I swallowed heavily and cleared my very emotional throat once again, “Honey wheat. You know why?” He shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Because I like it. And I don’t have to buy that multi-grain dirty tasting whole wheat healthy assed bullshit bread, Shane. Do you know why?” I raised the sandwich to my mouth and took a huge bite. Before he had the chance to answer, I spoke as I chewed, “Because you like it. And you don’t live here any longer.” “Baby…” he began to try to reason with me. “I told you once, don’t baby me. Do you have any idea how hard this has been? Do you?” I asked as I walked out of the kitchen and toward the dining room. “I can only imagine,” he said softly as he began

to walk into the house. I stopped half way into the dining area and pointed toward where he stood, “Stop right there. Do not come in my house, Shane. And you’re right, you can only imagine. And I’ll tell you why you can only inagine. Because you weren’t here to see how hard it was; you were gone. Gone. You could have been dead. Six fucking weeks, Shane. Six weeks. Some nights I wished you were dead. You know what? Ripp’s gonna kick your ass. You know that, right? He is. You know why?” I hesitated and raised my eyebrows. Before he attempted to respond, I provided the answer, “Because he cares.” “Kace, I love you. I’m sorry,” he whispered. I sat down on the couch and took another bite of my sandwich as I watched him shift his weight back and forth on his feet. Standing there in his shitty boots and a pair of ragged blue jeans, he looked like a homeless man. I loved him with all my heart, but what he had done was insensitive, uncaring, and it hurt. Especially now, when I truly needed him to be here for me, it was painful. A far different pain from being hit, kicked, or slapped – it was an emotional pain from having the man you love not meet an expectation you probably took for granted. “Let me come hold you,” he whined. “Oh hell no. No sir, you won’t do any such

thing,” I shook my head as I swallowed my food. “Hold me? I don’t want you to touch me. You’re a stranger to me, Shane. I don’t even know who you are. I would have never guessed. Never. It’s been six weeks, Shane. Six weeks – a month and a half,” I looked up toward the ceiling and counted. As the anger built up inside of me, I stood, “Forty-two fucking days, Shane. Forty-two nights. You want to know who’s been taking me to my appointments?” He shrugged his shoulders again and nodded his head sheepishly. Standing with my sandwich clenched in my hand, I felt as if I was going to start to cry. As I fought back tears, I squeezed my sandwich tighter. I cleared my throat and raised my voice a little, “Well, I can tell you who it wasn’t. It wasn’t you. Vee. Vee took me sometimes. And Ripp, he drove me. And guess what else he did, Shane? He held me when I cried. And he told me he loved me. And guess what Ripp didn’t do? Ripp didn’t fucking leave me.” I threw my half-eaten sandwich at him and began to cry. He dodged the sandwich and started to walk toward me. “Don’t. I mean it. Right now I don’t want you to touch me,” I cried as I pointed in his direction.

I reached up and wiped the tears from my eyes with the palms of my hands as I tried to regain my composure. “Right now,” I paused. “Right now, I want you to hurt. I want you to feel the pain you put me through, you insensitive prick. You know what Shane? You taught me how to stand up for myself. And guess what? Guess what? I’m doing just that,” I hesitated, wiped my eyes again, and attempted to swallow. I pointed toward the door he stood in front of, “Get out of my house, now. Get. Go stay with Ripp. Or Alec. Or in the gym. Or wherever you’ve been for the last six weeks. But tonight? Tonight you’re not welcome here, because this is my house, mine and my baby’s.” “I just…” he began to say softly. “Get!” I shouted as I pointed toward the door. Slowly, he turned and opened the door. After he stepped onto the porch, he turned to face me. His eyes swollen from tears, and his face covered with a look of shame, he gazed into the house blankly – as if in shock. “Shut the door, I’ll lock it after you’re gone,” I said as I flopped onto the couch. As the sound of his motorcycle disappeared, I began to sob. If Shane Dekkar was going to be included in my life, he was going to do so because I felt it was something I desperately needed. Something I couldn’t live without.

Not something I wanted. And as I lie on the couch sobbing, I realized something completely. I wanted Shane.

6

SHANE. “Well, I’m just glad you aren’t dead, kid. Hell, nobody heard a damned word for a couple of months. I checked with Kace every day for a few weeks – maybe a month or so. I finally gave up hope.” In many respects, Kelsey had become somewhat of an uncle to me. I looked at Ripp’s father as my father, and Kelsey as more of an uncle. I had grown to admire and respect him, and as I sat on his couch I began to realize just what it was I had put everyone through with my insensitive behavior. “I’m sorry boss,” I sighed as I raised my hands to my face. “I suspect you are – and rightfully so. Based on what you said, I can’t tell ya how I would have reacted. I don’t suppose I know for sure, that’s a

tough pill to swallow. I’d like to think I wouldn’t have up and left Kace, though. She’s a damn fine woman, kid,” he said as he patted my knee with his hand and stood from the couch. “You know you’re always welcome here. You need to shower though, you stink to high heaven. Have you got clean clothes on that bike of yours?” he asked. I stood from the couch and lifted the neck of my tee shirt to my nose, “Sure don’t boss. I have a bag strapped to it, but everything’s dirty.” “Well, I have sweats and a tee shirt might fit you. Shirt will be a little tight, but it’s clean. Let me get ‘em,” he said as he turned toward the hallway. He had not yet asked about the fight. Although I imagine it was on the top of the list of things he wished to discuss, he didn’t bring it up. Standing in the house with him now, I felt as if I let him down. Kelsey’s life had been devoted to training boxers. The dream of every trainer is no different than the dream of every boxer – to make it to some form of championship fight. To make it to the Heavyweight Championship of the World is the equivalent of winning the World Series or the Super Bowl. To have something so deeply desired within his reach, and take it from his grasp was inconsiderate of me as well. I suppose we never truly know how we’ll react to a given situation until it presents itself. In this

particular circumstance, I sure seemed to make an absolute ass of myself. From an outsider’s view looking in, I would be perceived as an insensitive, self-centered, selfish, inconsiderate asshole. In recalling where I’d been for the last six weeks and what I’d gone through – without any form of contact with my friends and family – I’d have to say I agree. To describe myself as selfish would be an understatement. Kelsey walked out into the living room with his arms full of bedding and clothes. “Making a place to stay in here will be much easier than cleaning out one of the rooms. You can sleep on the couch,” he said as he dumped the contents onto the cushion beside me. “Here’s pillows, sheets, sweats, a tee shirt, and a pair of boxers. Don’t bitch,” he paused. “The skivvies are new, not used,” he chuckled as he dropped them beside me. “Thanks boss,” I said as I looked down at the pile he had dropped. “And there’s a clean razor in the bathroom on the sink. Shaving cream is under the sink. You need to shave, kid. You look like hell,” he grinned as he rubbed his face with his fingertips. I tilted my head his direction and attempted to smile. Feeling rather embarrassed regarding everything, I grabbed the sweats and boxer shorts and slowly walked toward the bathroom. A shower

should relax me and allow me to think for the rest of the night with a clear mind. The eight hour ride from Anthony to Austin was far from relaxing, and I needed to wash the road tar, bugs, and six weeks of sorrow from my skin. After shaving and taking a long hot shower, I felt revived and full of guilt. As if the soap and water washed the feelings of sorrow and misery away, I was left standing cleansed and filled with shame. In walking into the living room, I noticed Kelsey had taken the time to convert the couch into his best representation of a bed. Tired and regretful for everything I had done, I lowered myself to the couch, pressed my head into the pillow, and immediately fell asleep. The referee held our hands at our sides as the sound from the overhead speaker wailed noise I wasn’t able to comprehend. I could feel the crowd chanting, but wasn’t able to understand the meaning behind their repeated screams. The echo from the overhead speaker caused the hair on the back of my neck to rise. The crowd went silent. And the winner…by knockout…and still the Heavyweight Champion of the World - Tyson TickTock Brock. Sharply, I felt the referee tug the hand of the man standing beside me into the air. Embarrassed, I turned to face the crowd. One side

of the arena was filled with unfamiliar faces – the friends and family of my opponent. I turned to the other side of the arena and blinked my eyes. Empty. Completely empty. I sat up on the couch and wiped the sweat from my face. The dream seemed very vivid and realistic. Still confused and uncertain of what had just happened, I walked down the hallway toward Kelsey’s bedroom. “Hey boss,” I said as I knocked on the halfopen door. “Hey boss,” I said as I knocked again. “Shit, what is it kid?” he said as he sat up in bed. “Call Brock’s manager. Or whoever. I want that fight. As soon as we can get it organized,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Well, hell. I knew you’d come around, kid. We’ll call them first thing in the morning,” he responded groggily. “First thing?” I asked. “Yep. I’ll call them right after breakfast,” he responded. I nodded my head and smiled without speaking. As I walked back to the couch I considered the fight and what it meant to me. It wasn’t a gold championship belt hanging on my bed post, or the framed cover of a Sports Illustrated magazine on

the wall over the fireplace that drove me toward wanting to fight for the championship. Not any longer. It was meeting the expectation of those who loved me. As I sat on the edge of the couch, I reached up and clenched my dog tags in my hand as I prayed. It’s me again. I know I come to you often, but I imagine that’s much better than not coming at all. I need some help. I’ve abandoned my friends and family and everyone who cares about me because I was scared, selfish, and I had lost faith in everything and everyone; including you. Help me make decisions based on what’s best for those around me. The rest, I’m sure, will take care of itself. And as far as our little boy goes, I’m okay with whatever happens. As long as he’s born alive, I’ll be just fine with whoever he is or becomes. You see, I know now, and I never quite looked at it this way before, but whatever happens, I can live with. I can make sense of it all. You give me a son, and I’ll give him the best father the world has ever known. Ultimately I know everything will be fine, because… I paused, sniffed, and tilted my head toward the sky.

You got this.

7

SHANE. She sat on the couch with a plate of cookies, peeled bananas and strawberries in her lap. I quietly sat across the living room in a chair and did my best to listen and understand what I had put her through. As she poked another strawberry into her already full mouth, she tried to speak. “That’s fine Shane. I’m glad you found whatever you needed to find to accept everything. Me?” she pointed at her chest. “I don’t have a choice. He’s inside of me, growing,” she paused and picked up a peeled banana. “Don’t think for one little minute I’m happy. I’m not. I’ll never forget what you did. I’ll probably never forgive you either. I’ll hold onto it as long as I live. What you did was wrong. The fact it happened when it happened?” she swallowed the

strawberry and took a bite of the banana. “Makes it worse,” she said as she began to chew. “I understand,” I sighed. “No you don’t. Don’t act like you do,” she shook her head and took another bite of the banana, finishing it completely. “I love you, and I know you love me, but I won’t let this go. I’m not going to hold it over your head, but I won’t forget it either. After today, we’ll move on. You already promised, but I want you to know something. If you ever leave me again, I’ll divorce you. I will. And it won’t end there,” she paused and picked up a cookie. “I already talked to him, and he said he’d do it. I’m gonna give Ripp a hammer and have him come find you. Do you hear me?” she said as she waved her cookie filled hand my direction. I nodded my head, “Yes ma’am.” “I will,” she assured me, “I believe you,” I said. “And he will,” she nodded. “And I believe that too. He already told me,” I sighed. “I was scared too, Shane. But running doesn’t fix anything. Heck, I’m still scared. I think about what might happen every day. But I can’t change it. You know, worrying about something that hasn’t happened yet is like building a dam for a river that

doesn’t exist. It’s kind of dumb,” she shook her head for a short second and looked down at her cookie. “Want a cookie?” she asked. I shook my head and smiled. “I can’t eat these, the thought is making me sick,” she said as she dropped the cookie onto the plate. She stood and rubbed her stomach lightly and walked toward the kitchen with the plate of cookies. I watched as she reached up toward the basket of fruit and pulled another banana from the stack of fresh fruit inside. While she peeled it, she smiled. “I love bananas now, it’s weird. I can’t eat enough of them. You wouldn’t know anything about that though. Because you weren’t here when I started liking them so much,” she said as she tossed the peel into the trash. “Kace,” I said softly, attempting to apologize again. “I know you are. Leave me alone, Shane. I’m enjoying this,” she said as she sat on the couch and took a bite of the banana. “So,” she said as chewed what was in her mouth. After she swallowed, she waved the remaining piece of banana toward me, “You going with me today?”

I shrugged my shoulders, not sure of what she had planned, “Sure.” “Okay, we’re going shopping for baby stuff. More baby stuff. And we’re taking the Mini. And I’m driving. You know why?’ she asked as she stuffed the remaining banana into her mouth. I waited for her to swallow, and I shrugged my shoulders. Without a doubt this would be some form of comeback for what I had done to her. Everything she had said so far was, and this shouldn’t be any different. “Why?” I said, smiling. “Because I don’t need you to drive me. I’m fine driving myself, unless it’s to the doctor. I don’t like going there alone. But anywhere else, I’m fine. So, we’re going shopping, I’m driving, and we’re spending your money,” she stood from the couch and rubbed her stomach. “Oh my God, come here, he’s doing it,” she squealed, waving her arms frantically. I jumped from the chair and stumbled across the room. As I got within arm’s reach of Kace, she quickly grasped my wrist and pressed my palm to the side of her stomach. As my hand flattened against her shirt, I felt a rise in her skin and against my hand. Shocked, I looked up into her eyes, and then down at her stomach. For a long second, the movement remained, and then slowly moved a few more inches and disappeared.

I stared into her eyes and smiled, my hand still resting against her stomach. “He wiggles like that a lot. They call it kicking. The baby’s kicking, Shane. But you wouldn’t know anything about that,” she pulled my hand from her stomach and tossed it to the side comically. “You know why?” Still amazed at what I had felt, I smiled and stared, not really caring what she said. Right now, she could say anything and it wouldn’t matter. My little boy – our little boy – was alive inside of her, and aching to be released. He was capable of moving, and doing it with such force that it stretched her skin into my palm. As I stood and stared I realized that everything was going to be just fine. We had each other, and needed nothing more. Together, we could conquer whatever obstacles God placed before us. Each standing alone, we represented only half of the whole created when together. A single shoe. A one wheeled bicycle. I opened my arms and waited. As she fell against me and wrapped her arms around me, she pressed her head into my chest and sighed. “I do Kace,” I breathed. She raised her hand to my mouth and pressed her index finger against my lip, “Shhh. I don’t want

to talk about it anymore.” As I held her tightly I felt something against my stomach, and immediately assumed it was her hand. As the feeling continued, I looked down and realized both of her hands were behind me, holding me no differently than I was holding her. Once again, our little miracle was kicking. Slowly, I pulled my chest away from her, and pressed my stomach tighter to hers. As the wiggling inside of her continued, I stared down into her eyes and smiled without speaking a word. Because there were no words to accurately describe it. Quietly, she stared up into my eyes. And we shared what we had developed together. A living miracle.

S

HANE. Pregnant or not, Kace remained the most beautiful woman I had ever seen in my life. As time passed, I felt more and more like a terrible husband for having left her the way I did. Now seven and a half months along in her pregnancy, she appeared to be cuter than ever. Watching her walk made me smile with pride, and seeing the changes in her personality as the pregnancy matured caused me to fall even further in love with her. I truly loved witnessing any and

everything she did or said. If she was half as good of a mother as she was a wife, this child would be blessed in yet one more way. “That has to be the best spaghetti I have ever eaten, babe. What was different?” I asked as I pushed my plate aside. “Same as always, Shane. I always make it the same, and you always love it,” she grinned. “Well, mark it down as one of my favorites. No, mark it down as my absolute favorite,” I sighed as I leaned into the back of my chair. “I did a long time ago, goof ball,” she said as she picked up the plates from the table. “Let me get that for you, babe,” I said as I leaned forward. “Sit down. I’ll get you a beer. Relax. I don’t need any help. I’m just fine. I’m pregnant, I’m not crippled,” she snapped. As she waddled into the kitchen, I smiled. Seeing her this way was very rewarding to me. Although I was certain she had to be at least a little uncomfortable with day-to-day activities, she never made an issue of anything. She remained as stubborn as always, and as mentally and physically tough as the day I met her. I watched as she began to clean the mess up from the kitchen counter. Feeling a little guilty, and wanting to touch her nonetheless, I stood from my chair and walked into the kitchen and stood beside

her. “I love the smell of Italian food,” I sighed as I savored the aroma from the fresh vegetables she used to prepare the sauce. “I wish I didn’t feel so fat from eating. That basil Shane, basil does it to me every time,” she sighed. “I remember,” I chuckled as I moved closer to her. I reached toward her face, and traced the outline of her jaw with my index finger, “Maybe that’s one of the things I love about Italian food, the memories of that night and the smell of the basil.” “Stop touching me like that,” she said softly as she shifted her body to the left, causing my finger to fall from her cheek. “I haven’t even got a good start yet,” I murmured. She turned and stepped toward the refrigerator, “Shane, stop. It’s bad enough…” I reached for her shoulders and spun her around so she faced me. “Drop that shit, Kace. Right now, drop it,” I breathed. “Shane…” I moved my hands from her shoulders to her swollen breasts. As I began to encompass her chest in my hands, she moaned. As she groaned, I

squeezed a little more and began to kiss her neck. “Shane,” she growled lightly, “stop…” I didn’t. I drug my teeth along her neck and kissed my way down until my mouth was along her clavicle. As I nibbled on the surface of the bone, she moaned and dropped the plastic containers she held. Without looking up form kissing her, I reached for the refrigerator door and swung it closed. “Kace, it’s time…” I whispered into her ear. “Oh my God,” she moaned. I reached down and lifted her from the floor and held her cradled in my arms. Carefully, I carried her into the master bathroom, kissing her the entire way. I carefully lowered her to the tile surface above the Jacuzzi tub and turned the water on. As the tub began to fill, I kissed her deeply as she sat beside the tub. In looking down at Kace now, I saw her in an entirely different light. She was always beautiful to me, but now she was a different type of beautiful. Covered in a gorgeous glow of proud wife and soon to be mother, she looked up and moaned lightly. “Shane, I love you.” “I love you, babe,” I responded as I bent down and kissed her lips. Slowly, I began to undress her as she sat beside

the filling tub. “Shane, I feel fat. Don’t…” “Babe, you’re beautiful. So much more beautiful now than ever,” I whispered as I continued to undress her. As I lowered her into the tub, she looked up and smiled. Something about seeing her in this manner was very rewarding. Transformed from the beautiful girl I once met into the gorgeous woman who was before me, she appeared more the woman of my dreams than I had ever actually imagined. As if my passion changed as I admired her, she became the new object of my desire. Now pregnant with my child, she exuded everything I yearned for in a woman and a wife. She was not the object of my dreams. She became my dream. Slowly, as Kace watched, I undressed. I stepped into the tub and nestled beside her, kissing her and raking my wet hands through her hair and along every inch of her body. As she closed her eyes and smiled, she began to moan as if filled with an eagerness to feel my touch. I continued to trace my fingers slowly along her face, over her breasts, across her stomach, and along her thighs. As my hands reached her feet, I rubbed the bottoms with my thumbs. Moaning in pleasure, she opened her eyes and smiled. “Shane…”

“Shhh, relax, babe. Just relax,” I whispered. Slowly, my hands worked up her legs and toward her chest. As my hands encompassed her breasts, she began to moan deeply. As my fingers found her nipples, I carefully moved over and slid on top of her. My lips against hers, I kissed her passionately as I reached down and guided myself into the warmth of her inner being. And for the first time in as long as I could remember, Kace and I made sweet passionate love.

8

KACE. “So, do you love it or like it?” “I hate it. I hate how I feel. But it’s weird. As much as I hate it, and I hate looking at myself, I love it. I’ve been fat before. Well, not fat, but bigger. I’ve had to work really hard to stay in shape. Everyone always says I’d love to have your metabolism. I always want to respond, bitch you’d have my metabolism if you dropped the donut and exercised. I’ve worked hard to get to where I am, so it’s difficult to look in the mirror and see a fat belly looking back at me,” she shook her head and spooned another wad of chocolate malt into her mouth. “But the thought of all of this,” she waved her hand over her stomach. “I love it. And Ripp has become an absolute dork. I love that too,” she grinned.

“But Ripp’s still Ripp,” I smiled. “That he is,” she laughed. “You know,” she poked another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. “I absolutely love ice cream now. I’m afraid when all of this is over I won’t be able to quit,” she sighed. Vee had become more like a sister to me than a friend. She was always eager to meet me, talk, go shopping, come over and hang out or just sit and listen. More than anyone else I ever knew or realized even existed. I felt like I finally understood why women had so many girlfriends after she and I became close. Having a girl to talk to is really nice. Vee being pregnant at the same time I was pregnant was a god send. We both went through the same stage in pregnancy at the same time, and it allowed us to discuss the issues we were having with each other, be it on the phone or in person. We’ve laughed together, cried together and made plans for the future together. I told her I wanted a swimming pool. Something about being in the water with my baby sounded like it would be such fun. Vee said if I got a pool, she’d spend every day with me and she would become a sun goddess. I told her one day I’d make Shane’s tight ass build a swimming pool. Together we laughed at the fact Shane wouldn’t even buy new clothes, and he’d never spend twenty thousand dollars on a pool. To me, Vee had become

the answer to my living a life of normalcy. Since Shane and I met he made me feel that way, but he was only one man. I felt as if I had become reliant upon him. When he left, I realized without him I really had nothing or no one else. I felt I needed more people in my life. And all I had to do was look around me. My life was full of people who loved me, cared about me and wanted to do everything they could to make me as comfortable as possible. My life now compared to my life with Buster was so much different. Sometimes I just thank God for allowing me to get out of that mess of a relationship. For a longer time than I ever would have imagined, I always felt like he was going to show up someday and try something. I lived with a constant fear of some form of retribution from him for my leaving or when I smacked him with the skillet. It never came, and eventually the feelings faded. I never really understood if they were feelings of guilt for leaving, or simply fear from a decade of being beaten physically, mentally and emotionally. I guess I’ll never know for sure. What matters is they’re gone. Now I never worry about Buster. I only worry about Shane and whether or not he’ll remain mentally stable enough to be my full-time husband. “Do you think Shane will leave me again, Vee?”

I asked as I stirred my malt. She shook her head as she sucked on her spoon. After she pulled her spoon from her mouth, she held it in front of her face and paused for a moment. “Kace, I think he was scared. It may not have been what any or everyone else would have done. But to me, it’s not unheard of. I’ve had clients who were facing ten years in prison leave their families. Just up and disappear. When I was inexperienced, I was sure they’d never even show up to trial. They always did though. In recent years, when a spouse would call me and say so-and-so is missing, I’d tell her don’t worry. He’ll be back as soon as he finds a way to make it all make sense in his head, I’d say. Men are weird creatures. I think Shane just,” she paused and stared at her spoon. “Do you think he felt like our little boy was a prison sentence?” I asked. She shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe, I don’t know. Maybe not. But whatever he was feeling or thinking, he got over it. I really don’t think any of us know how we’re going to react to a situation until it presents itself to us. Shane didn’t handle it well. You did. To be honest, I …No, I’ll just keep my mouth shut,” she shook her head. “You can’t do that. Say whatever it was you were going to, Vee,” I sighed.

