Sucker (ON HOLD/INCOMPLETE)

8: Stronger

Senior year is shaping up to be a busy, busy time. I just finished week 3 of my 11-week quarter, and I swear I've never been so busy in my life. I've finalized my list of grad schools I'm applying to (11 programs) and I'm working on the applications in my spare time, when I'm not studying, working, or grading.

Still, I've found time for this chapter, albeit a little bit later than I desired. I hope you enjoy.

Song: "Stronger" by Britney Spears

_____

Sang

The next few days passed by in a whirl of pain and sorrow. I'd approached the other three men I'd dated and reaped everything I had sown, every ounce of hurt I left them with when I left them behind.

And I couldn't say I didn't deserve it. It revived every microcosm of pain I felt when I made myself disappear, pumping through my bloodstream like oxygen. I spent my days motivated by heartbreak, heartbreak I knew I brought on myself.

It hadn't helped, either, when they all, like Kota, had made promises I couldn't let them keep. I always had hoped they would move on, find someone new without me. That emphatically had not happened, and I was sure it would cause nothing but problems.

I was pretty sure I'd combust from all the attention.

I shook my head. Today was no day for distractions.

I'd taken on a secondary assignment following the job at One Eyed Jack's. The girls had still, understandably, been shaken up, even knowing that the immediate threat had been ousted, so I'd agreed to teach a self-defense class for them. Another Academy member would be joining me. I assumed it would be a man, so the women in the class could feel assured that the tactics would work on any threatening man who they faced, but I wasn't sure who it would be. A gut instinct told me it would be a member of the former Blackbourne team, with the luck I'd been having.

Could I even call it "luck" when I had a sneaking suspicion Mrs. Rose was orchestrating it all?

I pulled up to our gym for the day, an Academy-owned and operated building with a basement which, I'd been told, had been outfitted with mats, mirrors, weights, and just about everything a regular gym would have. The building was non-descript on the outside, all bland brick and cement. Its windows were reflective so I couldn't see inside, made of one-way glass, I was sure. Designed to keep people out, designed to protect the people within.

I walked inside and to the front desk receptionist. She was bright-eyed, fresh-faced, age indiscernible. I thought she was older than me, but I couldn't tell how much. She smiled cheerily and asked what she could help me with. I replied with one word. "Cocoa."

"Minnesota," she said, her grin growing even wider. "Your partner is already down in the basement. No students have arrived yet." She glanced around, then leaned in closer as though she were divulging a secret. "He is de-lish. If I were ten years younger..." She shook her head. "But alas. Anyway, the stairs are right over there."

I nodded and followed where her finger pointed. The short stairway led into an open basement space. A man lay on the bench, pressing weights. I waited until he finished his set of reps, then cleared my throat. A man with auburn hair, hair that looked soft as a rabbit's fur, lifted his head. After a moment, I recognized him as one of the Blackbourne men, just as my instincts had told.

He didn't recognize me, and it was written all over his face.

I walked forward, extending my hand. "I don't believe we've properly met. Sang Sorenson."

His eyes widened with recollection as he reached out to me. "Yeah... uh, Nathan Griffin."

I grasped his hand in mine and tried to ignore the way his eyes appraised me, lingering as he, I assumed, superimposed the image of me in lingerie over the image in front of him, covered in sweats and an old t-shirt. I could almost hear the question grinding through his mind. "Why her?"

I wasn't sure the answer, myself.

I suddenly became aware he was still holding my hand. He must have come to the same realization at the same time because he hastily let go, wiping his hand at his shorts. He uttered lamely, "You look different with blonde hair."

His thought reminded me to pull my hair back. I clipped it, recalling how furious Gabriel would be at the action. "How briefed are you on today's job?"

He hummed. "I just know I'm—we're—teaching self-defense. I teach martial arts in Raleigh, where I live. Some krav maga, some jiujitsu... that's all I've been told."

I nodded. "These women work at the club where we met. They've been dealing with heightened sexual harassment and assault, and they feel unsafe at work now. It's our job to make sure they know they can protect themselves. It's about rebuilding their self-confidence."

He shot me a dubious look. "Not to be rude, but... isn't it all a part of their jobs?"

I clenched my jaw. "Even women in sex work are not signing a contract to be harassed and assaulted. Stripping is a profession, just like teaching martial arts. They deserve to be treated with the same dignity as you or me."

He threw his hands up in an innocent gesture. "I didn't mean anything by it."

I shot him a look. "Right. Look, women end up doing work like stripping because it pays the bills. It's a means to an end. If you have any hesitancy or questions in your mind about what they're signing up for when they agree to a job, then... I can teach on my own."

His shoulders sunk. "I don't. I want to help. This is what I do."

I nodded slowly. "Okay. Then what we're doing is teaching basic moves to protect against an attacker. We have four hours to teach them how to use their hands and pepper spray. This class shouldn't go anywhere beyond that; we just want them to feel safe."

The first woman walked in at that moment. I straightened my back and smiled. "Welcome!"

The rest of the women slowly were ushered in. Nathan and I moved to the front of the room. I clapped my hands together. "Let's begin."