Trinity Stone sat stoically as the hired trainer dabbed ineptly at the cut over her eye with a styptic pencil. It stung. She wanted to punch the man for his incompetence, but she was tired and her hands hurt too much. In fact everything hurt in the throbbing, aching way of a body realizing it's been beaten badly by someone who knew exactly what she was doing. Another fight, another loss, another three hundred bucks.
From a corner in the small, dilapidated locker room, Melanie Gray watched the woman with a mixture of worry and disgust. Trinity looked up. They locked eyes in a way that said they knew each other well, and there wasn't a lot of friendship left.
"Come to gloat, Mel?" Trinity rubbed her teeth with a wrapped hand to get rid of the taste of the mouthpiece. "Remind me once more what a fucking failure I am?"
The trainer, realizing something ugly was coming, packed his kit and wandered away, toward another man to who handed him a small fold of bills. Trinity was alone with the person she liked least in all the world.
"Gloat? At what? A woman determined to commit suicide by boxing? If I wanted to watch a train wreck, I'd go home and turn on the news. At least the seats would be comfortable, and the smell would be better." The standing woman stepped closer, out of the shadows. "What the fuck happened to you?"
Trinity stood, shaking her dirty blonde braids to spray stale sweat into the air--and onto Melanie. Both women were about five feet ten inches, similar builds, but Melanie was brunette with soft brown eyes and Trinity had more muscle. Despite the dangers of her profession, the blonde was still almost pretty, with a straight nose, ice blue eyes, and full lips surrounded by high cheekbones. The brunette was simply striking. It wasn't only the tailored clothes or the perfect hair and makeup; it was the way she carried herself with the surety of someone who expects to succeed in everything she does. Unlike the boxer, whose broad shoulders slumped with an attitude of resignation.
"You happened to me, Mel. Remember? You promised me the world, better and better fights, a title, remember that? Then I lost, and where were you?" The blonde's voice rose and cracked. "Where the fuck were you?" But even in her anger, the wrapped hands never strayed from their dropped position at her waist.
Melanie ran her fingers through her hair; even that made her look good. "OK, yes! You want me to say I abandoned you? I did. I left you in the fucking gutter and went on with my life. But you jumped in that gutter all by yourself, Trin, I just never tried to pull you out. Until now."
The boxer watched the elegant woman with narrowed eyes, not speaking.
"You won't be much of boxer, ever, Trinity. We both know that. You're a can, a jobber. It's what you always were and it's what you're always going to be. It just took you longer to find out than it took me. But you've got something else that others don't, and I'm here now, offering you the chance to use it and leave this behind." Melanie gently slapped one of Trinity's well-defined breasts through her sweat- and blood-soaked sports bra, and then tapped the hard cup at her crotch. "This chance won't come again. I've got the opportunity, but you need to say yes quickly or the door will close, and I won't be able to open it."
"You're serious? That's... disgusting. No, never." Trinity did raise her wrapped hands but only in an expression of 'what the fuck.' She turned away, scratching her hair, nose wrinkled. "What is it?"
"It's not boxing, not like that last time. This is less violent, mostly. No punching. Just... Fuck, Trin, come on!" Melanie took a deep breath, reaching a decision. "OK, OK. Here's the deal. I need you. I'm desperate, and you are my last chance to keep the business going. Happy now?"
Trinity turned back to look her former manager in the eye and saw she was telling the truth. It should have felt good, real good. But it didn't. There was only the same sense of resignation, watching Melanie's face fracture with the pain of admitting she might not be perfect. "How much?"
Melanie smiled--relief, not cunning. "Two thousand, less my cut. With more possible, if you're good. Christ, Trin, six times what you make doing this shit, and you can get up the next morning and not hurt all over. You're it, my only shot. Please?"
I should punch her now and walk away. These things never come out well. It's always me on the canvas looking up. Say, no, get her out of your life. She's poison. But Trinity knew it wouldn't happen, she couldn't say no.
"When?"
"A month. I need to arrange things. Besides, you need some practice. I bet you haven't had a proper sexfight in years."
"Whoa! That's what you mean? I never did that at all. Much. You crazy?"
"Like a fox, Trin. You have what it takes. You know it; I know it. Don't tell me you don't miss it." Melanie spread her hands. "This is the perfect opportunity."
*****
The car bounced along the rutted track that the sign on the highway said was Broadview Drive. It was dark with trees hugging the shoulders so there wasn't anything to see, and the deep tracks made it nearly impossible to drive. Trinity hung on the hand strap to keep from slapping herself on the headliner.
"Want to find another rut, Mel? I think there's one part of my back that isn't out of whack."
The brunette favored her passenger with her best 'fuck off' expression and managed to find the exact spot that slammed Trinity's head against the window. Immediately after that the road became smooth with lights appearing in the distance.