Page 80 of Hits Different

Storm Brewing

Parker

“You’re dropping your left”, Zara warns me, then follows up by smacking me in the side of the head to prove it. “You’ve got to think about defence as much as attack. This is real MMA. It requires a little more strategic thinking than one of your bar-room brawls”.

I’m beginning to regret sharing that part of my history with Zara. “Point made”. I throw a kick at her midsection. She steps back, catches my leg, and topples me off balance. Outside, a rumble of thunder pierces the grey skies.

“You’re catching on quick, but you’re prone to amateur mistakes”.

“Guess that’s because I’m an amateur”, I close the gap between us quickly, using my weight to muscle her up to the side of the cage, where I lightly fire off three quick, light punches. “But I’m learning”.

She pushes me backwards. “Point made”. Her eyes are shining, the way they always do when one of her students does something right. “How are you balancing training and your job?”

“Simon’s cool”, I nearly choke on my mouthguard saying it, but it’s true. He’s relaxed my schedule and gave me an advance to cover my lessons. Not that he knows the real reason for my training just yet.

“And other areas of your life?” Zara gestures for us to take a break. I follow her over to the corner, where she unfastens my gloves. “This life, hell, thisschedule, can be tough on relationships”.

A guilty shiver runs up my spine. I don’t like keeping secrets from Brandon, but he’s made it very clear that he’s against any kind of violence that involves me. I need to wait for the right time to tell him, in a way that makes him understand.

This isn’t about fighting for the sake of it. It’s about fulfilling my dad’s legacy.

“I’m not here to tell you how to run your personal life, but girls can be a distraction”.

“I don’t have a girlfriend”. I roll my neck, hoping the movement will dampen the blush I feel coming on. Just then my phone rings. “Shit. Do you mind if I take this? It’s work”.

“This is Parker Di Rossi’s social secretary”, Sheryl drawls down the speaker. Zara suppresses a smile. “Calling to inform him that the honour of his presence has been requested for a coffee date at Café Mernova at 4pm sharp”.

I ignore the smirking eye roll from Zara that saysno girlfriend, right?“With who?”

It can only be Brandon. He could have just text me, but this is kinda fun too. If not a little weird.

“I’m afraid that information is unavailable”. Sheryl continues, in her faux-robotic answering machine voice. She’s loving this, I can tell. I grab my gym bag, wave a goodbye to Zara. “Please be prompt, and remember an umbrella. We’re expecting bad weather this evening”.

“Anything else?”

“Bring me back a bear claw brownie”.

I laugh, and she hangs up. I leave the gym, just as another rumble of thunder echoes overhead. Mernova is a couple of blocks away, just in time for my stomach to get excited at the thought of seeing Brandon. Plus, it’s a chance to do-over our coffee date experience.

If his hand touches mine this time, I’ll grab it and won’t let go.

The bell above the door rings and I nod hello to the barista behind the counter. I instinctively look to the table we sat at last time, but it’s occupied by an elderly couple sharing afternoon tea. I turn towards the booths.

And run right into Millie St Clare.

* * * *

“I wanted to check that you’d received my message”, Millie says. We’re sitting opposite each other in a booth by the window. “Since you didn’t respond. I’ll have a non-fat chai latte, extra foam”, she adds to our waitress, without missing a beat.

“Plain roast”, I say flatly, my fingers curled around the arms of my chair, “To go”.

Millie’s always rocked this kind of immaculate look, which has only matured in the time since we last saw each other. “I’m not staying”, I add pointedly.

She opens her mouth to retort, then thinks better of it. “This is some city you’ve found yourself in, Parker. I’ve never seen so many patisseries. It’s a holiday movie waiting to happen”.

“You should see me tossing bales of hay in a lumberjack shirt. It’s really something”.

“I’d sooner see you tossing hay without a lumberjack shirt”. She catches my eye, “Sorry. Old habits”.

---