23 Mixed Results
“Peter, Violet is just insufferable. Look at her.” Kelly and I were standing on the fringe of a group of people at the Panhard Bros Christmas Party, listening to Violet Tennant hold forth. She was a striking woman, about 5ft 6 and maybe 135lbs, and even in her relatively conservative outfit – a light blue jacket over a knee length dark blue dress and black boots – she stood out from the crowd. Anyone who gave Vi Tennant more than a casual glance would note the smouldering eyes, the subtle hints in the way she dressed and moved, tossing her head so that her dark brown hair, worn short, swept back and forth, golden highlights flashing. Every gesture told of her assertive – even arrogant – nature, but then again, Vi had a good deal to be arrogant about.
As usual her precise, clipped tones left the listener in no doubt that Violet was right – or at least she was sure she was. “Ever since she got her revenge on Kim Curzon by provoking her to fight Wendy Griffiths…remember how Wendy destroyed Kim…her arrogance has known no bounds.”
I smiled at Kelly’s revisionism. Violet hadn’t provoked that fight. It had been Kim’s own arrogance had made her cast the first blow in a fight that, to Kelly’s point, had ended with Kim retching up her dinner, along with more than a few drinks, after Wendy had slugged her in the gut. All Violet had done was encourage Wendy to stand up to those – including Kelly – who ran her down. Kim had just been the one who retaliated and fought her. It could easily have been Kelly herself who started the fight, though I thought that if so, the result would have been very different.
As I thought about it though, I realised Kelly had a point. Violet
had incited the fight, not by provoking Kim but by goading Wendy, and she had undoubtedly done so to get revenge on Kim. She’d never forgiven the actress for beating her up at Nancy Astor’s garden party, though the person she should have been angry at was Kelly, who had provoked that incident.
Then it dawned on me. Vi
had avenged herself on Kelly. Kelly regarded Kim as something of a protégé – an asteroid circling the golden sun that was Kelly’s radiance. I tried not to smile to myself at the metaphor. Kelly had tried to bring Violet into her circle too, albeit higher in the pecking order than Kim, but Violet would have none of it. That was what rankled with Kelly – that Vi had snubbed her, then encouraged Wendy to stand up for herself, and Kelly had had to watch Wendy deliver a devastating defeat to her friend. Had Vi knowingly done that just to score a point against Kelly? My respect for Vi began to grow. It would certainly explain Kelly’s fury – my girl hated the thought of another woman being her equal in the subtle game of social chess that she played.
Kelly turned on her heel with a dismissive sniff and began to walk away. She took only a few paces before her scowl changed instantly to a warm smile. “Heather! How delightful to see you!” She smiled and embraced the newcomer. Heather was of medium height, an inch or two shorter than Kelly, neither slim nor plump. I put her age at around thirty, and she had neatly styled blonde hair that fell down to the back of her neck. She was conventionally, if conservatively dressed for an affair like this – a cream blouse buttoned up to her throat where she had fastened a cameo broach, under a navy skirt and jacket. She wore a minimum of jewellery – apart from the broach, a gold bracelet peeped from under the cuff of her jacket, and jade earrings twinkled beneath her hair. She looked like so many other youngish professional women. The only thing that made her stand out – literally – was her massive bust. I was hard pressed not to stare – she must have been a 38E or more.
Kelly turned to me. “You've met Peter of course?” The look she gave me revealed that she knew exactly what I was thinking. Nevertheless, I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen the blonde before. I certainly would have remembered.
My confusion must have showed, and Heather trilled with laughter. “Yes we've met, but you probably had other things on your mind that day. I was with Kim Curzon at Nancy Astor's garden party.” She laughed again. “Yes…
that one. Kim went home without saying goodbye, but she did call me up the next day to tell me she'd put Violet Tennant in her place.”
“You surprise me,” Kelly raised her eyebrows. “I thought Kim went out of her way to keep her fights a secret.”
“Only when she gets herself into trouble,” replied Heather. “She doesn't like too many knowing about her losses, but her triumphs…well, they’re something else, especially if she knows the person she's boasting to can't stand her opponent.”
So much for Kim’s complaints that Kelly had manipulated her into that fight with Violet, I thought to myself.
“Kim's temper does get her into trouble,” Kelly agreed archly.
“She's pretty subdued at the moment…two bad losses in a row.” I pricked up my ears at the tantalising reference to another fight. I knew Kim had been destroyed by Wendy Griffiths at Ivor Gurney's party but what was the other one? I was fishing for a way of subtly asking when Heather went on, “I almost prefer Kim depressed to Kim triumphant. She’s so way over the top…and don't tell me it's the artistic temperament. Not all actors are drama queens off stage.”
Kelly laughed. “Maybe so, but you'd have to deal with a lot of powerful personalities clashing. I wonder how you cope?”
“There are no more prima donnas in the arts community than there are in many other jobs,” replied Heather. “Like yours…marketing consultancy…for instance.” She looked Kelly straight in the eye.
I broke into the sudden silence. “Yes Heather, I remember meeting you at that party now. You were with Stu James, Odette Luke and a few others, as well as Kim. Do you work with them? Forgive me, you or someone else probably told me but I've forgotten.”
She giggled a little at my confusion. “Yes, I do.” She thrust out her hand. “Heather Moffatt, back of house manager at the Stephen A Douglas Center…at your service.”
I nodded as we shook hands. The Douglas Center was the home of many newer performing arts groups including the New Globe Theater. Heather went on to tell us some of the Center’s recent activities. Kelly was far more interested than I was, plying Heather with questions that kept the blonde, clearly pleased to have an audience, talking warmly for a while.
“So what brings you to Panhard Bros Christmas Party, Heather?”
“They’re a sponsor, and they manage the endowment trusts.”
“Is that how you know Vi? I thought her actuary's job was back office, and she had little contact with clients.”
Heather’s smile shrank. “She got too much contact for my liking…at least with us.”
“Oh?” Kelly raised her eyebrows.
“She’s always sticking her nose in…wanting to know about internal management decisions. She says she has to make sure the funds are being used to their best advantage.” Heather rolled her eyes. “It's just a chance to big note herself. Some of the endowment trustees are major players. She just wants them to remember her name.”
“She is a little forward,” Kelly agreed thoughtfully.
“A little!? She's pushy as hell…especially at the moment. She got some bonus at work…heaven knows she's paid enough already. She's boasting about making a killing on the Exchange and she thinks she’s Machiavelli redux.” Heather paused for breath.
Kelly nodded. “With all due regard to Peter's friend Brendon, I never could think of the Board of Trade as much more than legalised gambling. Why is it that people in the finance industry are paid so much, when people like you dear…who do so much good work in growing community taste and culture…are paid so poorly? For that matter, why do these high flyers make so much more than even people like my Peter, whose factory actually makes things? It's not right.”
Kelly had never said anything like this in my hearing before. She seemed to be channelling Kate Baldwin if not some socialist type. Or was she making Heather envious, deliberately feeding her dislike of Vi? I caught Kelly’s eye. She smiled at me. I knew that smile, and my heart quickened a little.
“I've never understood just what a merchant banker does,” said Heather.
“Well Vi isn't a merchant banker, she's an actuary. Like I said before, more a back office job. One that involves a lot of math…though her job and the merchant bankers often go hand in glove.”
“I thought actuaries were in insurance, calculating premiums and so on.”
“That's the traditional field, but these days they’re in asset management, financial analysis…anything that involves risk assessment. Whether it’s calculating risk against return or working on operational loss, everybody wants actuaries these days because it’s all about the numbers…big numbers. So people like Vi are in many fields.”
