Fight Like A Girl Read online

  The remainder of my earnings would be put away for my future studio or a rainy day, adding to my just in case fund. In case of what? I didn’t know. But I know and I hoped to never find out. It never hurt for a girl to be prepared. Chaos taught me that.

  Phoning Chaos, I arranged for him to meet me at the back of the gym to help me carry my purchases up to the room he cleared for me as a studio. It wasn’t much, but the small room over the gym provided me the space and privacy to paint without being disturbed. It gave me the safety and protection needed to let my guard down and allow my imagination to run wild. It was also free and came with the added bonus of watching his tight tanned muscles contract as he lugged an armful of supplies up the narrow stairway. His perfect tight ass positioned for optimal viewing. I perved out on the wall of muscle, allowing my imagination to explore his hidden flesh.

  Chapter Six

  Ginger

  “Hija, why are you still single? You know you’re not getting any younger. You need a big strong man to take care of you. You’re a pretty girl. Don’t waste it.” I don’t think my face could have turned any redder.

  Mamá was on a roll tonight and I was sitting in the hot seat with no help of rescue from the snickering man seated across from me. I cast a scathing glare in his direction which only made him laugh harder.

  I’d always loved dinners with Mamá and Chaos. It was the one place we could just be who we were without pretenses. I didn’t have to be G. I didn’t have to keep my guard up. I could be just Ginger, the girl. The artist. Mamá was and would always be Mamá. And Chaos was Carlos. Not the Scary as hell gym owner that could kill you with one look. He was Chaz the guy who helped his Mamá cook and who cleaned the kitchen after dinner.

  “Mamá, I’m only twenty-two. I’m not an old maid. Besides, I don’t need a strong man to take care of me. I can take care of myself.” I schooled my features shooting her a reassuring smile, one that masked the pain as her words pulled at my heartstrings. How did this woman see straight through me and call me on my shit? And she did it with a smile, too.

  “Oh Hija, but what about if you get in trouble? The Folds are dangerous, yeah?”

  “They are but that’s what I have Chaz for. He can fight all my battle for me so I don’t break a nail. And if he’s not around I can use the crazy fighting skills I learned at the gym and handle things myself.” I beamed at her around a thick lump in my throat at the thought of not having Chaos around to help me battle the demons in my life.

  Chaos hid a chuckle behind his fist, oblivious to my inner turmoil. He was enjoying the show. For once the focus was off of him and he was enjoying every moment of it.

  “Ay Hija, but still. Carlos won’t always be there. One day he will find a woman of his own and then what?” I know she didn’t mean for it too but her words hurt. They shot straight to the center of my chest. A sharp pain radiated within the hollow confines of my ribs.

  “Mamá, do you really think Chaz has any hope of finding a woman? I mean, come on, look at him.” I thrust my hand out in Chaos’s direction as if to emphasize my point casting away any unwanted attention, afraid they would see the pain in my eyes at Mamá’s remark.

  “What’s wrong with him? He’s a good-looking boy.” She said in mock offense of my implications, dramatically clutching at her chest. She knew where this was going. It was an age-old game we liked to play when Chaos needed a little dose of reality, dragging his ego back to planet earth. It was also an effective tool to cast unwanted attention away from me, placing Chaos at the center's eye.

  “Yeah, sure he’s a good-looking enough guy if you’re into that sort of thing, you know walking refrigerator with tree trunks for legs.” Which I most definitely was. “But he can’t cook. He doesn’t do laundry. And he will never find a woman he loves more than his own reflection in the mirror.”

  Mamá made the sign of the cross. Her frail hands clutched around her napkin. “Ay, dios mio santo. Hija, you’re right. My poor Carlos is going to be a frumpy old man living in a house of mirrors yelling at children to get off his lawn. He’ll never find a woman and settle down. I’ll never have any nietos.” She really played it up caterwauling and moaning in horror.

  “No nietos.” I echoed her words with false sympathy, really driving the point home as I dramatically made the sign on the cross, selling the sentiment with the mask of worry and concern etched on my face.

