Fight

Kayla was two exits from home when she got the text, delivered via her car speakers.

“Fist fight in the weight zone. Please come back.”

It was the calm, neutral, automated voice of her Honda, but in it, Kayla could practically hear the panicked shriek of her new assistant manager, Davis. That kid needed a lot more training. The afternoon shift shouldn’t be so challenging.

Kayla pulled off the highway and made a U-y at the traffic light. She ignored the honks and hand gestures of her fellow motorists and gunned it back to Future Fitness. A fight in the weight area was no small problem. Vegas had a lot of steroid bros who were just twitching stop doing reps and start throwing punches.

But these were not over-stimulated Rage Heads she discovered when she dashed through the doors. Instead, Kayla found two middle-age women – regulars, she recognized, who often worked out together. The blonde was Denise, a transplant from somewhere in the southeast. The red head was from Texas. Kayla could never remember her name, but it didn’t matter because if she just said “Howdy! Or “Hey, there!” with a big enough smile, it was all good.

Except now, when it clearly was not.

Fellow gym goers had separated the two. Red’s “I Hiked Yosemite” tee shirt was ripped at the collar and her left eye was going black. Denise had scratches up and down her arms and held a gym towel to her bloodied nose. They’d stopped swinging but the fight raged on.

“I’m gonna slap you naked and hide your clothes!” Red’s Texas-isms always sounded the like the first line of a short story.

“You never pass up a Krispy Kreme!” Denise hurled back. She just went mean, right off the bat.

Around the gym, onlookers gathered. This was far more exciting than the home improvement shows on the closed-circuit TVs. Several already had their phones out, raised to get a better video of the action.  

Kayla looked for Davis, who was cowering behind the Pilates reformer. “Seriously, Davis, you couldn’t handle the book club rumble?”

But even as Davis shrugged, the two pugilists left their corners and re-engaged.

“You're a hoe that doesn't do yard work!” yelled Red, grabbing Denise’s ponytail. “Bless your heart!” she added, for emphasis.

“Walmart-ian!” Denise shot back, swinging her left foot to try and stomp her opponent’s Reeboks.

Kayla jumped into the fray. This could not go viral – she needed this job. Those UCLA loans were not going to repay themselves. And the Kaplan course she wanted to boost her LSAT score was not cheap. Now was not a good time for Future Fitness corporate to see video of a fight in her weight room and decide to make a management change.

“Alright, break it up, right now!”

She was half the age of the combatants but surprised at their strength. Red had an iron grip on Denise that Kayla could not pry loose. Denise kept her feet moving with impressive speed, making her hard to hit. And despite these many minutes of exertion, neither was losing the breath to shout. Insults flew like fast balls.

“Cow!”

“Hag!”

In the melee, Red missed her target and latched on to Kayla’s razor bra strap and started pulling. Kayla reached back to unclench Red’s fist, but Denise grabbed Kayla’s wrist and executed an impressive twist burn. Kayla tried to shoulder free but now found her head tucked under Denise’s elbow .

They spun out of the rubber padded weights zone, and onto the polished wood of the cardio area, locked in what was now a three-headed screeching rugby scrum. Around them, the crowd chanted: Fight, fight, fight! Kayla tried to process this: Who knew the early bird specials were so blood thirsty?

But now, she was running out of moves. She didn’t want to resort to the tactic she remembered from her school yard days: a nice, hard bite. On the other hand, she didn’t want to become Tik Tok famous for getting stomped by The Golden Girls.  

What would happen if she bit one of them anyway? Weeks of LSAT studying pushed her thought into a legal form: Two individuals are engaged in a fist fight. A good Samaritan steps in to try and break it up but is unsuccessful. All three are injured. Who gets arrested?

Not the one who hopes to go to law school and quit picking up wet towels for a living!

“Ladies,” Kayla grunted from her hold under Denise’s elbow. “We need to resolve this peacefully.”

“She’s hogging the Stairmaster!”

“She’s sweating all over the yoga mats!”

Kayla managed to pull loose, get her footing and push the two apart. “You need to talk out your differences,” she stated, sounding more out of breath than she knew was managerial.  

