Let's get ready to rumble!
As far as bad idea's go I didn't think this one even made my top 10. By the way Owen was taping my knuckles and throwing on my MMA style grappling gloves it ranked somewhat higher on his.
"Do you have any self-preservation instincts?" Owen spit at me, stepping back as I flexed my fingers in the gloves a few times, bouncing up and down on my toes to get loose.
"Not really."
"That guy is unhinged and has about 60 pounds on you."
True. "If this is your idea of a pep talk I gotta tell you, it needs work."
Owen grabbed me by my shoulders almost shaking me. "Goddamnit Jo, this isn't a joke."
I shook out of Owen's hold, narrowing my eyes. "I know this isn't a joke. That guy is batshit crazy, believe me, I know. He shouldn't even be on this island, but I can handle myself."
Hamada jogged up, glancing back and forth between us. "Jo, you don't have to do this. I'm pretty sure with Rogers' behavior today I have enough of finally give him his walking papers."
"Not you too Hamada. Does anyone think I can win this fight?" I asked both of them, throwing my arms in the air. "You aren't giving this guy his walking paper's Hamada, I am. I don't care what goes down, don't' stop this fight," I said with venom in my voice, pointing at him as I walked towards the center of the mat.
Cole was already there bouncing around like a teenager who forgot to take his Ritalin. What a stereotypical jackass. The remaining men had formed a circle around the outside of the mat making this whole thing a little too Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome than was probably necessary. I even heard people placing bets.
Hamada stood between Cole and I vaguely outlining the "rules" for this little endeavor. I'm pretty sure the only real rule was no killing. Hamada stepped back off the mat essentially giving us the go ahead, and Cole immediately charged me like a raging bull. He reared his right hand back intending to deliver a punishing knockout blow to the side of my head. I quickly ducked under his attempt, stepping to the side, slamming my fist into his kidney as he passed.
He pivoted around, turning to face me with murder in his eyes before coming at me again. The guy had no technique and had clearly watched too much UFC, but he was pissed. He unleashed a barrage of sloppy lefts and rights that I dodged and countered connecting with his face and body. Cole had the edge on me in sheer strength, but fighting had little to do with strength. The stress of carrying his massive frame around the mat attempting to kill me was tiring him out. I danced around him, avoiding his strikes, forcing him to chase me. I knew I was quicker, in better shape, and had more skill, but I didn't want him landing a lucky punch and taking me down. Even a blind hog can find a root now and then.
I knew fatigue was setting in when his hands dropped lower and lower from a defensible position, exposing his face to attack. Still, I waited. Continuing to dance around him, coming close enough to pummel him only to slip away before he could retaliate. It was an intricate dance I was intimately familiar with, and I knew I had the upper hand. I was enjoying myself at this point. Cole was a complete asshole and needed to be brought down a notch or two.
I waited until his hands slipped down to chest height before I dashed towards him, letting loose two quick, left handed jabs to his midsection. He made an instinctive move to protect his body, dropping his hands down even lower from his face. Wrong move Sonny. I reared back, using all my strength as I swung my right fist, delivering a wicked uppercut that sent him stumbling back. Dazed, he tripped, falling onto his ass then his back with a whack.
Panting, I walked over, peering down at him. He was lying on the mat his face covered in blood, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. Assuming this was the end of the fight I offered him my hand as a truce. He debated it for a few seconds before reaching up to take it. I backed up, using my momentum to hoist him onto his feet. As soon as he was upright he swung a brutal right hook that connected with the side of my face right below my eye.
I heard Owen roar in the background as I went down hard on the mats, stars dancing before my eyes. Cole wasted no time jumping on top of me, raining down blow after blow. I brought my forearms up covering my face and head as best I could, but it left my midsection exposed. Unable to inflict any real damage to my face he moved to my body, punishing my ribs with blow after blow. Cole's onslaught continued as I desperately ran through my limited options while trying to breathe.
His legs were on either side of my chest, pinning me down and rendering my upper body immobile. While the top portion of my body was essentially useless I could still move my legs. He assumed simply because he outweighed me and he was on top of me he had the upper hand. Rookie mistake. Cole slammed a hammer fist into my mouth, and I felt my teeth cut into my lip releasing a gush of blood down my chin. OK, playtime was officially over. I needed out of this position, now.
I opened my legs, propping my right foot firmly on the ground as close to my own hip as I could. I planted my left foot on Cole's upper thigh as I bucked my hips backwards to create more space. This assclown was so consumed with bloodlust from pummeling my face he didn't notice my attempts to dislodge him. I needed to be fast and efficient for this to work. Taking a deep breath, I ran through the maneuver in my head, willing myself to stay calm. In one shift motion I used the foot positioned against his hip to push back as hard as I could. He was immediately dislodged from my chest, pitching backwards, his eyes wide with shock.