  “You two are hilarious.” He growled, uneasy at being put under the spotlight.

  “No nietos.” I reiterated more loudly just to rub it in. Mamá began wailing as she prayed for Chaos to finally find a woman and quit loving himself so much.

  Chaos threw down his napkin muttering a string of curses in our direction. Pushing away from the table, his chair scraped across the floor emitting a cringe-worthy sound worse than nails across a chalkboard as he stomped off toward the kitchen pouting. Mamá and I fell apart in raucous laughter, tears streaming down our faces as we watched his retreating form.

  “Ay Hija, you really do need to be serious and find you a good man. My Carlos would be good for you.” The look in her eyes said she meant it, the sincerity nearly killing me.

  “I know Mamá. I just don't think he likes me like you think. He just thinks of me as a little sister.” I smiled despite the tears burning behind my eyes. Mamá knew how I felt. I never kept it a secret from her. Hell, I couldn’t. That woman saw through every last one of my lies and never had a problem calling me out on it.

  “I don't think a man should look at a sister the way he looks at you. There’s fire in that look. You’re more than some silly kid sister to him. Just think about it, Hija.” She patted my hand warmly oblivious to the fact that my heart was breaking with every second we talked about this impossible quest she was on to bring her son and me together.

  It had been the same conversation since the first night Chaos brought me to dinner six years ago. Mamá refused to believe she was wrong about the two of us. She truly believed that Chaos and I belonged together and that one day we would be. If we would quit getting in our own way she said.

  Thankfully Mamá relented on her pursuit to push the two of us together and the conversation turned away from me and Chaos. Mamá told me about the man she had spotted looking in her windows. Though she tried to play it off as a peeping tom I knew she was worried. I would be too if I spotted a man peeking in my windows in the dead of night. Mamá had taken preventive measures. She had security lights installed around the house and had new locks placed on all the doors and windows. But it didn’t shake the unease of the situation.

  Chaos came back into the room and Mamá dropped the subject knowing how sensitive he was to the topic. Chaos was fiercely protective of her. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Mamá to keep her safe. I knew how upset he was about the idea of someone looking in on his mother. Despite the way she played it off to him, I could see the way his back went ramrod straight, his fist clenching at his sides. I almost felt bad for the guy if he caught him - almost.

  We spent the remainder of the evening discussing mundane topics. I told Mamá all about the commissioned pieces I had done. Other than my brother, Chaos, and Mamá were the only other people who knew about my work.

  It felt good to be able to discuss the projects I had been working on and the pieces that had been selling. Mamá got excited when I told her about my big commissions’ check I received today and how I spent it, forcing Chaos to carry the evidence up the stairs of the gym to the small studio. I didn’t miss the way Chaos smiled warmly at me, his affection glowing in his eyes. His approval meant everything to me. The pride that radiated off him in waves caused my heart to soar.

  “Mamá it’s getting late so I have to run. I have a lot to do in the morning. Thank you for dinner. It was really good.” It really was. She had made my favorite, homemade enchiladas.

  “Ay Hija, let Carlos drive you home. It’s late and a pretty girl like you doesn’t need to be walking in the dark.” She coaxed with a mischievous twinkle
in her eyes.

  “Just let me grab my keys and I’ll drive you.” Chaos added eagerly, intending to see me home.

  “No, it’s fine. It’s just a short walk and I need to work off some of this dinner.” I smiled warmly in reassurance as I rubbed my overly stuffed stomach affectionately.

  “Hija, don’t be stubborn.”

  Wrapping my arms around her in a warm embrace I placed a kiss to her temple. “Mamá, I’m a big girl and it's just a couple block. I promise I’ll be safe.”

  “G, it’s not a problem, really. Just let me drive you home or to the gym if that’s where you want to go.” Chaos insisted. As badly as I wanted to accept his ride I knew I shouldn’t. The evening had been going so well and the last thing I wanted was to ruin it.

  Things with Marco had been really good the night before and I didn’t want to upset Marco by bringing Chaos around. The two were like oil and water together. It was hard to believe that they had been best friends once - inseparable.

