The Irony of Regret

9

Song of the Chapter: Legend by The Score

Quote of the Chapter: 'You're either at the table or on the menu.' -Al Capone

Malice pounded combos into the punching bag like it would knock years off of purgatory. Sweat dripped down her face, drenching her sports bra and the band of her shorts. The rhythm she was making was steadily picking up pace until she couldn't go any faster. She kept this up for twenty minutes before she was shaking too hard to continue.

Malice took a water break and walked laps around the floor of the gym to stay warm. She wiped the sweat off her face, and she jogged back to her punching bag. She was about to deliver the first punch when she heard a voice call out to her, "I doubt that a little girl like you knows what to do at the bags." The man talking was moving closer as he spoke, smiling the whole time.

Malice turned around slowly, looking for the person speaking. She found a short man with a beard and a beer belly. She stared at him blankly. She didn't know who he was, and she wasn't sure she wanted to.

"Come on, give me your hands. I'll wrap them for you. No use getting blood everywhere." The man walked towards her with a roll of wraps. He was gentle but firm when he wrapped her hands, though she was tentative when giving her hands to him. 

Malice had to admit, he did a good job. It was a tight wrap that didn't cut off circulation, but it didn't slip. She looked at the man closely. He had startling blue eyes and grey hair.

It was then that James walked in and called, "Dad, I see you met Malice. She's the girl I told you about. Malice, this is Darell. My father."

As James walked up, his father turned to him and smiled. "Yes. She doesn't talk a whole lot. A complete opposite of her brother. That man can't seem to shut up." He laughed; he slapped James on the back and turned back to Malice. "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you Malice. I love you son. Take care."

James and Malice watched Darell walk out before James turned back to Malice. He rubbed the back of his neck and awkwardly laughed, "Sorry about him. He can be a little too friendly sometimes. He means well, though."

Malice merely nodded before turning to the punching bag once again. She heard James sigh before he hesitantly asked, "The guys and I are going out drinking tonight. Do you want to go? We're going clubbing, actually. Not bar hopping. We're leaving at 11. I could pick you up."

Malice turned to look at him. She took in his shy expression, like he was afraid of rejection. He was gorgeous, and yet he thought she would say no. Why would he be scared?

"Of course." Malice assured quietly, almost scared to frighten him. "I'll text you my address."

Who knew clubbing with friends could go so horribly right?

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Sorry it's short, I couldn't come up with anything else.

Vote and comment.

Danniele