Now out of his guard I acted quickly by grabbing his right forearm as he reached for my shirt attempting to restrain me. In a half crouched position I rolled to the side keeping hold of his forearm as I pinned his arm between my legs. I firmly planted my legs over his chest as he struggled on his back with my right thigh just below his chin, securing him in an arm bar submission as I held on for dear life. I leaned backwards almost laying my back on the mat, his arm firmly in my grasp using his chest as a fulcrum. I arched my hips up, pulling his arm to my chest more than ready to end this party.
I could hear the roar of the crowd telling Cole to tap out. I stopped moving, but kept him pinned.
"Tap out Cole. It's over," I strained.
"Go to hell you mother fucker."
No problem.
I arched my hips up as far as I could while simultaneously leaning back with his arm. I felt the pressure building in his joint as I pulled back, straining towards the mat. Cole convulsed violently just before I heard an audible snap as the tendons and ligaments tore free in his elbow dislodging the joint. He let out a gut-wrenching scream and I released him, rolling to the side, putting distance between us. A doctor rushed forward attempting to immobilize Cole's now shattered elbow. Where he had come from was anyone's guess. Cole was cradling his arm, hurling obscenities in my direction as two men carried him out of the gym, the doctor trailing in their wake.
I lay on my back, breathing hard as I gingerly touched my cheek and lip. Suddenly, I was hauled onto my feet by Owen who placed his hands gently on either side of my face. He slowly turned me left then right, examining every inch of my face with a tortured expression, his mouth set in a hard line. His hands ghosted over every cut and bruise with a barely there touch.
He looked at me hard in the eye before barley whispering, "That was the hardest thing I've ever had to watch."
"I thought I did pretty well all things considered," I shrugged. He didn't laugh, didn't even smile. He looked like he was in physical pain.
I rested my gloved hands on his chest looking at him speaking quietly, "I'm OK Owen." He seemed to physically relax at my reassurance, slowly tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear before dropping his hands to his side. Hamada jogged over joining us.
"Jesus Jo, I forgot how terrifying you could be." I smiled in return as Owen methodically started tearing off my gloves and hand wraps. When he was done I pressed my hand against my mouth wiping away blood. Ouch, I bet I looked really hot right now. I wanted to go home. I could feel a headache building behind my eyes, and I needed to ice my face.
"I'll wait for you at the car?" I asked Owen who nodded. "I want my money," I told Hamada as I walked off the mats. The crowd of InGen employees parted like the Red Sea as I stopped to pick up my shoes before walking out of the training arena.
Back at the car I had my feet on the dash with my eyes closed waiting for Owen. I heard the automatic doors whoosh open, and saw him walking briskly out of the building, stopping to throw something in the backseat before climbing in. He started the engine, but didn't immediately pull out.
"Here," he said, handing me a wad of cash. "You earned it."
I took the money counting it out. $150 bucks wasn't too bad for one day's work. Plus, Cole Rogers was officially off Isla Nublar, score!
On second though. "Did anyone bet on me?" I was trying to not feel offended.
"I did," Owen replied, driving off.
"Technically as the fighter I'm entitled to a share of your winning, you know?" My heart speed up thinking about the fact that Owen bet on me to win. His faith in me seemed almost unshakeable. I was slightly pissed at Hamada, but I could address that at a later date.
He chose not to respond to my demand for payment, and we drove in companionable silence the rest of the way. I must have been more tired from kicking Cole's ass than I realized because before I knew it Owen was shaking me awake.
"Hey, we're here." I sat up looking around. I opened the door, gingerly stepping out while grabbing my bag from the backseat. I flinched at the movement. Probably I had some decent bruises just about everywhere.
"Well, thanks for lovely day. It was so much better than lounging around on the beach doing nothing." I waved goodbye moving slowly towards my house. I was trying to remember if I had any Motrin or if it would be better to just drink myself into a coma.
"Have dinner with me."
I froze. Come again? I turned around to face Owen who was now standing in front of his Jeep.
"Huh?" Smooth Jo.
He walked towards me, his hands deep in his pockets. "I asked if you would have dinner with me tonight. You know food, sustenance, something other than potato chips."
Maybe Cole hit me harder in the head than I thought because I just couldn't seem to understand the words coming out of Owen's mouth. Was he speaking English?
"You want to have dinner? With me? Tonight?" I wanted to make sure I understood all the parameters before I made my decision.
"Yes." OK, well this seemed like a horrible idea. Dinner alone with Owen at his bungalow of love. Yeah, this was absolutely without a doubt something I should not do.
"Sure." I needed therapy.
"See you at seven o'clock. Make sure you put some ice on your face." I gave him a sarcastic head nod, and considering even that hurt I was unlikely to forget the ice.