She shook her head and dug in the bottom of her cup for more ice cream. After three failed attempts to get another spoonful from her empty cup, I handed her my malt. “Tell me,” I said as she began to eat my ice cream. She shook her head again and remained silent. “Vee?” I said as I gave her the stink eye. “Well, I don’t know how I would have handled it. That’s what I was going to say. I really don’t. I mean I wouldn’t have hopped on my motorcycle and rode out of town, I know that. But really, if were being totally honest, I don’t know Kace. If the doctor told me my baby had twenty whatever chromosomes and he was going to be born special needs - you know with Downes or whatever, I’m afraid of what I might have done,” she said softly. I sat and considered what she’d said. But he’s my little boy. Our little boy. And no matter what, I’m his mother and I’ll love him and take care of him the best I can. I felt my eyes begin to well with tears. Not really knowing if I was mad at Vee for what she said, or if I had a slap of reality hit me in the face, I sat and stared at her. “Kace, I’m sorry. I’m just being honest. I’m not trying to justify what Shane did. I’m really not. I’m just being honest. We’re all different. We all handle

things differently. Awwe Kace, you’re not crying are you?” I nodded my head. “Kace, I’m sorry,” she said as she placed the malt on the table and leaned over to hug me. As she hugged me, I considered again what she had said. Having a little boy who may be different than all of the others wouldn’t bother me at all. If he was special needs, I felt I would be fine living with that. As she held me I wondered if I was lying to myself. I knew there was a possibility he would be born without any form of special needs and maybe I was hanging onto the hope of that particular possibility. Maybe I was truly comfortable with whatever God offered Shane and me. I sat and began to second guess myself. Maybe Vee was right. Until the time came, we would never really know. Maybe the time for Vee would be the doctor making the statement about the chromosomes. Maybe the time for me would be the day the baby was born. I leaned away from Vee and wiped my eyes. “I’m okay. You’re right, it’s just tough,” I sniffed. She nodded and attempted to smile a soft smile. “I’m sure it is,” she nodded. “So, being honest again. What would you do? Seriously? What would you do if the doctor said you were going to have a baby who might be

special needs?” I asked as I wiped my eyes again. She shrugged as she stirred the malt. “Abortion?” I asked. She looked up from the malt and stared. “Seriously?” I asked. She shrugged her shoulders and looked into the cup. The thought, to me, was repulsive. Murdering a baby. A baby who only wanted to be loved and cared for. A baby who may be born without any special needs at all. You would never know until he or she was born. Alec had told me the doctor gave a medical opinion, and opinions were like assholes, everyone had one. I swallowed and stared as she stirred the malt without looking up. “I don’t really believe in abortion,” I said as proudly as I could. “Well, I never thought I did either. But now that we’re talking honestly. Ripp and I had this exact conversation. The same one we’re having now. The what if? We talked about what if it was us. What if we were going to have a special needs baby and you and Shane were going to have a baby who was…” she paused and looked up from the cup. “You know, not special needs,” she tried to force a smile. “Okay,” the word escaped my angry mouth easily. “Well, Ripp said he didn’t care. I sat and

thought for a long time. I didn’t really admit it to him, but I hinted. Kace, I’m just being honest. Ripp said he didn’t care and he wanted to have a baby with me no matter what. Inside, between you and me, I felt sick. Not sick about the thought of the special needs baby, but sick at the fact I felt the way I did about what I realized I may want to do to eliminate the possibility. I sat there knowing I might strongly consider abortion. And, if I felt that strongly sitting on the sofa talking to Ripp, how much more strongly would I feel if it were reality?” the skin under her eyes began to swell. “I’m glad you’re being honest,” I said. “Kace, I love you. I really do. You’re my little sister and always will be. I love Shane too. He’s weird, but I love him,” she laughed as she wiped her eyes. I nodded my head and smiled. “Your baby? No matter what, I’ll love him. Ripp will too. I know it. I can promise you. We’ll love the baby like it’s ours. But it doesn’t mean I would do the same thing. Or that I could. The thought scares the fuck out of me,” she said as she reached up to her eyes again. Softly, she began to cry. As I sat and watched her, I felt bad for her, and how she felt. I wished everyone felt the way I did about possibly having a baby like mine. We’re all individuals and we all react differently to the exact same situations. Alec

told me that in one of his many war stories. I believe him. Regardless, I loved Vee. I couldn’t expect her to feel the way I felt. Grateful we had the talk, and appreciative of her honesty, I leaned into her and hugged her. “I love you,” I breathed into her hair. “I admire your courage and devotion, Kace. You’re one tough little bitch,” she blubbered. “Bitch?” I said jokingly. “Yes, a tough little bitch,” she paused and leaned back into her chair. “And I love you too,” she smiled. A tough little bitch. Ultimately, I guess time will tell.

9

SHANE. The six weeks I spent running provided no upkeep on my physical conditioning. Kelsey secured the spot for the championship fight again, and although I had been training for several weeks, I was now feeling the ache once again from my poor decision to stay away from the gym. “Get those knees in the air, Dekkar. If I have to tell you again, I’m going to cancel this show. You’re a sloppy god damned mess,” Kelsey screamed as he slapped the edge of the ring. “I’m on it boss,” I said between breaths. “You’re not on anything. You were on vaygoddamned-cation for six weeks, and now you’re paying the price, aren’t you? Now, get ‘em in the damned air. My little sister jumps better than that,” he growled. “Alright boss,” I huffed.

“Probably ought to call him and say we’re going to forfeit, this is going to be the mismatch of the century,” he complained as he turned away. “No sir. Not a…” “Mismatch,” I said as I sped up the pace of the rope. “You get those knees in the air or I’m calling them,” he shouted over his shoulder. “On it boss,” I hollered back. Endurance is the most important part of boxing successfully. Contrary to what most people think, brawn, size, speed, and ability are important, but not as critical to a boxer’s success as endurance. If a boxer doesn’t have endurance, he’ll never last a round in the ring in a fight, let alone two successive rounds. For me, running and jumping rope build endurance more than anything else, and most boxers would likely agree. My legs and chest feeling as if they were on fire, I lifted my knees higher and crossed my arms every third jump. If this doesn’t end quickly, I’m going to collapse. I looked down at the surface of the ring. I was jumping in a puddle of my own sweat large enough to bathe in. As I maintained my now new pace, Kelsey slowly sauntered across the gym and toward the ring. “Alright, slow it down and let’s get you on the speed bag for a bit. You’re going to spar tomorrow.

Three in a row. Four rounders,” he slapped both hands on the surface and waited. As I slowed the pace of my rope and lowered my knees, I turned toward him, “Three?’ “Yeah, three. You got a problem with it?” he asked. “No boss, just…” I brought my arms to a slow stop and stepped to the side of the puddle. He rolled his shoulders back, stuck out his chest and looked up with disgust in his eyes, “Just what? God damn it Shane. We’re going to win this fight. I know you can fight, and I know there ain’t a fucking thing I can do to make you a better fighter, as long as your head’s in it. Did you hear me? If your head’s in it. Now, I train you. You sure as fuck don’t train me, kid. So, I need to get your head in it. Now, I look at you and I ask myself things. I ask myself, Kelsey, what are ya going to do with this damned kid to make sure his head’s in the fight? Then, I answer myself because there ain’t another soul in this gym of mine I trust to give me an intelligent answer. So, I say to myself Kelsey, I tell you what. My suggestion is to get him used to fighting again, because there’s something in that fucked up head of his that likes fighting, and only fighting makes him want to be in the fight. And, I look at myself and say, damn old man, that’s a great answer.” He slapped the edge of the ring and pointed at

his chest, “So, the old man inside of me told the trainer who stands on the edge of the ring here what to do. And the trainer in me is doing just that. And you’re the trained. The boxer. The trainee. The man who doesn’t know jack shit. So, tomorrow, we’re fighting three in a row. Four rounds a piece. Back to god damned back. You know why?” he stood six feet or so from the edge of the ring and raised his hands in the air. “Because you’re the trainer?” I asked. “No!” he screamed as he waved his hands back and forth. “Because I’m the trainer and I said so. That’s the important part. The part you never understand. You do what I say. And I say you’re fighting three back to back,” he shook his head and lowered his hands. “If you say so, boss,” I smiled. “Well, I just did say so,” he grunted. “Now, if you’re done taking a break, let’s get on that speed bag.” “Yes sir,” I responded. “That’s more like it,” he said as he nodded his head and smiled. As I lifted the ropes and stepped from the ring, he shook his head and turned away. As dramatic as Kelsey was in his daily activities, it was difficult to be certain if his disgust was something he actually felt, or if it was all part of his show. Either way, he

often made me feel as if I wasn’t good enough to meet his expectations of me. The end result was good for us both. For Kelsey, I worked harder than I ever had, and probably ever would. As I dropped the rope beside me and started slowly on the speed bag, Kelsey approached. “Now, beat on this thing for about thirty minutes. I’ll come get your tired ass when I think you’re done. And, as you’re beating on it, think of how you’re going to out think and out box that big Alabama cornfed fucker, alright?” Kelsey snapped. “I’m on it, boss,” I responded as I sped up the pace of my hands slightly. Tyson “Tick-Tock” Brock was a 237 pound savage born and raised in the state of Alabama by his father. His father, a former boxer, trained him in his early years. His grandfather, also a boxer, trained his father. His great grandfather the same. As the story goes, his great great grandfather was a boxer on the plantation where he was raised a slave. Seven or eight years prior to his involvement with professional boxing, he began a YouTube channel of his own, featuring his street brawling in the back yards of people stupid enough to challenge him. Every single video which was added to the channel would eventually end up with a million views, and a few thousand comments. A professional trainer who viewed a few dozen of his

street brawls approached him and offered to train him – the rest is history. Now the undisputed Heavyweight Champion of the World, he was certainly going to be my toughest opponent. His career, not unlike mine, was never down, never out, and undefeated. As I got lost in the rhythm of the speed bag, I began to think of the videos I had seen of his fights. Slowly, I unfocused my vision on the bag and recalled the matches in the many alleys and yards he had fought in. As I replayed the videos in my mind, I came to the realization there was no way on earth I going to win this fight. If it went the distance, I’d lose for certain. He was far too big, and far too strong. He’d win on points alone. To win, I would have to beat him. Unconscious.

10

KACE. Josh never let me have friends – male or female. Being able to have Vee as a friend and spending time with her almost every day had been an absolute blessing. Both of us enjoying our first pregnancy together had been an interesting journey to say the least. Nightly phone calls and texts to discuss newfound facts, advancements, and future plans are something I have truly looked forward to. It’s almost as if we’re in a competition to see who experiences something first. The amount of shopping a person can do for a new baby is incredible. I have a nursery absolutely full of clothes, toys, bedding, a crib, mobiles, shoes, hats, and many other various items I have purchased on the many trips Vee and I have made together. I suppose by the time a woman has her second or third baby she becomes immune to all of

the baby butterflies I get when I see something cute, but for now I’ll just enjoy them. “I want one with the big tires, so I can jog with it,” I said as I pointed to the stroller with huge tires on the back and front. Vee rubbed her stomach and groaned, “I’m not running anywhere. I waddle. Look at me, Kace, I’m huge.” I released the stroller and turned toward Vee, “You’re so cute. And you have a little tummy. You have a long torso. I’m just short. And fat. And I can’t wait to plop this little sucker out and start playing with him.” Vee sighed and rolled her eyes, “Six more weeks.” “The doctor told Shane and I the other day he might want me to have him early if I don’t naturally have him by then. I’m too big. Well, the baby’s too big. He’s a little fatty,” I chuckled. “Wouldn’t it be funny if he was born all ripped like Shane? A little bitty soft baby all cut up and covered in muscles?” Vee giggled. As I laughed and tried to develop a mental illustration of a muscular baby, my mind quickly formed grotesque images of circus freaks and clowns. As my stomach began to grumble, I reached into my purse and fumbled through the contents. “Want a banana?” I asked as I pulled one from

my purse. Vee shook her head and laughed, “No thanks. You’re still on those damned things? Mine’s granola. God, I can’t eat enough of that shit. Honey Bunches of Oats too – the one with the crunchy stuff in it. Maybe the crunchy stuff is granola.” I peeled the banana and looked around the store to make sure no one was watching. I felt a little out of place devouring a banana in the store, but I was hungry and needed something to fill my empty stomach. As I quickly ate half of it, I looked at the remaining half and began to chuckle. “So, are you and Ripp still…uhhm, you know. Not?” I asked as I stared at the uneaten portion of the banana. “Fucking Ripp. He’s so weird. He thinks his cock is going to hurt the baby. I’ve explained, shown him pictures, everything. And he still refuses to fuck me. I swear. My only sexual satisfaction is received from watching Magic Mike on loop. Over and over. Magic Mike is magic you know,” she laughed. “But I guess on the upside, Ripp’s so excited about the entire process. He falls asleep listening to my stomach,” she rolled her eyes and smiled. “Shane pets mine. He can’t feel the baby kicking enough. After the first time he felt it, that’s all he wants to do. Well, that and prepare for the title fight. Train and rub my belly.”

“Do you guys…” Vee began to ask. I didn’t want to make her feel any more sadly than she already felt about Ripp not having sex with her. Slowly I curled my mouth into a halfsmile, and nodded my head slightly. “Every now and again we do, but not that much. He’s still being punished for leaving,” I laughed as I reached for the stroller in front of me with my free hand. I looked at the row of strollers as I ate the other half of the banana and tried to consider a multicolored one, but continued to be drawn to the blue one with the bigger tires. I gripped the handle and pulled it from the rack. Shane and I were both excited about having a boy, and everything we had purchased or obtained was a shade of blue or had blue in it. “Let’s get matching strollers, it’ll be fun,” I grinned. Vee widened her eyes and tilted her head to the side, “We don’t know if she’s a boy or a girl, Kace. I’m not going to get a four wheel drive blue stroller and push a girl around in it.” “You said she,” I smiled as I pushed the stroller back and forth on the floor. “Did I ?” she asked. “Uh huh. You know, don’t you?” I asked excitedly. “No, really I don’t. If I said it, I did it

inadvertently. Maybe I’m hoping.” “I’d love to have a little girl, but I wouldn’t trade my little boy for anything,” I smiled. “Well, what do you want to do?” I asked as I pushed down on the handle and lifted the front tires from the floor. “Well, I’ll either have to get one of the unisex ones or wait,” Vee sighed. “Okay. Let’s wait I guess,” I said sadly as I dropped the stroller’s tires onto the floor. Vee shook her head and pointed to the stroller as I pushed it into the empty slot beside the others, “Get yours, Kace. I can wait.” “No, I’ll wait. I was excited for getting one, but I don’t need it. We’ll come together with the babies, it’ll be more fun that way,” I grinned. “So…” Vee hesitated and looked down at the floor by my feet. “What?” She looked up attempted to hide her worried look, “Well, Shane. Is he okay now?” I held the handle of the stroller as I considered what Shane had done, and the discussions we had after he came home. Shane is an honorable man and he is truly in love with me, but Shane had issues accepting things; accepting the fact that he is worthy as a human, a man, and a soon to be father. When I talked to the doctor about him, he told me Shane probably suffers a little bit from feeling

inadequate or incompetent. Probably why he chooses to box, the doctor said. Now, since we’ve spent so much time talking, I think Shane is going to be just fine. He found a way to accept our baby not being the same as the majority of the other babies. I’m not like any other woman, and Shane isn’t like any other man. For us to have a baby like every other baby would be silly. No matter what, our little baby is going to be special. I released the stroller and smiled. As I turned to Vee, she smiled too. “Yes, he’s fine. He had a little incident, that’s all. It’s tough for men, I think. They’re so competitive. And you know, with him and Ripp, everything’s a contest. I’m sure you guys having a baby at the same time is kind of tough for him. Maybe kind of like a slap in the face, I don’t know,” I shrugged. “Kace, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “Don’t be. Not for Shane, or the baby. Our baby will be just fine, Vee. Don’t worry. Yours will be too,” I sighed. “I know, I’m just an emotional mess right now, you know with Ripp not having sex with me and everything. It’s hard. For some reason, I’m just horny as fuck. And now I feel like I’m fat and ugly,” her voice began to crack as she finished speaking. “You’re not fat, and you’re beautiful. I’d fuck

you, Vee,” I smiled as I reached for her shoulder. “Awe, thanks Kace, I’d fuck you to,” she sobbed as she hugged me. Vee was a special woman for sure. She was as nice as a person as I had ever met. In the courtroom, she was an animal. At home or in public, she was as kind and as considerate as anyone could ever be. During her first six and a half months of pregnancy she worked every day. While Shane was gone, I went to a few of her trials just to see her in action. Watching her in the courtroom proves to me women aren’t doormats. We have minds of our own, and we’re intelligent. It takes time to convince some men we’re actually equal, especially here in Texas. Vee does her share, one court case at a time. She’s been an inspiration to me through this entire process of pregnancy, and I’m sure she will be in the future. Now, having her available every day has been a true blessing. “Do you think not working gives you too much time to think, maybe?” I asked. As she pulled away from my arms, she wiped her face, “I suppose so. But I don’t want to work, I want to relax and make it easy on the baby.” “Me too,” I smiled as I rubbed my belly. “Let’s get out of here,” Vee said as she wiped her face again. “Frozen yogurt?” “Ooh, sounds perfect. Almost as good as sex,”

she laughed. As we walked through the store, toward the entrance, I began to feel strange. My stomach started to feel as if it was being twisted from the inside out. Deep down, I began to ache. As the pain worsened, I stopped walking and moaned. “Are you okay?” Vee asked. “I’m not sure, I feel weird, it’s hurting,” I groaned as we walked through the clothing aisle. I tried to be strong and tell myself it didn’t hurt as much as it did. Truthfully, I felt as if I was going to pass out. I began to sweat as I pushed against my lower stomach and wished I could move my hands to my face and wipe my face clean. As the pain became more piercing, and worsened to a point I couldn’t take it any longer, my vision blurred. “Kace? You’re all sweaty honey. Are you okay?” Vee whispered. I backed against a rack of clothes and lowered myself to the floor. I opened my eyes and attempted to focus, but only saw fuzzy shapes. I felt Vee’s hand clutching mine. “Kace? Kace?” she squealed. I took a shallow breath and groaned in pain, “Call…” “An ambulance…” “Please.”

11

SHANE. As I laced up my boots I heard screaming from inside the gym. From what little I could understand, Ripp was frantically trying to find me; hollering my name throughout the gym. With Ripp, you never knew what he might consider an emergency. Sometimes simply feeling as if he were a few minutes late for his afternoon beer was enough to get him excited. I shook my head as I heard someone explain I was in the locker room. As I heard his footsteps become increasingly closer, I stood from the bench and grabbed my hoodie from the hook on my locker. “Dekk, come on. It’s Kace,” he screamed, motioning into the gym. “What?” I asked; feeling a little confused on why Kace would be in the gym. “Dekk, Vee called me, they been texting you

and calling for a bit. Kace’s in the hospital and it ain’t lookin’ good. Come on, I got the Chevelle.” He hollered. As he turned and began running for the door, I followed right behind him. Kelsey’s voice came clearly over all of the other noise in the gym as we were within a few feet of the door. “Where the fuck you two dip-shits going?” he hollered. “Fuck you old man,” Ripp said as he pulled the door open, “Kace’s in the hospital.” “I’ll follow you in the truck,” Kelsey screamed. Our feet barely touching the ground, we ran through the lot and to the Chevelle. I no more than had the door open and Ripp was revving the engine. As soon as I dropped into the passenger seat, smoke bellowed from the rear fenders as he screeched out of the lot and onto the frontage road. “Vee said,” he paused as he snapped the gear shifter into another gear. “She collapsed in the store. Got real hot and started crampin’. Damn, bro, this shit scares me. I just want all of this to be over with. I’m excited as hell, but,” he glanced to over his left shoulder as he merged into traffic. “I really want to quit worrying about everything. I haven’t slept in the last month,” he paused as he quickly applied the brakes and swerved to the right.

“Don’t worry, we’ll be there in five,” he said as he downshifted two gears and maneuvered around a truck which was all but stationary in the fast lane. As soon as he cleared the rear fender of the truck, he mashed the accelerator to the floor. As the rear tires began to spin, the car slid sideways slightly before the tires gripped the asphalt. After shifting gears twice, we were flying down the highway well in excess of 130 miles per hour. Jesus Ripp, slow down,” I demanded. He glanced in my direction slightly, his hand still resting on the gear shifter, “When there’s a baby being born there aren’t any speed limits, bro.” “We need to make it there alive, Ripp,” I sighed as I watched him swerve around a small SUV. He tilted his head my direction, grinned, and responded in typical Ripp fashion, “Dude, I got this.” I shook my head and smiled slightly. “Vee didn’t say anything else?” I asked. “No not really. Vee said she ate a banana, cramped, and dropped to the floor in a puddle of sweat. Maybe a bad nanner, huh? You know you can get bad fruit, Dekk. Sure can. I ate a bad melon once, gimme the drizzlin’ shits,” he shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know, Ripp. Maybe. Hurry the fuck up,” I said, completely frustrated at the entire idea of Kace being in the hospital. “Just like I said, bro, I got this. Hell you

couldn’t get there any quicker if you were in a fucking jet plane. I’m just glad Vee’s okay,” he slowed down, swerved through two lanes, and accelerated toward the exit. “Shit that sounded bad, huh?” he glanced in my direction and quickly turned away. “Not that Kace isn’t okay. Hell you know what I mean. Kace’s fine. I’m just glad Vee didn’t get one of those bananas. She don’t fuck with bananas, but anyway you know what I mean bro,” he shrugged as he sped down the exit ramp. “Hold on,” he hollered as he stomped the gas at the traffic light. “Ripp, god damn it,” I screamed as he slid the car sideways through the intersection. “Quit screaming, shit you’re scaring me, Dekk. That fucker was red and we’d have been waitin’ for ten minutes,” he said over his right shoulder as he shifted into the next gear. “Three blocks, bro. Three more blocks, that’s all. I’ll just pull up to the emergency room entrance like we own that bitch. We’ll storm in the fucker like a couple of cowboys and see just what the fucks going on, huh?” he growled. “Just get me there in one piece, Ripp.” I sighed. As he sped into the entrance to the emergency room, and ambulance was attempting to park. With the gear shifter in one hand, and his other hand on the horn, he screeched the tires as he sped into the

only safe opening right beside the ambulance. As soon as the car stopped, he set the brake and we both jumped out and began sprinting for the door. “Sir you can’t just leave…” a voice said from where we had parked. Upon entering the hospital, Ripp began demanding to se Kace. As I attempted to explain who I was and what we needed in a more specific fashion, Ripp would respond I got this, Dekk. After five minutes of scaring everyone he came in contact with, we were finally directed down the hallway and into another subsection of the facility. As we cleared a doorway leading into a waiting room, I heard Vee’s familiar voice shout, “Shane, she’s in there, hurry up.” “Ripp, they won’t let you in there, stay here with me,” Vee said as she stood from her chair. “The hell they won’t, they’ll let me in, come on,” Ripp responded rather loudly. “Ripp, no. They won’t and it’s private,” she demanded as she tilted her head my direction. “Yeah. Okay. Fuck, Dekk keep us posted, we’ll be here, huh?” he shrugged as he glanced toward Vee. Vee nodded her head slightly. I nodded and turned toward the entrance to the hallway. As I cleared the double doors leading into the other section of the hospital, I was met by a

nurse. “I’m Shane Dekkar. My wife…” “Follow me, Mr. Dekkar,” she responded as she briskly walked down the hallway. She stepped into the room and produced a paper suit, hair net, and shoe covers, “I’m sure you’ll need to take your jacket off to get these on. Slip the covers over your boots the best you can, and put on the hair net. Be careful following me, the floor will be slick in those, okay?” she said softly. “I can’t take off the hoodie ma’am,” I responded as I pulled the paper pants over my jeans. “Well, you’ll need to fit that over it, then,” she responded. As I pulled the paper coat over my hoodie, she shrugged and momentarily smiled. “Follow me,” she said. After a few passed doorways, we stepped into a small room. Kace lie on a bed moaning with two nurses and a doctor over her. Immediately, I felt completely helpless and afraid of what was going on. “This is the husband,” the nurse said as we entered. Every one continued to focus on Kace, who opened her eyes as soon as the nurse said husband. Standing at the side of the bed, not knowing what,

if anything, I could do, I attempted to smile and speak. “How you feeling baby?” I asked. “It hurts, Shane. It hurts bad,” she groaned. As Kace incoherently groaned and moaned, the doctor stepped toward me and smiled. “Mr. Dekkar, we’ve done what we can, and I’m afraid we’re going to allow her to give birth. We’ve attempted to slow the process for a more developed and mature baby, but she’s been active for some time now,” the doctor paused. “Active? What? What happened? What happened to cause this?” I asked. He turned his palms up and spoke softly, “I’ll make this quick. Active labor, she’s been in active labor. She’s in transition now, so there’s no turning back. A normal pregnancy is approximately 40 weeks. Sometimes, labor begins prematurely, naturally. Considering the physical abuse she has seen in the past, this isn’t uncommon – for abuse victims, that is,” he hesitated and looked toward Kace as she moaned loudly. “Uterine contractions cause the cervix to open earlier than normal, and consequently, the baby is born premature. There is certainly some additional risk associated with early birth, but she’s now at about 34 weeks or roughly 6 weeks early. There is, however, minimal risk for health problems with the child. Fortunately, research, technology

and medicine have helped improve the health of premature babies. I’m sorry, we have no other option,” he sighed. “Will. I mean should we…should everything be…?” “Everything should be fine,” he smiled as he turned toward Kace. “Shane!” Kace screamed. “I said I wanted natural. But.” She scrunched her face and began to growl. “I want an epidural,” she screamed, her head shifting back and forth, searching the room for someone to assure her they could perform the procedure. “Honey, it’ll be okay,” the nurse said as she wiped Kace’s face. I stepped to the side of the bed and forced a grin. Truth be known, I would be far more comfortable stepping into the ring with Tyson Brock than standing in the room with these people and witnessing Kace giving birth to a baby. As I held her hand and continued to attempt to smile, Kace moaned. The nurse looked up from between Kace’s legs, “She’s full doctor.” “Push,’ the nurse said as she looked down. I held Kace’s hand as she screamed. “Grrrrrrr….” Kace growled and huffed as her eyes went open and closed.