There's a lot more money in trading then in insurance,” Heather snorted. “And Vi likes money.”
Kelly sent me to freshen up the drinks. I wondered why we didn't all walk over to the bar, since we were already standing in a wide space clear of tables and chairs that led directly there, and it was only a short distance. I wondered too whether Heather had already had a few too many. She was more than a little loud and her body language – hand on hip, head thrust forward – spoke of aggression. When I came back, they were still talking about Vi and her job.
Heather nodded at a comment from Kelly and continued, “But getting an obscene amount of money isn't why she's lording it over everyone.”
“No?” Kelly smiled.
“She's so full of how she got that blonde bimbo Wendy Griffiths to fight Kim. Poor Kim…her temper flares up so badly at times. I'm sure you know what Wendy did to her.” We nodded. “Kim was so sore she couldn't bend over for a few days. She had to kneel instead. She held a pillow to her stomach when she sat down. Vi was laughing…
laughing…boasting about how she set it all up. Everyone heard her saying she’d finally gotten revenge on Kim for that fight at Nancy’s garden party.”
“Vi said what?” Kelly raised her voice. “I saw the whole thing. Kim lost her temper and struck out. In a way, she got what she deserved…well, almost. No one deserved to be forced to drink neat vodka and then slugged in the gut like that. But Vi set it up?” She shook her head. “No, I don't see how.”
I kept my silence. Kelly was contradicting what she privately said to me just a few moments before we met Heather. She was clearly angling for something, and I thought I knew what.
“She says she heard you and your friends, badmouthing Wendy. You and Fiona Burke…you ran her down. Wendy was fuming.”
“That's not exactly fair,” Kelly said.
“Oh come on!” Heather cut in, raising her voice further. “The two of you compared her to Kim, making Kim out to be an angel…which of course she isn't. She's my friend and work colleague but she can be a total bitch. Vi didn't have much trouble getting Wendy fired up again…that blonde is a hottie in more ways than one. Then Vi reeled Kim in, with a couple barbed comments as she walked by. Oh yeah…Vi's a manipulative bitch!”
“Why would she do that, Heather?” Kelly spoke louder too as if to get a word in.
“To get back at Kim, of course!” declared Heather vehemently. “Because she lost a fight to Kim. We all know Vi's scared of Kim. She's gutless.”
“Oh am I now!” I hadn’t seen Vi appear, but she grabbed at Heather's arm now, making her spill her drink. She always walked softly. She stood there glaring. “What have you been saying about me?”
“Nothing that's not true!” retorted Heather. “Nothing I wouldn’t repeat to your face!” You're a scheming wimp, too much of a coward to risk Kim smashing you again like she did last summer, so you set out to get Wendy Griffiths to fight her instead.”
“It wasn't hard.” Vi smiled and turned to Kelly. “That arrogant little friend of yours…she had it coming. She deserved everything Wendy dished out…every bit of it.” She whirled around to Heather again, whose arm she still clutched tightly. “I’m no wimp! Say your sorry!” Her voice lowered ominously. “Say you’re sorry,” she repeated, “or you soon will be!”
“Get lost, wimp!” Heather hissed. “And let go my arm!” She wrenched hard on it as if hoping to jerk Vi off her feet. Instead, Vi’s other arm lashed out, seizing a fistful of Heather’s hair. She yanked hard and it was the blonde who lost her balance and stumbled forward. Vi dropped her grip on Heather’s arm and slapped her face. Almost at the same time, she jerked Heather’s hair back, turning the still stumbling blonde’s face upward to gaze at the ceiling, arching her back and stretching out her abs just as she raised her knee to pound Heather’s stomach. Heather groaned and would have doubled if Vi hadn’t still held her hair. Her mouth opened, fish-like, as she gasped for air.
“Stop it!” Kelly shouted. “Stop it! You can't do this here!”
The fighters ignored her – Vi intentionally, Heather because she really didn’t have much choice in the matter, right now. She tried to hit at her opponent but she couldn’t see where Vi was. Vi had no such problem. She fired two hard slaps to Heather's face. Each made the blonde cry out. Desperately Heather lashed out but her first slaps hit only the air. Then, somehow figuring out Vi’s position, she extended the fingers of her left hand and stabbed them into Vi’s neck, raking them down, drawing beads of blood. Vi screamed and her grip on Heather’s hair slackened for a moment. Heather whirled around, her right hand striking Vi’s face in an open handed slap, the sound of which almost drowned out Vi’s loud grunt.
Vi jerked Heather’s hair again but now the blonde had a target. She rained slaps on Vi, who responded but Heather’s greater weight, slightly longer reach and the fact that she was able to use both hands while Vi had one hand still in Heather’s hair, meant that Heather quickly began scoring more hits. She slapped hard, twisting her body from the waist and putting her weight into each blow. Her grimaces showed the pain that each twist caused to her tortured scalp but Vi’s hisses and yelps told us all that she was getting the better of the duel.
Once more Vi tried to jerk the theatre manager off her feet but failed. Heather was wise to that trick now. Her continued slaps, seemingly getting harder with each blow, were starting to tell. Heather swung again but Vi ducked and Heather’s hand only brushed the brunette’s hair. Stepping in and rising again, Vi rammed her knee up a second time into Heather’s stomach. Stretched out and unbalanced – she’d expected her slap to hit flesh, not air – Heather gagged and hunched over, clutching her belly. Vi finally released her hold on the blonde’s hair and fired two punches, left and right, burying her fists in Heather’s gut. Heather’s crumpled, spluttering and stumbling backwards. Her legs nearly gave out.
The entire altercation had taken no more than a few seconds, just long enough for the bar security to arrive. The doorman grabbed Vi's waist, pulling her backwards, away from Heather. I restrained Heather and yes, I enjoyed a bit of a feel of the busty blonde as she squirmed momentarily in my grip, before she calmed down.
“You'll leave immediately,” the doorman said in a voice that brooked no argument. “Both of you.”
“Violet Tennant,” Kelly smiled maliciously, “I’m surprised at you. I remember you saying something derogatory about Elena Savoy…something about her being a typical skank who had no self control, who got drunk and started fights.” She looked Vi right in the eye. “I think you said something similar about Kim Curzon.” Her smile broadened. “Physician, heal thyself.” I looked sharply at her, surprised at yet another biblical quote.
Violet glared at Kelly, then turned to Heather. “Slut!” she snapped. “You were lucky they stopped the fight then. I’d have slaughtered you!” She spun on her heel, about to leave.
“Not so fast!” Heather grabbed Vi’s arm. “This isn’t over till I say it is!” Still holding onto Vi, she turned to us. “I want to finish this. Is there a place we could go? Somewhere where we won’t get stopped? Maybe your place?”
I looked at Kelly. For once she was flabbergasted, her mouth hanging wide in disbelief. “You really want to fight on?”
“Yes!” said Heather emphatically. “As soon as possible… tomorrow if we can. It’s Saturday but we don’t have any matinees.”
“Heather, you don't have to lower yourself to her level. You don't get down in the mud when you're cleaning a pig sty!”
“Trying to
stop a fight, Kelly?” sneered Vi venomously. “That's something new for you…troublemaker.”
“I didn't start this…you did!” Kelly snapped.
Heather let go of Vi's arm. “Kelly, don't interfere…please. “ She turned to her enemy. “What’s your problem…are you afraid to face me again?”
Vi’s lip curled. “Bring it on, bitch! I’ll meet you anywhere, even at their – ” she jerked her thumb in our direction, “ – place.”
Kelly sighed. “If you
must fight,” she said, “you can use our spare bedroom. It’s private and convenient.”
