Masked

Chapter Nine

        I looked down at the card in my hand, and then back at the sign. This was the right place. Before entering the gym, I mentally thanked Klaus for being able to give me directions. The door swung open at my touch, the hinges squeaking ever so slightly. Rock music was playing, and men and women filled the room. One was jump roping, two people were boxing in a ring, and some were using the punching bags.

        Noticing a faintly lit hallway on the left side of the gym, I began to make my way to it recalling the fact that Diego said he lived in the boiler room. People looked up when I passed them by, and not being able to recognize me sent a friendly smile my way. I happily returned them. Since I hadn't bothered to change, I was still in my formal attire from earlier and realized how much I must have stood out in the room full of t-shirts and sweatpants.

        After passing by the front of the boxing ring, I heard a whistle from behind me. Leaning on the ropes was a man with curly, dirty blond hair. He winked as I met his gaze. Boxing gloves on, he motioned for me to come over. Not quite knowing why I did as he said.

        The guy pointed at my outfit. "Now what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?"

        "I came to see a friend," I told him truthfully, arms crossed. "But, I'm starting to think I came to fight instead."

        He laughed, bowing. "I'd like to see you try."

        The man motioned for his training partner to remove his gloves. I removed my heels and left them beside the ring, hopping up to swing myself under the ropes. Another man, this one older and with a blue and white striped beanie came over to watch. The cat-caller handed me his partner's gloves, and I pulled them on.

        "If you'd each head to a corner," said the old man. He nodded his head. "I'll be the ref for this match here today. No kicking, no head-butts, and no strikes below the belt or when your opponent is down. Will we be playing with scoring or knockouts?"

        I looked at my opponent. "I don't see why knockout wouldn't be okay? What about you?"

        "Sweetheart, I'll do whatever you want."

        Our referee nodded once more. "Alright. Then let the match begin!"

        A bell rung, and the guy lunged at me with a simple jab. I quickly dodged, managing to strike his side. Simple. Finally understanding that I wasn't just any old girl off the streets, he promptly turned before I could land any more hits. He seemed to lighten himself on his feet and stared me down. I sent him a smile and then tried an uppercut to his jaw, he blocked but missed the hook coming from the other side towards his face.

        The man spat out a little blood before coming after me. He tried so hard to land a single punch on my body, but I swerved and ducked every time. It was a game now, like tag. He was it, and if he touched me just once, I'd have to come right back after him. Another swing at me, which this time I blocked, just to send a jab into his stomach. I heard the door of the gym swing open but didn't bother to look, knowing it would end in my downfall.

        Block, dodge, attack. The movements fell into a rhythm. As the guy's face turned redder and redder, I swear the ref laughed. Soon enough, I hit him just hard enough in the head to make him collapse on the floor. The old man counted.

        "One, Two, Three. . ."

        Finally, he got to ten, and the dirty blond didn't pick himself up, he was unconscious. I ripped the boxing gloves off and tucked a strand of curls behind my ear. A slow clap caught my attention. Behind me, standing beside the old man was Diego. He had a smile on his face and chuckled as I exited the ring.