As she finished pushing, she opened her eyes and stared, “I hate you, Shane. I fucking hate that you did this to me. You should be laying here…” “Here we go, let’s push. Do it with me,” the nurse said as she wiped Kace’s face. There were far too many people in a much smaller space than I would have ever imagined for birthing a child. I began to feel cramped and claustrophobic as Kace began to push again. “Here’s the head,” the doctor said as he looked up toward the nurse and Kace. A combination of nerves, the people surrounding me, and a considerable amount of fear of the unknown prevented me from watching the procedure too closely. Part of me didn’t want to know anything until it was completely over. “Push, push, push, push,” I heard them continue to say. I looked down as I saw the doctor begin to stand, his arms and chest covered in bloody matter, “Mr. and Mrs. Dekkar, we have…”

12

SHANE. There are times in our lives when we aren’t certain of what God’s will is for us. Although I pray almost daily, I never have a complete understanding of God’s will entirely. I often ask for the ability to understand, but maintain fear I fall short of just what it is he either expects or wants of me. I live in somewhat of a constant state of worry, wondering if I am making mistakes I will have to pay for later in my life. My self-imposed shortcomings, although I’ve always been uncertain God sees them as so, were all brought into an oddly clear perspective as the doctor stood; his arms holding something small and smeared with bloody matter. I now believe I am a good man; and good will come to me. “Mr. and Mrs. Dekkar we have a little boy. You’re the proud parents of a little boy,” he smiled.

“Shane…” Kace sighed in an almost inaudible tone. “Is he okay?” she asked. I looked down as the doctor held my son in front of me. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten. I swallowed and smiled, “He uhhm. He has all his toes.” One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eight, nine, and there is number ten. “He’s got all his little fingers, baby. He’s fine.” I said. And I immediately broke down and began to cry. As I wept, I began to pray. Thank you Lord for providing Kace and me the greatest gift we could have ever hoped to receive from you. Please be with us and the baby through this first little bit while we’re adjusting to what is new to all of us. You keep him healthy, Lord, and I’ll keep him safe. I promise. “Shane?” Kace whispered. “I’m fine, babe. I’m just happy,” I sniffed. To attempt to explain the emotion one goes through during the birth of a child would be absolutely impossible. I now know to see the results of a love as deep as Kace’s and I have can only be done in one way – through seeing our newborn child. For anyone who may question the love we

have for each other, resolution may be found in the eyes of our son. I reached for Kace’s hand. Woman, I love you with all that I am. “I love you,” I cried. “Congratulations. You can hold him for a moment – we’re going to need to take him for testing – it’s procedure for premature babies,” the nurse said as she handed Kace the small blanket covered baby. “Shane, he’s just,” she tilted her head toward me as she held the blanket against her chest. “Perfect,” she sighed. “He sure is, babe,” I grinned as I wiped tears from my eyes. She stared down at the baby and her eyes glistened with a newfound fire. As she grinned and held him, she didn’t speak, nor did she need to. Her face told a story a million words could not. A mother’s love for her child was clearly defined on her face. After absorbing the magic of the child for a long while, she looked up and smiled. “Are you okay?” she asked. I nodded. “Have you chosen a name?” the nurse asked. We both smiled and nodded. “Babe, I need to go tell Ripp and Vee everything’s okay. How long have I been in here, anyway?” I asked.

The nurse looked up at the clock on the wall. “It’s been a little over an hour and a half,” she smiled. “I need to take him back now,” the nurse said. Kace reluctantly handed the nurse our son and began to cry. “Babe?” I asked. “Happy tears, Shane. Happy tears. I love you so very much,” she said. “I love you, babe,” I responded. “I’m going to go tell them, I’ll be right back,” I said as I kissed her. She nodded and closed her eyes. As I walked down the hall, I removed the hair net and the booties, but left on the rest of the attire the nurse had provided. In opening the doors to the corridor which led to the waiting room, I stopped looked down at my boots, and inhaled a deep breath. As I exhaled and looked up, I smiled. Thank you. Again. Vee jumped to her feet, “Is everything…” “Fuck, dude, I didn’t even see you walk up. Is she…” Ripp interrupted. I opened my mouth and attempted to speak. Overcome with emotion and excitement, I blubbered as I tried to talk. “Just a minute,” I whispered as I raised my hand to my face.

As I watched Ripp and Vee’s faces conform to a look of worry, I attempted to speak again. “She’s fine. He’s fine. He’s premature, but we knew that. They said he’s going to be alright,” I nodded. “Is he…” Ripp began. “He’s perfect,” I responded. “Oh my God, I’m so happy for both of you,” Vee said as she waddled over and hugged me. “Name?” Vee asked. Give me some strength Lord; I’m making a fool of myself when I try to talk. Purposely, Kace and I had decided the names we would use for a boy and a girl, and told no one. We wanted to wait until the child was born, and make sure everything fit into place for the name. As soon as we saw the baby, it was apparent we both knew the name was fitting. There was no denying the baby was deserving of the name we had chosen. “Well, we didn’t tell you for a reason. You know Kace’s name is pronounced Kasey. Everyone calls her Kace, because it’s spelled that way. They have since she was a kid. But proper pronunciation of her name is Kasey. So, we decided to name the boy Casey. C. A. S. E. Y.,” I smiled. Ripp and Vee both turned to face each other and smiled. Stay with me Lord.

“And. So,” I stopped speaking as I became emotional again. “We uhhm. We wanted him to have his mother’s name. So we could hear it spoken in the house. We’d have a Kace and a Casey. So he’s going to share the name of the most beautiful woman in the world, who is also the most important woman in my world. We also needed him to have a masculine name for his middle name. And the name would have to be from the most important man in both of our lives. We each wrote our middle name choice on paper without the other knowing, and said we’d repeat it until we both agreed. It only took us one try,” I grinned. “So what’s his middle name,” Vee asked excitedly. I looked at Ripp and smiled, “Well, it isn’t Ripp.” “Casey Michael Dekkar. We named him after you, Ripp. You and Kace – the two most important people in my life,” as I finished speaking, tears began to run down my cheek. “Oh shit. I wasn’t ready for that, bro. Shit, this is too much,” Ripp said as he reached up and wiped his eyes. There are children all over the earth who have an uncle. Some have many. But as sure as I stood before him, I knew no child on or of this earth would have an uncle who would love him more or

protect him better than Michael Allen Ripton. The best uncle my son could ever hope for.

13

KACE. Shane openly expressing his love for me has provided me a satisfaction I have never known. His sincerity in all that he does and says is very fulfilling to me. I would have never guessed another soul could provide me a level of well-being even close to what Shane has, but I’ve never had a child either. Our children require we provide them love, comfort, care and nurturing to meet the yearning they have to succeed at simply living. Quickly our children develop a bond, and the love experienced by both parent and child is a love which requires no spoken words or outward expression, yet it is deeper than any love I have ever imagined to exist. Children redefine love. It had been four weeks since Casey was born, and every moment Shane wasn’t preparing for the title fight, he was poking or touching the baby. My

eyes seemed to see the entire world, Shane included, in a far brighter light than I had in the past. After I gave birth, it was as if God gave me a little extra gift of clearer sight and a better understanding. But no more patience. “Shane, stop poking him,” I sighed. Shane looked up from the swing, “How long’s he been asleep?” “He just finished eating,” I said as I relaxed into the corner of the couch. “He sleeps like a cat. All day. All night. He eats and sleeps. Maybe there’s something wrong with him,” Shane said as he reached into the swing and started to pick Casey up. “Don’t you dare pick him up,” I snapped. I sat up and crossed my arms, “He needs to sleep. And there’s nothing wrong with him.” He stood and smiled, “But I want to hold him…” “But nothing. Come here. Sit down and wait. He’ll be up again in a bit,” I whispered as I motioned to the seat beside me. As Shane sat beside me, he sighed and crossed his arms. His lips naturally formed into a full pout as he relaxed into the back cushion of the couch. Seeing Shane act in this fashion was new to me, and I must admit I liked it a lot. He was like a big child himself, always excited about the baby, and equally

attentive toward me. It was as if the baby being born ignited a love within him and the child and I were the recipients. Either way, he was a new man, and one I adored to spend time with. “You big baby. You remind me more and more of Ripp every day. You’re like a big kid. Quit pouting, he’ll be up in a bit,” I smiled as I wrapped my arms around him. “All I want to do is see him with his eyes open. I like looking at him when his eyes are open - and when I can see his hands. I like looking at his hands and his feet. You always have him so wrapped up I’m surprised he can even breathe. Let’s uncover him so I can see his hands a little bit, huh?” he said as he stood from the couch. I sat up in my seat and slapped Shane’s arm as he reached for the swing. “Leave.” “Him.” “Alone.” “So, if he’s part of me and he’s part of you, babe,” he paused and raised his index finger to his lip. “He’s ours, half yours and half mine. Maybe you should let me have my time with him. I want to unwrap him. Go take a bath,” he smiled as he pulled his arm from his grasp. “Shane, he’s not property. It seems we do this every night. Leave him alone. He’s sleeping. As he

gets a little older, he’ll sleep a little less. It won’t be very long, and he’ll be running through the house knocking stuff off the tables and getting in the cupboards,” I explained. “Just a peek?” he asked. I rolled my eyes. Shane was so cute. His training in the last ten or twelve weeks had him in better shape than he had ever been in. His training required we eat separate foods for our meals, his primarily of complex carbohydrates and lean protein, and mine more bland foods that would not upset the baby’s stomach. Shane’s extensive training had developed muscles I had no idea a man even had. He had trimmed every ounce of fat from his stomach, his chest was massive, and when his shirt was off his ‘v’ was more pronounced than ever. Seeing him stand beside the baby with his muscles flaring and beg like a little kid was adorable. I leaned forward and stood from the couch. “A peek,” I whispered as I walked toward the swing. Shane scurried toward the swing and bent over slightly, peering down at the baby. He stared excitedly, rubbing his hands on his jeans as I repositioned the blanket the baby was wrapped in. As I uncovered his hand and forearm, Shane looked up as if seeking approval. I smiled and nodded my head.

Shane reached down and touched the baby’s hand, slowly separating his fingers and spreading them apart, “I think they’re bigger. Look, babe. They’re bigger. He’s going to have big hands.” “They aren’t any bigger than they were this morning when you were looking at them,” I smiled. “They’re bigger than they were yesterday. If this keeps up, he’s going to grow out of this onesie he’s wearing in a day or two. Maybe I should get some more. Some bigger ones,” he said as he continued to spread the baby’s fingers and inspect his hand. “Maybe I already have a hundred onesies in the nursery, Shane,” I laughed. He released Casey’s hand and pushed his hands onto his hips, “You know that’s another thing, here before long Ripp and I will be shopping for both of our babies. And you and Vee getting to buy everything is just wrong.” I shook my head and giggled, “Really? You and Ripp shopping for baby clothes?” “Uh huh.” I shook my head at the thought, “Now that they’re putting those commercials on the television you can’t go anywhere without people all over you. If you went shopping with Ripp in a store full of women, it would be on the ten o’clock news.” He shrugged his shoulders, “We already talked about it, as soon as Vee has her baby, we’re going.

Wait and see.” Shane no more than finished speaking , and his phone bean to ring. He glanced toward the sound, turned back to me, and rolled his eyes, “Kelsey just a little too excited about the fight.” “Are you going to get it?” I asked. “I’ll call him back,” he said. Shane’s phone stopped ringing, and immediately mine began. We looked at each other and instantly our faces filled with excitement. “Vee!” Shane shouted. I ran for my purse and answered the phone as I pulled it from the bag. A muffled voice came from the phone as I held it to my ear. Although the sound was not very clear, it was easily recognized. “Shorty, this is Ripp, hold on,” the voice crackled. I cupped my hand over the phone, and waved my arm toward Shane, “It’s Ripp.” I heard the unmistakable sound of Ripp’s Chevelle in the background. As he accelerated, I could hear the tone of the exhaust change as he shifted gears. When the tone flattened out to a dull roar, he spoke again. “We’re headed to the hospital, Shorty. Tell Dekk. Grab Casey and head that way. The Birthing Center on Duval. Sorry it’s a shitty connection, you’re on speaker and the phone’s in my lap…hold on baby, we’re almost there,” he shouted.

“Uhhm. Okay, we’ll be there as soon as we can,” I said excitedly. “You sure it’s time?” I asked as I began to pace the living room. “It’s time for sure. I’ll tell you about it when you get here. I gotta get off, we’re coming on the exit. Hang on babe…” the phone went silent. “Shane they’re almost at the Birthing Center over on Duval. Let’s get Casey ready,” I said as I walked toward the nursery. “I’ll get the car seat,” Shane responded. The thought of Vee having a baby the same age as Casey was so exciting. Shane wished for a boy, and believed Casey would have a little brother of sorts to play with and grow up beside. Shane had already decided he wanted Casey to be home schooled and sheltered from all of the atrocities in the world. A-Train expressed big plans for Casey to grow up and be the Commandant of his beloved Marine Corps. Ripp, on the other hand, wanted him to be a boxer like his father. Personally, all I wished for was that he continued to be healthy and happy. Neither Ripp nor Vee had expressed any outward desires for a particular sex preference, and only indicated they wanted a healthy baby. The thought of Vee having a little girl excited me and made me a little jealous. I think secretly all women want a little girl in their life. Thinking of Ripp, however, with a little girl…

Not in a million years.

S

HANE. Witnessing another life being brought into this world through the birth of a child is proof of the existence of a power greater than all of mankind – a miracle, and nothing less. I reserve hope my newfound faith in God, life and love remain as clear as it is today for as long as I continue to walk this earth. Today, I draw every breath with a better understanding of all that life has the ability to offer a man who loves a woman with every ounce of his heart. “Get that little Marine out of that shit you got him wrapped in Kace, you’re smothering him,” ATrain grunted. “Keep your hands off of him, Alec. He’s sleeping. You can hold him later. How long are they going to be in there? I popped mine out in like ten minutes,” Kace turned and said as she paced the floor. “I know he’s hot, he’s got to be,” A-Train said as he reached into the car seat Casey was laying in. As A-Train began to pick Casey from the seat, I smiled. Kace stopped pacing and rested her hands on her thighs, “Stop it Alec, you’re going to wake him up.” A-Train slowly lifted Casey out of the car seat

and cautiously raised him to his chest. As he paced the floor with the baby resting against his chest and shoulder, he began to hum. I turned to face Kace, who smiled at A-Train; shaking her head as he walked around the perimeter of the room waiting for an answer from Ripp. Kace, A-Train, Kelsey, Ripp’s parents, Bug, and Manda were all waiting quietly for an announcement of some sort. Although they’d been in delivery for almost an hour, we had heard nothing. Exhausted, we all used our own method to relax and wait. A-Train, on the other hand, seemed to have a special attachment to Casey, and it couldn’t be hidden. Possibly his newfound love for Bug made it easier for him to develop feelings of compassion. As he paced the floor, his humming turned to a soft hymn. Holding Casey to his chest, the pleasant sound of his singing provided all of us a little comfort. As he walked, his step developed a little bounce to comfort the baby and provide him rhythm. The song he sang was unmistakable; the Marine Corps Hymn. “From the Halls of Montezuma…” “To the shores of Tripoli…” “We fight our country's battles…” “In the air, on land, and sea…”

“First to fight for right and freedom…” “And to keep our honor clean…” “We are proud to claim the title…” “Of United States Marine…” “You see, we’re first to fight. Anytime, anyplace, anywhere. As soon as you wake up, I’ll tell you a story about the night Gunny Marshall and I got drunk in Okinawa, Japan. You’ll appreciate it when you’re a little older,” he chuckled. “You will not, Alec. Don’t fill his head with stories about your drunken escapades,” Kace laughed. “Just reassuring him he’s safe in my arms,” ATrain grinned. Kace turned to me and smiled as she tilted her head toward A-Train. “I see them,” I grinned as I shook my head lightly. The unmistakable sound of Ripp’s size fourteen Chuck’s slapping the floor of the hallway became louder as he obviously got closer to the waiting room. As we all walked toward the door he jumped into the room, his face filled with joy and his feet still securely tied into a pair of blue and red bowling shoes. He looked like a big, bald, tattooed Bozo the Clown.

“You motherfucker’s ready?” he hollered from the doorway. “Michael,” his mother gasped, “don’t say that in the hospital.” “It ain’t a church mom, it’s a hospital. So, you ready for the news?” he shouted, nodding his head excitedly the entire time he spoke. “Eight pounds and fifteen ounces. Almost a nine pounder,” he smiled. “And both my little girls are doing just fine,” he shouted. “A girl?” Kace screamed, “Vee had a girl?” “We had a girl, Shorty, she’s ours,” Ripp smiled. Immediately, the room was filled with congratulatory remarks and hugs. For some reason, I stood in place as everyone rushed toward Ripp. A little disappointed, I attempted to digest Ripp and Vee having a little girl, hoping all along for another boy. After a moment, I began to feel selfish and walked to where Ripp stood. “Congratulations Ripp, to both of you. When can we see her?” I asked. “Hell here in a few minutes, from what they said. But it’s like three at a time, and I don’t want to create problems down there. They’re serious about this baby business,” he said as he raised his eyebrows and nodded his head. “Name?” Kace asked. “Listen up,” Ripp said, raising his hands in the

air. He smiled and lowered his hands, “Jessica Ann Ripton. That’s her name. We’re gonna call her Jessie. Casey and Jessie. Got a nice little ring to it, huh?” “Close as I could get was something that rhymed, bro,” he said as he slapped my shoulder. I smiled and thought of the two of them growing up together, playing and learning of life and everything in it. Children appear to change everything in life, and rightfully so. They should. The future of this earth is dependent upon our children growing into adults and being equal to or greater than the generation before them. If I learn from my mistakes and teach my children what I have learned, eliminating my many shortcomings, they’ll be able to begin life a generation wiser. “How’s Vee doing?” I asked over the crowd. “She’s doing great. I need to get some cigars, we need to celebrate,” Ripp said as he reached for his wallet. “Got ‘em right here, Ripper,” Kelsey said as he reached into his gym bag. “Brought several of both, just in case,” he said as he began handing ‘it’s a girl’ cigars to the group. As everyone became louder and more joyous over Ripp and Vee’s new baby girl, I looked toward the window which faced the parking lot in front of the center. A-Train, still holding Casey, walked by

slowly, seemingly unaffected by the crowd. As he walked, he continued to sing. A small lump raised in my throat as I watched him looking down at Casey intently. One by one, we were bringing a new generation into this earth. Each child would carry a small piece of us with them as they developed and grew. As they grew into adulthood, they would be a product of their parents, the friends and the family they were exposed to as children. As I continued to watch A-Train, Kace walked up and embraced me, nodding her head toward ATrain as she did. “He loves that little boy,” she grinned. “He sure does,” I smiled. I turned and looked around the room, still smiling at the thought of the changes we were all going to witness in each other’s lives. Casey and Jessie. It did have a nice ring to it.

14

SHANE. Ripp pushed himself from the table and stood from his chair, “So, we went bowling to try and focus on something other than the baby. She was standing in her lane holding her bowling ball and she reached back,” he paused and swung his right hand rearward slowly and raised his eyebrows. “Fucking BOOM!” he quickly raised his hands in the air as he shouted. He glanced back and forth between A-Train and I as he spoke, “Slimy shit went everywhere. She didn’t even see it comin’. It was crazy. She wore that little dress because she said she couldn’t bowl in them stretchy pants she’s been wearin’. Anyway, so the shit just gushes out on the bowling alley, right there on the lane, and she drops her ball and starts screamin’.” I looked at A-Train and shook my head as I

rolled my eyes, “Damn, Ripp too much information. That’s gross.” “It ain’t gross, bro. It’s when Jessie had enough. She wanted out. So anyway, Vee turns to me and says Ripp my water broke. And she just stands still lookin’ at the floor, like she’s in shock. Hell I went runnin’ over there and I slipped in this shit and fell on my ass. Now, I stand up, and I’m covered in baby water. So I get up, pick her up, and fuck…you know me, I’m all excited. I take off for the door, screaming. I slip again, and drop her to the floor. Just bam! Vee hits the floor and starts moaning. And we ain’t even in the clear yet. I’m still swimming in this puddle of slimy shit, and trying to get her to the car. So, I pick her up again, and the entire bowling alley is holding their hands over their mouth, lookin’ at me like I’m some drunk that can’t walk.” I looked up at Ripp and began to laugh, thinkin of him excited and covered in Vee’s baby water. “Now, I step to the side, get me some good solid ground, and I take off for the door like I’m a runnin’ back for the Dallas Cowboys. After I got her in the car, we hauled ass for the hospital, and the rest of that story you know. But here’s the rest of the story,” he paused and raised his eyebrows in an exaggerated fashion. “So there’s more?” A-Train chuckled. “Oh hell yeah. Fucking cocksuckers. Listen to

this,” he nodded his head and reached for his beer bottle. After drinking the remaining beer from the bottle, he waived at the waitress and raised two fingers in the air, ordering another round of beers. “Okay, so this entire time, I ain’t got time to think about checking out or turning in my shoes. Or payin’ for that matter. I’m worried about Vee and Jessie. So, we haul ass outta there, and we have the baby. A week passes. Now I got these chicken-shit five dollar vinyl tri-color bowling shoes I wore out of there. And I got the ones Vee was wearin’. You know, even preggo she wears Jimmy Choo’s or whatever. So, I go to the bowling alley to take the shoes back, and this little prick says thank you Mr. Ripton for returning the shoes, we’ll waive the cost of the bowling, but we don’t have your shoes any longer,” he placed his hands on his hips as if preparing us for the punchline. “So I look at this little prick, and I say, Mr. Ripton is my father, who you tryin’ to impress peewee? Now give me the fucking shoes before I snatch your skinny ass over the counter. See, they got my best Ed Hardy’s, and I ain’t havin’ that shit,” he paused as the waitress dropped two more beers off at the table. “And he says we don’t have them. And I look over the counter and say you said ‘any longer’. Where’d they go?” he reached for his beer,

shrugged his shoulders, and took a drink. “Now, to make a long story short, I pull this little fucker over the counter, and he tells me they decided to snatch our shit and sell it on Ebay. On motherfuckin’ Ebay. Some shit for brains fucker in Japan or Malaysia or Great god damned Britain is gonna be wearin’ our shoes. Wanna know why?” he raised his eyebrows again and took a drink of his beer as he focused on me. I shrugged my shoulder, “Why?” “Because of you,” he snapped as he nodded his head sharply toward me. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, “Those fucktards sold my shoes under the claim I was the future Heavyweight Champion of the World’s sparring partner and best friend. Can you fucking believe that shit?” I picked up my water and took a sip from the cup, somewhat annoyed. I have spent the majority of my life attempting to fly under the radar of the public. Keeping to myself and living a life without the influence of outsiders has always been my intent. Being under the watchful eyes of the general public, and living with their scrutiny of me and my lifestyle choices isn’t something I have ever desired. In fact, I prefer to be left alone. The thought of any of what Kace and I do being exposed to the public without our desire or knowledge is unsettling.

“Did you hear me?” Ripp asked. “I heard you,” I sighed. “Sorry Ripp. I really don’t want any of this. I want to fight the fight, and I’d love to win it, but I don’t want shit like this going on. I really don’t. I’ll pay for the shoes,” I grumbled. “It ain’t that big of a deal. It’s just funny, really. Fuck it. SO, how’s Casey?” Ripp asked as he pulled his chair from the table and began to sit. “Casey’s doing just fine,” A-Train responded. Ripp turned toward A-Train and smiled as he shook his head lightly, “Dude, you got to drop the baby. You need therapy. That poor kid is gonna have callouses from you fingerin’ him all damn day. Jesus, A-Train. Every time I’m over there, you’re walking around holdin’ that poor kid.” “Hey, someone’s gotta pay him a little attention. You damned sure haven’t, uncle Ripp. Shane should have named him something else. I love that damned kid, he’s gonna make a fine man someday,” A-Train nodded. Rarely do we see people change in front of our eyes. Sometimes, after the passing of a reasonable period of time, two or three years maybe, we’ll see subtle changes in a person who we are familiar or intimate with, and look back at the person they used to be and acknowledge change. The change, be it good or bad is recognized in comparing the former person to the current person. Seeing

significant change in a person over a short period of time rarely happens. A-Train had changed in the last few months. After the birth of Casey, he had become quieter, more relaxed, and somewhat compassionate. The changes are certainly welcome, especially with Kace. I, on the other hand, have a difficult time understanding just what happened to cause him to change so drastically in a short period of time. Hopefully, he’ll slowly make whatever adjustments are needed to allow him to forget the atrocities of the war he continues to mentally wallow in. Time, I suppose, will tell. “And Jessie will make a fine woman,” Ripp said as he raised his beer bottle in the air. I leaned forward in my chair and raised my glass of water. As our drinks clanked together over the center of the table, A-Train nodded his head and smiled. “Here’s to living, loving, and leaving the past where it belongs. Behind us,” A-Train said as he lifted his bottle. Living. Loving. And. Leaving the past where it belongs. Behind us.