“Midday tomorrow, then?” Heather looked at Vi, then at Kelly who nodded in her turn. She turned back to Vi. “I’ll be seeing you,” she said threateningly, then walked off. Vi waited a moment, then left too.
I watched them both go, then took another sip at my drink. “You didn’t expect that, did you hun?” I said to Kelly. “You just wanted to get Vi riled up enough that she’d start a fight, so you could score some points.”
“Peter!” Kelly whitened. That was her danger signal. I didn’t care.
“Admit it. You played Vi and Heather, just like you played her and Kim…and just like you’ve played many others in the past. But this time was different. You wanted to show Vi up for the violent, aggressive bitch she is.” I bent forward and kissed her. “And you did!”
“Peter, you go too far,” Kelly hissed.
I was almost sure she was playing me, that her anger was feigned – almost. But there was always doubt in my mind when it came to her. I decided to test my theory. I gathered her in my arms. “And I love you for it, you domineering, manipulative woman. From the first time we met, on the beach when you tossed me your phone number, you’ve been a supreme player. You twisted me round your fingers that day…to say nothing of what you did to Jenn Peccavi.” I kissed her again, pulling her close.
She broke the kiss, but only after a long moment. “Peter, you know me too well.” She smiled and kissed me again, harder. I’d been right. She’d been playing me. I’d made the right call and disarmed her.
*****
We were eating breakfast the next morning when the phone rang. It was Michael, inviting himself over in half an hour. I turned to Kelly after I hung up the phone. “He wants to talk about his office party.”
“That's tonight,” she observed. “He's left it a little late. I hope he doesn't want help with organising it.”
“No, I know he’s taken care of that…or rather, he hired Wendy Griffiths. After he saw the success she made of the events she managed for Vic and me, he signed her up. He's got Emily Layne doing the catering…that was my suggestion. I told her she’ll do a good job and she’ll do it cheap. Just like Wendy will.”
“Oh, Wendy’s cheap all right,” said Kelly with a depth of emotion that somewhat surprised me. “Bargain basement cheap.”
“Hun, you misjudge her, I know you don't like her but give her credit. She did a good job for Vic and me. You know…you were there. And yes,” I raised a hand to cut off Kelly's retort, “I know she only did so because she built on Bethany's notes. But what she did then, she can do again.”
“Crap, Peter. She’s gutter trash, good for just one thing.”
I grinned. “She
does do that well, too.” Again I was trying to calm her, deflect her anger with a jest.
This time though, I misjudged her mood. She cut me off, snapping, “She should, too! She’s had enough experience. It’s not hard to open your legs. You took me far too literally when I told you you could fuck her if you needed to.” Her eyes blazed. “You didn’t need to, did you Peter? But you did it anyway.”
“Hon, it was an act of mercy. The poor girl was as horny as a rabbit in rutting season.” I tried to defuse Kelly’s sudden anger. “And she’s not dumb. She ran our business…to be honest, she just about
was our business. Vic and I have other jobs. So does she for that matter, but she spent time building the business. Vic and I had the ideas but she did all the work…contracts, sales, dealing with the stores. She did everything except the marketing. And she graduates in a few weeks with a business degree. She – ”
Surprised, I wasn’t thinking clearly. In hindsight, defending Wendy was the worst thing I could have done. Again Kelly cut me off. “She’s a man stealing whore! Look at Vic!”
“Kelly, be reasonable. Has Vic left Marjorie? Is he likely to? Wendy gets angry because people…you and your friends…think of her as something that crawled out of the dumpster.”
“She did! She’s just using Vic to get ahead.”
I should have left it there but I pushed on. “No dear. She’s a woman, just like Margot or Fiona, and much better educated than Elena. Yes, she does drink too much…but so does Kim. Yes she is aggressive…but so is Fiona. The only thing you can really have against her is that she’s Vic’s mistress. But you threw Bethany Beaverbrook at me and you were happy enough for me to fuck her brains out for a few weeks.”
I tried to cuddle Kelly but she pushed me back. “That was different. Bethany…whatever people say…doesn't fuck to get ahead. She didn't fuck you to get a contract. She already had it…signed. She made love to you because, poor kid, she thought…hoped, dreamed…of something more. She wanted something permanent, something stable, an anchor for her life…and you used her.”
Now it was my turn to get angry. “Used her?
You threw her at me. You wanted to teach me something…teach me that I love you…and you did, not that I didn’t know that already. Isn't that the same with Vic? He loves Marjorie. He just has a mistress as well…Wendy. And Wendy knows that…she knows she'll never replace Marjorie. I can’t see why you can’t just treat Wendy like you treat Bethany.”
“Because Wendy's a man stealing bitch, that’s why! You didn't
have to fuck her!” Kelly's face was whiter than I’d ever seen her, as if all the blood had left her face. ”Wendy made you feel sorry for her! You told me that! It wasn't just sex…just fucking her! She made you
care for her!” Her voice trembled. She paused for a moment and took a deep breath before she continued, “Not even Vic feels sorry for her, not the way you did, Peter. She’s a slut. She fucks around to get what she wants. Vic thinks with his prick…you don't. Don't fall for her sob stories. She's just trying to manipulate you.”
“She sent me back to you,” I pointed out. “Remember, that's what she did. She was hardly manipulating me.”
“i didn’t ask her to!” Kelly’s face twitched. She seemed to be on the verge of tears. I’d never seen her this way. “Peter, she’s bad news. She uses people to get what she wants. Mark my words, she’ll drop Vic like a hot rock, as soon as someone better comes along.”
There was a bleak look in her eyes that I didn’t understand, for a brief instant before she turned away. What was it with her and Wendy? Why did Kelly hate her so much? Yes, Wendy slept around, yes she used her body to get what she wanted but at the same time, she was a strong, independent woman who deferred to no-one. She wasn’t unlike Vi in that respect.
Then it hit me.
Kelly sniffed. “Peter, this isn’t the time to talk about that skank. We’ve got a guest coming over any minute, and the apartment’s a mess.” I took the hint, said nothing, and helped her clean it up.
A short time later, I opened the door to a very disheveled and worried-looking Michael. “You look like you haven’t slept for a week.” His face was dark and wrinkled, his hair stood up even more uncontrollably than usual, his shirt was awry –he’d missed fastening a button.
“One night,” he admitted, “but that’s more than long enough.”
“Come in, sit down and tell us what’s wrong.”
Kelly emerged from the kitchen with bagels and coffee, her face remade, showing no signs of the tears of barely fifteen minutes before. “It’s Kim isn’t it?” she guessed. “She’s still scared…terrified might be a better word…of Wendy Griffiths.” Michael nodded as Kelly went on, “Michael, of all the people you could have chosen to organise your office party, why on earth did you choose the girl who criminally assaulted…that’s what it amounted to…your girlfriend?”
Michael tried to bluster. “Kelly, it wasn’t like that. Kim started the fight – ”
Kelly cut him off. “Yes, and Wendy had finished it. But only then, when Kim was a shivering, pitiful, helpless wreck, did Wendy make her stand up, chug a double shot of vodka, then slug her in the guts. What else do you call that, but assault? Looking back, I made a mistake in not calling the police.”
“But I’d already contracted Wendy,” protested Michael. He turned to me. “I did it just after she did such a good job arranging your CD launch. Besides, Kim and I weren’t dating then.”
“All right,” said Kelly, “We’ll overlook your blindness for the time being, though anyone else could have…and in fact we did…see just how much Kim liked you from what I think was the first time she saw you. Remember, the night at Emily’s Bar when Peter and ‘double H’ had their launch…the one that Wendy did so well?
