We settled into a routine the next few days. Jeremy and I hit the gym first thing in the mornings while Emmy slept in, then after we had the lunch that Jeremy made I’d go out driving, either with Mr Clifton or by myself, just to explore.
Emmy spent the afternoons with her songwriting and practice, holed up in her little studio, while Jeremy went out exploring the city on foot and by public transport, usually returning with groceries for the night’s meal.
He’d fallen easily into the habit of making dinner, too, which Emmy and I both encouraged. Sure, his meal planning was basic and the dishes themselves were simple, but everybody starts somewhere, right?
“How was your driving class?” Emmy asked that first night at dinner.
“It was… interesting,” I said, thinking about how to answer. “The teacher, Grahame? He’s not what I expected at all,” I said, pouring myself another glass of sparkling water.
“No?”
“Well, with a name like Grahame Clifton, I guess I pictured somebody that looked vaguely like Prince Charles, you know? That is not this guy, though. He’s a mixed-race South African guy, maybe late sixties. Kinda small-”
“Almost everyone is small compared to you!” Emmy interrupted with a laugh.
“Kinda small, maybe five and a half feet tall, and thin. His hair has gone all white, and he smiles a lot,” I said. “He lectures like a college professor while he’s talking about how to avoid being shot by the people in the car that’s chasing you.”
“Was it lectures? Did you do any driving?” Emmy asked.
“Oh, yeah, plenty of driving. The whole thing started off with me taking the UK’s written driver’s exam, and then the behind-the-wheel part, just so he could see that I had some idea of what I was doing. After that we drove around and he talked about different scenarios and what to do, so yeah, all in all it was about three hours behind the wheel.”
“Did you get value from it?” Emmy asked.
“Yeah, I think so,” I said. “Today was all just theoretical, but in the next couple of sessions we’ll be doing more, um, practical work.”
“What did he think of your car?” Jeremy asked.
“He didn’t mention it one way or another. Honestly, I’d bet he’s experienced just about every kind of car,” I said. “I mean, he teaches evasive driving to professional chauffeurs, rich people and government types, right? So he’s seen the insides of a lot of Range Rovers, Bentleys, and Jaguars, as well as more normal cars.”
“That makes sense,” Jeremy admitted.
“When you say ‘practical’, what exactly do you mean?” Emmy asked, helping herself to some more grilled white asparagus.
“Well, see, that’s what I’m not clear on,” I admitted. “I mean, these are public streets, right? He can’t have somebody chase me down Portland Road, now can he?”
“That would be funny!” Emmy exclaimed, laughing at the thought.
“Yeah, up until we shifted into the next part of the curriculum, ‘Evading The Police 101’,” I said.
“So what did you learn today?” Emmy asked.
“I learned that car chases aren’t real,” I told her. “I learned that it’s all about getting away immediately. If an aggressive pursuit lasts more than two minutes somebody is likely to die, one way or another. So, basically, when you realize you’re being pursued you have to get away right at that moment. Today was mostly about strategies to do just that.”
“I am still thinking about you driving like James Bond through the streets of London, being chased by a smiling old man with white hair,” Emmy said. “It would be hilarious.”
“Well, no,” I countered. “See, the thing is, people die in car chases. Either one or the other car crashes when things get hectic, and often as not takes out innocent bystanders. All those movie car chases where pedestrians dive out of the way? In the real world, people just aren’t paying that much attention and they get run over. In the movies, they run red lights and get away, but in real life, you get hit by a truck… or some family in a minivan. So it’s all about getting away within a couple of corners and then running for the hills.”
“That… makes sense,” Emmy admitted.
“Yeah, so I really have no idea what Grahame has planned for our next two sessions,” I said. “But I’m kinda looking forward to it,” I added.
“You worked late tonight,” Emmy mumbled as I climbed into bed.
“Eight hour time difference,” I said as she turned to cuddle up against me.
“Even still, you do not usually work so late,” Emmy replied as she settled her head on my shoulder.
“Yeah, a lot going on back home,” I said, kissing her hair, enjoying her scent.
“Do we need to go back to Los Angeles?”
“No, we’re O.K. here for a while longer,” I assured her.
“Please tell me if you want to go back,” Emmy said, her voice getting drowsier. “We do not need to stay here for my sake.”
“I have some things to take care of here before we go back,” I told her, but I don’t think she heard me.
As it turned out, the next session with Grahame Clifton was the reverse of what I’d expected. He spent the entire time having me follow other cars on the road, explaining the tricks of the trade. As he made it clear, knowing how it’s done is the first step in knowing how to recognize when it was being done to me.
Of course we were just trailing unsuspecting cars picked at random, so it wasn’t as if the drivers were trying to evade, but as Grahame pointed out, I wouldn’t know to evade until I spotted a tail, either.
He showed me how to recognize when the other driver became suspicious and altered their driving- which did happen several times over the course of the four hours. He instructed me on how to use other traffic as a visual shield, but made it clear that doing so too obviously would give the game away.
