Renea Mayhew was not a violent person. She had never in her life been required to physically defend herself. Yet, there was a part of her that needed the release she found from training in hand to hand combat.
With the stress and pressure that came with her position, along with the necessary restraint that came with Renea’s personal credo of being beyond reproach, she supposed it was logical. After all, who wouldn’t want to punch something after 12 hours of herding cats?
And so, to prevent that necessary release from forcing its way out at an inconvenient time, Renea spent a few evenings each week in a gym for mixed martial arts training. This evening, she strong-armed a quite unwilling Myles Bittibs to accompany her.
Renea, a petite and well dressed business woman with pleasant features, looked and felt out of place in this basement gym with its testosterone fueled inhabitants grunting and postering. Myles made her look, and feel, like someone that actually belonged there.
Claiming that, “I don’t own clothes to exercise in,” Myles showed up to training wearing a Magic the Gathering graphic t-shirt that wouldn’t look out of place in Peter’s ‘home wardrobe’. He was wearing the same slim fit dress pants he’d worn to work that day which, as always, made him look like a frog made to stand on its hind legs. To Renea’s surprise and profound amusement, he purchased a pair of new balance sneakers and wore the skuff-free, bright white old-man-shoes with the tags still attached.
“You brought a friend today,” Derek nearly shouted.
He was Renea’s trainer. An immaculately groomed black man with perfectly symmetrical features and a massive smile, Derek was one of the most intense people Renea had ever met. One hour sessions two days a week met and exceeded her maximum Derek threshold. The guy was great, he was just a little too much.
“This is Myles. Myles, Derek. Derek, Myles .”
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“Hey, Myles,” Derek replied, grasping Myles’ unoffered hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Good to meet you. I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess this is your first time here. Do you have any training or experience in martial arts?”
“What gave me away?” Myles asked without the typical raising of the last syllable to indicate a question.
Derek looked Myles up and down. His piercing eyes met Myles’ with an apologetic half-squint, lips pressed together. “Let’s just call it a lucky guess. Alright. Well, time’s moving and we’re still standing still. You guys warmed up?”
They were not. After doing so while Derek shouted encouragement at a nearby sparring pair, Renea and Myles were strapped into borrowed sparring gear that smelled of feet.
“Please don’t make me do this,” Myles said, expression neutral. He looked even more out of place with the faded blue foam helmet on.
“Come on, Myles! It’ll be fun. I promise to go easy on you,” Renea said. She was bouncing back and forth on her toes in a staggered fighting stance. She motioned for him to approach like a master in some kung fu movie. “Let’s go!”
Myles took a hesitant step forward and threw the slowest, weakest punch Renea had seen in her time at this gym. She only had to turn her chin, moving the target by mere inches, to avoid it.
“It isn’t fun if you don’t actually try to hit me, Myles.”
“She’s not wrong, kid.” Derek stepped between them and lifted Myles’s fists into the air before his face. “And keep your damn hands up. Even if Renea’s going to be soft on you, I certainly won’t. I see your hands come down again while you’re in the ring, I will be the one to slap you around a little bit. Got it?”
For the first time this evening, Myles looked frightened. In his defense, Derek was an incredibly muscular man who just looked like an efficient fighter. Myles nodded seriously.
“Good. Now get out there and hit that petite woman in her face like a real man.”
Myles stepped forward again, this time swinging like he meant to actually hit Renea. She brought her shoulder down and twisted, avoiding the blow and then resumed her fighting stance. He swung again, it was dodged again, but this time he followed up with a second. Renea ducked it with a practiced swoop of her head, popping back up outside Myles’s guard. She popped him quickly, but gently on his cheek with a sharp left jab.
Shoulders drooping, Myles let his hands fall back to his sides. Derek, true to his word, slapped Myles across the cheek.
“Thank you,” Myles said, turning slowly to face Derek.
“Keep your damn hands up,” Derek repeated. “My grandmama could slap you around this gym, boy! With both arms tied behind her back. Get in position, let’s go again.”