Michael looked bewildered. “Oh Michael, how can you be so dense?” Kelly scolded him mildly. “Kim wanted to be with you. She tagged along like a puppy following its master. Then there was the Oktoberfest event. Kim took every chance she could to be with you and to keep everyone else away. It was almost embarrassing. She hardly took her eyes off you. Her face just glowed when you talked to her. Surely you remember how she wanted so much to get you to herself every chance she got.” Michael blushed.
I was amazed at Kelly’s about face. At the time, she had said that Kim had simply been flirting as usual. Kim would flirt with anything in trousers, she’d claimed. Now she was saying it was love at first sight for Kim. She was deliberately embarrassing Michael and building Kim up as a romantic, if tragic princess, but why? It was all a little much to keep up with, before I’d finished my second cup of coffee.
Kelly continued, “So we’ll pass over all that…perhaps you’re just gauche or naïve. But you started dating Kim about the same time Wendy beat her up.” Kelly paused and looked at Michael. Michael nodded. “So why didn’t you cancel Wendy? Why didn’t you get someone else to organize the Christmas Party? For that matter, why didn’t you organize it yourself?”
“I wanted to impress the partners,” he confessed. “It’s been hard. You know I originally came to Chicago to work for Arthur Andersen.” I nodded. “That was just before Enron collapsed.”
“And with it went Arthur Andersen,” I said. “Yes, I knew that and you were out of work for a while, before you got your present job. It hasn’t been easy for you…unemployed, driving cabs, getting a cleaning job just to survive. I understand. Your first year in the firm, you wanted to show the partners you’re a star.”
Michael nodded. “That’s one reason I like Kim so much. She’s been there too, and she’s come through…and she
is a star.”
I nodded and went on. “So to impress her…and your bosses…you volunteered to organize this party. You wanted it to be bigger and better than any office Christmas Party before, but you also wanted it to be inexpensive. After all, you’re a firm of bean counters. That’s why you chose Wendy. She did a good job for us and she doesn’t charge much. So she’s your organizer. What’s the problem?”
“She says she has to come to the party,” Michael sighed. “She says she…and another girl…need to work there. Doing what, I don’t know. She only told me yesterday. I figured I need to tell Kim so I did, last night when I picked her up after her performance. We were going to go to supper.” He stopped. “Kim collapsed in tears. She just curled up in a ball. I took her home but she wouldn’t let me in the door. She says she hates me…that by choosing Wendy, I’m showing I never cared for her…for Kim I mean.”
“Michael,” Kelly broke in, “can you keep Wendy away from Kim? I don’t think you’ll have trouble keeping Kim away from Wendy.”
“I’ll try. I think so. I can keep Wendy busy. I’ll get Emily to keep her in the kitchen. But it’s Kim I’m worried about. I’m not even sure she’ll come to the party.” He too seemed on the verge of tears.
“Yes, and so you should be. You’re dating her.” Kelly raised her eyebrows. “But this time, you can leave Ms Curzon to Peter and me. We’ll make sure she comes to the party, and that she doesn’t get into trouble. We’ll also make sure she stays sober.”
“You mean that?” Michael sounded relieved.
“I do. Right now though, you need to go and send her the biggest bouquet of flowers you can buy, and organize a lunch date. The invitation should be on the card that goes with the bouquet. Do it
now. You don’t have any time to waste.”
After he left, Kelly said, “I almost feel sorry for Kim. You know of course, one reason Michael dates her has everything to do with her contacts, her name around town as a bright young actress…nothing to do with her personality.” She thought for a moment. “It’s almost like Wendy and Vic. Yes, I almost feel sorry for Kim…almost.”
She shrugged, as if mentally changing gears. “In the meantime we have some guests coming soon. We need to get the spare room organized. Come on. Then I need to have words with Ms Curzon. I’ll teach her not to act the terrorized victim. She’s not playing Marion Crane now.”
I looked sharply at Kelly. She smiled. “It’s ok, I know Wendy hurt Kim badly, and Kim would stupid…more stupid than she is…not to be scared of her. But I know Kim…she’s milking that fear for every advantage she can get. It seems Michael likes being protective, and Kim’s playing on that as much as she can.
“Don’t look at me like that, Peter. No, I’m not being two-faced. I’m just helping my friend Kim. I told Michael what she would want me to… that she’s head over heels in love with him. She has been, from the minute she saw him and she needs his protection. Whether that’s true or not is another question. But I’m telling Kim to toughen up.”
Just a few moments after we had removed most of the furniture from what was supposed to be the third bedroom, the doorbell rang. Heather had arrived.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Kelly was direct.
“Yes I am. It’s about time that bitch Vi got a lesson. She’s been throwing her weight around for way too long. She needs to learn to keep her nose out of other people’s business.”
Kelly nodded. “Okay. I’m sure you have some fighting clothes to change into. Use our bathroom.”
Before Heather emerged again, Vi arrived. I shepherded her into the second bedroom so she too could change.
A few minutes later, the two fighters emerged. Heather wore loose fitting shorts and a t-shirt, Vi wore what I took to be a short bathrobe and long pajama pants, until I realised it was a judo outfit. That gave me further food for thought.
“Ready for a beating?” sneered Heather, as she stepped into the now bare third bedroom.
“Bring it, girl!” Vi replied, following her.
They wasted no time and closed quickly, trading sparring punches, as if to test each other out. Most were deflected or dodged and the few that broke through elicited a grunt or a gasp but seemed to have little telling effect. Heather took a half step back. It was just enough to make Vi have to stretch forward to punch home but – thanks to Heather’s slight height advantage – not enough to make the blonde do the same. Heather increased the pressure, punching harder. Every time Vi tried to close with her, Heather stepped to the side or backwards, keeping her distance. Her punches grew harder still and Vi began gasping in earnest as the blows that Heather landed – still only a minority – started to take their toll.
Vi rushed forward, frustrating Heather’s tactics. Heather had to stand and fight or risk being trapped against the wall. She stood her ground, and for almost a minute the two girls slugged it out. Neither retreated or moved. Vi showed her skill, deflecting or parrying more of Heather’s punches than hit home. Heather was not so successful. She’d given up her reach advantage and she wasn’t moving as well as the brunette. More of Vi’s punches landed. She gasped in pain as the first few punches – still not all that many – hit her, then began to groan and grunt as an increasing proportion of the brunette’s blows found their mark.
Heather bobbed down suddenly, and Vi’s fist whistled over the blonde’s head, ruffling her hair. While the actuary was still over-stretched and off balance, Heather lunged, seeking to tackle Vi, but the brunette darted to her left. Heather stumbled and went down on her knees with her arms outstretched. She turned to face her enemy just as Vi delivered two hard kicks in rapid succession to the blonde’s side. Each hit solidly and each elicited a deep, painful gasp from the blonde.
Vi charged in, grabbing for Heather's shoulders She shoved hard, hoping to force the other woman to the ground, but instead Heather wrapped her arms around Vi’s waist and slammed her head forward, driving it into Vi’s stomach. Spittle and air rushed from Vi’s mouth as she reeled backward.
“She’s winded her!” Kelly tugged my hand excitedly as we watched from the doorway.
Heather took full advantage of her foe’s plight, leaping to her feet and slapping hard at Vi’s face and upper body. Vi was in no condition to defend. Her breasts heaved and her stomach sucked in and out like a bellows as she struggled to draw air back in her lungs. She retreated, trying to put distance between herself and her opponent.
“How quickly the fight’s turned around,” I said to Kelly.
“Not before time,” Kelly whispered back.