  “I’m fine. I promise. Plus a walk will do me some good, yeah?”

  Finally, after convincing them I would be alright to walk home alone both Mamá and Chaos relented allowing me to leave. For a minute I didn’t think I would ever get out of there without a tank of an escort to see me to safety. I could tell by the look in Chaos’s eyes he didn't like it, not one bit. Again he offered me the apartment over the gym. I knew his heart meant well, but I wasn’t sure my own could take living so close to temptation knowing it would never be mine. With a brief embrace, Chaos allowed me to leave, making me promise to text him the moment I arrived home.

  Chapter Seven

  Ginger

  Dinner with Chaos and Mamá after another day of workouts had been the best ending to a long roller-coaster of a day. Only, my day wasn’t over quite yet. The feel-good feeling that had wrapped around me at dinner had slowly begun to fade, leaving me cold and alone with each step I took away from Mamá’s house.

  Cold and alone. That’s exactly how I felt as I walked down the dark deserted streets to my house. For the Folds boasting such high crime rates the streets always seemed to be deserted once the sun went down.

  I tried not to dwell on the lack of activity on the roads as I wrapped my arms around my body in a failed attempt to stave off the cold. The setting sun had taken with it the warmth that had filled me throughout the day leaving behind a biting wind that chilled me to the bone. I almost wish I had taken Chaos up on his offer for a ride - almost. But then I remembered the way my brother smiled down at me and knew I would do anything to have that back. Even if it meant walking home in the dark.

  Memories of the night circled my mind. Images of Chaos played on repeat, bringing heat rushing to my cheeks. My fingers itched to paint him, his muscles proudly on display as he hung from the pull-up bar in the gym before we went to dinner. His sweat licked body begged to be captured. Tight binding muscles pulled taut as he lifted and lowered his body repeatedly beneath the bar, my arms wrapped around my middle holding the memory tightly against me.

  More images from the day flooded my memory, more intimate that his half-naked body drenched in sweat, staining my cheeks in a pink hue.

  The image of him standing over his mother, hovering around her like a small child as she slaved over the post on her stove warmed my heart.

  It was the side of Chaos that I loved most. The side no one else had ever been privileged to see. It made me feel special, accepted. It made my heart soar and all my worries wash away. It also made me sad and terrified, all at the same time. It was everything I had ever wanted and yet everything I knew I would never have. The feeling was bittersweet.

  A small smile played on my lips as I remembered the way his tall broad frame hunkered down around his mother in the small galley kitchen as she sliced and diced the vegetables and meat for dinner. The image was embedded in my mind and soul. Seared into my memory.

  I loved watching Mamá get after Chaos as though he were still a little boy, threatening him with a wooden mixing spoon when he stole a piece of cheese or stuck his fingers in the mixing bowl for a lick of deliciousness. I felt like an outsider looking in. Wishing more than ever to have a family of my own, a family like theirs, one full of love and warmth. Nothing like the family I had or the one I have now, well, what’s left of it.

  Unlike the relationship between me and Marco, Chaos and Mama’s relationship shined like a beacon of warmth on a cold winter’s day. I needed that lightness in my life. I needed the glowing warmth that came from watching the two of them interact to wash away the darkness boring down on me as of late, washing away the fear and uncertainty of my relationship with my brother.

  Chaos’s hovering didn’t stop in the kitchen. He buzzed around alongside Mamá, setting the table for dinner and at the end of our meal, he quickly cleared it, leaving Mamá and me to talk as he scrubbed the dishes without protest. It was a night I would never forget.

  As badly as I itched to paint the scenes I knew they were not the images Millie desired. She wanted the rough gritty streets. Candid images of the cities downtrodden buildings resting in shambles.

  She didn’t want the images etched into the canvas of my unrequited love. She wouldn’t see the beauty in the man, feared by those around him, domesticated and soft as he worked in the kitchen alongside his mother. She wouldn’t see the love and affection I harbored for the man. The emotions I kept hidden from the world.