15

KACE. There are people who are always looked up to by their friends, family and associates based on what they have earned, obtained, or acquired. The amount of money or belongings a person has is in no way a means of measuring their worth as a person. I would like to live in a world where people could obtain points for being kind, considerate and caring. The people with the most points would be viewed by their peers as being more valuable based on their ability to actually provide something meaningful to the world they live in. Having a family and doing things as a family is something I have always wanted, but never really had. Josh and I were in a relationship since I was a teenager. He prevented me from seeing my mother, which caused our relationship to deteriorate. Although I have seen her since Shane and I met,

she hasn’t expressed any desire to spend much time with me. I took Casey to see her once, but she has yet to come see him on her own. As disappointing as this may be, I am grateful I have my adopted family – even though they may be crazy. “Hand me the taters, and pass Casey this way, Katie,” Ripp’s father said. “Pop, he ain’t a bong. Stop passin’ that damned kid around the table like your hittin’ a joint,” Ripp grunted. I laughed as I watched Katie hand Casey to Manda, who handed him to Vee, who handed him to Ripp’s father. Without a doubt, Casey would grow up more loved and cared for than most babies. Seeing this type of acceptance from the group was very satisfying to me. As Vee handed the baby to Mr. Ripton, he held him with one arm while he ate with the other. “You shouldn’t smoke marijuana, Michael,” Ripp’s mother said. “I ain’t smokin’ pot, mom. I’m talking about passin’ that kid around like a fuckin’ joint. We ain’t at a college frat party hittin’ a bong. Put the kids down and let’s fuckin’ eat. Jesus,” Ripp chuckled. “Don’t cuss in front of the god damned kids, Mike,” Mr. Ripton snarled. Ripp’s mom looked up over her fork and shook her head at Mr. Ripton. Shane started to laugh so hard he began to choke. Before long, the entire

table was laughing. “What?” Mr. Ripton said as he shoved another spoon full of mashed potatoes into his mouth and looked around the table. “You cussed to get us to stop cussing,” I smiled. “I did not. Now let’s eat.” Alec sat with Jessie in his lap, his chair placed away from the table more than everyone else’s. As he picked at his food, he talked softly to the baby and listened to everyone else talk. Alec didn’t always talk, and when he did, he generally just answered a question someone asked him directly. If he ever spoke for very long, it was almost always a war story that he tried to relate to the topic being discussed. Lately I have seen change in him, and I must say I like it. I think all of the babies around have softened him up. He spends a lot of time around our house with Shane now, and always offers to watch Casey so Shane and I can go out to eat or on a date. Having friends and family like Alec and Ripp is what I always dreamed of. I turned to Shane and smiled, secretly hoping times like this could last forever and ever. Some things just seem too good to last. This meal with family and level of love I see is one of those things. “So, Alec. Are you ever going to pop the question?” Ripp’s father asked as he cut his chicken breast.

Alec looked up from Jessie, “Sir?” Oh crap, this is going to be good. “Katie. Are you ever going to ask her to marry you, or are you just going to keep rentin’ her?” he laughed. I turned toward Alec and grinned. The entire table was silent, waiting for an answer to a much unexpected question. Well? “Dad,” Katie sighed. Ripp’s mother continued to look down at her plate and eat quietly. She never really does much, and always stays fairly quiet. I think even though she spends a lot of time staring down at her plate, she really pays attention to everything around her. “It’s my intent to do so someday, yes. When I feel everything is in order, you’ll be the first to know, sir,” Alec responded. “Son of a bitch, Pop. What a way to put a guy on the spot. Holy fuck, let A-Train eat,” Ripp said as he gnawed at a piece of chicken. Uh oh. “No cussing at the table, Michael. And no nick names,” Ripp’s mother said quietly. “Well fuck, ma,” Ripp laughed. Oh shit, Ripp. You’re going to get in trouble. “Mike,” Ripp’s father howled. Told you. “Alright. I’m just sayin’, let the man be. Alec.

Or whatever his real fuckin’ name is,” Ripp shook his head and dropped the chicken bone onto his plate. As I watched Ripp, I smiled. When Shane was in the hospital and Ripp came to comfort me was the first time I really spent time with him without Shane present. I was scared at first, but as time passed I realized he was simply trying to protect Shane from harm and prevent me from being in pain. When he told the lady behind the counter to call the police, I wondered about him maybe being crazier than I had originally thought. When he told her to call in the S.W.A.T. team because he really hated cops, I was sure he was crazy. But Ripp is just Ripp. He’s big and mean to most people but soft as a big teddy bear to us girls. I wouldn’t trade Ripp for anything. As Shane rubbed my inner thigh with his hand, I smiled and tilted my head toward him. I love you. His lips formed the words, but he didn’t speak. I smiled and gave him a light kiss. Shane leaving me was something I thought I would never recover from. I suppose Shane is no different than any other person, he’s human. Sometimes he seems superhuman to me, but he’s not. He makes mistakes like the rest of us, he just doesn’t make very many. When he makes them, he makes big ones. I had forgiven him completely for

what he did, and for the most part, I’d already forgotten it. Shane was scared and he handled it differently than I did. No different than his father, Shane ran from what he didn’t feel comfortable attempting to understand or accept. “I saw that,” Vee smiled. “It was a peck. We weren’t making out,” I whispered. Vee smiled and glanced at Alec, who still held Jessie. As she lay in his forearms, he gently rocked her back and forth and leaned toward Bug and kissed her on the lips. “I saw that,” Vee laughed. Vee and I had become like sisters. She was intelligent, kind, and understanding of whatever I chose to talk to her about, regardless of the topic. She didn’t understand Shane’s leaving as well as I did, and still held a little bit of a grudge, but she didn’t hate him. I imagine as time passes, she’ll warm up to him again and things will be the same as they were before. For now, she’s a good sister to me, and I love her with all my heart. I look forward to many years of us playing with our kids while Shane and Ripp ride their bikes and train for the next match. Vee and I had spent many hours together before we had our babies talking about being mothers. Both being new mothers, and feeling as if we had no one to turn to for advice, decided we would

eagerly assist each other. As our children grew older, considering their ages being the same, we felt we could help each other immensely. We would encounter the same issues and concerns at roughly the same stages in growth. Admittedly, we were both scared to death, and had reservations about our ability to provide sufficient care to our soon to be born children. I spent the majority of my pregnancy worrying about what mistakes I was going to certainly make. When I was a little girl, I caught a moth and held it cupped in my hands for the majority of the morning. I was probably six or seven at the time. As I made my way through the day, I carefully carried the moth with me everywhere I went. I was limited on what was able to do, because both of my hands were occupied in keeping the moth captive. I convinced myself the moth was mine, similar to a child. I had every intention of keeping it forever, and watching it grow old with me. I imaged building a large cage later in the day out of a cardboard box and some old window screen from the garage. During the morning, however, I felt as if I needed to keep the moth close to me. Content with the new addition to the family, I went to my room to listen to music. Often, as a little girl, music was my escape. My way of relaxing and developing a deeper belief of the world being a place of beauty, serenity and dance was to listen to

my radio. Typically, I would spin in circles as the music played, watching the hem of my dress flare out as my legs tried desperately to hold me from falling. Inevitably, I would fall, and today was no exception. After thirty minutes or so of dancing with my moth, I sat on the edge of my bed. Exhausted from dancing, I eventually flopped onto my back on the bed and held the moth as I closed my eyes and relaxed into a dream like state. When my mother had lunch prepared, she called me to come and eat. As I lay on the bed still under the comfort of music, I slowly pulled my thumbs apart to peer into the comfortable home I had developed for the moth to live in. I couldn’t believe what I had done. Emotionally crushed, I opened my hands fully and stared at my palm. The moth, from either the many times I fell, or from the sweat which developed in my hands – or potentially both – had died. Wet and lifeless, it lay against my palm, stuck to my wet skin. Softly, I began to cry. Slowly, I walked to the bathroom and got some tissue. As I folded the moth in the tissue, I realized if left alone the moth would still be fluttering through the yard; living a life no differently than any other moth in the neighborhood. I was convinced the moth had died as a result of my poor nurturing skills. I placed the moth filled tissue in the wooden box at the foot of my bed, in my diary. As I walked

into the kitchen filled with shame, I accepted the fact I could never be a parent of any form of living being and do so effectively. As a result, I have never allowed myself to have a pet as an adult. Upon learning of my pregnancy, it was only a short time and the moth came to mind. I wondered if it may be an accurate representation of my lack of ability to be an effective mother. I glanced across the table toward Ripp’s father. “Pass me the joint,” I chuckled. Yeah, I think I’ll be just fine.

16

KACE. “When they come over, you forget Jessie even exists,” Ripp grunted from the grill. “I don’t forget she exists, Ripp. Jesus. Grill the chicken you big dummy,” Vee laughed as she shook her head lightly and held Casey over her head. Shane, Ripp, Vee and I were gathered at Ripp and Vee’s house for a grilled chicken dinner. So far, although we were having fun, the grilling wasn’t going all too well. I sat alone on a lounge chair beside Vee, Shane sat on the other side of the deck, and a very frustrated Ripp was across the deck trying unsuccessfully to cook his sacred chicken on his sacred chicken grill. Vee was playing with Casey, Shane was playing with Jessie, and I was staring at Ripp as he cussed and threw utensils. “How’s my little bitty baby boy today?” Vee said in her best baby voice.

I sat and watched as Vee tried to get Casey to smile. Eventually, he began to coo and giggle. His smile was infectious. When he smiled, everyone smiled. As soon as he did, Vee followed with an ear to ear grin. “I love this little guy,” she said as she leaned her lips toward his belly. “Don’t blow on his belly, it makes him pee,” Shane warned. Vee immediately blew her wet lips against his stomach, making the most awful farting sound. Immediately, Casey began to squirm and smile. “He’s just so lovable and perfect. I want one,” Vee smiled. “Well, we’re gonna get back to fuckin’ like rabbits as soon as the doctor says it’s okay. I’ll give you a little boy, don’t worry,” Ripp said as he closed the grill. “I don’t want a little boy. I want this little boy. He’s fucking adorable,” Vee said. Shane had bought Casey a small hoodie initially as a joke, and he wore it everywhere he went. Shane’s pride of his son was immense, and I loved seeing it. Vee couldn’t keep her hands off of Casey, and whenever we were all together as a group, she often challenged Alec for possession - who was normally inseparable from Casey. Vee insisted she have Casey whenever possible. Oddly, either she or Ripp called almost every night offering to baby sit

so Shane and I could leave the house alone or go on a date. It was cute. I liked it when she held Casey, because normally it allowed me hold Jessie. Normally. Shane sat in the lounge chair with Jessie lying in his forearms. As he rocked back and forth I watched her eyes open and close slowly. Eventually, he would rock her to sleep, his specialty. Something about Shane was comforting to the babies, and he always found a way to get them to go to sleep. Maybe it was the fact he didn’t talk much or that he talked softly and in a soothing voice. “This motherfucker is about out of gas. The flame is so low this chicken is never gonna cook,” Ripp shouted as he rubbed his hand over the top of the grill. And then there was Ripp. Loud all of the time. Always shouting, yelling, or talking loud and cussing. Jessie would definitely have the foulest mouth of any girl on the planet; that was for sure. Ripp was Ripp, and no amount of babies would change that. He had softened up a lot and he was a caring father, but he was still Ripp. “Cocksucker,” he shouted as he opened the grill and poked the chicken with his fork. “Give it time,” I laughed. “Fuck, Shorty. I’m god damned hungry. Look at me. I’m shriveling down to skin and fuckin’ bones,”

he complained as he waved his hand in front of his torso. One thing Ripp would never be was skin or bones. He spent more time at the gym or on his equipment at home than a professional bodybuilder, I was sure. He was always huge and always covered in muscle. It was part of who he was. “You look awful,” I shouted over the deck. “Kace, shhhh,” Shane whispered. “You really think so?” Ripp asked. I shook my head. Ripp turned to face Vee, looking for a second opinion. Without looking up from Casey, Vee shook her head. Ripp turned toward Shane and shrugged. Shane shrugged his shoulders as he held Jessie in his arms. “You’re a beast, Ripp,” Shane whispered. Ripp turned to the grille and opened it again. As he poked the chicken, I turned to face Vee. She looked up and smiled as she pulled Casey to her shoulder. “He’s almost asleep,” she whispered. I smiled at the thought of Casey relaxing. Something about watching him sleep was so peaceful. So innocent. So perfect. There wasn’t much Casey did that I didn’t enjoy seeing him do. Sleeping, however, was my favorite thing to see. When he slept, I knew he was off in baby land dreaming baby thoughts and growing. Those thoughts made me smile.

“What do you think babies dream about?” I asked openly. Vee and Shane looked toward me and remained speechless. “Fuckin’” Ripp responded over his shoulder. “Michael Allen!” Vee shouted. Ripp slowly turned to face us and shrugged, “Well, you know they do. Their little baby minds think about fuckin other babies. That and eatin’. Probably all they think about is fuckin’ and eatin’.” “You’re an idiot sometimes,” Shane half whispered. Without turning around, Ripp shrugged again. I shook my head and turned toward Vee. She smiled and shook her head as she mouthed the word, sorry. I shrugged my shoulders again and smiled. Ripp was Ripp. No sugar coating and no bullshit - just the simple truth. I chuckled at what he had said. After a moment of silence, the thought of babies fucking or dreaming about fucking began to creep me out. “Thanks for that thought, Ripp. That’s gross,” I said. As Ripp turned the chicken over, he shrugged his shoulders and began to speak. “Well, they got to…” he began. “Not another word, Michael,” Vee insisted. “It looks like we’re going to be late eating. Can we keep Casey for the night?” Vee asked.

“What does being here late have to do with keeping him?” I laughed. Vee shrugged, “Sounded good.” “So?” she whispered. I shrugged and stood from my chair. Quietly, I walked to where Shane was sitting with Jessie. As he looked up, I bent over and kissed his cheek. “Do you care if they keep Casey for the night?” I asked. “She wants to keep him every time we come over here, Kace. He’s here more than he’s home,” Shane sighed. I pointed at Jessie and smiled. Shane smiled. I felt it would be nice to have a little girl for a night. Actually, I wanted to take them both home. I turned toward Vee and tried to make a deal. “Here’s my best offer, counselor. You can either agree to allow us to take both of the babies home, or you can trade for a night. Jessie for Casey. This is a one-time offer, and it expires when I get back to my chair. Yes or no, counselor?” I smiled as I began to walk to my chair. Vee smiled and shrugged. Casey was asleep on her shoulder. “Michael?” she whispered. “I heard. I ain’t looking to give up both of ‘em, so we’ll do a swap. Jessie for Casey. I like having two cocks in this house. Makes me feel like we’re in charge, you know more men than women. Done

deal,’ Ripp said over his shoulder. “Casey does not have a cock, you big dummy,” I snapped. “The hell he doesn’t,” Shane said as he stood from his lounge chair. “Gross. That’s gross, just stop,” I said as I held my hand in the air. “Hung like his fucking daddy,” Ripp laughed over his shoulder. “Babies have a penis. Men have cocks,” I said. “Some men have cocks,” Vee said as she raised her index finger in the air and twirled it in a circle. “Some men,” I agreed. I laughed at the thought of a baby having a cock. Ripp could be so repulsive sometimes and not even know it. Eventually we ate the chicken, traded car seats, and Shane and I drove home. As I lowered Jessie into the crib, Shane stood over me and smiled. As I covered her with the blanket, Shane kissed me on the neck. The thought of Vee loving Casey as much as she did made me feel warm inside. As close knit of a family as we all had become, I really felt as if Jessie was some form of daughter to me. I suspected Vee felt the same about Casey. As Shane’s lifted his lips from my neck, I turned to face him. He pointed into the crib and smiled. “I want one of those,” he grinned. “I do too,” I smiled.

And I truly did. I wanted an entire house full of children. Unlike Ripp, I didn’t necessarily want a house full of cocks, though. But having one more little pussy would be a blessing.

17

SHANE. 6th street in downtown Austin is a place every tourist who comes to town has to see at least once. The majority of local responsible adults make an effort to stay away as much as possible on the weekends, due to the amount of drunken foot traffic the street sees. Flooded with drunks and disorderly hoodlums, the entire place is a circus, hence the nick-name Dirty Sixth – named after the filth which migrates toward the area on the weekends. There are no less than a dozen bars per block, and the street goes on for miles and miles. Entertainment value is very high, but there are certain risks associated with partaking in the fun. Two days from leaving town for the largest fight of my career we decided to celebrate amidst the local drunks for entertainment value alone. After all it was a Wednesday night, and the level of

shenanigans was sure to be at an all-time low for the week. By my calculations, after our night on the town I would have a day to recover, another night to rest, and then we’d all fly to Atlanta for the big fight. After Ripp’s parents volunteered to watch both children, A-Train, Bug, Ripp, Vee, Kace and I went out on the town. “So Vee says, you change her diaper,” Ripp explained. “And I’m thinkin; it ain’t that big of a deal. Hell, how bad could it be? So I get little Jessie, take her to the plastic deal…” “Changing table,” Vee interrupted. “Yeah, changing table,” Ripp acknowledged. “So anyway, I take her to the deal, lay her down, and I start smelling this funk. It’s bad. My gut starts churnin’, and I back off a little bit and look at Vee. She just smiles and waves from across the room like she knows something’s gonna go down. Anyway, after my gut settles down I go back in for the big change. I unhook the sides of the diaper, and lay ‘em to her side. Then, I flip down the front, and lift her legs. The whole deal takes maybe five seconds – the diaper flippin’,” Ripp paused and took a deep breath. “And this fuckin’ smell comes rising up from the diaper like a big fog, and I drop Jessie’s legs and scream. Hell, it was so bad, I could taste it. But that

ain’t the best of it. After I drop her back into the diaper, it stirs that funky assed shit up, and I get a second wiff of it. Now this time, my gut starts heavin’ and I barf all over the changing table, Jessie, and the floor. Bad thing was, earlier I’d been drinkin’ and eatin’ hot dogs. I had five Ultra’s and six dogs. They were them really good beef dogs, too. I love them damn things and I must have ate ‘em like real quick without chewin’ ‘em up real good. So there was chunks of fuckin’ hot dog the size of peanut M&M’s all over the kid, the floor, and my new shoes,” he shook his head and tipped the beer bottle to his lips. “I guess guys ain’t cut out for that shit,” he sighed as he took a sip of beer. Vee nodded her head in Ripp’s direction as she looked toward Kace and laughed, “I warned him, Kace. He didn’t believe me.” I leaned forward on the table and looked at Ripp, “You puked on your daughter?” He nodded his head as he continued to sip his beer. “You’re gross, Ripp,” Kace laughed. “Shane changes Casey all the time,” Kace shrugged as she looked toward Vee. “Jessie stinks,” Vee chuckled as she waved her hand in front of her nose. “Maybe I’m sweeter than you,” Kace said as she raised her hands to her chest and squeezed her

boobs. “I think not,” Vee chuckled. A-Train nodded as he pulled Bug closer to his shoulder, “Quite a story, Ripp.” “But I’ve got a question,” A-train sighed as he leaned into the back of his chair. “Yep, what is it, bro?” Ripp asked. “Who cleaned up the mess?” A-Train asked. “I can tell you who didn’t clean it up,” Vee hissed as she pointed toward Ripp. A-Train raised one eyebrow, “No shit? You let Vee clean up the mess?” Ripp shrugged his shoulders as he finished his beer, “Hell, Train. I was weak after all the puking. I couldn’t clean that shit up. Men ain’t built for that shit.” I fully expected A-Train to begin a tale of some grotesque exposure to human remains after the explosion of an IED in Afghanistan or a beheading he witnessed in Iraq; but the story never came. He shook his head and turned to kiss Bug. As everyone sat and laughed about Vee cleaning up Ripp’s vomit, I studied Alec and Bug. They had been in a relationship for a little more than a year, and the changes in Bug were incredible. She had gone from being shy and uncertain to confident and outgoing. I smiled and looked down at my watch. “Shit, it’s one o’clock in the morning. I have to get some sleep and prep for the fight. We should

probably get out of here, shouldn’t we? ” I asked. Everyone agreed it was pretty late and Ripp offered to pay the tab, to which I eagerly agreed. Considering I paid for his shoes a few weeks prior, I felt a little better about my loss for the new Ed hardy Chuck’s. As the live band playing came to the end of a song, we stood and quietly made our way for the door. Getting out of the bars on Dirty Sixth before the 2:00 a.m. closing time allows a person to walk to where they’ve parked their car and escape from the area before the traffic from all of the patrons attempting to leave are doing the same thing. The biggest problem is the distance from the bars where one must park. While we walked the four blocks to where we had parked, Ripp continued to tell stories and discuss the upcoming fight. As we approached the SUV, we split into three groups of couples walking toward different doors to enter the vehicle. Katie, Vee and A-Train walked to the far side of the vehicle; and Kace, Ripp, and I walked to the near side. As soon as Vee unlocked the car with her keyless entry, a man jumped from beside the car next to hers, and surveyed the crowd quickly as if he knew exactly who we were. “Oh my God Shane,” Kace screamed as he jumped in front of us. Fuck, he’s after me.

The first thing I noticed was the gun he held in his hand. Within a split second, it was clear who he had come to rob. He promptly raised the pistol level with my eyes and held it an inch from my forehead. With the pistol leveled at my head, he stepped from behind the car and spoke in a jittery stutter. “Shuh shuh Shane. You’re Shane Dek Dek Dekkar. The buh buh big tah tah time boxer. Yep. Shane Dekkar. You got muh muh money. Big money. Yep. Gimme your wallet, muh muh motherfucker,” his eyes darted back and forth but his pistol never moved. “Don’t anyone do anything stupid,” I said slowly and softly as I carefully raised my hands. “Oh my God. Shane just let him have what he wants,” Kace cried. “Please Shane, don’t try anything,” she begged. “I won’t baby,” I assured her. Truth be known, I always figured if someone ever tried to rob me, I’d beat them senseless. I never figured it would actually happen, and I certainly never thought if it did, I’d have a pistol leveled at my face – an inch from my forehead. There was no doubt in my mind if I moved in any manner he was uncomfortable with, all he’d have to do was flinch, and I’d be dead. There was no amount of money to justify my son being raised without a father. “Babe. Just settle down, I’ll give him whatever

he wants,” I whispered. “Well, get get get to givin’, muh muh motherfucker,” he stuttered. “I’ll give you what I’ve got but…” “But, I carry the money. I’m his bodyguard. I’ve got all the cash,” A-Train said as he walked around the rear corner of the SUV. I heard Bug and Vee crying from the other side of the car. Ripp Stood behind me toward the front of the car on the passenger side. I stood at the center facing the rear of the car, with the armed man between the rear of the car and where I stood. As A-train slowly walked around the rear of the car behind the gunman, the man became nervous. “Duh duh don’t walk up on me, Mr. fuh fuh fucking bodyguard. I’ll kuh kuh kill this boxer lickety split if you do,” the man explained. A-Train walked in a sweeping motion around the man, circled behind me and stopped at my right side. As he stepped beside me with his hands held close to his chest, he began to talk slowly to the man with the gun. As he started to speak, I worried about the potential of this going to hell in a Texas sized hand basket. Standing on my left side, Kace began to sob. “Listen. I’ve got the money. So, you’re going to need to talk to me. But we’ve got a little problem,” A-Train paused and shrugged his shoulders. “He pays me to keep his money safe, you know

protect it. Now, I can’t just give it to you or he’s going to fire me as soon as you’re gone – and I’ll be without a job. So for me to let you have it, I’m going to need you to point the gun at me and threaten me,” A-Train said very calmly. “I ain’t duh duh dumb. He’ll buh buh box my ears when I muh muh move the gun,” the man said. “No he won’t. I’ll make sure he doesn’t do a god damned thing. It’s my job to keep him safe, and keep you happy. You’re going to have to trust me. He’s got seventeen bucks and I’ve got ten grand, you need to pay attention to me,” A-Train explained slowly. A-Train tilted his head my direction, “Dekk, slowly put your hands in your jeans pockets. And Kace, I need you to take four steps to your left, babe. Just four. Stand there quietly.” A-Train studied the gunman, “Now, as soon as he gets his hands deep in his pockets, you point the gun at my head.” A-Train stood calmly and nodded his head as he spoke. Not hearing any opposition from the gunman, I slowly lowered my hands to my waist and shoved them into my pockets deeply. I had no idea what A-Train had planned, but he sure was calm about doing it. The gunman’s eyes darted back and forth between A-Train and I. “Alec...no…” Bug sobbed from the other side of the car.