Heather kept up her attack. As she darted to one side of Vi, the brunette seized a fistful of blonde hair. Heather cried out but still she focused on slapping and as her slaps hit hard, she leaned in slightly and used her shoulder like a ram to shove Vi backward. Only a few feet from the wall, Vi had nowhere to go but she steadied herself and jerked harder on Heather's hair. Heather was already bent forward slightly from her shoulder charge and now Vi’s hard yank on her hair almost doubled her over. Nevertheless she maintained her assault, her fists hammering Vi’s midsection, drawing grunts of pain from the brunette as she tried to twist herself away from each blow while keeping her hold on Heather’s hair. She kept her hold with one hand and slapped at Heather’s face with the other, but the blonde parried the slap with her forearm.
Despite Vi’s painful grip on her hair, Heather struggled upright again and punched hard with both fists, repeatedly pounding Vi’s middle until Vi angled her body away and stepped backwards, again almost unbalancing the blonde. Heather lashed out and buried her left hand in Vi’s shorter brown tresses. She braced herself with a foot forward, jerked hard and stepped back, this time pulling her opponent to her.
Seemingly surprised, Vi squawked as Heather dragged her forward. She all but lost her footing, only saving herself by clutching Heather’s hair with her other hand as well. That steadied her however, and she began to shake the blonde’s head savagely back and forth as Heather screamed in pain and anger.
Keeping a surprisingly cool head though, Heather quickly realised that this meant both Vi’s hands were occupied and she couldn’t defend herself. She immediately capitalized on that disadvantage, slapping at the brunette’s face and sides while keeping one hand buried in Vi’s hair to hold her in place. The slaps turned into punches as Vi, now she had recovered her balance, also jerked and tugged harder.
Heather scored freely for almost a minute with shots that thudded home into Vi’s torso. The tenacity of Vi’s vicious hair pulling finally paid off however, when she jerked hard enough to pull Heather off balance, making her stagger and halting her attack. Now Vi returned the blonde’s earlier favour, ducking and slamming her shoulder into Heather’s chest just under her breasts, before Heather had a chance to recover. Heather gagged and folded over. Vi yanked again on her hair, pulling her enemy to her knees.
Heather’s hands flew up as she vainly tried to fend off the rain of slaps that descended on her face, neck and shoulders. Vi’s hands flew so fast they seemed a blur, but she aimed her slaps well. She broke through Heather’s defense time after time and each blow, delivered with her full body weight behind it as she twisted from her hips, hit home hard. Heather tried to hit back, aiming punches from her knees but Vi, standing and far more mobile, simply stepped around Heather’s fists then closed again and continued her onslaught.
The blonde tried to repeat her previous tactic, swinging her head back then sharply forward, aiming to hit Vi’s stomach to wind her or at least drive her off. Vi retreated out of range of the head butt, but then stepped forward again as Heather tried to stand. Her slap connected hard with the side of Heather’s head and sent the blonde to her knees once more.
Desperately Heather lunged forward and tried to wrap her arms around Vi’s knees. She nearly succeeded. Vi, surprised, stumbled back, giving Heather time to rise. She was puffing, her face red from the slaps, her full lips dribbling blood, her eyebrows cut and beaded with crimson droplets. She had suffered far worse than had her enemy. She needed time to recover.
Vi didn’t give her that time. She attacked immediately, her left fist feinting at Heather’s head, then springing forward under the blonde’s guard, firing punches at her stomach. Heather reeled. Vi crouched and again sprang forward, this time tackling the blonde and grabbing her around the waist. It seemed she tried to lift Heather off her feet, but Heather somehow maintained her balance and pummelled Vi’s back. Vi kept trying, grunting as she heaved upward. She almost succeeded in almost lifting Heather. The blonde had only one foot on the ground. I was waiting for her to fall. Then Vi gagged, spluttered and released her hold. She scurried back, still bent at the waist, clutching her stomach. Heather had kneed her in the gut.
Heather went back on the offensive, pursuing her enemy with the same hard swinging slaps that Vi had inflicted on her. For the moment, Vi was too breathless to defend herself. Each slap hit hard and Heather got a rhythm going. Her left struck Vi’s right cheek, snapping the actuary’s face one way, just in time for Heather’s right to strike Vi’s left cheek, driving it back again. Each slap elicited a groan from the beleaguered brunette. Again Vi broke off the fight, stepping back out of range. Rather than pursuing her, Heather stopped, her bosom heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Vi rallied suddenly and attacked once more. Heather threw her arms up, but way too slowly. It was clear that her previous attack had indeed been her last. She was exhausted and in no condition to meet Vi’s charge. Vi flung herself on Heather, taking her down to the floor. She straddled the gasping, panting, vainly struggling blonde, pinning her in place. Grabbing Heather’s head by the ears, she yanked it up, then slammed it down again into the unyielding floor. Twice. Heather’s eyes glazed over. It was all she could do to croak out her surrender.
Vi knelt astride her for a moment, then slowly stood. “Kelly, if you don’t mind, I’ll use your shower for a moment. I won’t be long.” She nodded at Heather, who had rolled onto her side and curled into a ball on the floor. “You can attend to that weakling there while I’m gone.” She strutted off.
A few minutes later she returned, dressed in the black slacks and red wool sweater she had worn when she arrived. Her face and the rest of her exposed skin were redder still, and several scratches were visible on her neck. Nevertheless, she exuded confidence, pride and success.
Heather had managed to get herself up into a sitting position with Kelly’s help. Kelly had sent me to the other bathroom for hot water and a facecloth, and was dabbing the blood from Heather’s lips.
“I’ll see you later, Kelly,” said Vi. “
Au revoir. Then, still looking directly at Kelly, she said “Oh…did I say Kelly?” I meant Heather, of course. Heather. Yes.” She still didn’t take her eyes of my girl as she added, “Let this be a listen to you. Maybe next time you’ll think twice before starting trouble with me...you or anyone else. Her eyes never left Kelly’s as she issued her warning. Then she turned on her heel and strode out.
Kelly paleness – she was white as a ghost – betrayed her fury. I had watched her fight her emotions down, to maintain the cool, self controlled Kelly the world knew, but all the time Vi was talking, I half expected Kelly to fly at her. She didn’t move a muscle until the front door clicked shut after Vi. Then she turned to Heather. “My dear, go take a shower and then Peter will drive you home. I’ll follow in your car…I don’t think you’re in any state to drive…then Peter can drive me back.”
When Kelly arrived at Heather’s apartment a few moments after Heather and I did, we were standing on the walk in front of her door. Heather embraced and kissed Kelly – full on the lips, much to my surprise and, I think, Kelly’s too. “Don’t feel bad, honey,” said the blonde. “I’d have fought that stuck up bitch even if you hadn’t been there last night. I’ll see you around…maybe at the next performance at the Center.” She gave me a brief peck on the cheek and walked inside, closing the door.
Tight lipped and still white faced, Kelly walked to the car. We were half way home before she broke her silence. “That....
bitch…blames me...for starting the fight.”
“Well, didn't you?” I asked without taking my eyes off the road. “Last night you wanted Vi shown up. You admitted it.”
“Yes but I thought there would be a scuffle and it would be over I just wanted people to see Vi is as bad as Kim or anyone else she bad mouths. I didn't expect Heather to want round two.”
“My dear, you have to remember, some people don’t have your self control.”
Kelly looked hard at me. “We need to get ready for Michael’s Christmas Party.” She took her cell phone out of her purse. “Hello…Kim? Yes...it’s Kelly. Peter and I will pick you up at your place about 7.30. Michael’s busy organising. No, he doesn’t need help.” She paused. “Don’t be stupid Kim, Wendy won’t be making out with Michael. You should have more confidence in your boyfriend than that.” There was another pause. “What’s it to you what she and Peter did? That’s
my business, not yours. We’ll see you at 7.30. Be ready.” She thumbed the phone to end the call and exhaled her breath in a long hiss. “That girl…”
She was silent for a moment before she said, “Peter, when we get home, I want some time alone. Fix yourself something to eat while I take a shower then go out for a walk, or go the gym…maybe go to the garage and look at your cars. In fact, do all three and get the Sheerline out. We’ll take it to the party.” She smiled. “We’re going to impress tonight. I don’t want to see you till 5 pm.”