  No one saw the love and affection I had for the man. No one but Mamá.

  I was deluded into thinking there could be anything more between Chaos and me than friendship. As badly as I wanted to claim him as my own I knew it was impossibility. The honesty of the situation weighed on me like a ton of bricks. The contents of my stomach sat heavy as iron.

  For just a moment in time I had allowed myself to give into the illusion of the possibility and now I was suffering the consequences.

  I only hoped that Marco would be home. I longed for another night beside him, lounging on the couch and laughing at silly nothings. I needed that lightness now more than anything. I prayed that my brother could give it to me. I prayed he could be the man I knew he was deep down within.

  With each step I took toward the house I felt the feel-good of the day slip away, my heart sinking in my chest. Each step felt like a death sentence as the house came into view. A strong sense of foreboding wrapped around me. The happiness that had filled my heart slowly drained away, leaving me more and more sullen.

  Walking up to the house I sighed in resentment at the sight of the motorcycles parked on the lawn. Rows and rows of bikes stood proudly reminding me of unruly garden gnomes. The rich black leather blended into the night while the silver chrome shined like beacons.

  My feet became lethargic with each step forward. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want this for my life. I had hoped for another quiet night alone with my brother. Last night had been great. It had given me hope. And hope was a dangerous thing to have in the Folds. Hope was one of the emotions that would get you killed. The hope I held was crushed, smeared across the battered stone walkway as reality came flooding in. Marco wasn’t going to change.

  I grimaced at the thought of walking into the house, not knowing what I would find once inside. Internally I wished I had taken Chaos up on the offer to crash at the gym. The only thing keeping me from turning around and walking back the way I had come was the fact that I had already turned him down.

  I didn't want to look like a coward running back to him for help. What would I say? I don’t like my brother’s friends because they give me the creeps, so can I stay here? I was already walking a thin line with my emotions. I couldn’t afford to slip up. My heart couldn’t take the sting of rejection.

  Sure I had told him how I felt about the new crowd the other day and he had offered me my place back at the gym. But still, it sounded weak to my own ears and the last thing I wanted was for anyone to see me as weak. Especially Chaos.

  It was labels like weak and feeble that co
uld get a person killed in the Fold. Being seen as a delicate creature in some places may be an endearing trait. In the Folds, it was a death sentence.

  Chaos accused me of having too much pride when I turned him down and maybe he was right, but it was my burden to carry. I only hoped I wasn’t making a mistake.

  The first thing I noticed as I opened the door was the putrid smell of marijuana. Smoke billowed forward in a thick rolling cloud. Covering my nose and mouth with my hand I batted away the offending odor with the other.

  “There she is. There’s my little sister.” Marco sang out as I stepped through the threshold. He pointed in my direction, as he swayed heavily on his feet in the living room.

  “Come ‘er champ.” He coaxed with his finger in a come hither motion, calling me forward as though I were a small child. The Marco from last night was gone. My heart sank in my chest. The bubble of hope I’d had popped leaving me vulnerable and broken.

  It was clear he was drunk. From the littering of empty beer bottles lying around the room and the white powder dusting on the mirror that lay on the living room table, I could deduct that he was not only drunk but high as well.

  The large crowd of men around him stared at me with wide glassy eyes a few of them wore smutty smiles upon their faces, sending a nervous chill down my spine. Glancing around I realized I didn’t know any of them. I was immediately aware I would have no allies here. My mistake was clear. I should have turned around. I should have taken Chaos up on his offer, but it was too late. I swallowed down my fear, nearly choking on the taste.

  The guys were obviously a part of the new group Marco had started running with or perhaps an entirely new group altogether.

  It was so hard to keep track of who Marco was running with these days. So many different crowds of men paraded through our front door every day. I quit trying to memorize their names as faces. It was an endless cycle, like being on a merry-go-round. All the men began to blur into one image. The men were all cold, dirty, tattered, and smelling of exhaust fumes. The only variances between the different crowds of men were the patches they wore proudly on their thick leather cuts. Patches I had no interest in getting a better look at; seen one, seen them all.