I’d taken that away from her. I’d taken away her father.
The wife turned toward me after she placed the flower on the casket and held on to her daughter. For a brief instant, her eyes met mine, and I was able to see the hole in her heart I’d put there. I was able to see the pain I’d caused, the uprooting I’d forced upon her.
It was too much.
My heart beat out of my chest and my breathing became erratic. Without turning to Jett, I said, “Get me out of here.”
His strong hand took hold of my shoulder, and he guided me back to the car, not saying a word. There was nothing to say. I was an animal.
I would never forgive myself.
Chapter Eleven
My present…
“Where do you want these thongs?” Tootse called, drawing me from my thoughts. I looked up at the blondest women I’d ever met, carrying an abnormally large box and about ready to tip over from its size.
I rushed over to help and grabbed the box from her so she didn’t end up face-first into the wall.
“Thanks.” She shook her arms out. “Thongs are heavy.” She huffed and held on to the wall.
I set the box on the floor in front of the counter at the community center just as the contents of the box registered in my head. “Thongs?”
“Tootse, make sure Kace doesn’t see the box….” Goldie stopped in her tracks when she saw me standing over Tootse with my hands on my hips. “Oh shit….”
“Yeah, ‘oh shit’ is right,” I said. “Care to explain why there is a box of—” I bent over and looked at the number of thongs on the shipping label and then glanced at Goldie. “Why is there a box of a one thousand silk thongs being delivered to the community center?”
Goldie stepped up to me and pushed her pen against my forehead. “Before that little vein pops, stop worrying. They are just parting gifts.”
“Parting gifts for what?” I questioned.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Goldie said while trying to grab the box off the ground. She struggled from the weird size of it. Jett called her ‘little one’ for a reason.
Instead of helping her, I stood back and watched her struggle. She tried holding the box in different positions. She even pushed it with her toe to scoot it along the floor, but in the end, she just gave up.
With a huff, she looked up at me and said, “Do you mind helping?”
“I do, actually.”
She stomped her foot on the ground. “Kace! Don’t be an ass and help me.”
“What are the thongs for?” I said between clenched teeth. “I’m in charge of the center, so I am privy to whatever information I want to know. Now tell me why you have one thousand thongs in a box in the community center.”
“You’re so frustrating,” she whined.
“Well…?” I waited.
She gave in, like I knew she would. “Fine. We’re going to offer pole-dancing classes, and we thought a little gift bag for the attendees would be nice.”
“No,” I said, going back to the front desk and checking on my paperwork. The center opened in a few days. It was a soft opening but an opening nonetheless, and I wanted to be prepared. We would only be offering a few classes to start, but once everything was complete, we would be expanding our schedule.
“No?” Goldie said, coming up next to the counter. “How can you just say no?”
I glanced up at her. “Because I can.”
“Ahh! I want to strangle you,” she complained. “Did you know pole dancing is actually a really good form of exercise?”
“Goldie, we are not going—”
“She’s right, you know,” Lyla said, interrupting me as she sidled up next to Goldie and put her arm around Goldie’s waist. “I already have a full list of names of people who want to participate in Friday’s class.” With obnoxious confidence, Lyla tossed a clipboard full of names on the counter and looked at me with quirked lips.
“See!” Goldie cheered. “A full class! It’s popular already, and we haven’t even started.”
Of course in a city like New Orleans, spots in a pole dancing class would fill. That didn’t mean I wanted to have a class like that at the center. Justice was supposed to have a wholesome, family-type environment, not a night club atmosphere, which was what I was getting from the girls with their box of thongs.
With my hands on my hips, I looked at Goldie. “All right, smart-ass, how do you expect to teach a pole dancing class without poles?”
She looked away for a second and then said, “We have poles.”
“What are you talking about?”
Biting her finger, she stepped back from the counter. “I had Jett put them in for me.”
“What!” I roared. “Why the fuck would he do that when I’m in charge of this place?”
Goldie cringed and stepped back again, Lyla enjoying the interaction between us the whole time. “Maybe because I told him you approved it.”
“Fucking hell,” I breathed out as I scrubbed a hand over my face. Gathering all my will not to fly off the deep end, I pointed at her and said, “Go behind my back again, and you will not fucking like the results.”
“I’m sorry, Kace,” she apologized.
I took off to the boxing room. I could tell she wasn’t that sorry, because as I retreated, I heard her cheer with Lyla and Tootse about the new class Justice would be offering.
Even though I hated it, I smiled and shook my head. Leave it to Goldie to get her way.
Once in the Haze Room, I took in the rich smell of fresh leather and brand new wood floors. It had taken me a couple of days, but I’d finally accepted the gesture from Jett, the gesture to reconnect with something that had been so unfairly taken away from me. It felt odd to be surrounded by something I loved so much once again, but I started to take advantage of the new room. I couldn’t help it. It was my new play yard.
I walked over to the stereo that was situated against one of the walls and hit the play button. Classic rock blasted through the speakers, putting me in the mood to do some damage. I stripped off my shirt, grabbed a jump rope, and bounced up and down to warm up. I started at a slow pace, letting my heart gradually warm to the rhythm running through me, but once I felt comfortable, I whipped the rope faster, enjoying the challenge of keeping up with the intense pace. It only took a few minutes for sweat to form on my brow and drip down my back.
Pleased with my warm-up, I quickly wrapped my hands, grabbed a pair of gloves, and secured them around my hands and wrists. It was time to attack the bag.
Freddy Mercury’s voice boomed through the speakers as I circled the bag. Finding the right position, I threw right hooks and left uppercuts. Alternating punches, I rapidly took all my pent-up aggression out on the bag, focusing on one thing and one thing alone: the feel of my fist connecting with the sand-filled bag.
The impact was hard, it was intoxicating, and it was exactly what I needed.
The nightmares were getting worse, they were haunting me every night, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of this new venture I was embarking on or the fact that I boxed on a daily basis now so I was releasing the demons I’d stowed away for so long, but whatever it was, I was reliving my worst sins at night. I woke up every morning, sweating and feeling ill with beads of sweat at my brow. It took me at least one boxing session and the morning to get over the raw and unsettling feeling I woke up to now on an almost daily basis.
Right hook, right hook, right hook.
I gripped the bag with my left arm and kneed it while throwing punches at it with my right hand. The pain gripping my chest eased with my full-on attack, and I could feel the weight resting on my shoulders start to fade.