There was no point arguing. I'd made my point clearly enough. Kelly would brood for a while, as she always did when I criticised her. Then she’s see I was right. So I did what I was told. I had no wish to cross Kelly when she was in such a dark mood. Anyway, it would do me good to be alone for a while.
I walked to the gym, worked out, took a sauna, then went and retrieved my Sheerline from the garage where we stored it. One of the few problems with our new apartment was that it only had space for one car in the garage. That went to Kelly's car. My 'normal' car – a late model Taurus – was left in the street. My collection of antique cars was garaged nearby. We'd been lucky – or I'd been lucky – in that the apartment wasn’t far from the one I'd owned before I met Kelly, which I now rented out. I hoped to sell it soon and buy the one Kelly and I lived in. First though, I wanted to buy a ring for her, but the time wasn't right for that yet.
I returned home precisely at 5 pm, as Kelly had requested. She opened the door dressed in her bathrobe and twined her hand round my neck drawing me into a kiss. Her other hand snaked down inside the front of my jeans. It was a few moments before she released me. ”I think you'd better close the door,” she purred.
I did so. Kelly peeled off her robe, revealing her newly showered and very naked body beneath. I knelt and ate her out right there on the floor inside the front door. A few minutes later, we were on the davenport. Clearly. Kelly had worked out her anger and frustration with a workout in our home gym, then a shower and a nap while I was out. “Well,” I sighed at last, “that was one of the nicest homecomings in a while, dear.”
“Yes,” smiled Kelly, nestled next to me on the couch. She kissed me lightly. “I was a bitch earlier. Sorry Peter.” We cuddled, made love again and dozed for a little while till she woke me, saying “It’s time to get ready for the party.”
We drove over and picked up Kim, who was much happier than I'd expected. She had clearly dressed to impress in a stylish jade green long sleeved dress. The high collar was white lace which extended in a deep V to her bust. Over this she wore a cream topcoat.
Michael was waiting at the door to greet us. He picked Kim up in his arms and whirled her in the air, all but smothering her with kisses. “It’s so good to see you, love! Come inside, out of the cold.”
“I will, Mike…if you put me down!” Kim giggled.
“Why should I do that when I can carry you inside?” Michael slipped his hand under Kim's knees and fitted his actions to his words.
“Michael! Stop it!” Kim scolded him playfully, slapping at his back. “Put me down! This is no way to come to an office Christmas party!”
“Why?” he asked, planting a kiss on her lips.
“It’s undignified, Michael.”
“Since when did you care about that?” He kissed her again. They vanished inside, leaving Kelly and I standing there, looking at one another bemusedly.
“We'd better go in, too. Come on, Kelly.” I held open the door to Emily's Beach Bar, and let Kelly precede me inside.
It was like most office Christmas parties. Apart from some social niceties, we stayed with the people we knew – in my case other local business people who were clients of the firm where Michael worked, and of course my family. It took me a while to actually get to talk to my parents, my brother and his wife but when I did, they all sang Kim's praises. Michael had introduced them to her and she had completely captivated them. As we left their circle to see others, Kelly told me she had impressed on Kim that she had to stay off the drink and temper her attitude. That advice seemed to have worked. “It also helped that while you were out, I had a quick word with Michael and told him he needed to be extra sweet to Kim.”
“He is,” I smiled, watching the couple walk hand in hand around the room, smiling and greeting people.
It wasn't until we'd been there an hour or so that I picked up an undercurrent of tension. Something was not quite right at the party, but I couldn't detect what it was, apart from a sense of unease among Emily's staff. I said as much to Kelly who, naturally, sent me to investigate further.
I exchanged a few words with Wayne, the bartender who was still nailing Elena's friend, Trudi Zoliski – often. “Hey bud. What’s happening?”
He grinned, but shrugged. “Not a lot.”
“How’s Trudi?”
He shrugged again. “Dumb…even for a blonde,” he said, with a surreptitious glance around to make sure that comment wasn’t going get his face slapped. “Dumb as a box of rocks. But who cares? She’s hot in bed.” He gave me a knowing wink. “Not to mention other places too.”
I smiled, playing along. “Yeah…what do they call girls like that? A four-F girl? Find, feed, fuck and forget.” I paused while he laughed – the ice was broken – and then went on, “But there seems to be something wrong here tonight. People don’t seem happy.”
Wayne nodded. I know what you mean…I can feel it too. But everything’s good out here. Bar’s well stocked, plenty of food around, the customers aren’t complaining. Dunno…maybe there’s something going on out back in the kitchen.”
So there I went. “Excuse me, but has anyone seen Wendy Griffiths?” I was in luck, she wasn't there.
“She should be back in a moment,” replied a tall brunette in a black dress that could have been painted onto her svelte figure.
She looked vaguely familiar but it took me a moment to place her. “Oh hello…Michelle?” It was half greeting, half question. Thankfully I was right.
She smiled “I'm glad you remembered me, Peter.”
I smiled but exchanging pleasantries with Wendy's more-than-roomie wasn't going to answer my questions. I looked round. “Where's the boss?”
“If you mean that whore who fronts for the biker mob…thankfully she’s not here.”
“You wouldn’t say that if Emily was here,” one of the kitchen hands retorted.
“Try me!” Michelle snapped back.
The back door opened and Wendy walked in with a tray of food. She passed it to one of the waitresses “Take those out front please, Cara and circulate.” She turned to me, and didn’t look too pleased to see me. “What are you doing here?”
“Wendy, can I talk to you for a minute? There’s an issue I want to get resolved.”
“I'm a little busy just now, Peter…and why are you in the kitchen?”
“Something’s not right,” I said. “All the staff are on edge. You can cut the air with a knife in here.”
“Peter, if we’re going to talk about this, we should do so in front of Michael,” Wendy replied. “He…errr…hired me.”
I sighed. That would make things difficult. How would I get him away from Kim, especially when she knew who I wanted him to see. But the alternative – the two women facing each other – was even worse. I decided to take my medicine. “Ok…come with me.”
As it happened I didn't have to worry about herding Michael away from Kim, or even going out into the front room. Right then the door opened and in walked Emily, the owner of the bar. She was also dressed all in black – it a common colour among the women here tonight – though it her case it was a long-sleeved tee over tight-fitting black pants, an outfit that showed off her curvaceous figure and powerful musculature.
I shouldn’t have been surprised to see her. The kitchen was the center of activity where most of the staff worked. The cooks cooked, the waitresses picked up food for circulation out front, and even the bar staff had to go through the kitchen to get to the cellars. As it was, my surprise must have showed. Emily was icily polite. “Excuse me, but what are you doing in my kitchen?”
“There seems to be some tension…” I began.
“There is…and you're responsible for it!” Michelle interjected, snapping at Emily. “You and your attitude! Wendy did you a favour by booking this place for the party. Your beach bar is normally empty all winter, but you still have to pay the rent. Right now, the place is jumping!”
“So you expect me to be grateful, huh?” Emily turned to Wendy. “You bitch, you screwed me for the best deal you could get. Sure, it’s good to be open but I'm barely breaking even.”