“It’s gonna be just fine Katie. We’ll all be sipping slurpies at the 7-Eleven in five minutes. I promise,” A-Train said calmly. “Dekk, step four steps to the side slowly, and stand by your girl. He’ll move the gun when you do. Just make it slow,” A-Train demanded calmly. As I stepped to the side, Kace hugged me, crying into my shoulder. Immediately, the gunman moved the pistol to A-Trains forehead. Ripp stood roughly eight or ten feet behind A-Train with his hands at his side. I could see from where I stood Ripp’s hands were shaking. Considering his recent experience with gunman, I doubted the shaking was from fear. Anger was more like it. “Wuh wuh what about thu thu the ten grand, fucker?” the gunman asked. “I’m going to reach for my wallet with my left hand. I’ll do it slow. Hell you got that piece pushed into my forehead, so you know I won’t try a damned thing. I’m nervous as hell, but I need you to be calm, okay? You okay with that? Me reaching for my wallet?” A-Train raised his eyebrows in wonder. The gunman nodded, “Yup. Suh suh slow.” Slowly, A-train began to move his left hand. What happened next should be in some form of instructional training video for all civilians. With is right hand at chest height and his palm open, ATrain swung toward the gunman’s forearm, halfway

between the wrist and elbow. At the same time, his left hand swung up and grabbed the barrel of the pistol form the left. In one fluid movement, the gun was swung one hundred eighty degrees and now in A-Train’s hands and pointing at the gunman. It happened so fast, if I hadn’t actually seen it, I never would have believed it. “Holy shit!” Ripp screamed. “Get on your knees,” A-Train demanded. With the gun now pointed at his head, slowly the man lowered himself to his knees. “It’s all good over here, Katie,” A-Train shouted over the top of the SUV toward Bug and Vee. Vee and Bug ran around the rear of the SUV. As soon as they cleared the rear portion and saw the man on the ground, they both gasped. “I’ll call the police,” Vee said as she cautiously walked around the rear of the car. “Fucking punk ass bitch. I’m going to beat your ass,” Ripp grunted as he walked toward A-Train and the man. “Don’t call the cops, Vee. And Ripp, you need to stand down,” A-Train shouted, still holding the gun to the man’s head. “Our man Dekk has to fly out for a fight in less than 48 hours, and he doesn’t need to be on the ten O’clock news. Police reports and bullshit will have to be filled out. We don’t need all that. Everyone

just get in the car, and go around the block. Stop back by here in ten minutes and pick me up,” ATrain said calmly. “Go around the block?” Vee asked. “Yeah. Just go around the block, I’ll take care of this,” A-Train nodded his head as if this was a common thing for him. “I’ll stay here with A-Train, just roll around the block. Nobody needs to see this guy get his ass beat,” Ripp said as he rubbed his hands together. “Just like you always say brother Ripp, I got this. Just go with them. Give me ten, alright?” ATrain asked. “Whu whu what you gonna…” the man stammered. “Shut the fuck up,” A-Train shouted. “Alec? What are you going to do?” Bug asked. “Baby, I’m just going to take care of this guy. Don’t worry. Come back in ten, okay?” A-Train asked calmly. I pointing to the car and looking around the dimly lit parking lot, “Get in the car. Alec’s right. I don’t need my ass on the news.” After everyone nervously got into the car, we drove around the block. Something about the event in the parking lot must have had everyone on some form of mental high, and now that it was over we all sat in the car quietly staring straight ahead. As Vee drove, everyone sat motionless. Kace rested

her head on my shoulder, and Bug stared out the window. When we approached the parking lot again, A-Train was leaning against the brick building beside the entrance, waiting calmly with his hands in his pockets. By my watch, twelve minutes had passed. As Vee slowed the SUV down at the edge of the entrance, A-Train opened the rear door and climbed in beside me. “Why all the solemn faces?” A-Train asked. Silence. “Are you okay?” Bug asked softly from the seat behind us and broke the silence. A-Train looked over his shoulder, “I’m fine, babe. No worries.” “Dude, you takin’ that gun from that guy was some serious Jack Reacher shit. That was just like, whappity whap. Who’s got the gun now, motherfucker?” Ripp said excitedly over his shoulder from the front seat. “Who the fuck is Jack Reacher?” A-Train asked. “You know. Tom Cruise plays him in the movies. Jack Reacher. He’s a bad ass mother fucker. He’d do something like that. Him or Jason Bourne,” Ripp chuckled. “Well, I couldn’t have him taking Dekk’s seventeen bucks he’s got in that squeaky wallet of his,” A-Train laughed. “I’m just glad we’re all okay,” Kace breathed.

The SUV filled with me too’s and same here’s as everyone agreed with Kace. And the vehicle became quiet again. As Vee approached the entrance to the highway, A-Train pulled up his shirt and reached into his pants. I watched as he removed the pistol from the waist of his jeans pressed a lever on the side of the weapon. After pulling on the barreled portion, he had the pistol in several pieces in his lap. “Vee, I’m going to roll down the window for a second,” he said. “Okay…” Vee responded over her shoulder from the driver’s seat. A-Train wiped the portion of the pistol he held with his shirt until it was clean. Carefully holding it with the bottom of his untucked tee shirt, he tossed a piece of the pistol out the window into the darkness of the night and rolled up the window. Five minutes later, he did the same thing. And five minutes after that, he did it again. And no one spoke a word.

18

SHANE. I believe my experience in mentally preparing for fights has kept me from being nervous in the days which precede a fight. The length of time I have been boxing certainly comes into play as does my undefeated title. Not being defeated builds a level of confidence a new opponent doesn’t easily diminish – at least not by merely challenging me to a fight. To me, fighting is a part of my life no differently than going to church is to some people. Something about this fight was different. I wanted this win for other reasons; and my deep desire for the win was causing me to second guess my ability. Without a doubt, Tyson Brock was a fighter who would present far more of a challenge to me than any opponent I faced in my entire career. The difference between him and everyone

else I had fought was the difference between a backyard baseball game and the World Series. Although I would never admit it publicly, simply completing this particular fight would be a tremendous feat for me. I felt if I would happen to win the fight my life would be in order for as long as Kace, our children and I would ever live. Through endorsements and prize money, Kelsey said I could expect between 50 and 100 million dollars before it was all over. Secretly, I wanted to retire undefeated and live a quiet life at home raising my children and acting as the husband and father I’ve always wanted to become. In this fight, I’d need to dig deeper and find an inner strength to fuel me. In the past, the demons inside of me fueled me to step into the ring and fight. My talent in fighting allowed me to stand the successor in the end. Fighting Brock would be so much different for many reasons. I no longer felt the deep inner demons, nor did I truly believe I was a more talented fighter than he was. From a strength standpoint, although I was in better physical condition than I had ever been, he was certainly fractionally stronger. Ultimately, I wanted to win. But. I wanted to be a father even more.

ACE. Pride. For me to accurately explain how proud I was of Shane for making it to this level in his career would be nothing short of impossible. I have overheard him talking to Ripp, A-Train and even Kelsey expressing his concerns regarding his performance in this fight. Tick-Tock Brock is far more of a savage fighter than Shane from what little I have read. Brock is supposed to be a brawler, and Shane is a boxer. By everyone’s description, this is to be a mismatch. I’m proud he has made it to this point. The fact he is here fighting for the Heavyweight Championship of the World is enough for me. The support of all of Alec’s friends has made my day far more pleasurable. They’ve helped take my nervousness and turn it into a newfound excitement. Because Shane is the challenger, we all have special seats at the front of the ring, they call these seats ringside seats. Ripp says it’s a big deal. I’m excited because Casey will probably be seen by millions of people on television. Ripp’s parents, Ripp, Vee, Jessie, A-Train, Manda, Katie, Austin, and all of A-Train’s friends who came to support Ripp in court had come as well – Kelli, Erik, Kelli’s father, Teddy, Heather, and some guy they call Bunny. Having this big crowd to support Shane throughout the fight made me happy. Win or lose, in the end, Shane would be a winner. With Casey held high in the air above my

K

head, we all cheered as Shane came down the aisle toward the ring. Joe and Kelsey proudly followed, one in front and one behind him. I was on pins and needles, now sitting between Kelli and Vee. No matter who won, this fight needed to end quickly. The people, the cameras, and all of the commotion was far more than I would have ever imagined. My heart was racing no differently than if I was the one stepping into the ring. As the announcer spoke into the microphone, the sound echoed throughout the entire arena. “The challenger, in the blue corner, with a career record of 52 and 0, and a professional record of 13 and 0, weighing in at two hundred twenty seven pounds, Shane…Shame… On…Deeeeekkaaaaar.” When the crowd cheered for Shane, it was incredible – thousands of people were screaming his name. The sound was nothing short of deafening and it felt so good to have all of these people behind him. “And the champion, in the red corner,” when the announcer paused, the crowd went absolutely wild. The amount of noise they made for Tick-Tock Brock was twice what they made for Shane. “With a professional record of 17 and 0, weighing in at two hundred thirty six pounds…” the announcer paused again.

“Tyson…Tick-Tock…BaaaahRocckkkk.” The crowd went insane. I began to feel bad for Shane, considering the difference in the amount of cheering the crowd did for the champion. I guess Brock is the champion after all. If Shane was champion, I’d want people to cheer for him just as much. Come on Shane, keep your head up. These people love you. The referee talked to the fighters, and they went to their corners. In a minute, the bell rang and the fight began. Most of Shane’s fights are a challenge of two talented men, fighting in a boxing match where they have to study each other, and find an opening – a mistake in the other fighters prediction of what is going to happen – and take advantage of it. This fight was nothing like that. As soon as the bell rang, Tick-Tock rushed toward Shane and began swinging wildly. He hit Shane in the shoulder so hard he almost knocked him over. Another wild punch caught Shane in the face and caused him to attempt to cover up his face with his forearms and hands. During the cover up and attempted recovery for Shane, Brock hit him no less than thirty times. It was as if Shane got off to a bad start and wasn’t going to have time or an opportunity to recover.

At the beginning of the fight, we all screamed for Shane. As the round continued, the yelling turned into people wincing and covering their mouths as Shane was hit once again by Brock’s powerful right hand. Shane did get a few good punches in, and the crowd cheered wildly, but those counter attacks were short lived and more of a defensive tactic for Shane. As the round came to a close, I knew I didn’t want to hear what everyone had to say. I kind of hoped this would just end and we could go home. When Shane walked to the corner, Kelsey began to scream, and I felt as if I was going to be sick. I needed to be strong for Shane so I sat up in my seat, propped Casey up by my chest, smiled and waved. And said a silent prayer. God, please let him make it out of this fight alive.

19

SHANE. “I have a fucking minute to convince you to either fight or fly home a loser. God damn it kid, I didn’t come here to be embarrassed,” Kelsey paused and wiped my face with a sponge. “Fights aren’t won in the ring, kid. They’re won in the gym, in your training, and inside your head. You’ve seen to many videos of this maniac, and you’re scared. This man is strong, but you’ve got talent. He’s brutal, but you’re intelligent.” “I remember when we met, kid. I saw those scarred up hands of yours and I knew you were a street fighter. Now I need you to get off this stool here in about forty five seconds and forget everything you know. I can’t tell you how to fight this guy; hell I don’t even know what to say. He’s not fighting, he’s brawling. Forget everything I’ve ever taught you about boxing, Shane,” he hesitated.

“Everything,” he breathed into my face. I sat stunned at what I was hearing. “Boss?” I mumbled. I felt as if I wanted some form of direction. Maybe something I wasn’t seeing or noticing that Kelsey had noticed and he’d bring it to my attention, which would allow me to go into the second round with a clearer vision of what was happening. It was clear to me the first round got off to a bad start. The first punch Brock hit me with contacted my left shoulder. The amount of force behind the punch almost caused me to lose my footing. We’re both similar in size and weight, but he is far stronger than I am. After the first punch, he never let up. It was as if I never had a chance to determine what might be next. The entire round was one big right hand. Over. And. Over. Typically, I can study a boxer’s style and counter the technique he uses with my own. I have a unique ability to box either left or right handed and I am equally talented in each posture. With Brock, boxing was out of the question. Kasey was right. I couldn’t box this guy. I needed to find a way to fight him. “Pay attention kid,” Kelsey growled.

“You’re far more talented than he is. But talent isn’t gonna pay the bills tonight, you hear me?” Kelsey’s face contorted with anger as he looked into my eyes. I nodded my head. “I need three god damned minutes of the guy who was out on the road away from his wife searching for bar fights. Find that guy. Or for three minutes, just three, get in that ring as The Ripper. Get in there and be Mike Ripton, kid. Give me three minutes of the meanest motherfucker I’ve ever seen. I need you to street fight this asshole. That’s all I’ve got, kid. Three minutes of mean.” I nodded my head and stood from the stool. Ding.

20

SHANE. I’ve dreamed of reaching a point in my career where I was in a televised fight and the people who took the time to watch it were going to be treated to my fighting ability, style and finesse. I’ve always considered myself an entertaining boxer, and felt I have a reasonable amount to offer the up and coming talent in the industry. I am both a boxer and a fighter; but in the ring I am a boxer. My fighting has always been on and in the streets. Fighting, in no respect, is a show of talent. It is a measure of one’s ability to become or be vicious. My preference tonight and all future nights was to be a boxer. A show of my ability to out-perform another man in the sport I’ve grown to love. But tonight, or at least three minutes at a time, I needed to find a way to become a monster. As I stepped into the center of the ring, I began

to think of all the men I had beaten over the years for their mistreatment of others. The guy in Watts, Los Angeles who cut his wife’s face for not having dinner ready when he got off work. The man three blocks down from my old gym who had beat his eleven year old son unconscious for chewing tobacco at school. The man who allowed his friends to gang-rape his wife. Buster. And my blood began to boil. As Brock hurried to the center of the ring, I stepped in close with my elbows tucked, as if I were going to allow him to punch on me no differently than I did in the first round. My decision to attempt to box this man was tossed out the window. I decided to allow him to beat me for a few seconds, and the second he paused… I was going to show him how we do it here in in Texas, as Ripp says. With my gloves raised, and my elbows tucked in tight, he began to unleash a flurry into my forearms and gloves. His power was tremendous, but it was nothing I hadn’t felt before. I just had never allowed a man to continue to beat me in this manner. As he continued to pound me, the crowd went wild. Waiting for him to tire, I remembered the infamous Mohammad Ali, and his Rope-a-Dope fashion I had always made fun of – allowing his opponent to beat him until the challenger grew

tired, and then hammering him with a flurry of heavy-handed punches. As he continued to swing wildly into my arms, I noticed a pattern. Immediately prior to throwing a strong right hand, and only a strong right hand, he grunted deeply. The window of opportunity between the grunt and the punch wasn’t much, but it was there. Almost as if he provided himself energy from within, the grunting continued with every vicious right hand. As he continued to hammer me with a combination, I waited. Tell-tale signs, big boy…you want to leave those at the door. Grunt for me, you big bastard, I have to give this crowd what they paid for, and that’s a show. A half second break in punches, and I heard it. He was preparing to throw a hard right. I swung a left uppercut in the direction I hoped his chin was. My hand felt as if it contacted a brick wall. I opened my stance and switched to unorthodox. For a fraction of a second, stunned, he stood and stared. Never been hit like that, have you? See what you think of this. I unleashed a series of punches into his midsection, followed by a right hook to his left temple. The crowd went insane. The entire arena

began screaming. Dehhh-Kaaar, Dehhh-Kaaar, Dehhh-Kaaar. Sorry folks, Dekkar isn’t here tonight. He’s been replaced by a man known as Ripp – a man with no conscience and a love for seeing blood. A man whose fucking cock gets hard when he beats on people. The referee was behind me and to the left slightly. I stepped in close and threw a series of unanswered jabs, followed by a shallow right cross. Intentionally, I allowed my elbow to swing wild and come in contact with is chin. He wasn’t the type of fighter to complain about an illegal elbow. As long as the referee didn’t see it, I’d be just fine… That’s right Tick-Tock, I decided to fight your big ass. “You got it, kid. That’s what I’m talking about. Take it to him,” Kelsey screamed. I’m doing my best, boss. Brock responded with a thundering left which caught my right bicep. Immediately he grunted and threw a right uppercut – a fraction of an inch short of my chin. As the punch glanced past my nose, I switched my stance and threw a right hook to his midsection. I like ribs, big boy. Did I get me one? His face contorted as his body absorbed the punch.

The crowd began to cheer again. Shame. On. Shame. On. Kace must have started that cheer. She knows how it fuels me. I love that damned woman. I thought of the day she walked into Ripp’s back yard, her face covered with dried blood and her teeth broken. Her broken smile and squashed pride made my stomach churn. As Brock brought a combination to my body, I closed my arms in tight and waited. As soon as I heard the grunt, I twisted right and threw a hard left to his jaw. Boom! The punch landed hard on his jaw, sending him into a back-peddling series of steps as he attempted to catch his balance. Oh shit, this guy’s never been hit. He knows how to fight, but he doesn’t know how to take a punch. He’s got a glass jaw. Time seemed to stand still. I wished I could turn toward Kelsey and give him the thumbs up. I felt with these two revelations – the grunting, and his inability to take a power punch, I could actually win this fight. I moved in and hammered him with a

combination I never knew I had in me. Fifteen or twenty unanswered punches while I was in close, none of which were really threatening. But. He would remember them later. I felt Kelsey beating his hand on the mat. I hear you, old man. We’re down to seconds, big boy. Let me close the round… With this. I swung a left hook to his ribs, followed by a hopeful right uppercut. As the left made contact, his head tilted forward as his body absorbed the punch. The right, thrown a little short, glanced off the tip of his forehead, but made good contact. Stunned, he stumbled into the ropes. I’m going to beat your big ass senseless. Come here, you big prick. I took one step in his direction. Ding! Fuck! I was just beginning to enjoy this.

21

SHANE. “God damned right. You took it to him in the second half of the round. Now give me three more minutes of whoever fought in that round, kid,” Kelsey growled. I nodded my head, eager to get back in the ring and fight. “I haven’t got much to offer, kid. I can’t tell you how to box this big bastard; I can only say I’m placing all my trust in you. You know kid, this is my dream. To make it to the show. And we’re here. You and I, kid. We’re here.” “Listen up,” Kelsey grunted. I turned my head and looked in his direction. “Take a quick look at your girl,” he said, motioning toward where Kace was seated. I hadn’t so much as glanced in Kace’s direction since walking down the aisle and into the ring. My

focus was elsewhere. I turned and looked in the location Kelsey pointed. Holy shit. The entire row of ring-side seats was full of my friends. Additionally, A-Trains friends from Kansas who had come in support of Ripp’s trial were here. I had no idea they were going to come. As I stared their direction, Kace screamed and swung her hand like an excited little girl as she held Casey’s arm in the air, waving it as well. “We love you, baby!” she screamed. Full of a newfound pride, I turned toward Kelsey. “Now there’s not a first and second place here tonight, kid. There never is. There’s the champion, and the other guy. No one, you included, can tell me the long list of losers over the years who have attempted unsuccessfully to win the title. They only remember the champion. If we go home with a loss, the world will forget you even exist in a matter of minutes.” “But,” he paused and placed his hands on either side of my face, turning it toward Kace and Casey. “If you beat this son-of-an-Alabama-bitch tonight, you’ll forever be the fucking champion in the eyes of that little man. Give me three more minutes of mean, and in this round do it for the kid, kid.” He released my head. I turned to face the ring

and considered what he had said. He was right, no one remembers the losers. But. The names of the great fighters who have succeeded at winning the championship still linger in the air decades after the fights are over. Mohammad Ali, Joe Frazier, Sonny Liston, Lennox Lewis. All decades prior, had won the championship at some point in time. And, I had no idea who their challengers were. Kelsey moved his head beside mine and breathed into my face, “It’s no secret you aren’t proud of who your father was, kid. But in the next three minutes, make your little boy proud of you.” “For a lifetime,” Kelsey growled. Ding!

22

ERIK EAD. Over the last year, I’ve felt as if I had lost a dear brother. Having A-Train move from Kansas to Texas was a difficult change for all of us. Seeing A-Train now and witnessing the changes in him caused me to take a step back and see all of the good being in Austin had provided him. He is a different man today, and I am grateful. It’s been said war is hell. I must agree. For ATrain, war wasn’t only hell, it was his life. A living hell. It was all he knew, and in his mind and the minds of many of his Marine brethren, it was where he belonged. Today, he has found a way to separate his life in the war from the life he’s attempting to now live on this earth. Seeing the differences in him causes me to believe I haven’t lost a brother, I have only gained a dear friend.

“I’ll bet any one of you he’ll knock this big bastard out,” I said as I looked up and down the row of seats beside me. “There ain’t no way Doc. The Alabama boy’s an animal,” Teddy argued. “A hundred dollar bill says he’ll drop him. I bet it won’t go two more rounds. This Dekkar kid can box, and he’s built like a Greek God. I’m telling you, he’s going to out think Brock. And for what it’s worth, Brock can’t take a punch,” I smiled. “Says who?” Teddy grunted. “Says me, Crash. Dekkar hit him with a right cross and Brock eyes said it all. I bet Brock’s never been hit like that. Give Dekkar two more rounds, and he’ll own your Alabama boy,” I nodded. “Do you really think he’ll win?” Kelli asked as she tapped me on the arm. I nodded my head and smiled, “If he keeps fighting the way he is now I sure do, Baby Girl.” Kelli smiled and turned toward Dekkar’s wife and began talking again. I had boxed for over a decade, and if there was a sport I knew and knew well, it was boxing. As in any sport, there was never any form of assurance of a win; but as an outsider looking in it was easy for me to see. Dekkar was a better boxer than he probably even knew. From what A-Train had told me, he was a humble man. Humble and tough. After seeing him fight, there was no doubt he was tough, but there

remains a huge separation between tough and talented. It appeared he was a fine balance of both. Not since Mike Tyson’s debut had I seen a boxer who had the ability to punch as fast or with as much power as Dekkar. One punch, only one, was clearly enough to drop any fighter who opposed him. Regardless of his opponent’s weight or size, Dekkar had the ability to win the fight with one punch. All he needed to do was find a way to believe, and develop an inner reason to want to fight. Simply being in the ring was never enough for me, and I knew it would never be enough for him. Stepping into a ring and boxing is second nature for any boxer. Stepping into a ring and fighting for what you believe in or want is another story all together. All Dekkar needed to do was decide he wanted to fight. “Hey Doc, what are you thinking?” A-Train yelled. “I’m thinking he’s going to knock Brock out,” I shouted down the aisle. A-Train simply nodded his head and smiled. “He’s probably got the fastest hands I’ve ever seen. Faster than Tyson,” I said. “Shit. He’s a damned sight faster than Tyson. Faster than greased fucking lightning, Doc,” ATrain laughed.

Kelli tapped me on the shoulder. I turned toward her and smiled. Seeing her giggle and laugh with Vee and Kace while playing with and holding the babies was a pleasant sight. Recently, I had begun to think Kelli and I would need to have a baby of our own someday. After seeing Ripp and Dekkar’s babies, I’m afraid the time has come for Kelli and me to have one of our own. As she smiled in return I leaned into her and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Who owns your gorgeous little ass,” I asked as our lips parted. “The one and only,” she responded. “Say it,” I whispered. “Erik fucking Ead,” she grinned. I smiled and kissed her lips lightly. “Erik?” she whispered as I leaned away. I raised my eyebrows. “I want one,” she smiled as she tossed her head toward Kace and Casey. “A baby?” I asked. She nodded her head eagerly. Ding! The bell sounded, starting the next round of boxing. As Dekkar began to step toward Brock, I looked Kelli in the eyes and smiled. By my calculations, this fight was all but over. Maybe two more rounds. I’ve been surprised before, but I

doubted anyone in the next decade would beat Dekkar. In my professional opinion, the only one who would ever beat Dekkar was Dekkar. “If he wins this fight, I’ll give you a baby. How’s that?” I smiled. She nodded her head, smiled, and quietly stood from her seat. As she raised her cupped hands to her mouth, I grinned and turned toward the ring. Dekkar was taunting Brock, trying to lure him into a fight. That’s it, kid. That’s it, this fight’s yours. Knock that mother fucker out cold. As Dekkar swung a left cross into the chin of Brock, I heard Kelli scream. She had a vested interest in the fight now, and it was apparent. “Kick his fucking ass, Dekkar!” Kelli screamed. Ring side seats at the heavyweight Championship of the World and the possibility of having a baby with Kelli. I have been blessed. I stood from my seat, raised my hands to my mouth, and screamed the only thing that made good sense. “Kick his fucking ass, Dekkar!”