When I commented that I’d made life harder on myself with the Focus- the vivid blue color stood out of a crowd, Grahame pointed out that it made it easier to follow as well.
“Distinctive cars are a serious disadvantage in this game,” he said in that nasal South African accent of his. “An unremarkable sedan in silver or some color like that is the best, if you plan on tailing anybody. You said you bought this Ford just for this instruction, yeah? I hate to tell you, but you bought the wrong car.”
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
Determined to prove Grahame wrong, I did a bunch of searching online and calling around the moment I dropped him off at his office, eventually finding a vehicle wrap shop that agreed to get on the job immediately. I dropped the car off , then took a taxi home. Sure, my prank was going to cost me a few pounds, but hey- it was only money, right?
“I’ve been watching you work out,” said one of the coaches at the gym the next day. “You look like you know what you’re doing.”
“I like to think so,” I replied, wishing he’d leave me alone.
“It’d be my pleasure to work one on one with you, if you’d like,” he said.
“Yeah?” I asked. “What’s your style?”
“Mixed, but I come from a Muay Thai background,” he said. “I see you throwing knees and elbows, so…”
“I could use a sparring partner,” I told him, finally actually looking him in the eye. He was a couple of inches shorter than me, but probably about the same weight. “I’ve been feeling rusty.”
“We don’t actually have any female Muay Thai instructors here,” he hedged.
“I’ve only ever sparred one time with another woman,” I told him. “It’s always against men.”
“Seriously?”
“Look at me,” I said holding my arms out. “How many women have you worked with that would be in my weight class?”
“Fair point,” he admitted.
“So yeah, if you’re willing, let’s pad up and go a round or two,” I told him.
“I’m nationally ranked,” he warned me.
“Then there’s a good chance you’ll put up a good fight,” I replied with a wink.
Gabe, the gym’s manager, came over to where we were talking just in time to catch the tail end of our conversation.
“Davey,” he said to the trainer. “Um, Liz here… Well…” Gabe looked at us both again and said, “Why not? Light touch, full gear, three ninety second rounds. I’ll ref.”
When Dave went to go get dressed, I said to Gabe, “Don’t worry. I’ll keep it above-board.”
“You’d best,” he cautioned. “You know Davey placed in the All-UK tournament last year? You’re going up against a serious fighter.”
“Good. Like I told him, I’m feeling rusty and need to get my blood pumping,” I told Gabe. “It just isn’t the same training on my own.”
“Are you going to fight that guy?” Jeremy asked, attracted by all the discussion.
“Just a friendly spar,” I said as I fastened my shin guards.
“Is it cool if I watch?”
“Of course,” I said. “But don’t be getting any ideas. No sparring for you until we get the doctor’s O.K.,” I cautioned.
“Trust me- I am in no hurry to get in the ring with you,” Jeremy said, hands up in surrender.
“Hey- we didn’t talk about it,” I said as we gathered in the center of the ring. “MMA, or just sticking to Muay Thai?” I asked.
“You do Jiu Jitsu, too?” Davey asked, surprised.
“It’s all good,” I said.
“I reckon we can keep it wide open,” Davey said. “If you’re O.K. with it, then I’m O.K. with it.”
“Perfect,” I said.
By this point everybody in our half of the gym had gathered ringside to watch, drawn in by the unusual sight of a woman sparring with a guy.
We touched gloves and then retreated to our sides of the ring. I watched Davey’s movements for clues, mostly seeing hesitation on his part.
I moved forward, taking a defensive stance to encourage him to come inside my range, which he did much earlier than he realized.
Now, this was a light contact ‘get to know you’ spar, so the left that connected with his jaw had no strength behind it. Sure, velocity has its own quality, so he got a bit of a zing out of it- certainly enough to get his attention.
Backing up quickly (but not quickly enough to avoid several more hits), he said, “Wow! You’ve got some speed, now haven’t you?”
Coming in again and weathering some more blows, he went for a low kick to test my guard. Seeing my opportunity, I swept his off ankle out from under him and sent him down to all fours on the mat. Instead of going in on him and making him pay for his mistake, I stepped back to let him back up.
When Gabe signaled the end of the round, we tapped gloves and went back to our corners.
“He has nothing on you, Leah!” Jeremy said in a quiet voice.
“Well, he probably has some strength on me,” I replied, taking a swig off the water bottle Tiny handed me. “If we were doing a full-out spar, I’d be feeling it a lot more.”
“Yeah, but so would he,” Tiny countered. “You would have ended him when you got him down on his hands and knees.”
“This isn’t about ending him,” I replied. “This is just practice for us both to stay sharp.”
“Yeah, I know,” the big man said, taking the bottle back. “But I think he’s having second thoughts.”
Gabe called us back to the center to touch off again, and Davey said, “You’re not half bad!”
“Thanks,” I replied. “I try.”