“You
let yourself be screwed…shows what kind of businesswoman you are,” Michelle sneered. “Like I said, you're just a front for the bikers so they’ve got somewhere to drink, plan crimes and sell drugs. I can't see why Wendy suggested you apply for a loan to buy the building…except of course that she was trying to help you, you ungrateful bitch.”
“I might be grateful if the loan had gotten approved….but it didn’t, so why should I be?” Emily continued to glare at Wendy. “Grateful…you probably think I should be grateful for the trouble make here, too…like when you beat up some poor girl.”
“You should be!” Michelle shot back. “I bet your regular lowlife biker crowd love watching women brawl. It’s not like you don’t do it yourself, either. This place is catfight central, and that’s the way you like it. Go to your loan shark biker friends for a loan. No bank would loan you the money. I’m glad I turned the application down.”
It was as though the temperature in the kitchen had just dropped twenty degrees. “It was
you?” Emily hissed, her eyes wide, her face flushed.
“Yes it was! So what?”
Wendy made some noise, as if she was about to say something but then thought better of it.
“See? Even your
girlfriend is surprised at what you did!” Emily was furious, and a furious Emily was a dangerous thing. “I got customers to deal with now, and so does your lover girl here. But,” she paused and pointed her finger in Michelle’s face, “when we’re done, then I’m gonna deal with
you. We’ll see if blondie here is still your lover after I’m done with you.”
Emily turned to me. “Yeah, there’s some ‘tension’ as you call it, but there won’t be when I’ve dealt with this skank.” She tilted her head in Michelle’s direction without bothering to look at her. “You’ll want to watch, I know. Invite your friends. Same place as where I beat Elena. We’ll turn on those burners to keep it above freezing out there. Now go back to your friends and let me run my kitchen.” At last she turned to Wendy and Michelle. “As for you two…get the fuck out of here!”
I did as I was told, and reported my success to Kelly. Not only had I discovered the cause of the tension, but also that there was a fight brewing – one that we were invited to watch. “Oh you clever boy!” she said, kissing me.
The rest of the night seemed to drag, the only high point being Michael’s boss’s speech praising Michael for organizing the event, for choosing Emily’s bar as the venue and for hiring Wendy as the event manager. I whispered to Kelly. “Look at them…Emily and Wendy. They loathe each other. Yet they have to stand together, smile sweetly and graciously accept the praise.”
“And soon Emily and Wendy’s proxy, Michelle, will be tearing each other apart,” Kelly whispered. “I’ve already spread the word.”
At last the party wound down. Those in the know hung round – some of them making excuses that they were going to help clean up. It wasn’t much longer before we were on the grassed area at the side of the bar, between the parking lot and the beach. Emily’s staff had moved the big oil heaters that normally stood on the forecourt, to the site of the fight. They gave a lurid flickering light.
I sized up the fighters. They were about the same height, each 5ft 7 or so, but while Emily was broad shouldered with well developed leg and arm muscles – and a well developed bust to boot – while Michelle was slender and willowy. Apart from their height their only common features were chiseled muscles and hard abs, discernible through their clinging clothing.
Emily strode forward confidently, but Michelle stood her ground. She stretched out her arms, grasping Emily around the waist. Emily returned the compliment, locking Michelle in a bear hug, pulling the slimmer woman close against her. She squeezed hard, her muscles bulging. Michelle groaned. Emily squeezed harder still and Michelle's face reddened, then whitened. Emily was crushing the air from her lungs.
Michelle swung her knee up, striking Emily's thigh. The Latina grunted, her grip weakened momentarily and Michelle gulped in some much needed air. She shifted slightly – a few inches, no more since Emily still held onto her – and now there was air between their bodies.
Emily tried to regain her hold, pulling Michelle into her but as she did so, Michelle jerked her knee up again. This time she struck the inside of Emily’s thigh – maybe even the insides of both thighs. Emily’s eyes bugged wide. She realised Michelle’s knee had almost pounded her pussy. She released her hold and stepped back.
To my surprise, Michelle stepped in, wrapped her arms around Emily’s torso and then squeezed her ribs as if trying to repay the bigger girl in her own coin. It didn't work. The two women leaned into one another, pressed chest to chest, and Emily had the advantage here. She pushed Michelle back a pace. Then Michelle rallied, until Emily applied more pressure, and Michelle retreated another step. Again she regrouped, halting Emily’s advance for a moment, pushing hard, her legs straining, a look of fierce determination on her face. Emily simply braced her legs and Michelle couldn’t move her an inch. Then, as Michelle tired, Emily forced her backward again. This time she fell back several paces at once.
Michelle twisted at the waist, bending sideways and sliding her hand up to clutch the Latina’s neck. Emily, carried forward by her own momentum, found herself almost pushed off her feet and hoisted onto Michelle’s back. She saved herself from being slammed to the sand by scrabbling to get her feet back properly on the ground.
Michelle’s grip, already awkward, slipped and Emily broke free. She took a step back to recover her balance and her breath.
“Michelle nearly had her then!”
“Nah…Emily’s too big and solid for her to toss.”
Emily took only a few seconds to regroup before charging at Michelle, who came forward a little more slowly. Each grabbed a clump of the other’s hair. Emily jerked her opponent forward and sent her knee ramming into Michelle's stomach. Michelle's mouth opened wide as air and spittle erupted in a cloud that was clearly visible in the cold night air.
Michelle tried to drop back but Emily's grip on her hair prevented her. Emily struck again, this time with a fist that powered into Michelle's chest. Michelle let out a sharp grunt, her teeth clenched. She tried to respond with a punch of her own. The stronger girl – that was clearly what Emily was – yanked harder at Michelle's hair, dragging her to one side. It was only a few inches, but it was enough to deflect Michelle's punch, which hit comparatively harmlessly on Emily's side.
Emily fired another punch that buried itself in Michelle's gut. Michelle's eyes and mouth flew wide open. She sagged slightly and I though her knees would give way, but she rallied and punched back. This time she was a little more successful – but only a little – and though her fist struck Emily’s midriff but seemingly with little effect.
The big Latina grunted though, and drew her arm back, telegraphing a punch. Held by her hair and unwilling to release her grip on Emily’s hair, Michelle couldn’t escape the powerful blow that thudded into her midsection in precisely the same spot as her previous punch.
“Emily's showing off,” Kelly commented. “She wants us all to see her dominating Michelle. She might need a lesson in manners. One day she may regret the showboating.”
It seemed Kelly was right, for Emily sent several more powerful blows after that one. Each was deliberate, almost slow, designed so Michelle would see it coming, and yet held as she was the banker could twist only so far. Each blow hit – perhaps not with all the force Emily wanted, but each hammered Michelle, each drawing a groan or gasp or a muttered curse. Several made her stagger. I was waiting for her go down.
Michelle's punches had little effect on the Latina. Many failed to connect at all as Emily twisted this way and that. Worse, from Michelle’s viewpoint, she yanked and twisted Michelle too. The few blows that Michelle did manage to land, elicited a short hissing sound from Emily, more an expression of anger than pain.
Emily thrust her knee up. Michelle swung her body sideways and instead of her stomach, the knee pounded her thigh. The leg buckled for an instant and again I thought Michelle would fall. I wasn’t alone – a collective gasp went through the audience. Emily let out a hiss that right through the sounds from the crowd. It seemed as though that half missed shot made her angrier than any of Michelle’s punches.
The Latina pushed forward. Michelle dropped her grip on Emily’s hair and tried to back away. She failed. Emily wasn’t about to let go of her hair.
“You’re only half right, Kelly dear,” Kim smiled. “Emily’s breaking Michelle, just like you’ve broken…so many…others.”