23

SHANE. Brock rushed to the center of the ring. I took two steps toward him and stopped. Brock stopped for what seemed like an eternity and stared. Standing close to my corner of the ring, I curled my hands toward my chest, motioning for him to come to me. In boxing, without a doubt, I was taunting him. I didn’t come here tonight to fight. I came here to take something from you. He took one step in my direction, and reconsidered. Only for a split-second, but his stutter step was a dead giveaway. That’s all I needed to see. You’re scared, and for good reason. I lowered my hands and walked his direction. In this sport, I was calling him out. Telling the entire arena he was a pussy, and I knew it. With my hands

low at my side, and open for any punch he was willing to throw my direction, I made my way to where he stood. The look on his face changed to one of uncertainty. “God damn it, kid,” Kelsey screamed. I know what I’m doing, old man. This one’s for you, Kelsey. In my last step of my approach, it was obvious Brock was beyond what I could describe as angry. Angry and unsure of what I had planned. This was exactly what I wanted. I needed one wild assed punch from him. Just one, and hopefully it would be his right hand. As I got within arm’s reach, he reacted to my taunts. As soon as I heard the grunt begin, I leaned back, raised my right hand and lowered my left. As the punch flew by my face, I swung my signature left uppercut. Boom! My left hand contacted his chin harder than I have ever made contact with any other fighter. That fucking hurt, didn’t it big boy? A quick right cross connected with his jaw, sending him into a stumble of rearward steps. This was exactly what I needed; him in the center of the ring under my attack, with no ropes to hold him up. I came here for something, and I’m not leaving without it. Remember this punch and remember my name, Shane motherfucking Dekkar, asshole.

I’m the big mean motherfucker who came here and took this from you. I opened up with a combination in close, alternating from his body to his face. His hands began to lower when I attacked the body, opening his face up for a hard right hand. You didn’t give it to me, I’m taking it. And there will be no decision in this fight. Only a knockout. I threw a straight right hand with every ounce of energy I had in me. The punch connected directly on the tip of his nose. As I pulled my hand away, revealing his flattened nose, blood covered his face. The ref ’s going to stop this fight if he sees the bloody mess you’re making. I swung a left uppercut into his chin followed with a right cross. The right hit his left temple, solid. His legs instantly turned to rubber. Now, I’m taking what’s mine. To make certain he either couldn’t get up, or didn’t get up quickly, I swung a left hook for good measure. In the slowest of motion, I watched as the left connected with the bottom of his jaw, and he fell to the mat. Don’t get up. Ever. I stood over him and stared down as the crowd went insane.

Shame. On. Shame. On. Shame. On. It was as if I could hear every individual scream from the crowd. Every single one, independent of the others. Time stood still. The referee stepped between us and pointed toward my corner. “Shane fucking Dekkar, ladies and gentlemen,” I heard Ripp’s unmistakable voice holler. “That’s my boy,” I heard Ripp’s father scream. I stepped away and stared in Brock’s direction. Don’t get up. Don’t even fucking bother. “Baby!” I heard Kace squeal. Lord, if you know what’s best, you’ll keep him where he belongs. If he gets up, you won’t be proud of what I do to him. The referee waived his arms ending the fight. It was over. Standing and staring at Brock, I was the new Heavyweight Champion of the World. Yet. I heard not a single word from Kelsey. Something was wrong. I turned around slowly, not necessarily caring if Brock ever stood up. As soon as my eyes scanned my corner of the ring, I realized what was wrong.

Kelsey wasn’t capable of speaking. Still absorbing what had happened, I quickly made my way to the corner of the ring. Kelsey stood, leaning on the bench, with is head in his hands sobbing. “Holy fuck kid, you did it,” he blubbered as he stood to remove my mouthpiece. “No, boss. We did it. I didn’t win that fight for my son. I won it for you,” I sighed as he reached up and wiped the tears from his face. Overcome with a lifetime of emotion, he continued to cry. As I stood beside him and waited for the official decision, I felt as if I may begin to cry as well. The amount of pride I felt for my accomplishment was numbing to say the least. Although familiar faces surrounded me, it was as if I was in one place, and they another. I stood in my bubble of space, incapable of being touched or even spoken to by those around me. Their voices muffled, I remained incapable of understanding or responding to their questions or congratulatory remarks. One thing rang clear, penetrating the silence. “And by knockout at 1:57 of the third round, and still undefeated…” “The new WBC Heavyweight Champion of the World…” “Shane.”

“Shame…On.” “Dekkar.” I waited forever to hear it. And the announcement echoed throughout the arena endlessly.

24

SHANE. To describe my life as different in the months which followed the fight would be a grotesque understatement. The phone calls, offers for endorsements, magazines, book deals, movie offers, and potential challengers coming out of the woodwork were an almost daily occurrence. In the past I didn’t necessarily need a manager, therefore I didn’t have one. Kelsey was my trainer, and Joe was the manager of the gym, but I never felt a need to have a manager who decided what it was I did or should intend to do. Now, life was different. Much different. After a reasonable amount of persuasion, and an unreasonable amount of money, Kelsey agreed to become my manager. I trusted Kelsey with my best interest and deciding to allow him to make

decisions which would benefit us both was something I felt he could do without much thought or influence from me. I preferred to be out of the lime light, and make my best effort to live a life of solitude without the recognition. Contrary to what I expected, at least for now I intended to defend the title. I would allow whoever Kelsey felt was a reasonably talented opponent challenge me for the Championship sometime in the future. Right now, I wanted to relax and take it easy for a while and enjoy living life. My wife and son had become the two most important elements in my life, and I had no expectation of ever allowing this to change. Although it has never been one of my favorite things to do, Kace and I have enjoyed several movies together. From time to time, we will see a rather suspenseful movie. In watching the movie, it’s never totally clear to me just how intense the movie really is – or how engrossed I am in the story – until it’s over, and I exhale. Slowly, I’ll release the seat cushion from my grip, and realize I was a ball of tension for the entire movie. Winning the championship was a similar experience. I never felt as if I were acting any differently during the months in preparing for the fight. After the fight was over, however, I exhaled. In doing so, I realized my life prior to the fight was one big

tense moment, over and over. Now, looking back at my then life, and the differences I see… I’m glad it’s over. I feel as if I am a totally different person. Not someone I was before, and certainly not someone I ever expected to be. Today, I look at the world through different eyes. Eyes capable of seeing everything and not only what I choose to allow before me. Today, I look into the future and attempt to make decisions based on what I feel is best for Kace, Casey and I. I never felt as if I were selfish prior to now. Today, however, I have my reservations regarding my previous behaviors and wonder whether or not I was doing what was in everyone’s best interest. Ripp’s church had a wing they intended to use for Sunday school for the children in the church. Poor attendance and a loss of parishioners left the wing all but abandoned over recent years. They had expressed interest in remodeling it into a refuge for homeless teen girls – a place for them to be able to stay if there was nowhere else for them to turn. After several unsuccessful attempts to raise money they abandoned the idea, and the wing remained empty and somewhat rundown. In learning of the desire the church had for the unoccupied area, I donated the money to remodel it entirely. I didn’t want my name attached to it, or recognition for doing so. All I wanted was a place

for the runaways and homeless teens to feel they could turn if there was no other direction for them to go. I felt if I could make a difference in one person not turning to drugs or prostitution, it would all be worth it. In the past, I received satisfaction from beating another man half senseless for doing something I perceived as being immoral or wrong. Now, I know I am not God, and I have no place attempting to right the wrongs of this world. Making a difference one idiot at a time would never make a big difference. Now, having the ability to make a real difference allowed me to feel everything I did in the past was not only unnecessary, but possibly somewhat selfish on my part. There is still no place in my heart for a man who abuses a woman, and I will never stand aside while someone attempts to or actually does abuse a woman. I will not, however, seek justice on my own for every man who steps outside a moral line I have scratched into the sand. Today I have the ability to make a difference one major decision at a time. And the differences I make just may last longer than I ever will. The satisfaction I received from causing an abuser to walk the other direction from the abused was shortlived, and happened whenever the opportunity presented itself. Typically a few times a year I felt I made a difference in the life of someone who may

need it. Now, every morning when I wake up I know it’s possible for me to make a difference without so much as getting dressed. And I breathe easy knowing so. What I am left with is the ability to live a life I have always yearned for – one without reservation, regret or a weight of some sort crushing down on me. I sat on the edge of the bed staring at the display on the wall – in the center, a large photograph of me standing over the fallen champion, my hands held high in the air. Although professional photographer took the photo during the fight, I have no recollection of raising my hands while Brock was down on the mat. The photo, however, tells a different story. A great piece of artwork to represent a memory I will carry with me for a lifetime. On the left side of the photo, a shadow box with my black hoodie, cleaned and pressed. On the right, a black silk robe I wore with the name DEKKAR on the back over the shoulders in grey block letters. Memories. I clenched the dog tags in my hand and stood from the foot of the bed. In turning toward the display on my way out of the room, I smiled. Life has the ability to change, and sometimes we’re the beneficiary of these changes. When the differences we experience clearly make our life or our person

better, it becomes increasingly difficult to question a God I more than once doubted the mere existence of. I walked out to the garage, draped the dog tags over my head, and looked down as they came to rest in the center of my chest. I pressed the remote door opener on the wall and walked to the corner of the garage and grabbed a shovel. As I dropped it into the bed of the truck, I sighed slightly. Some changes in our lives are self-imposed, while others simply happen. We’re forced to accept the changes which occur in our life naturally. When we choose to make changes we’re always left to wonder if our decision to do so is in our best interest. There’s only one way to know for sure. Make changes. And live life.

25

KACE. Although the changes I have seen in Shane aren’t what most people would look at as significant, I know better. Shane needed very little in my eyes to be a perfect man, and he was sure headed in the right direction with the few changes he had made in his life. No one asked him to change, and I don’t even know if he realizes all of the little things he was doing differently. It really doesn’t matter to me, what’s important is that he is doing well, and his devotion is in the right place. Nothing matters more than family and friends to Shane, and for the rest of his life that should never have to change. The amounts of money we have available now make either of us ever needing to work a thing of the past. Financially security has allowed Shane to let loose a little with his spending, and he’s not quite as frugal as he used to be. He

bought a truck, a new tire for his motorcycle, and three plots of land in an affluent neighborhood on the north side of Austin. He said he didn’t want any neighbors, so he purchased a lot for us to build a house on, and bought the lots on either side of ours. This way, according to Shane, we never have to worry about having shitty neighbors. Considering the neighborhood, I doubt this would ever be the case. The thought of a contractor building a house just for us is very exciting to me. Shane let me help draw my ideas onto paper and forced the architect to include my ideas into the building plans. One problem with Shane is he now has a considerable amount of free time on his hands, and he’s at the construction site every day checking on the contractor. Today is Sunday, and although I am sure the contractor isn’t working, I know this is where I’ll find Shane. As I pulled into the lot, the site looked the same as it did earlier in the week. A concrete slab and a wooded house frame you can look right through. Three more months is when they say they’re going to be done, and to be quite honest, I have no idea if I can wait that long. The entire thought of it has me beside myself. “This is going to be our new house,” I said to Casey as I pulled him from his car seat. As I carried him through what would one day

be our yard, I saw Shane in the back yard with a shovel. Wondering what he might be doing, I wandered around the house and into the rear portion of the lot. “What are you doing, doofus?” I hollered across the yard. He turned and looked over his shoulder, “Digging a hole.” “I figured so, seeing the shovel and all. What are you doing Shane?” I asked. “Burying some stuff.” “What are you burying, Shane?” “Dog tags and some boots.” “You’re burying your dog tags?” “Yep.” I stood and thought for a moment before I responded. “Do you think that’s a good idea,” I asked. “Actually, yes,” he responded as he stepped on the shovel. “Okay. Want to talk about it?” I asked. He turned to face me and smiled, “Sure.” He tossed the shovel full of dirt to the side, and stepped on the shovel again. As he did, I noticed he was wearing his new boots again. His old boots sat on the ground beside where he stood. Okay this could be either really good or really bad. “Shane,” I hesitated and pointed to his boots.

“You burying those too?” I asked. “Yep,” he responded. “Let’s hear it,” I said as I adjusted Casey’s weight on my arm. Shane released the shovel handle and reached for Casey. As he took him into his arms, he smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Well, I’ve carried those things for some time now, always thinking they’re in some way significant. Truth of the matter is this, they’re really not. Well, they are – but they’re not. What I thought they were and what they actually are is two totally different things. I’ve come to terms with the fact that my father was not a perfect man,” he held Casey over his head and began to toss him in the air a few inches from his grasp, catching him under his armpits as he fell. As I watched Shane toss Casey in the air repeatedly, I waited for more of an explanation, knowing Shane would provide it. “Kace, I’m not perfect either. My father made mistakes. I’ve made mistakes. Even though the mistakes we made aren’t the same, they really are. He beat my mother physically, I beat you mentally,” he paused and held Casey to his chest. “Shane we agreed we aren’t going to…” “Let me finish, it’s okay,” he smiled. I smiled. “For me to think for one minute that my father

is or was a bad person and I am any better is to say I have never made a mistake. Well, I have. I’ve made a lot of them. Fact of the matter is this, Kace. I’ve carried those dog tags to remind me what a no good son-of-a-bitch he was. That’s not necessarily true. So, I’m going to bury them right here. In what I hope will be our back yard for the remainder of our lives. And I’m putting the boots he got me here too,” he said as he nodded toward the boots. “He got you those raggedy boots?” I asked. He nodded, “They weren’t always raggedy. They’re old.” And it began to make sense. Shane wore the dog tags and the boots, feeling as if it provided him something in his fighting – an edge so to speak. Maybe it did. But if I was going to guess now, I’d guess it provided him enough anger toward who he believed his father was to fuel him in his fights. “So?” “Well, I’ll never know for sure just what I got out of these, but I know this. Today, I can accept the fact that my father was who he was. He was a damned good Marine and he died defending this country. He may not have been the father I wanted him to be, but he wasn’t necessarily bad. So, I’ve accepted him for who he is, and I want to bury who I believed him to be. Get a fresh start, so to speak,” he smiled and began to toss Casey in the air again. “You sure?” I asked.

“Yep,” he responded as he handed Casey to me. “Shane?” “Yeah, babe?” “I love you.” “I love you babe.” “You want us to go? Leave you alone to do this?” “Nope. Just hold on, it’ll only take a minute.” I stood and watched as Shane took a few more scoops of dirt and tossed them aside. After sticking the shovel in the ground beside the hole, he bent down beside the boots. Carefully he dropped the dog tags into one of the boots. He hesitated, and then began to use his hands to fill the boots with the dirt from the hole. When the boots were full, he laid them in the hole carefully and stood up. After shoveling most of the remaining dirt into the hole, He stepped on the surface of the ground and made it flat again. A small pile of dirt remained on the side. “You know, you never can get all of the dirt back into the hole after you bury something,” he smiled as he grabbed the handle of the shovel. I shook my head, “Nope. Because of what’s in there. It takes up space.” “That it does, Kace. That it does.” He said as he flipped the shovel over his shoulder. Whatever we eventually bury was at some point in time an important part of our life. We bury

it out of respect. If it were garbage, we’d simply toss it aside. Maybe the left over soil is a reminder of the space it once took up in our heart or in our life. As we walked to our vehicles, I turned toward our stick home and admired the progress the workers had made. Progress. Progress is good.

26

SHANE. I lifted the dress above her waist and fought to get ahold of her panties, “Just hold the edge of the tailgate.” “I can’t believe you’re going to fuck me in the garage – just like Ripp and that unicorn girl story he told us about,” Kace muttered. I shook my head and chuckled, “Fine, let’s go in the house.” “No, I like it,” she responded as she bent over and gripped the edge of the truck’s lowered tailgate. It seemed as if Kace and I had no more than got our relationship going, and she was pregnant. The pregnancy had ups and downs sexually speaking, and then the baby was born. After the birth of the baby, there was an eight week wait until we could have sex again. Now we could have sex whenever

we wanted, and Kace wanted it all day every day. The only thing preventing us from fucking like a couple of lab rabbits was the fact we had a child attached to one or the other of our hips almost twenty four hours a day. Today, Ripp and Vee took Casey and Jessie to the park. Kace and I got into the truck to go to an afternoon movie, and never made it out of the garage. Making out in the truck evolved into a groping session. Groping turned into me licking and sucking on Kace’s boobs, and within a few minutes we were out of the truck and she was pinned against the wall, well under my sexual attack. Her love for doggie style sex and my problem solving skills caused me to drop the tailgate on the truck, bend her over, and get busy doing one thing we both have come to love. Fucking. I held her hip in one hand and unbuckled my belt with the other. I was as hard as the diamond in Kace’s engagement ring. Minimal sex creates maximum hardness when the time comes, and I was beyond ready for this. My jeans fell to my ankles. Eagerly, I pushed my boxers down to mid-thigh and gripped my cock in my hand. Incapable of waiting for another second and staring down at Kace’s little round ass, I guided myself into her throbbing pussy. “Oh god,” she moaned.

Immediately, I pushed myself inside of her until my balls were against her clit. I gripped her waist with each hand and looked down as I slid myself out of her obviously soaking wet pussy. As the shaft of my cock slowly became visible, she shuddered and turned her head to the side. “Don’t toy with me Shane Dekkar. Fuck me. Just fuck me,” she breathed. Just remember, you asked for it. I gripped her waist firmly and shoved myself into her. As my cock bottomed out inside of her, she grunted and grabbed the pile of rope lying in the bed of the truck. Excited about pleasing her and teaching her a little lesson, I began to fuck her as if I were in some form of contest. As I pounded away, I released her right hip and reached under her waist with my hand. Using the heel of my palm, I pressed against her stomach a few inched below her belly button. As I thrust myself in and out I felt my cock against my palm. “Oh my god. What the…” she groaned. She turned her head to the side and faced me, “Fuck…” “You better bite on that rope, Kace. Either that or you’re going to wake the neighbors,” I growled. “What are you…” “Doing?’ she gasped. “I’m going to fuck you senseless,” I smiled. Without speaking, she turned around and

lowered her head onto the pile of rope in front of her. I pushed my hand against her stomach with more force and began to pound away. As her ass slapped against my hips, she grunted and arched her back; pressing herself against me firmly. The downward angle of my stroke combined with the arch of her back caused the tip of my cock to pound against the inner wall of her vaginal canal. The ‘G” spot. I continued to shove myself into her, knowing she wouldn’t outlast me. “Shane…” she moaned as she turned to face me. I looked down and watched as my cock slammed in and out of her pussy. With her still peering over her left shoulder, I reached up with my left hand and grabbed a handful of her hair. As I gathered it with my fingers, she tossed her head back in anticipation. “Oh fuck yes,” she sighed as I pulled her hair sharply. With her hair in one hand, and my other continuing to press against her stomach, I pushed myself into her repeatedly, feeling the tip of my cock against the palm of my hand with each stroke. As I felt her pussy begin to contract, I maintained my pace. I wanted her to cum and cum hard. As she began to reach climax, she turned and buried her face into the pile of rope.

“Oh…my…” “God…” she moaned. “You want me to fuck you, huh?” I asked. “Uh…huh…” she groaned. “You sure?” I teased as I slowly pulled my cock from her pussy completely. I looked down at the glistening shaft of my cock, holding the head just beyond the lips of her pussy. Silence. Her hair still firm in my hand, she turned her head slightly left and stared at me with crazed eyes. “Fuck me Shane,” she sighed. “You sure?” I asked again. “Uh…huh,’ she responded. “Sure?” She arched her back and pressed her swollen pussy against the tip of my cock, causing it to penetrate her slightly. As I felt her pussy encompass the head, I pushed myself into her until my hips were firm against her butt. She grunted into the pile of rope. I began to pound myself in and out of her soaking wet pussy without so much as an ounce of mercy. Within thirty seconds, she began to climax again. As she began to moan, I teased her. “Fuck you, huh?” I shouted. “Uh…” “Huh…” she breathed.

I thrust myself in and out of her violently, looking down and watching every stroke of my cock. Her pussy continued to contract as she reached a few successive orgasms. She pulled her ass away from me and pressed her hips into the tailgate of the truck, almost causing my cock to fall from inside her pussy. “You done?” I chuckled as I released her hair. She turned to face me, shook her head, and tried to catch her breath. In between her short choppy breaths, she attempted to speak her mind. “No.” “No, I’m not even…” “Close.” She took a short moment and caught her breath completely. As her labored breathing came to be close to normal, she raised her head and smiled. Still bent over the truck with her ass in the air and her dress over her waist, she grinned, “I told you to fuck me, Shane. Stop dicking around, as you always say. I don’t want to be able to sit on this little pussy for a long time without remembering this. Not at least for a day or two. Now, get busy fucking me or pull those pants up and go to the gym.” As Kace watched, I stepped back and pulled my boots from my feet. After kicking off my jeans, I slid my boxer shorts down my thighs and kicked them into the back of the truck beside her. As I

bent down to remove my socks, she objected. “Leave the socks on, boss,” she smiled. “Excuse me?” I asked, still bent over with the sock gripped in my fingers. “Fuck me in the socks. It’s hot,” she whispered. I stood and gripped her waist in my hands, lifting her from where she stood. Carefully, I turned her over on her back in the bed of the truck and lowered her head onto the pile of rope. “This is cold on my back,” she complained. “Fuck me Shane,” I taunted. “Seriously, on my back in this work truck?” she whined. I reached for a portion of the rope, “Fuck me Shane.” “Oh my god. Are you going to tie me up?” she asked excitedly. “I want my pussy sore for a week. Fuck me Shane. Fuck me or hit the gym,” I chuckled as I untangled the rope. I bent down, removed my knife from the pocket of my jeans, and cut two short lengths of rope as Kace eagerly watched. As I leaned into the truck she began to breathe heavily. I reached for her right wrist, wrapped the rope around it, and tied it to the tie-down hook on the side of the bed. After doing the same with her left hand, I stood back and admired my handiwork and my beautiful wife. My beautiful tied up wife. The more I looked at Kace

tied up in the bed of the truck, the more excited I became. As I stood and stared, she began to twist back and forth and kick her legs lightly. “You like that?” I asked. “Look at my pussy,” she responded. “What?” I asked as I raised my knee to the edge of the tailgate. “My pussy, it’s soaked,” she sighed. As I pulled myself into the truck, I laughed, “It better be.” As I lifted her dress to above her waist, she wiggled and twisted her body from side to side. Using each hand, I grasped her lower calves and spread her legs to the side as I lowered my face between her thighs. As I slid my hands up the length of her smooth legs, she began to moan. “Shane…” “Shhh,” I whispered. As I began to suck on her clit lightly, she twisted and bucked her hips against my face. After a few moments of teasing, I started to lick her pussy with a mentally timed rhythm. Each stroke of my tongue like the last, I raised one finger and began to finger her as I continued to lick her. After a few more minutes, she moaned with pleasure and her breath became short. I continued the pace as she moaned in pleasure, reaching orgasm from my tongue and finger. Quietly, I pulled my head from her legs and

raised myself to standing on both knees. As I inched closer to her waist, I reached for her shoulders and pressed my hips between her thighs. With one hand, I guided myself into her now dripping pussy. “Now, Kace. Now I’m going to fuck you,” I said as I shoved myself into her completely. She tugged with each hand against the rope. I had left a little slack in the rope, but her wrists were secured well. She couldn’t get away if she felt the need to. As she pulled with each wrist alternately, I chuckled. “You aren’t going to get away, little girl. I’m going to fuck you until I’m done,” I assured her. “Oh God. Do it,” she breathed. As I began to fuck her without mercy, her ass scooted across the bed of the truck until her head was against the inside of the bed. As her head came in contact with the bed, I reached down and grasped her throat and squeezed lightly. As my grip tightened she smiled and closed her eyes. Carefully, I increased the strength of my grip as I continued to slide my swollen cock in and out of her wetness. Within a few minutes, her pussy began to contract. “Slap me,” she said as she opened her eyes. “Kace?” I asked, unsure of what she wanted me to do. “Fucking slap me, Shane. Slap me,” she

shouted. In my wildest dreams, I would never guess I would reach a point where I would be comfortable slapping a woman. Ever. Without a doubt, I was fucking her as a much different person that I had been in the past. Maybe I had changed. It took one more request for me to know for certain. “Slap me!” she bellowed. She hadn’t actually finished speaking when my hand released her neck and slapped her cheek mildly. “Oh my fucking God,” she screamed. “Slap me again, fuck yes. Do it,” she growled as she closed her eyes. Slap! My hand glanced across her right cheek sharply. “Oh my god, Shane. Yes. I’m going to…” Her pussy began to contract, and she opened and closed her eyes repeatedly. As she continued to cum, my cock began to swell in her tightening pussy. “Oh fuck yes, baby,” I groaned. “Fuck yes. I’m going to…” “Cum…” I came with enough force it felt as if my head was going to explode. I collapsed into a pile on Kace’s chest, exhausted from a climax like no other. My cock still inside of her, I lay there and whispered.