After icing my entire body for the better part of the day I was standing in front of my bathroom mirror debating if makeup would help or just accentuate my cuts and bruises. I had a pretty impressive shiner forming around my right eye, but thankfully I could still see out of it. The left side of my lip was cut just a little, and my torso was littered with red welts from Cole's fists. Not the worst I'd ever had, but definitely not ideal for a date.
If this was a date. I couldn't really be sure. I mean, he had asked me to have dinner with him alone at his house, which sounded like a date. On the other hand, he most likely just felt responsible for my face looking like I had been hit by a baseball bat, which sounded not so much like a date.
I couldn't decide if this was a date or not, but I knew that makeup wasn't worth my time. I kept my hair down hoping to use it as a shield. It was falling around my shoulders and down my back in loose messy waves. I had on a pair of PacSun shorts paired with a T-shirt that had 'I'm a love not a fighter' displayed prominently across the front. I found it was ironic, if not hilarious, considering my current circumstances.
Right at seven o'clock I started the walk over to Owen's. Date or no date I was still nervous. I stopped and then started walking again about 10 times during the 300-yard journey. I really hoped he wasn't looking out his window. As I got closer I saw he was out on his porch standing in front of the grill. He was wearing a pair of tan cargo shorts with an untucked, short-sleeved, button down shirt on, and no shoes. I mentally swooned. It should be illegally to look that good wearing something so normal and with seemingly no effort.
"I was wondering if you were ever going to make it over here."
I'm such a loser. "Well, I'm here. What's on the menu?" I had planned on eating blueberry Nutri-Grain bars with potato chips so I really didn't care.
"I'm just finishing up with the steaks. I already have the salad, bread and homemade macaroni and cheese on the table. Hope that's OK?"
I just had a food orgasm. "Yeah, that sounds delicious," I said as I made my way onto the porch. "Anything I can do to help?"
"Nah, I got it. Just take a seat and pour yourself some wine if you want."
I sat down at the table pouring a glass of red wine for both of us. The table was already set and everything smelled delicious. I had to sit on my hands to keep from tearing off a chunk of bread while I waited. Owen grabbed two steaks off the grill, setting them on plates before making his way to the table. He set one in front of me, taking a seat across the table.
"Did you make all of this?" I could microwave stuff pretty well (most of the time) and I made a mean sandwich, but this set up was way beyond my skill level.
"Yeah, but don't be too impressed. It's just steak and salad. Now, the macaroni and cheese is another story. That's my mom's recipe." He smiled at the mention of his mother. "Go ahead, dig in."
Racers start your engines. I spooned out a healthy dose of macaroni and cheese before grabbing two slices of bread. I poured a light coating of Ranch dressing onto my salad, and was salivating as I cut into my perfectly cooked, medium steak. I had taken at least four bites before I realized I was the only one eating. I glanced up at Owen from beneath my lashes to see him watching me with a huge grin on his face.
"Were you not serious when you said it was time to eat?" I placed my silverware back on the table, dropping my head as I awaited his answer.
Instantly, I was transported back in time to when I was 6 years-old. I had been living with a foster dad for about six months who was very fond of "games". He was the type of foster parent who was in it for the paycheck and added benefit of beating a kid. He had no interest in the well-being of the children the state placed in his home.
His favorite game was placing a various assortment of food on the kitchen table, and telling us all to grab whatever we wanted. I was one of the youngest kids in his house at the time, and was too naive to understand the intricacies of his malevolence. I would grab anything I could get my hands on because with this guy you never knew when you'd get your next meal, but before I could make a clean getaway he'd explode in a fit of rage. Apparently there were acceptable and unacceptable items on the table, but since he never defined the rules of this twisted game I always guessed wrong, and usually ended up paying the price.
Owen sensed the change in my demeanor, reaching across the table lifting my chin with his fingers so he could look at me. "I'm sorry Jo. Yes, please eat. I wasn't, I just...the women I've shared meals with normally just push their food around the plate while they prattle on about some diet. It's refreshing to see someone actually eating, especially since I slaved over this all afternoon."
I smiled at him tentatively before picking up my utensils. He was already eating his own food so I shook off my flashback, and resumed eating. We settled into a steady rhythm of conversation as we enjoyed the meal and the beautiful atmosphere.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" I asked him, sipping my wine.
"I do. I have an older brother, Tom. He's married and they have two boys." He seemed to light up talking about his family. It didn't matter if it was his mom, dad, brother or nephews he loved talking about them. Happy was the word that came to mind. That must be what you feel like all the time when you grow up surrounded by a loving family
"How do they feel about you working here?" I imagined any family would have their reservation about their loved one working at Jurassic World.
He leaned back in his seat with his wine in his hand. "Oh, they had some questions that's for sure, but their supportive. I spent a good amount of time in the Navy doing some crazy stuff so they're kinda use to my unusual lifestyle choices."