Davey let me advance on him to start the second round. I moved in slowly, the two of us sizing each other up, then with a sudden move I dove in with my right. Of course he saw me coming and countered with a right of his own- just as I knew he would. As I blocked his hook, I stepped inside, wrapped my arm around his waist and tucked my hip in. His extended right gave me the perfect lever, and one hip throw later he found himself on his back, looking up at me.
I stepped back, giving him room to stand back up as Gabe said, “Sweet ogoshi!”
“You weren’t joking about mixed techniques,” Davey said as we tapped gloves again.
“I’ve never been tied to one style,” I told him. “it’s always been whatever works.”
Davey knew better than to let me in like that again, so the rest of the round was nothing but striking. The thing of it was that I laid two or three on him for every one he landed on me. He couldn’t get a hook in without taking a few to the face, since I had quite a bit of reach and speed on him.
“You two good? Want to keep going?” Gabe asked at the end of the second round.
“Yeah,” Davey said, toweling off his face. “I needed this.”
“I’m good,” I told Gabe, giving him a thumbs-up and a smile, before slipping my mouth guard back in.
Round three started out with more of the same, but Davey quickly realized that simply trading blows was never going to be a winning strategy. When he came bulling in looking for a takedown move, I twisted as he grabbed and dropped him to the floor again with another hip throw.
This time, though, he knew to hold on. As I crashed down on top of him he went for any hold he could get, but I wasn’t going to make it easy on him. We thrashed around on the mat for a while, neither one of us able to pin the other. In all honesty, I wasn’t really going for a pin as much as I was doing my damndest to avoid letting Davey get a really good grip on me. In the meanwhile I was throwing fists, knees and elbows until Gabe called it.
“I thought that was going to be the answer,” Davey said when we let go and sat up. “But you sure were making me pay for it.”
“You’re stronger than me and have better leverage,” I said with a shrug. “The last thing I’m going to let you do is get me involved in a pure wrestling match.”
“Tryin’ to pin you was like tryin’ to pin an eel,” Davey said as he took off his head gear. “I just couldn’t understand how you kept hitting me when we were on the mat like that.”
“Flexibility, for one. The other thing is that you telegraph your next move, so I knew what to do to avoid it,” I said, leaning back on my hands, letting my legs stretch out in front of me.
“That’s another thing,” Davey said. “You had an answer for all my moves all along.”
“Davey,” I said, sitting up straight, leaning in to make my point. “I probably knew your next move before you did. You’re a solid fighter, but you’re predictable. You need to mix it up more.”
“I knew what you were going to do, too,” he said. “Hit me ’til I was silly. I’ve never gone up against anybody half as fast as you. It’s unreal.”
“I think it’s some kind of Hollywood special effect,” Gabe said, squatting to talk to us. “I never seen anything like that.”
“It’s a gift,” I said with another shrug. “Hey, Davey,” I said, standing up and offering a hand to help him off the canvas. “We’re going to be here for the rest of the month. I’d love to get in a few more rounds again- maybe next week?”
“It’s going to take longer than that for my pride to heal,” he joked. “But I think I could go a few more rounds.”
Gabe came over to talk as I was stowing my gear in my duffel.
“You kept it clean,” he said. “I was worried you were going to get frustrated going up against a superior fighter and resort to dirty tricks, but…” he said.
“I never get frustrated,” I said, looking him in the eye. “Even when I do go up against a better fighter. It’s a learning opportunity.”
“Did you learn anything today?” Gabe asked.
“No,” I admitted. “Davey’s a solid fighter, but unimaginative. Sparring with him would be good to keep me in shape, but I’m not going to up my game at all.”
“The light contact limitation worked in your favor,” Gabe said, defending his mate. “Davey’s got a Hell of a right.”
“I have no doubt,” I agreed. “But if it had been a real fight, I’d have punished him hard when I dropped him to the mat the first time. Also, neither of us really did much with kicks- it’s hard to do with the light contact rule in play- but I’m willing to bet that my round kick would have laid Davey out pretty quickly. I have speed and range on the guy, after all.”
“You certainly do,” Gabe admitted. “I’ve never seen speed like yours.”
“It’s a gift,” I said again.
Once Gabe left, Jeremy sat down on the bench to talk.
“You know, I’ve never really gotten to see you fight,” he said. “Sure, I’ve watched the videos, but when some of the other guys talk about seeing you in action, it’s always been in… well, it never seemed all that real. It was like they were making up stories, you know?”
“Stories like what?” I asked in a low voice so we wouldn’t be overheard.
“They say you killed a guy by stomping his head flat. They say you killed another guy with one punch to the throat. I always thought they were, well, exaggerating. Pumping up the ‘Queen Leah, terror of her enemies’ thing. But then I saw the video- you snapped that guy’s neck like nothing. And here? Sparring with that guy? The manager said he’s a top-ranked fighter, but you had him tied around your finger. If anything, I’m starting to think the stories don’t do you justice.”
Looking Jeremy in the eyes, I said, “Those stories are true. Those things happened.”
“Yeah, any doubts I might have had…” Jeremy said.