“You okay, babe?” I asked. “Oh hell yes. I’m perfect, baby. I love you,” she responded. “You uhhm…” I began. “Shane, it’s okay if that’s what you’re asking. I want sex like that. Always. Okay?” she assured me. “Okay.” I responded. As we remained nestled there in the back of the truck regaining our composure, I considered getting the knife and cutting her free. After a moment, I kissed her lightly and rolled to the side. “I’m going to get the knife and just cut the ropes. You pulling on them actually tightened them,” I said. “Okay,” she smiled as she pulled against them again jokingly. I jumped out of the truck wearing nothing but my socks and grabbed my knife from the pile of clothes on the garage floor. And the garage door began to open. “What the fuck?” I screamed. “Shane!” Kace screamed. As if in shock, I stood with the knife in my hand, wondering just what was had happening. Oh, shit. It’s got to be Ripp and Vee. I gave them a remote to the garage. Instead of the many other options I had to try to resolve the issue, I ran toward the other side of the garage to the wall mounted remote. Frantically, I

pushed the down button. “Shane, I’m tied fucking up!” Kace screamed as she pulled against the ropes. The garage door continued the upward cycle. With the garage door now completely opened, I stood naked and stared out into the driveway. The unmistakable front of Vee’s SUV filled the drive in front of me. Her face covered in horror, and Ripp’s smeared with a huge smile, they stared through the windshield as Vee tossed the vehicle in reverse and screeched the tires. As she backed out of the drive, Ripp rolled down his window and screamed. “Just come get Casey when you’re done, bro.” I stood naked, with the knife in my hand, and waved. When I’m done? I’m never going to be done.

27

SHANE. “Your dad said you’d be here. What the fuck are you doing, Ripp?” I asked. Ripp sat on the edge of the little merry-goround and swung his feet like a child. Seeing him sit on the edge of the ride made him look like a giant, and the ride a toy. I looked around the park, and sat down beside him. “Make her go, Dekk,” he smiled over his right shoulder. “You alright?” I asked as I pressed my feet into the dirt below. He looked over his shoulder again, “Yep. I’m good, bro.” “Your pop said you used to come here when you were a kid,” I said as the ride gained a little speed. “Yep, used to run up here before my bath,

naked. I hated taking a bath. I thought it was wasted time. Never understood what sittin’ in the tub of water provided. They’d get me naked and walk out of the bathroom, and I’d put on my Chuck’s and run up here and play. This ride’s been here for twenty five years or better. Just thinkin’ I want it to be here for twenty five more,” he said. “Well, maybe it will. So what’s going on?” I asked. “Nothin’, just relaxin’,” he responded as the ride slowed down. I pressed my feet into the dirt again and shifted my weight to the side, causing us to go the other direction. When I was a child, I used to beg my grandfather to take me to the beach. My father never really wanted to spend time there, and all but refused to take me. When I visited my grandfather, on the other hand, it was a much different story. He enjoyed time at the beach and sometimes even volunteered to take me there. Once, when I was probably around ten years old, we went to the beach with a small surfboard. He told me he was going to teach me to surf. On the trip to the beach, I was excited at the thought of him showing me how to surf. I expected him having spent his entire life in southern California would have made him an avid surfer, and he’d teach me the tricks of the trade. When we got to the beach, I

learned the awful truth. “How do you make it go,” I asked. “You don’t. The waves do,” he told me. “How do I hold it up?” I asked as I looked down at the wooden board. “You don’t,” he responded, “the waves do.” “What do I do?” I asked. “You enjoy yourself. Become one with the sea,” he responded. “Have you ever done it?” I asked. “No son, I haven’t,” he smiled. “How are you going to teach me?” I asked. “I’m not, Shane. I can’t teach you to find peace, but I can point you in the right direction. I know it exists, and it exists right here,” he pointed out toward the breakers. “There’s magic out there, son. Go find some.” “But…” I began to hesitate, wondering just what to do. “But nothing. Grab the board and do what they’re doing,” he said, pointing to all of the other surfers on the beach. The people surfing on that particular day ranged in age from around six years old to about seventy. In watching them, it looked easy. I carried the board to the beach, looking over my shoulder at my grandfather as I walked closer to the water’s edge. Each time I looked back, he waved. I carried the board to the water and waded out until I was in

waist deep. As I climbed up onto the board, I began to feel free. Although I was laying down on my stomach and paddling out into the ocean, I felt as if nothing else mattered. Without indicating my lack of experience, I watched the boy beside me, and did what he did. I have no idea of the length of time it typically took someone to learn to surf, or how many tries it took most of the surfers to finally get up on a board, but I knew how many it took me. One. Shaky legged, I rode my first wave onto the beach and into my grandfather’s applause. Quickly, I returned to the water, and repeated the process. After an afternoon of surfing, I felt as if I had really accomplished something. The ocean provided me a form of confidence, relaxation and comfort. As my grandfather said, there’s magic out there. And I had found it. As I grew older, I found the same magic in riding a motorcycle. Something about being on the road with a motorcycle between my legs was refreshing. Confidence, relaxation, and comfort were commonly found with each small trip I took. After my first year of riding, it was difficult to get me into any form of a conventional vehicle. It really never rains in southern California, but when it did, I never stopped riding. To me, riding in the rain was as relaxing as a bath. Both surfing and riding provided me a deep

relaxation. “What you thinkin’ about, Dekk?” Ripp speaking brought me out of the dream like state I was in. “Nothing, just relaxing,” I responded. Ripp flipped his legs from side-to-side and forced the merry-go-round into a spin. As we turned around in circles, I watched the park pass by with each rotation. I propped my feet on the edge of the metal disc and raised my hands in the air. As the ride spun in circles, I closed my eyes and once again found magic – from a child’s toy in the park. As the ride spun in circles, I opened my eyes slightly and looked through the slits at the blurry trees and swing sets as they passed. For a moment, I became a child again. With my eyes still closed and my hands raised high in the air, I said all I could think to say. “Faster….faster…”

28

SHANE. Having friends is one thing. Having friends and actually enjoying spending time around them is another. I’ve often asked myself, who wouldn’t enjoy an afternoon at the bar with Mike Ripton? He’s a one-of-a-kind individual, and I wouldn’t trade him for the world. Standing beside the table, Ripp stood with a beer in one hand, and the other acting as if he were pushing a swing, “So, I push the swing forward, and he just farts like a fucking elephant.” “And I step back, because the swing is stirring this funk up and swinging it into my face. And Vee screams, Michael, don’t abandon him there,” he said as he waved his free hand in front of his nose. “So, I step back into the war zone and pull his stinking little ass from the swing. Now, I’m a pretty god damned good babysitter if I do say so myself.

So I lay this little fucker down, and I…” “I have a question,” A-Train interrupted as he raised his hand in the air. “What ya got, bro?” Ripp asked. “Do you cuss like this in front of the kids?” ATrain laughed. “Oh, hell no. So, let me see. Yeah, I lay this little fucker down, and I pull down his diaper in the back and look down in there. And nothing! He didn’t shit, he didn’t shart, he didn’t piss, nothing. He just farted. Could have cleared the stadium at the football game, I guarantee ya,” he said as he raised his beer and took another drink. “Well, I’m sure Jessie’s farts stink like hell,” I laughed. “Nope. Can’t even smell ‘em. I tell you what, that little girl has an ass smells like roses,” Ripp nodded his head as he spoke. “You puked hot dogs on her because she smelled so bad,” A-Train shouted. “When she was little. Now that she’s grown up she doesn’t. Not like that fuckin’ Casey,” Ripp chuckled. “Hey…” I said. Ripp nodded his head again, “It’s true.” “And grown up? She isn’t grown up, she’s eight months old,” I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I reached for my glass of water. “Well, she’s sort of grown up,” Ripp smiled.

“I suppose,” I agreed. “Okay, so there’s more,” Ripp paused and placed his beer bottle on the table in front of where he stood. “Ripp…” I pleaded. “Shut up, Dekk. I got this,” he laughed. “Okay, you listenin’ Train?” Ripp asked. A-Train nodded his head, “Both ears.” “Okay, so we get done at the park, and we load up the kids. Vee and I stop at the liquor store and get a bottle of wine because we’re going to get our fuck on later in the night. You know – like married folk do – when the kids are in bed asleep,” he turned toward me and raised one eyebrow. “So I get the wine and toss it in the back, and we take off for Dekk’s place to drop off the stinkin’ kid,” he paused and reached for his beer. “And we pull up in the drive and Vee pushes the door opener Dekk gave us. The door starts opening, and I see socks. Nothin’ but white god damned socks,” he tipped his beer and took a sip. A-Train turned toward me momentarily, as if wondering what was next. Ripp lowered his bottle and began the story again, excitedly, “So the door keeps coming up, and I see ass. White ass. And then I see white ass running. And then, I see it all. A naked assed Shane Dekkar, running for the garage door opener, with a fucking knife in his hand,” Ripp paused for effect.

“Naked?” A-Train asked. “As the day he was fuckin’ born. Plus socks,” Ripp nodded. A-Train turned toward me, “With a knife in his hand?” “Yep, a big fucker,” Ripp responded. A-Train shook his head and turned toward Ripp, “Please continue.” “Well, so then he just turns around. Mr. World Champion isn’t scared of shit with his fifty million dollars and I ain’t never got to work again so fuck the world and every poor no money havin’ ass in it. He turns the fuck around,” Ripp hesitated and thrust his hips in the air and held them there. “So now,” Ripp looked down at his crotch. “I got Shane Dekkar naked with about ten inches of half-hard cock swinging between his legs,” Ripp looked up from his crotch and raised both eyebrows. “Oh shit, say it ain’t so,” A-Train laughed. “It’s so, brother. Wait it gets even better,” Ripp chuckled. “So Vee screams. Like she’s been shot. Screams and covers her eyes. But she’s driving, ‘cause we got the kids, and they’re too young for the Chevelle. So she opens ‘em. And Dekk just walks across the garage. And that’s when I see it,” Ripp raised his beer to his mouth again and finished what was left in the bottle.

“Well, what was it? Was he skinnin’ a deer?” ATrain laughed, “Naked?” “Nope. It was Kace. She’s in the back of the truck. In the fuckin’ bed, naked as fuck. Arms and legs tied up. All strung out. Tits and twat and ass everywhere. All spread eagle and shit,” Ripp turned to face me and shook his head as he spread his arms as wide as he could. A-Train turned to face me, “What the fuck, Brother?” “It wasn’t like that,” I said, shaking my head. “Well?” he asked. “Ripp and Vee got the kids, and Kace and I fucked in the garage. Eventually, we ended up in the bed of the truck and I tied her up, I was getting ready to cut her loose and the door opened. There wasn’t anything I could do,” I shrugged. “Hmmm,” A-Train said as he rubbed his chin with his hand. “Explains the knife, I suppose. Why the socks?” he asked. I shrugged again, “Not really sure. Kace wanted me to wear them.” “Okay. And if you got an empty house, why were you fucking in the bed of your truck?” I shrugged again, “Not sure. It just happened.” “Everything I said is true, A-Train. Naked assed motherfucker had a knife in his hand and stood there with his cock swinging in the breeze,” Ripp

said as he waved to the waitress. “Oh, I believe you. I’m just trying to find out why,” A-Train said as he continued to rub his chin and stare at me. “Hard sayin, A-Train. Rich fuckers do weird shit,” Ripp responded as the waitress dropped off our beers. “Here you go, Mr. Ripton,” the waitress said. Ripp nodded his head and smiled at the waitress. As I looked up at the new sign dangling from the upper canopy, I smiled. Ripp has never had anything in his life. Always struggling to get by, and barely making ends meet. It seemed only fitting, considering the amount of time and money he spent here. The sign was simple. I glanced up at it again. “Ripp’s” A-Train caught my eye, and glanced up toward the sign as well. “They damn sure do,” he nodded. They damn sure do.

29

A-TRAIN. Brotherhood between friends is an interesting thing. I have always felt my brothers in the motorcycle club had become as close to me as I could ever be with another man. I must admit, I was wrong. Shane and Ripp are brothers to me and they always will be. They’re the type of brothers you’ll sacrifice everything for. I love them with all of the heart I have left to love with. Kelsey is almost like a father to me. No longer than I have known him, he has proven to be as solid of a man as I have ever met. He’s got a temper and one hell of a smart mouth, but he’s earned his spot on this earth; and I respect him, his age and his experiences. My time here in Austin has been pleasurable enough I now call this place my home. There’s been some discussion on beginning another chapter

of the MC here, but I have no idea if it will ever actually happen. For now, I’ll just continue to do what it is I need to do to survive. Breathe in, breathe out, and not kill anyone between breaths. I reached down to pick up Casey, “Listen up, little man.” As I raised his face to mine, he smiled. Seeing a baby smile is one of the best things a man can see. You know it’s genuine. Babies are about as honest as a human being can be. Babies don’t bullshit you and tell you what you want to hear. Babies are straight up honest. And a smiling baby is a happy baby. “Your old man is a good fella, you hear me?” “He’s a good solid man, so you make him proud of you as you learn from him, you understand?” He laughed again as I held him over my shoulders. Seeing him smile allowed me to forget all of the bad on and in this earth we live in. Watching him causes me to have faith God is surely looking down on all of our lives with a little mercy and compassion. This kid was damned good for me. “That’s what I thought. I knew the minute you were born you’d be a good listener. You see, we grow up a product of our environment. Violence breeds violence, and a loving family teaches compassionate behavior. Your parents are as good as gold. They love you. And Ripp and I love you,

little man. You need to know if you ever want someone to just kick it with you can always come to uncle A-Train. Remember that. I’ll keep telling you, just in case your little baby brain forgets. But I’ll be here for you, little man. Always.” “You see, my old man was a pretty good dude, but he didn’t so much care for kids. Me? I’m different. I like little fellas like you. One of these days, I just might have to have one of my own. Maybe make a little brother for you. Some might call him a cousin, but that’s not the case. Are you paying attention to me, kid-o?” He giggled, opened his mouth, and released a little bit of baby slobber. As I wiped his lips off, his eyes attempted to follow my finger, but he soon lost focus. “We’ll need to work on that, wont we?” I moved my finger back and forth in front of his face slowly. As I did, his eyes followed it for the entire time. “That’s better. We’ll tell your old man when he gets home you’re going to be a good baseball player. He’ll be excited. You’ll just have to remember; always keep your eye on the ball, little man.” He grinned and spit out a little of his lunch. After I wiped his face, we got back to our discussion. “Brothers are brothers, and don’t ever let

anyone tell you differently. Your aunt Katie and I might just make you a little brother or sister someday. If she’ll marry me, that is. I asked her father for permission, and he gave me the go ahead. I just need to make sure I’m ready for everything.” I heard the garage door open as we finished talking about the possible marriage proposal. Dekk and Shorty had returned from the movie. “Keep that marriage stuff quiet little man. Got it?” “Right here,” I said as I held my clenched fist out, “pound it.” Babies invariably have clenched fists. Further proof they’re always ready to make a promise and have every intention of keeping it. As I pounded his fist, he laughed. “I know, the thought of it makes me giggle too,” I grinned. As I carefully placed Casey into his swing, I wiped his mouth one last time and kissed his cheek. “We don’t want your folks thinking I held you the entire time they were gone, so keep that quiet too.” Filled with gratitude and appreciation for everything Casey provided me, I bowed my head and closed my eyes. If you let me make Katie a part of my life, I’ll make you proud Lord. I certainly will.

30

SHANE. “There’s only one of us who doesn’t drink and it’s you Shane. It’s gotta be you,” Kace pleaded. “Dude,” Ripp burped loudly, “I’m drunker than a motherfucker; I can’t drive.” “Are you telling me there isn’t one in this entire house? Not one? Anywhere?” I asked. She shook her head. I turned toward Vee, “Is this a joke?” “I don’t joke, so no. I don’t have one. I’m sorry, I’m drunk. Too drunk . We shouldn’t have had all the wine earlier,” Vee responded. “I swear,” I sighed. “And you probably ought to take my car and the kids. They’re still awake, and there are two car seats in the back,” Vee said as she reached into her purse.

I turned to face Kace and shrugged my shoulders, “Babe?” “I’m sorry Shane. She’s,” she covered her mouth and appeared to almost vomit. “I almost barfed,” Kace giggled. I shook my head. “I did. A little bit came up, but I swallowed it,” she laughed. And everyone began to laugh. Everyone except me. “I’m sorry Shane. You should take the kids. We have no business watching them, we’re drunk. It snuck up on me,” Kace giggled. I shook my head and took the keys from Vee’s hand. Taking the kids for fifteen minutes was no big deal to me. Taking the kids to get tampons was a big deal. I didn’t really want to be seen in the store with a box of tampons. The condition of Ripp, Vee, and Kace was nothing short of awful. What started as a Dallas Cowboys football game on the television ended up being a drunken catastrophe. “Fine, I’ll go. You coming?” I asked Ripp. “Fuck yeah, I’ll go. But I ain’t carryin’ them fuckers to the register,” he laughed as he bent over to pick up Jessie. I walked to where Casey was on the floor. After picking him up and Kissing Kace, we walked out to Vee’s SUV and started our trip to the CVS Pharmacy down the street. As I pulled up to the

parking stall, I realized I knew absolutely nothing about buying tampons. I also realized I left in such a hurry, I forgot my phone. As Ripp and I walked into the store, he immediately started being Ripp. “Hey where’s the…”he screamed. Before he finished speaking, I swung my arm his direction and punched him in the stomach. “Dude, that was unnecessary,” he howled as he grabbed his stomach. “Just follow me, I know where this stuff is, kind of,” I said as I raised Casey up far enough to rest him on my chest. As we walked up to the tampon display, Ripp stared at the selection. “Dude, they’ve got big and small. Shit, Does Kace have a big or small pussy,” Ripp asked. “Ripp, shut the fuck up,” I snapped. “Well, they do. Look at em. Light, Regular, and Super. So they’re big, medium and small. Look in the little window,” he said as he poked his finger into the cellophane on the side of the box. “Well, shit,” I sighed. “Just get one of each,” he shrugged. “If I take home Super’s, and she doesn’t use Super’s, she’s going to be pissed. She’ll accuse me of not knowing what size pussy she’s got,” I said, frustrated at the fact they all weren’t the same size. “Well, she’s tiny. Does she have a tiny pussy?”

Ripp asked as he stared at the boxes, holding his finger to the box to compare the size of the tampon to the size of his finger. “Ripp…” “Ain’t none of these fuckers as big as a man’s cock, dude. Hell if she can fit your cock inside of her twat, she can shove any of these fuckers in there. Maybe all at once, huh?” “Damn it, Ripp,” I growled. “Well, I’m just saying. Dude, you’re hung like a mule. Maybe she doesn’t want to shove a big tampon in her little twat, hell I don’t know,” he hesitated and picked up a box and shook it as he looked at it. “Maybe it’s supposed to be a pleasurable thing. You know, like a dildo. Vee’s got a dildo as big as a horse cock. Amazes me. But…” “Ripp!” He placed the box of tampons back on the shelf and shrugged, “Sorry bro. I’m just drunk.” I stared at the boxes and tried to decide what to do. The smart choice was to get the light ones, and claim she had a tiny pussy. No girl wants to hear she has a big pussy, no matter what. If nothing else, she could use two. I grabbed the box and turned to walk toward the register. “You getting’ the little guys?” Ripp asked as he ran to catch up with me. “Yes,” I responded sharply.

“Good choice. It’s what I would have done,” he said as he adjusted Jessie on his arm. I placed the tampons on the counter in front of the clerk. She appeared to be 18 years old or so. As she looked down at the tampons, she smiled. As she looked up, she smiled even more. “You’re the boxer. Dekkar,” she giggled. I nodded my head. “My dad is a huge huge fan,” she smiled. “Tell him I said thank you,” I smiled as I reached for my wallet. “Would you consider signing something for him, he’d just die if you did. Say maybe like, uhhm, the receipt?” she asked. “Sure,” I shrugged. She rang up the tampons, and dropped them into a small plastic bag. “That’s $7.32,” she smiled. I handed her a ten dollar bill and waited for my change. “Hey, not to be personal, but do girls like having big tampons in there or little ones, generally speaking?” Ripp asked. “Ripp!” I shouted as I turned toward him and gave my best scowl. “It’s okay. You’ve never bought them before?” she asked. We both shook our heads. Ripp pulled the box from the sack and held it up in front of the clerk.

“He got her the little guys. His girl is small, like you. She’s maybe a buck and a nickel,” Ripp said as he looked my direction and shrugged. I nodded my head sheepishly. “Well,” she began. “The Light, Medium, and Super have to do with menstrual flow, not size,” she whispered. “But they’re different sizes,” Ripp explained as he once again poked the box with his finger. “The large ones are more absorbent. The smaller ones less,” she smiled. “Shit, Dekk, you learn something new every day,” Ripp grinned as he dropped the box into the bag. “Here’s your change,” she smiled as she handed me my change from the purchase. I reached for the pen which sat beside her register and pulled the receipt from the slot in front. After I signed my name, I handed it to her and smiled. “Tell your father I appreciate the support,” I said as I picked up the bag. “Okay, thanks,” she grinned. As we walked out to the truck, I shook my head, “I’m glad no one saw that.” “Why?” Ripp asked as he began to walk around the vehicle. “Well, it’s embarrassing. I’m just glad no one knows,” I said as I unlocked the car.

I opened the rear door and placed Casey into his seat. As I buckled the seat belt, Ripp stared across the width of the vehicle as he buckled Jessie. “Yeah no one but her dad, your biggest fan,” he laughed. What?” I asked. “Dude, you just signed a receipt for her dad. It’s gonna say seven dollars and whatever cents. And on the side it’s gonna give a description of what you bought. Small Tampax,” he laughed. Sometimes it is as if we can’t win when it comes to women. Other times, it’s as if we can’t lose. As I began to back out of the parking spot, I turned and looked through the interior of the vehicle and out the rear window. As I did, Casey smiled and attempted his best version of speaking. Every day, he seemed to change a little more. Become a little more able and a little more mature. But, no matter what, he’s our son and he’s incredible. I guess, all things considered, I’d have to view myself a clear winner.

