Tom Schreck - TKO

“C’mon, asshole. I’ll show you some fuckin’ neurological damage,” I said, my ability to speak returned.

Abadon gritted his jaw and flexed his weight-room muscles but before he could say anything, Claudia ordered me into her office. Her big blousy polyester top was splattered with coffee. I didn’t move right away and neither did Abadon, but Monique touched my shoulder and sort of steered me out of the conference room toward Claudia’s office.

“Effective immediately, you are suspended pending termination approval from the board of directors. You are to go home immediately and not be on these premises until you are notified in writing,” Claudia said. She was even more humorless than usual.

I didn’t feel like saying anything.

Instead, I signed the suspension form and headed home. My blood pressure was up from the combination of alcohol withdrawal and dealing with Abadon. It wasn’t Claudia’s authority that kept me silent, it was the desire to get the hell out of the office and go home. I knew the consequences were significant, but in the immediate moment it was good to get out of there. I grabbed my keys and split.

I would’ve joined the Foursome for an early start on drinking, but the thought of it made my stomach flip. That, and I wasn’t crazy about the potential future I was developing as an alcoholic. I figured the safest thing to do would be to head home, get kicked in the nuts, lie on the couch, and do nothing until I could think straight.

Al was confused by my early arrival, but he quickly adjusted and we watched Hawaii Five-O together. It was one of the episodes where McGarrett is pitted against his archrival, Wo Fat, who was played by the same guy who I think wound up as the funky blind Kung Fu master on David Carradine’s Kung Fu TV show. I thought about why I knew that and also about how unfair it was that just because an actor was Asian it meant he was limited to playing stereotyped roles. Then, I thought, when you’re a short, fat, bald guy with slanted eyes, you really would struggle to get the Cary Grant roles, wouldn’t you?

I went in and out of sleep until about four when I must have really fallen out, because it was a knocking on the door followed by Al’s alarm system that rousted me at about eight thirty. I came to and dreaded seeing my pizza-faced ninja falling on his head on my front lawn. It took me a while to get off the couch, but when I went to the door I was pleasantly surprised. It was Trina.

“What are you doing here?” I said at the door.

“There’s a sweet greeting,” she said.

“Sorry, I’m just surprised. C’mon in, the place’s a mess.”

Al ran to Trina and snuggled up to her. Trina and I have a bit of a history. On more than one occasion we’ve gotten involved, usually when one or both of us has just gotten out of a failed relationship. My relationships failed regularly and Trina’s weren’t much better.

“Where’s Todd?” I said referring to her current BF.

“Todd’s an asshole,” she said.

“I always thought so, but I didn’t want to say anything.”

“How about Marcia?”

“She’s in therapy and her therapist says she can’t go out with me.”

We found our way to the couch and I wiped Al’s slobber off the cushions before Trina sat down.

“Duff, you’ve really done it this time, you know. I don’t know how you’re going to save your job,” she said.

“Yeah, I fucked up royally,” I said.

“I’m sorry about the fight. I was there, you know.”

“I thought you hated boxing.”

“I do.”

She touched a small raspberry on the side of my head. It was the only remnant of the knockout.

“God, I worry about you,” Trina said, looking into my eyes. I could feel what was about to happen. She put her hand gently on my knee and let it stay there. I put my hand under her shoulder-length chestnut hair and lightly rubbed her neck.

Instinctively she leaned into me and kissed me hard. I took her roughly into my arms and in one motion turned and laid her down on the couch. She stopped kissing me for a moment and let out a breath that was filled with something that was part emotion and part desire. We went back to kissing and her hand slipped inside my shirt and grabbed at the muscles in my back.

Trina pushed me off her just enough to start struggling to get my shirt over my head. She got it halfway and I did the rest, propping myself up on my knees. She undid the buttons on her white tapered blouse with fury and then the front clasp of her bra. We rolled over and she was out of both her blouse and bra. She was a sight, her hair softly falling on just the top of her shoulders, her flat waist, with just a hint of muscle and maybe, most of all, a glint in her eye showing that she was totally in the moment.

She reached to the snap on my jeans and I felt my heart race while I closed my eyes. The tongue was warm and wet and just a bit rough against my side, and I felt Trina shift off my lower body. I kept my eyes closed to heighten the anticipation. Again, with the tongue, only this time it felt scratchier.

“Ewwww. Make him go!” Trina shouted, startling me out of my bliss.

“WOOF, WOOF, WOOF, WOOF,” Al said, frightened by Trina’s yelling.

I looked up and there was Al’s nose. He was poised to lick me in the face to make sure I was all right from whatever it was that this intruder was about to do to me. I tried to shoo him away but instead he climbed up on my bare chest and sat on it with his back to Trina, who was now sitting on the couch with her head in her hands.

Al had a satisfied look on his face, as if he was experiencing a sense of success in protecting his master. Trina’s expression was less than satisfied as she fumbled to put on her clothes. Just a moment ago, when she was fumbling to get out of her clothes, she looked incredibly sexy. Now, with the process in reverse, she looked incredibly awkward.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I really don’t know what to say.”

“That’s okay, I got carried away. It probably wasn’t a good idea anyway,” Trina said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that because the whole thing seemed like a swell idea to me, but I realized women aren’t like men. It was one of those things where if I disagreed I think I would’ve come off like a sexually desirous pig-which of course I am. I just didn’t want to state the obvious.

In an effort to ease the awkwardness, I got Trina and myself a drink even though she didn’t ask for one. I threw on the TV just to have some noise other than our silence. The Crawford station was in a special report. The attractive female correspondent was live at the McDonough High football field next to the bleachers. There was police tape, flashing lights, and a lot of activity.

“Crawford appears to have another murder victim on its hands. The victim is seventeen-year-old Elisa Madnick and though police officials and the FBI are releasing very little information, News Channel 13 has learned that the victim was sexually assaulted, sodomized, and then stabbed repeatedly in the neck and chest.”

“Oh my God,” Trina said.

“Yeah.” It was all I could think of to say.

The reporter continued.

“Police still have not determined the whereabouts of Howard Rheinhart, the serial killer who was recently paroled from prison. Rheinhart disappeared around the time of the murder of Connie Carter, the McDonough High cheerleader who disappeared several weeks ago,” she said.

“How many is that now?” Trina asked.

“Five, I think,” I said.

“Oh my God.”

The next morning was the start of my unofficial vacation. I didn’t have to go to work and I didn’t have a fight to train for, but I didn’t feel like working out either. My new karateka was conspicuous by his absence, which was a bit of a relief but it also made me sad because I hadn’t wanted to hurt his feelings.