Michelle abandoned her retreat and instead lunged forward into a clinch with her enemy. More than that, she shoved hard with both feet planted on the sand, just as Emily raised her knee again, trying to send another blow into Michelle’s thigh or lower belly. Instead she found herself almost unbalanced and she let go of Michelle and stumbled backward, trying to regain her footing.
As Michelle grabbed Emily’s hair again. the two women swirled around one another in a vicious circle, pushing and shoving, yanking hair, each trying to unbalance the other. Again it seemed Emily had the best of it until Michelle suddenly folded forward, slumping onto Emily’s body with her head resting on the Latina’s shoulder. Emily, nonplussed by Michelle’s apparent collapse, braced herself on the sand, only to have her leg kicked out from under her. Michelle had snaked her foot behind Emily’s and pushed hard. The bigger girl’s own weight, more than Michelle’s thrust, ensured that instead of just staggering back a pace or so, Emily was knocked down to the sand.
Emily rolled quickly away as Michelle tried to capitalise by stomping on the bar owner’s belly. Instead, her foot struck Emily a glancing blow to her ribs. Emily continued her roll but as it carried her onto her belly, Michelle threw herself down, landing hard on Emily’s back.
Seizing Emily firmly by the ears, she tried to slam her face into the sand. It was a move that might have been devastating on concrete, but it failed to inflict much damage on the soft ground. Realising this, Michelle tried to hold Emily’s head down in an attempt to smother her foe. She succeeded for a moment before Emily pulled her arms inward, under her chest, and heaved upward, almost as though she were doing a push up on an exercise mat. She raised her head, gulped a deep breath and then dropped down on her left side.
Michelle toppled off her and scrambled to her feet. Emily was slower to rise. She had only reached her knees when Michelle darted in. For a moment I thought I was going to see a reprise of the first time fight I’d seen Kelly fight, the day we met on the beach when she effectively ended the fight by kneeing Jenn Peccavi under her chin, forcing the bigger woman down on her back. Was the slighter Michelle about to do the same? I glanced at Kelly, who stood with her nails dug deep into the palm of her hands.
But no, Emily thrust a hand up, deflecting the rising knee. She did more than that, since while Michelle was still regaining her balance, Emily sprang forward off her knees, hurling herself into a tackle that almost took Michelle down to the sand. Had Emily managed to get a good grip on her opponent, they would have wound up on the ground with Emily on top. Then things would have gotten bad for the slighter woman.
Michelle managed to break free though, and backed off to regroup. Emily stood up, her clothes covered in sand, not bothering to brush herself off. Her eyes burned like hot coals. She closed on Michelle and began firing punches. This time her blows weren’t telegraphed. This time she wasn’t playing with her opponent. This fight had turned serious. Yes, her blows were slow, deliberate and delivered with force at carefully selected targets, but now Emily mixed up her barrage.
The other woman didn’t so much defend and parry as duck and weave, launching her own lighter, stinging punches. It was as if Emily was a crusader and Michelle a Saracen; their fighting styles slow and deliberate against light and fast. But unlike a Crusader under his ponderous armour, Emily was quick when she needed to be. She too ducked, weaved and also parried many of the punches Michelle tried to land, though not all. Some hit home, maybe more of Michelle’s than Emily’s, but those of Emily’s that thudded loudly into the smaller woman’s flesh brought an even louder response. Michelle gasped, groaned, grunted and cried out at each pounding fist that landed on her. When a blow hit her in the stomach – and some did – spittle and air exploded from her lungs. When another blow hit her face – and some did – they broke the skin and blood oozed from the cut. She was taking a savage battering and from her pale face and wide eyes, she knew she had little answer to the heavy blows.
As Emily darted in for another assault, she suddenly screamed and reeled back, clutching her left hand to her face, covering her left eye.
“The bitch poked her in the eye!” Michael was shocked. “Not even Wendy would do that!”
“Oh yes she would!” Kim hissed
I was as shocked as Michael. Michelle’s move had been lightning fast. I hadn’t even seen her do it. I saw the result though – Emily was hurt. She kept her hand over her eye, and held the other arm defensively in front of her, protecting her upper body.
Michelle seized the opportunity and struck with repeated punches – much harder than those she’d used before. All of them were aimed at Emily’s vulnerable left side, and most hit home. They drew groans, then cries of pain from the still half blinded Latina. All Emily could do was retreat or dodge. She did both, as much as the circle of onlookers around her allowed. Callously, the onlookers didn’t make way when the stricken bar owner neared them. One or two even shoved her back with a jeer.
Apparently finding her second wind, Michelle kept on scoring freely. She danced around her slower opponent, launching punches that hammered Emily’s ribs and midsection. After one particularly brutal blow thudded into her belly, Emily seemed to visibly shudder. Michelle stood back, took deliberate aim and fired a right jab at Emily’s stomach. The beleaguered Latina dropped her left arm and parried that attack but in so doing, she left herself open to Michelle’s left which slammed into her jaw. Emily shook like tree in the wind. She let out a long sighing “oooh!” and dropped to the sand with an audible thud.
Emily was down but not yet out. As Michelle strode forward, she rolled away, kicking out desperately to stave off Michelle’s further attack. She was lucky – one kick caught Michelle firmly in the stomach and stopped her in her tracks. Michelle paused, chest heaving, gasping for breath, and Emily was able to get to her knees. As Michelle followed up with another kick, Emily tried to seize Michelle’s raised foot. Michelle scampered backward out of reach, allowing Emily to get to her feet
The Latina was blinking rapidly. Even in the half light, I could see the discharge from her left eye. It must have been giving her hell. Nevertheless, she raised her right hand and beckoned Michelle closer. She kept her right side forward, protecting her aching left eye from Michelle's fists and fingers.
Michelle, her chest still heaving, her dress ridden up high on her hips, came at Emily again. Now though, Emily was waiting for her. She started firing heavy punches, again timing her blows with precision and skill. She let out a loud grunt of exertion with each punch, as if she had to dig deep inside her for the strength. It was clear she was at the end of her endurance.
Even so, the big punches crashed home on Michelle, almost unopposed. Michelle had obviously bet everything on that cruel attack to Emily’s eye, hoping to render her helpless and finish her. That bet hadn’t paid off. Now, pale and panicking, wide eyed with disbelief at Emily’s resilience, her defense crumpled as Emily’s fists pounded her. Again Emily showed her skill in mixing up her blows – some hammering Michelle’s face, some slamming into her upper body, some into her stomach. Each was a solid, powerful punch. Michelle was groaning, staggering, struggling to stay on her feet.
Michelle stretched out an arm. I didn’t know whether she was trying to fend Emily off, or whether it was a pleading gesture for mercy. If so, Emily wasn’t being merciful. She grabbed Michelle’s arm, pulled her worn out opponent close and rammed a knee up into Michelle’s gut. Michelle gave an explosive gasp and doubled over, gagging. Emily let go of her arm and sent a ripping right cross at Michelle’s jaw. The force of it knocked the beaten banker sideways and she would have fallen to her knees, but then she recovered – or more likely she was dragged up by Emily’s grip on her arm.
Emily yanked on her arm even harder, whipping it up over Michelle’s shoulder. Michelle gave a breathless scream as she was jerked bodily off her feet. She crashed to the sand on her back, knocking what little breath was left from her body. She didn’t try to get up.
Emily stood there a moment, her shoulders heaving as she forced air back into her lungs. When she turned to us, her left eye was swollen almost shut. Tears streamed down her cheeks, glistening in the light. “She was a bitch!” she declared, then turned away and walked back inside.
As Wendy rushed to help her fallen friend, I turned to Kelly. “I guess this was the right result for you.”
She kissed me. “Yes, Peter.”
*****
