Page 5 of Bruised Hearts

“Check with Mila, she said nobody could touch them, so she was going to put them up for you.”

“Damn, now I gotta drive over pops house.” She shook her head at me like I said something wrong.

“Dummy, she upstairs.” Not responding, I took off to Mila’s room two at a time. Before I entered, I knocked.

“You may enter.” Laughing under my breath, I walked inside. Walking in her face, I stared at her to try and gauge her mood.

“Jammy Jam, we good?”

“Yes, we are.” Hugging her, I kissed her strawberry birthmark before continuing.

“You seen my gloves, Jam?” Grabbing her bag, she pulled them out and passed them to me.

“Landon, I know you think you have to fight everyone to prove you’re not scared, but you should be scared this time.” Normally, Mila stayed away from the boxing talk.

“What you mean, Jam? You think I can’t take Danger?”

“I think he’s going to beat you bad or maybe even kill you. Do you remember when Santa gave me Frosty for Christmas?” I had no idea what this had to do with the conversation we were having. Pops had the great idea to buy her some birds and he put a note on it as if they were from Santa. The note said the North Pole was too cold, so he was entrusting her with his most prized pets and to take care of them. Two weeks later Frosty was deader than a mufucka. That shit was so funny, I cried laughing for weeks. Not because she killed the birds, but because in her mind she had fucked up. This jit said ‘welp, I really did it this time. Santa not going to give me anything else for Christmas.’ We were all confused on what she was talking about, when she showed us Frosty lying on his back, legs in the air, and sleeping good.

“Yeah, I remember.”

“Well, you’re Frosty and Danger is me. He’s way bigger and he’s going to overpower you. I would hate to watch the fight and see your little feet sitting up in the air while you sleep dead.” I opened and closed my mouth not sure on what to say.

“Mila, I’m going to be okay, I promise.”

“Okay. Your last fight left you eyeless and ugly. It’s only one more step after that. Timmy agrees with me too.”

“Who the hell is Timmy?”

“Just this guy I like.”

“Now, you might think I can’t whoop Danger, but I damn sure can beat Timmy’s ass. Shut it down and I’m sure pops will agree with me. Don’t make me tell on your lil ass.” Mila put her headphones on letting me know she was done with the conversation, and we were no longer good. Grabbing my gloves, I shook my head and walked out the room. Running down the stairs, I couldn’t wait to tell Nana what this lil mufucka just said, but her ass was sitting on the couch slumped over knocked out. Her ass will go to sleep anywhere and in the blink of an eye. Shaking my head, I walked out and got in my car. Me and my parents would have this conversation later. Right now, I need to get to the gym. For some reason, my nights have been restless. The nightmares weren’t there, but I could barely sleep. I didn’t want to keep trauma dumping on my pops, so I kept it to myself.

Pulling up to the gym, I took a deep breath before getting out. The weight of my past was weighing heavily on me today, and I prayed I found solace in these bags. I’m not going to lie, I often wondered why black men were given the hardest tasks yet no room to make mistakes. I’m a successful, young, black man that has everything in other people eyes, but in mine, all I have is villains. I shouldn’t have these many villains trying to perpetuate a stigma on me. My mother Blaise hates when I use that word, but it’s what it feels like to me.

I watched the media try to tear my pops apart. Now, they do the same to me. In our lives, the media is a villain. I’m rich, so women see me as a dollar sign. A way to come up and they will do anything to get it. To me, they are a villain in my life. The demons of my past stopping me from being the best part of myself, villain. Every day, I’m fighting not to become a statistic, but that shit is a battle within itself. Boxing is all I have to relieve me of some of the pressure I’m feeling. Walking inside, I took in the smell. It was something about the sweat on the mat, will power hitting the bags, and hunger in the air that calmed my soul. That shit wasn’t working today until I felt her. Looking around, I saw her and my soul calmed.

She was hitting the bag, sweat running down the disfigured skin on the right side of her face. I assumed she was burned, but it took nothing away from her beauty. I could feel my jawline jumping ready to disfigure whoever harmed her. She seemed confident, but I still wanted to inform her of her beauty. Her dark, unmatched beauty.

Every time I saw her, she looked like she was on edge. Defensive and ready to fight anyone that said something to her. Her eyes stayed low even when she was watching the fight. It almost looked as if she was high or asleep. Her hair was always pulled back into a ponytail. She never looked fancy or dressed up. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her wear anything outside of joggers. Even now, she had on a sports bra, joggers, and some raggedy gloves hitting the bag. She wasn’t really short, but at five seven, her stance commanded the room like she was over six feet. Sexy and confident, but the look on her face was still the same. Her ass looked mad at the world.

I had no idea who she was, but I knew it was meant for her to be in my life. The way my thoughts, body, and soul shifted when she was in the room confirmed that for me. Even when I’m in the ring, I know the moment she walks in. It’s not a female alive that ever gave me that feeling. The only other time I knew someone was supposed to be in my life was the night I stopped Devin at Checkers. I had no idea why, but I just knew. Now, I was feeling the same thing with her. Seeing her look up at me, I got hopeful. I was about to walk over when she gave me a look of disgust before going back to the bag. Knowing this wasn’t the place for commotion, I decided to let her make it. For now!

4- Ariyah “Nova” Stevens

Out of all the gyms in the world, he had to train at this one. Landon aka Breaker, or as I liked to call him, Trouble. On the outside, I tried to pretend he didn’t affect me, but my insides were screaming. Every nerve in my body was reacting. I was already wildly swinging at the bag because I was in my feelings. Now, I had to hide my obvious desires. Landon wasn’t like anyone else I’ve ever encountered. Confident, sexy, aggressive, yet laid back at the same time.

His deep brown skin had scars from previous fights that gave his look definition. It solidified his hood demeanor. Landon’s low, slanted eyes had eyelashes that bitches would pay for. Including me. His body, my God his body was a muscular masterpiece that was covered in tattoos. I stole glances every chance I got hoping like hell he didn’t catch me. Stone would never allow it to happen, so it made no sense to start something I couldn’t finish.

I already didn’t know what I was doing, but being flustered didn’t help. Instead of keeping him at bay, me hitting the bag is what finally brought him over to me. The closer he got, the sloppier my form became. I tried to pretend I was focused, but the determination in his strides let me know I wasn’t fooling nobody but myself.

“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep swinging like that.”

“I got it, thank you though.” I tried to keep my words short and uninterested hoping he would leave, but he leaned against the wall not catching the hint.

“Damn, you’re a tough ass jit to crack.”

“And you’re a child beater from what I heard.” Instead of being offended, Landon smirked as he continued to look me over. I went back to swinging, but it was hard knowing his eyes were boring into me.