“I can’t talk to her!”

“I can’t talk to her!”

Without releasing her hold, Kayla activated her nuclear option. She swiveled her head to ensure she made eye contact with each one as she spoke: “Here’s what I propose: I’m going to give each of you my personal cell. If either one of you has any problem with the other, text me and I’ll help you resolve it.”

It’s a tactic Kayla had used before with cranky customers. It was lower risk that it appeared; no one ever texted. They seemed placated by the offer but never found the courage to use it. It had worked before to resolve inter-client spats.

That said, she’d never had to break up an actual fist fight. She watched Red and Denise regard  each other suspiciously.

Red spoke first. “Text?”

Kayla had to clench to keep from rolling her eyes. These Moms and their tech phobias! “Okay, call. You can call me. I promise to pick up. Is that good? Will that end this?”

Minutes later, Kayla had entered her contact information into both phones, got the two to agree to different workout times, and she watched as they went their separate ways.  She shot Davis a dirty look as she passed him at the front desk on her way out. Hopping into her Honda, she peeled out of the parking lot and back onto the highway. Golden hour was settling over the valley. It was parched as hell, but beautiful, Kayla had to admit. And maybe her life was looking up. In the last hour, she’d sped to the rescue and restored the peace. It wasn’t a terrible feeling. Kind of super hero-y. She was a natural at diffusing conflict, Kayla decided. She’d be a great lawyer, one day. Maybe even a judge.

She merged into the fast-moving traffic on I-15 and turned up the volume on her iTunes, letting Taylor Swift sing her home.

#

In the parking lot, with the hotels of the Strip throwing shade, she waited, red hair now tucked under a sun hat. She could see the car with the Duke Basketball sticker from her position behind the white laundry van. She stood patiently, until finally, she saw the flash of blonde hair as the car’s owner approached.

She stepped from the shadows. “Hey!” she yelled.

The blonde stopped and spun around. “Hey yourself!” she yelled back.

The two approached each other. They were arm’s length apart when she took off her sun hat and swung it forward in a grand gesture:

“And for best actress in a Las Vegas gym throw down, the Oscar goes to  –"

“Oh no, honey, that’s for you.”

The two embraced. “Are you kidding? You gave me a pounding!”

“Well, you got some shots in!”

“I am sorry about your nose.”

“Be sorry about my Lulu top. I’m not sure the blood will come out of this Lycra.”

“I’ll replace it. Cost of doing business.”

Denise grinned and reached out to tap her friend’s phone, peaking out of her purse pocket.

“Seems like a lot of work for both of us just so you could get the girl’s phone number.”

Her friend shrugged. “I do what I have to. That girl is just perfect for Joshy. Smart, hard-working, ambitious. Did you see that LSAT study guide on the check-in desk? The kids today need help. They just stand there, hoping love will jump out at them from the Internet.”

“How do you know Josh will call her?”

“I’ll tell him he has to call and apologize on my behalf because I’m too embarrassed to do it myself.”

“He’ll go for that?”

“I’ll lay it on thick.”

Denise moved around to the back of her car. “What will you do when the kids find out you staged a fight to set them up?”

“They can bond over how annoying I am.”

Denise popped the hatchback of her Subaru and tossed her gym bag inside. “Well, it’s creative, I’ll give you that. Let me know when we’re shopping for your Mother of the Groom dress.”

“From your lips to the good Lord’s appointment calendar.”

Denise slammed the door shut. “Since we can’t work out together for a while, let’s meet at Juno’s for drinks.”

A drink sounded good. A drink sounded like just what she needed. Because motherhood was still a battlefield. Everyone said the toddler years were brutal. But it’s when the kids are all grown up and beyond your scope that it all gets challenging. That’s when you have to get creative and do the things you never imagined. It’s when you throw a punch. Because you’d do anything for them. Even fight for them. Even when they’re so sure you’ve outlived your usefulness.

“First round is on me,” she told Denise, reaching her arm out.

And Denise met her there in a perfect fist bump.  

–End–