31

KACE. When my period finally ends, I am a horny mess. Generally speaking, seeing Shane walk around the house half dressed in jeans, socks, and a wife beater is sometimes more than I can handle. As soon as my period is over, it’s definitely more than I can handle. “Pull ‘em down,” I demanded. “Kace, he’s going to wake up,” Shane complained. “He just went down for a nap, pull ‘em down,” I said as I reached for his belt. “Kace…” “I want to suck your cock,” I whispered as I pulled his belt loose. “Kace, he’s going to…” “He can’t get up and walk in here, so, shut it, Shane. You don’t like it when I suck your cock?” I

asked as I got down on my knees and pulled down on the waist of his jeans. “I love it when you suck my cock, babe,” he responded as he turned and looked around the room. “Look down here,” I said as I pulled his half hard cock out of his boxer’s. “Babe, you know I can’t do that. It drives me crazy,” he whined. If I ever wanted Shane to fuck me, all I had to do was start sucking his cock. I loved sucking his cock anyway, but he couldn’t stand it for very long. He says it feels too good. Most of the time, he makes it for about five minutes, and he pulls out of my mouth and starts fucking me really good. The problem, if you can call it one, is he only lasts for about fifteen minutes if I suck his cock first. I love it. Seeing him enjoy something I can do or provide makes me happy. And wet. I admired his thick cock and opened my mouth. As I began to suck it, I pressed it into my mouth until it would go no further. As I slid my mouth up and down the shaft, he tossed his shirt on the floor, and kicked his jeans to the side. God, I love seeing you naked. I glanced up toward his face as I slid his cock in and out of my mouth. He was looking toward the living room, trying not to pay attention. I slid my

mouth down the shaft and licked the tip of his cock and stared upward. “Say it,” I said as I licked the tip of his cock. “Kace…” “Say it,” I licked the tip again. “Kace, I don’t…” “You know you want to feel it in my mouth. Deep in my little throat. Say it,” I smiled. “Suck my cock, you little slut,” he growled as he turned his gaze downward. “I said suck it,” he demanded as he grabbed my hair in his hand. There we go. Instantly. Wet. I’ve always thought there was something wrong with me. The things that I desired sexually made me question if I was some type of sexual circus freak. After reading all of the erotica books on my Kindle, I realize I am not the only one out there with these desires. I’m not abnormal, and having certain sexual desires or wants is normal. No matter how weird they may seem to someone else, as long as it’s with the man I love, it’s healthy. And it makes me cum. Hard. “Suck that fucking cock, you little whore,” he said through his teeth as he pulled my hair backward and pushed his cock deeper into my

throat. I felt my wetness begin to literally run down my thigh. Hearing him talk like this, and knowing subconsciously he truly loved me was more than I could take. I may not last the fifteen minutes he normally lasts if he keeps this up for much longer. He pulled backward on my hair sharply, and pulled his cock from my mouth. The pain on the back of my scalp tingled as I looked up. What did I do wrong? Standing over me with his cock in his hand, he slowly stroked it. I looked up into his eyes and waited. He shook his head slowly and shoved his cock back into my mouth. As he held my hair, pressing my head into his cock, I did my best to please him. “Suck it,” he grunted. “Suck that big fat cock.” “You want me to fuck you? You want to feel that big fucker in that little wet pussy of yours?” he asked. His cock still in my mouth, I looked up and nodded my head. I felt sharp pain on the back of my head as he pulled my hair and stepped back from where he stood. “Pull your shorts down, you little cocksucker,” he demanded. I reached under my dress and fumbled to find my panties. As I eagerly pushed them to mid-thigh,

he reached under my dress and yanked them harshly, breaking them from my thighs. He held the torn panties in his hand and turned me around to face the sofa. “Bend your little ass over and spread your butt cheeks,” he said as he pressed his free hand into my upper back. Oh god yes. I bent over the arm of the couch and reached back and spread my lower butt with my fingertips. He dropped the torn panties on the cushion below me and grabbed my waist. As I felt him begin to fill my pussy with his thick cock, I bit my lip and waited. As his hands gripped my waist, he began to find his rhythm and fuck me forcefully. His hips slapping against me ass made a sound I loved to hear. As I closed my eyes and focused on the sound of our skin slapping together, I began to feel myself come to climax. “Oh god. Fuck me Shane” Never stop fucking me. As I began to cum, he must have sensed it, or felt my pussy contracting. He says he can feel it on his cock. I looked down as I felt his hand under my stomach. As he began to rub my clit, he continued to pound away at fucking my pussy hard. My body filled with a tingling feeling from my boobs to my pussy. As he continued to shove his

cock in and out of me, I bit my lip and groaned. “Shane…” I buried my face into the pillow on the arm of the couch and groaned into it as I came harder than I can remember in many months. As I came he continued to pound away and finger my clit. Electricity shot through my entire body as his finger ticked my swollen clit. After a few strokes, I felt myself begin to climax again. Suddenly, he hoisted me from the couch and turned me to face him. Heaving for my next breath, I stared at him, wondering what was next. Sexually, I was Shane’s. I’m always Shane’s. Standing in front of me with a stiff cock and an eight pack of abs, he reached under my armpits and picked me up from the floor. As he raised me from my feet, I watched the muscles on his biceps flare. Seeing him in this type of physical condition was enough in itself to make me wet. After three or four steps, my back was to the wall. After lowering me to the floor, he reached down and grasped my upper thighs in each hand. As he picked me from the floor, I bent my legs at the knees. My back now against the wall, he held me suspended from the floor, and shoved his cock deep inside of me. I closed my eyes as my back and head banged against the wall with each stroke. “I love fucking you,” he grunted. “I love being…”

“Fucked by…” “You,” I heaved. His hips slapped against my upper thighs as he forced me into the wall. With each stroke, my head banged against the wall, reminding me just who was in charge of what we were doing. Something about being held in the air and having him fuck me made me feel as if I was truly his. Shane Dekkar’s little slut. For a few more minutes. Two or so minutes into the pounding against the wall, I was done. My throbbing pussy began to tingle and felt as if it were swelling. As he continued to thrust himself in and out of me, I wrapped my legs around his waist and began to scream. “Cum, Shane. Cum for me. Fill me with your cum,” I screamed as he pounded me against the wall. My breathing started to sound labored. “Kace…” “No, do it. Cum in me. Cum with me. You feel that?” “You feel my pussy?” I fought for my next breath, “I’m going to…” “Cum,” I breathed against his ear. His hot breath against my neck, he responded, “Kace, I’m going…” “To…”

I felt his cock swell inside of me. His swollen balls were pounding against the skin directly under my pussy with each stroke. The sensation was more than I could stand. As I began to cum, I clenched my teeth and growled into his shoulder. As I continued to climax, he bit my earlobe and growled a hot breath into my ear. “I fucking love you,” he grunted as I felt him fill me with cum. Arching his back, he closed his eyes and growled as he came. I opened and closed my eyes as I came repeatedly. As he opened his eyes and looked down into my eyes, he smiled. God I love this man. “I love you Kace,” he said as he lowered me to the floor. “I love you,” I said as I held my cupped hand between my legs. “Well, go,” he laughed as he pointed to the bathroom, “we don’t need that shit all over the floor.” As I walked like a crab toward the bathroom, Casey began to cry. “Get him up, will you?” I asked over my shoulder. Shane stood beside the wall, naked, looking down at his half hard cock. As he heard me, he smiled and began walking toward the other side of the living room.

“Get dressed first,” I shouted. He stopped and turned to the pile of clothes on the floor. As if he’d forgotten he was naked, he sighed and walked toward the pile and reached for his jeans. There are things about being a parent we both don’t know yet. Some things we know, but we’re just not used to. Overall, we’re really good parents. As I watched Shane’s reflection walk past in the mirror, I smiled. Shane Dekkar. My husband. My lover. My best friend. And the father of our crying baby. Perfection defined.

32

SHANE. Most people have always considered me to be frugal or stingy. I may have appeared to be so, but I really had more concerns with not being able to provide for my loved ones, myself, or my potential children. I felt any money I spent now would be money I wouldn’t have later. In the past, these thought processes prevented me from spending much money if I didn’t feel it was completely necessary. Now that things have changed, I look at life, money, and spending much differently. Taking a breather from boxing, and hoping for a worthy opponent, I decided to take a step in the direction of what it was I wanted to do for the rest of my life. Train other boxer’s to be like me. “Keep those elbows tucked, or you’re going to have a broken rib,” I shouted.

Unable to respond with the mouthpiece in his mouth, he nodded his head. “So,” A-Train asked as he held the bottom rope. “He’s come a long way,” I responded. “Kid might just have some serious talent. He’ll have to learn to control his mouth,” I shrugged. “We’ll work on that. I like the kid, Dekk. He’s a good kid,” A-Train smiled as he looked into the ring. I nodded my head toward A-Train and turned to the ring, “Stay in close, kid. Use that speed. Don’t let him lure you like that.” “Damn, Dekk, you’re going to scare him, you keep shouting at him like that,” A-Train laughed. “He needs shouted at,” I half whispered. “That’s it, in close. Use! Your! Hand speed!” He unleashed a ferocious combination, and worked his way up his opponent’s face, ending with what would have been a wild left uppercut, had it not connected. But it did. His opponent dropped to the mat like he’d died. “Damn, he dropped that guy like a bad habit,” A-Train whistled. “Sure did,” I agreed. “Help him up kid. Always be a sportsman, never a prick,” I shouted. As he bent over the man got up on one knee and shook his head from side to side. He was done.

The uppercut was rather poorly executed, but landed perfectly. The end result was a semiunconscious man on the mat who had no intent of continuing to fight. “Anyone want to give my guy a whirl?” I screamed into the gym. Slowly, a new face walked up on my left side. Tall, muscular, and tattooed he walked to the edge of the ring and ducked under the ropes. Since my winning the championship, the ring had been overcrowded and overrun with people wanting to join the gym and utilize the services of Kelsey and myself. The gym was small, run down and barely had room in it for the fighters who had been here for years, let alone any more. Kelsey and Joe did the best they could and attempted to accommodate everyone, but it was becoming tough for us all. “What’s the ribbon mean on his arm?” I asked, recognizing it as a military marking. “Airborne. Ranger. Appears to be an Army Special Forces boy,” A-Train nodded. I raised my eyebrows, “Should I get him out of there?” “Don’t underestimate the kid, Dekk. He tries harder than you think,” A-Train responded as he pulled on the lower rope. “Better listen this time, kid. We got a ringer in here,” A-Train shouted. “Alright touch ‘em up. And keep it clean,” I

hollered. The Ranger immediately swung a wild left uppercut which missed by a fraction of an inch. As that punch was on the upswing, he swung a right hook which immediately followed a nano-second behind, connecting with the upper ribcage. “Oh shit, that hurt,” A-Train winced. “Sure did. Oh hell, look at him,” I laughed. After absorbing the hook, he stepped in and began working the body of the Ranger. As the Ranger got tired, and it didn’t take long, he loosened his elbows, and held his arms loosely at his sides. “Ribs, kid, Get. Those. Ribs,” I screamed, knowing both fighters could clearly hear me. He swung a hard right hook into the ribs of the Ranger. Immediately, he folded up in pain. Although I considered stopping the fight, he appeared to want to continue. Almost certain a rib had been broken, I waited for him to give the signal to stop the fight. “You realize the Ranger won’t give up, right?” A-Train asked softly. “Why?” I asked. “Rangers lead the way,” he smiled. I shrugged, “I don’t get it.” “Pride, Dekk. Pride,” he responded. “Should I stop it?” I asked. “Nope,” he smiled.

As I turned toward the ring again, Kelsey walked up to my left side. “How’s he doing?” he asked. “He’s good, old man. He really is. Kind of a wild man, but overall he’s good.” “Like someone else I know,” Kelsey smiled. “Me?” I asked. “No, The Ripper. He’s like a skinnier version of The Ripper,” Kelsey grinned. “Stay in close you skinny little fucker. And hit him on the shove off with a hard right jab,” Kelsey screamed. “I swear, are you training this kid, or talking to your favorite jarhead?” Kelsey asked as he slapped A-Train on the arm. “Well, I’m training…” Holy shit! After a series of body shots, the Ranger shoved the kid off of him. As soon as he did, the kid swung a hard right jab, which connected directly with the Ranger’s chin. The Ranger immediately fell to the mat, unconscious. “Grab the smelling salts for this one, Dekk. He went down hard,” A-Train said as he pulled the rope up and stepped into the ring. “You dumb fucking jarhead, what did I tell you about getting in my ring with those street shoes on?” Kelsey screamed. “Shut up old man,” A-Train said as he looked

up from the Ranger who lay unconscious on the mat. Kelsey turned to me and smiled, “Alec’s a damned good man, kid.” “I know he is, boss,” I responded. At A-Train’s request, I never told anyone he came to get me when I ran away from Kace and my problems digesting everything. He asked that I simply act as if I decided on my own to come home. I’ve never met anyone as humble as he is. He wants no recognition, and cares for no praise. All he wants is to find a way to leave the war behind. Slowly, I see progress in him every day. Casey has been a great asset to building A-Train’s confidence in being able to become human again. In time, I’m sure he’ll be whoever he was before the war started. Whoever that person may be. “Get a shower, kid,” I hollered into the ring. “We’re gonna have to do something before long, kid. This gym’s overrun with people I don’t even know. Joe and I are turning people away. It’s a sad sight. Never thought I’d see this day. You know I hate to turn anyone away. This has always been a sport for the kids who might end up somewhere terrible if they didn’t have it – a place to let off steam. We might have to increase our hours,” he sighed. “You’re already here to what, 11:00?” I asked.

“Yep, close at 10:00, here ‘till 10:30 or 11:00 most nights,” he nodded. “Want to go to lunch and talk?” I asked. He shrugged his shoulders, “Sandwich at the Italian joint?” “Sounds good,” I smiled. “And one other thing,” he grinned. “Name it,” I responded. “Damn it, Kid. Stop calling him kid. You know how it pissed you off. Call him by his name,” he grinned sarcastically. “Austin!” I hollered across the gym. “Yeah, boss?” he hollered back. “Good couple of fights, kid. I’m going to lunch. Be back in an hour,” I shouted into the ring. “Alright. I’ll just hang out here,” he screamed. As the Ranger finally stood up and leaned against A-Train, Kelsey and I turned and walked toward the door. “Kid, I remember the day you rode that damned bike here from Compton. I thought you were one arrogant little fucker. You knocked The Ripper on his ass, and had me wondering if you had talent or if you were just a lucky fucker. After a few fights, I knew if you’d stick with it, you could go the distance. Never knew what it’d be like if we made it, though. Gotta tell ya kid, my life has come full circle; sure has. And I thank you,” he nodded. I nodded my head once in return.

Your life hasn’t gone full circle yet, old man. Just wait.

33

SHANE. “So, do you remember where they were building that car dealership over by the barbeque joint” I asked as I got off the exit at Grand Avenue Parkway. “I thought we were getting a sandwich? Barbeque will upset my old stomach,” Kelsey muttered as he looked out the window. “We are, I just want to show you this building,” I said as I waited at the traffic light. “Why, you buy a car dealership?” he laughed. I shook my head, “No old man, I didn’t buy a dealership.” “You know, I been here so damned long I can remember when this area was a pasture. Now, Austin doesn’t end for ten more miles. It’s sad and exciting both, kid,” Kelsey said as he looked out the window of my truck.

“I suppose it is,” I nodded as I accelerated through the traffic light. “You suppose you’ll stay here, kid?” he asked. “What do you mean?” I asked. “You know, now that you’re famous and all. You going to up and leave us? Maybe go to Vegas or Los Angeles or New York?” he asked, still looking out the window. “Hell no, old man. I’m here to stay. I’ll die here. This is the only home I’ve got. You’re stuck with me,” I smiled. He turned to face me and smiled, “I like hearing that. I like you kid, I really do. Like to see you keep fighting, you’re young. And you’re not at your prime, that’s for sure,” he said as he turned back to look at the window. “Well, as long as your old ass will keep training me, I may just keep fighting. We’ll see. A few more fights anyway,” I said as I turned onto Picadilly Drive. “Well, I figure I got another fifteen or twenty in me. If that damned gym don’t cause me a heart attack. Turning them poor kids away kills me, kid. The damned stress, I hate it. Boxing’s been my life, it’s all I know. I’ve hoped for a lifetime it’d turn into what it is now. I always wanted to help as many kids as I could, but we never drew the crowds. Now I’m old, and you came along and fucked up my little slow moving life. I got to tell

you, kid, I like it,” He turned from the window and smiled as I pulled into the drive of the building. “Hey old man?” I said. “Turn to your right,” I smiled as I looked out the window toward the building. “Well, what have we here? Kidd’s Gym and Training Center? When did they build this? Damn, that’s a doozy, son. Good god damn, probably fit about twelve rings in that big son-of-a-bitch,” he said as he opened the truck door and stared at the side of the building. Fourteen, to be exact. He stepped out into the parking lot and admired the building. I turned off the engine and got out of the truck and began walking around to where he stood. “Hell, it don’t look like they opened her up yet. Wonder who this is? Probably that fucking Duncan from San Antonio. Son-of-a-bitch has pockets as deep as the Grand Canyon, the fucking bastard. Never cared much for that pretentious prick,” he mumbled as he walked toward the building. “See how they got the front of her all covered in glass? I like that,” he said as he waved his hands toward the front of the building. “Our gym is like a damned dungeon. Maybe I can get Joe to knock a hole in one of those walls and add a window someday,” he said as he continued to slowly walk toward the building.

“Hell, look kid, they got the parking stalls marked up there on the side, with them damned signs,” he said as he turned and began walking toward the sign immediately next to the front door. A red and white steel sign was permanently affixed on the side of the building by the parking stall closest to the door. As he got closer to the building, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his glasses. “Let’s see what we got here,” he said as he looked down and rested his glasses on his nose. He looked up toward the sign, “Well, it says…” “Kid?” he reached up and removed his glasses. “Yeah, boss,” I responded. “God damn it, Kid,” he said, his voice filled with emotion. “What is it boss? Read me the damned sign,” I chuckled. “Says Be Kelsey,” he reached up and wiped his eyes, “Or Be Gone.” It was the least I could do. “What about the one beside it?” I hollered. He walked closer to the building and looked at the exterior wall. “If Your Name Isn’t Joe,” he turned to face me, “Back The Hell Up.” “But the sign. The big one, it says Kidd’s,” he said as he turned around and shrugged his shoulders.

His hands were shaking, and he looked as if he was in shock. “What do you call me?” I asked. “Well, I call you kid, kid,” he responded. As he spoke, it was as if he finally realized what had happened. “It’s your gym, boss. Yours and Joe’s. That’s final. But here’s the deal. My name’s on the wall. Just didn’t look right with one “D”,” I laughed. “Kid, this is just…” he turned toward the building and stared. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a keychain with the keys to the building on it. “Old man?” “Yeah, kid,” he said as he turned around. I tossed him the keys. “You’ll need those to get in. There’s ten rings, lockers, all the gear, everything. I figured we’d bring the raggedy rings from the old gym. Make it a little more personal,” I smiled. He caught the keys and nodded his head. “Yep. Well get those old raggedy rings in here, that’s for sure. One of ‘em at least is kind of a sentimental thing for me,” he said as he looked down at the key ring. “Why’s that?” I asked. “Met my best fighter in one of ‘em. His name’s Shane Dekkar. I don’t call him that, though. I call him Kidd. With two D’s. The second one’s silent,”

he smiled. “I love you old man,” I smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out. After a moment of silence, I turned toward the truck; satisfied I’d done all I could. “Let’s get a sandwich,” I said over my shoulder as I slowly walked toward the truck. Kelsey turned around and sauntered toward the building, “You go get a sandwich. Pick me up when you’re done. I’ve got a gym to organize, kid.” I opened the truck door and got in. After I rolled down the passenger window, I yelled at him as he walked toward the front door, “See you in an hour, old man. And don’t wear your fucking street shoes in the god damned ring.” Kelsey faced the building and slowly raised his left hand high in the air with his middle finger extended. I shook my head and rolled my eyes at the thought of the old man flipping me the bird. His left hand still held high, he reached forward with his right and unlocked the gym. I smiled a smile to last a lifetime as he stepped through the door of what I hoped would become the future home of many kids who needed a place to forget about their pasts. And begin their futures.

EPILOGUE

I think deep down inside I always knew I’d do something with the land beside our home. The two empty lots were now filled with two brand new two story homes I had the contractor build. After Kace and I moved in, it drove both of us crazy living in an upscale neighborhood alone. Now, A-Train lived to our left, and Ripp and Vee to our right. I put a swimming pool in the back of our home, and we shared it as much as we could – barbequing and having gatherings as much as possible. Having a family like this was what I always wanted, and now I had it – brothers, sisters, and children. Life, to me, was complete. As I looked out into the area surrounding the pool, I laughed as Jessie walked off the edge of the concrete and into the water. Into Ripp’s waiting arms she fell, laughing the entire time. Seeing her

live without much fear was satisfying. She loved the water, and she was becoming a very good swimmer for only being 20 months old. Ripp spent almost every day in the pool, and was a far better father than I would have guessed he would have been. To think at one point in time I was disappointed in Ripp and Vee having a little girl allowed me to understand just how selfish we can be at times. Now, watching her giggle as Ripp tossed her in the air made me want to have a little girl of my own. Kace and I hadn’t got pregnant again, but it wasn’t from lack of trying. As much as we had sex and didn’t use any form of birth control, it would stand to reason we would be blessed with another, but not yet. I smiled as I looked out over the pool by the barbeque grills. Austin laughed as he grilled chicken on one grill and burgers on the other. Watching him go back and forth between the two grills brought back memories of the finger chicken and Ripp’s frustration when Kace and I later dared to cook a burger on his chicken grill. Now, Saturday barbeques at our home were a standard. Sunday’s at Ripp’s parents were also mandatory, and the family was steadily growing. Austin had won his first three professional fights, and all were by knockout. Seeing him develop into a fighter – and a good fighter at that –

gave me tremendous satisfaction. I guess I was beginning to see a little of Kelsey in me, and a little of myself in Austin. I now knew what had driven Kelsey to do what he had done for as long as he’d been doing it. Passing the torch to a new generation is what the life of boxing was all about. I’d fought twice defending the championship title, once was in Vegas against a challenger from Great Britain. The fight lasted less than a minute, and they paid me 50 million. There weren’t very many people happy about the length of the fight, but I got in a lucky punch I suppose. The second fight, in Atlantic City, lasted four rounds – another knockout and another 55 million. The amount of money a professional sportsman can make is almost disgusting, but as long as they were willing to pay it, I’d collect it and do with it what I felt was best. Staring out over the open space behind the house, I could see the school being constructed in the distance. It should be complete in six more months – a special school for special children. Special children who may be different in the eyes of many, but in the eyes of their parents and those blessed enough to know and love them, they’re simply children. The school would be private, and require application for attendance. Any profits from the school would go toward building another just like it. Having a special needs child is all I know. To

Kace and me, Casey is simply magical. He knows he’s special in our eyes, and we’re special in his. He sees it when we smile, and we see it when he laughs. A-Train believes a baby laughing is therapeutic. I have to say I agree. There’s nothing a baby laughing can do but create joy in those who are fortunate enough to witness it. As A-Train dunked Casey under the water, I raised my hand to my eyes to shield the afternoon sun. “Make sure he gets a breath from time to time,” I screamed. A-Train looked my direction as he raised Casey to just above the surface of the water. Immediately, Casey giggled and flapped his arms. A-Train responded with raised eyebrows. Casey, knowing what was next, closed his mouth and grabbed his nose. As A-Train lowered him into the water I grinned, knowing he was in good hands. “Just about ready, boss,” Austin hollered from the edge of the deck. “You might have to keep everything warm for a few, kid. Still waiting on Kace and the old man,” I responded. Kace didn’t get a flu shot, and had been sick for a few days. This morning she felt considerably better, and was excited for the barbeque. About the time Austin started grilling she got sick and ran into the house. As sorry as I felt for her, it was too late

to change the plans of everyone who had already arrived. “The best potato salad in the great state of Texas, right here,” Kelsey screamed as he walked around the corner of the house. “I have my doubts,” Vee laughed from her perfectly positioned lounge chair. She spent most of her time lounging in the sun and swimming since she added two partners to her firm. Now, she still worked, but acted more as a legal consultant. In the last year, she’d been to trial only once, and she embarrassed the federal government enough she made front page news. Without a doubt, she was as strong of a presence in the court room as she was in the Ripton household. The neighbors weren’t necessarily thrilled with the fact we all rode motorcycles. When the three of us would come back late at night from Ripp’s bar, it could be pretty loud. Car alarms typically go off as we enter the neighborhood from the exhaust sound waves alone. In time, I supposed they’ll all become used to it. As Kelsey slapped me on the shoulder, he placed the potato salad on the table in front of where I was sitting. As he pulled out his chair, he yelled at Austin. “Good fight last week, kid. When are we eating?” “It’s ready, waiting on the boss’ wife,” Austin

responded over his shoulder. Austin no more than spoke, and I heard Kace open the door and step out onto the deck. As I turned to face her, she grinned and jumped into my lap. “Howdy, Kace,” Kelsey smiled. “Kelsey,” Kace nodded. “Feeling better?” I asked. “Much,” she smiled. “No headache or upset stomach?” I asked. “Nope,” she smiled. “Huh, maybe it was something you ate,” I said as I leaned forward to kiss her. She shrugged and reached into her pocket. Slowly, she removed her cupped hand and held it in front of her, palm down. As I reached toward her hand in wonder, she dropped something in my hand. “Is it?” I asked. She nodded. I picked up the applicator and looked at the little window. “We’re pregnant?” I whispered. She nodded her head and wrapped her arms around my neck. As I kissed her, I slipped the applicator into the pocket of my jeans. “Can I?” I asked as I leaned away from her face. She nodded her head eagerly. I stood from my

chair and raised my hands to my mouth. “I’ve got an announcement,” I screamed. Eventually, everyone turned to face me. “The food is ready. And…” I turned toward Kace and smiled. As I faced the crowd, I stood proudly knowing our family was the best family life could ever offer any child. “Kace and I are having another baby,” I hollered. The sound from the swimming pool summarized the opinion of the group. A resounding “Ooh-Rah,” from A-Train echoed throughout the rear of our homes. Today I don’t need to win a fight to feel like a champion. Today I am a champion, and I know it. All I have to do is look around me. Thank you, Lord.