chapter 16: hold me down

   Holly tugs her jacket closer to her body for the fifth time in the past fifteen minutes.

   She's been sitting down, smoking half a cigarette, near the cheap studio, the one she asked Walt to be present at. It isn't that he's late, she's just twenty minutes early. So far today, she has managed to provide chicken wings for Meredith and Ed, earn 150$ by fixing three laptops and a shattered iPhone, and get a 95% on her Physics exam, all between 9 a.m. and 5:30 p.m.

   Walt arrives, wearing his glasses and a thick coat. He's in the jogging pants they got and a plain t-shirt. He looks almost normal, aside from the fading bruises and limping leg. She misses the plaid on him, sometimes. He rocks it, but it isn't what'll help him become a boy Ana could love, a boy Dave can let go of, a boy who is cool.

   "Hi," he says. She wants him to smile at her, but he doesn't. He is frowning a little bit, just enough to show the beauty mark that hides between his bottom and upper lip. "You've been waiting for long?"

   "Just got here," she replies. She flicks off the ash from the cigarette, watches it become harmless and puts it in her back pocket. She can smoke a cigarette several times, by dividing it in two and never wasting it all on one smoke. "C'mon, Walt. It's a big night." She leads him up the stairs that lead inside the studio.

   She tries to avoid the dread in the pit of her stomach. She hasn't been here in months; the smell of sweat and cheap feminine Axe makes her stomach flip. Her lips are in a straight line, her boots echo through out the studio.

   "Is there any one?" asks Walt, whispering.

   The boxing bag is swinging. "Winona, come out."

   Just as seconds pass and Walt clearly believes that she's crazy, said-woman appears. Instinctively, Holly gets shivers in her body. She has to remind herself that she is fearless, that Winona has nothing on her. But she does.

   "Don't I always say: call me Winnie, Holland?" a wicked smile appears on her face. Even in a simple workout outfit, power drips in her every step. Her dark abdomen is as hard as ice; her spirit soft as a cloud. Her head is coated with a thin layer of hair, last time Holland was here, Winona rocked a velvet set of dreads.

   Walt is drooling and Holly resists the urge to step on his injured foot. She doesn't smile, "Winona. I need your help."

   "Anything for you, my love," Winona drags the last word, almost teasing Holly. She stays five feet away from her, eyes practically dissecting the girl in front of her.

   "Boxing lessons," says Holly. "I need you to turn this boy from a wimp to a wimp who can defend himself."

   Walt mumbles at the mention of the word "wimp".

   Winona claps her hands together, her drawn eyebrows rising. "Oh! Great. It'll be a lot of work though, my love. You'll have to pay a lot."

   Do not puke, Holly reminds herself.

   "Well, Winona, because I'm your love, you'll help me out and give the lessons for free." She purposefully makes her voice sound sultry, just to enjoy the flicker of weakness in Winnie's eyes.

   "That's a lot to ask, Holland," Winona stiffens. She goes from cheeky to serious in a matter of moments. "You know how business is."

   "I can pay?" chips in Walt. Holly turns around and gives him a look that read "shut-the-fuck-up".

   "He can pay," Winona grins. A fake golden tooth appears and Holly rolls her eyes.

   "He can, apparently. What's your price?"

   "Fifty bucks per class. He'll need—" Winona looks at him for the first time, "at least eight classes to get any progress. I can get it done in two months."

   "Fifteen per class, get it done in one and a half."

   "Impossible," replies Winona. Her sweat shines in the dirty light. "Have you forgotten who I am, Holland? The good times we've had value fifty."

   He can afford fifty, Holly knows it. But she reserves a special place for Winona's values: the trash.

   Holly laughs at this. "The good times we've had? If we had to put a value on them, you'd owe me money, for keeping what you did a secret."

   "I have nothing to hide, Holland," argues Winnie, but the quiver in her voice gives Holly the last boost to push her to the edge. Winnie is beautiful and powerful, but she is no match for Holly.

   The short girl sways her thick hips over to the woman, who is over a feet taller than her. Heels provide her the height she needs to put her arm around the trainer and whisper in her ear, the one with too many piercings, "you betrayed Victor, pretended to lose the bag full of powder, but in fact, you sold it to his rival. Did you not?"

   Winnie's hand reaches to Holly's waist, also hovering over her ass, and she grabs her close enough for Holly to feel her curves. Her accent slips through her surprise, "you remember."

   "I don't forget," says Holly. She grabs the arm that touches her and sharply twists it to a point that Winona's arm could easily break. The latter watches Holly with a snarky grimace. "And I do not forgive, Winona. You know what Victor would do if he knew that you've betrayed him and tried to force me to be your bitch."

   "Feisty," the fear disappears from her face. Holly lets go of her arm. "Eight lessons, one month, twenty bucks per class."

   Holly glances at Walt, as if he has been noticed this whole time. He watched the exchange with avid eyes and weird attraction towards Holly. When scary, she is even more attractive. (And she knows it, he knows it.)

   "Y-yeah. That sounds good."

   "Great!" Holly's voice goes high. She winks to Winnie, "thank you, my love."

   Winona stops looking at Holly, instead eyes Walt. "You're injured?"

    "Y-yes. Bruised face, twisted foot and freshly un-casted leg."

   "Hm. You are a wimp. That's alright, though. I can work with that. Follow me," she walks ahead of Walt. She then turns to Holly for a moment. "Holland?"

   "Winona?"

   "Feisty is sexy."

   "I learned from the best," replies Holly, an almost-smirk seeping through. "And became the master. I'll see you in an hour, Walt!"

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