I grinned back at him; I could only imagine the havoc Owen had stirred up in the Navy. There probably wasn't a port in the world that had been safe from him.
"What about you? Is your family terrified knowing you work with dinosaurs?" he asked, genuinely interested in my response.
I ran my hands through my hair, looking anywhere but Owen to buy me some time. Did I really want to open myself up to this man, and tell him my sordid history? I rarely, if ever, spoke about my upbringing. Or lack thereof. Only my social worker knew all the details, and even some of those were left out of my file.
"Um...well, no, not really," I said, looking away from him.
"Care to elaborate?" He leaned forward in his chair, placing his wine glass on the table.
Fuck it. "I mean I don't have any family so I don't have to worry about anyone not liking the idea of me being here." Just like ripping off an emotional Band-Aid. I looked down at my lap rolling my eyes.
"You have no family?" He placed his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together in front of him. "Hey, talk to me."
The pleading in his voice made me look at him. I was expecting to see pity in his eyes, but all I saw was a need to understand. I took a sip of wine and decided to lay it all out there.
"No, I have no family. I was orphaned at birth and grew up in the foster care system in Houston. I aged out when I was 18, and had to do something to get off the street so I put myself through college by joining ROTC, eventually serving in the Army. When I was done with that the F.B.I. came calling." I said it all in one rushed breath, gulping down some wine when I was done. There, that wasn't so hard. All those therapists from years past who said I couldn't express my feelings could kiss my ass.
"You're amazing," he told me, looking at me like he was seeing me for the first time.
Huh? Had he misheard me? I can honestly say no one had ever had that response to my tragic Lifetime Movie worthy life.
"Thank you," I stumbled over the words.
"So, you were holding out on me." I was glad he decided to leave the whole damaged childhood alone. "Former Army and F.B.I., I guess you really are a little G.I. Jane."
"First of all, I'm not a little anything." How this man managed to go from making me melt to making my blood boil in the span of a few seconds was infuriating.
"Calm down hero, I was just surprised today when Hamada mentioned it. I think it's pretty cool, actually."
"That's because I am cool," was my witty reply. He was grinning now and I found myself returning the gesture.
We talked for hours, sitting on his porch about everything from our military service to our work here at the park. Owen stayed tactfully away from anything regarding my childhood, and I was forever grateful. Maybe someday I could tell him the whole story, but not tonight. It was something that I was even considering confided in him since I'd never had that feeling before. There was just something about Owen that put me at ease. Even though we hadn't known each other long I knew I could trust him. I knew that he cared about me, and would keep whatever I told him in confidence.
Throughout the night there was never a lull in the conversation or that awkward silence that always seems to accompany a first date. It was easy, refreshing, and an absolute blast. It was close to midnight when we finally decided it was time to call it a night. My face was hurting and I was exhausted. Owen walked me to the edge of his property where we stopped.
"I had a great time tonight Owen, thanks," I said genuinely.
"How's your face feeling?" He was studying each and every mark littered across my face.
"It's not as bad as it looks. Nothing some Motrin and a bag of frozen peas can't fix" I said, trying to lighten the mood. I could see on his face he blamed himself even though challenging Cole to a death match was my idea.
"If I never have to watch you take a beating like that again it will be too soon," Owen whispered, taking a step closer.
I sucked in a breath as he stood in front of me, the scent of his soap washing over me. "I think I did most of the beating thank you very much."
"That you did Josephine."
Before I could respond he leaned forward, his lips brushing softly against mine. He gently placed his hands on my hips pulling me flush against him. I could feel the stubble from his beard and his heartbeat under the palms of my hands that had somehow found their way to his chest. His body was a marvel of muscle, and I had to tilt my head back to accommodate our height difference. I'm a tall woman, but Owen towered over me. I'd heard woman talk about loving how they felt small next to a tall, muscular, broad shouldered man, and had always scoffed. Why would I ever want to feel small in comparison? As Owen wrapped me in his arms, I found the answer.
The kiss was gentle, almost reverent. He was trying not to hurt me because I had gone all Fight Club earlier in the day. I didn't give a crap about my injuries right now. The feeling of Owen's lips on mine, and his body pressed into me had me spinning out of control. His unique smell of something spicy and the jungle was overwhelming was so intense I felt lightheaded.
But as quickly as it started it was over as Owen pulled away stepping back, instantly stiff, unable to look at me. I felt a sudden, unexplained loss. He shoved his hands deep in his pockets, uttering an awkward goodnight as he turned to leave.
I stood there, staring at his retreating back wondering what the hell just happened?
Mystery Guest: Ask and you shall receive...thanks for reviewing!
DarkFireAngel00: He got some cheap shots in, but I'd say mission accomplished.
Desert Vulpes Zerda: I have officially decided I need a desert vulpe...I just can't with the ears. Hope Jo's ass whooping was sufficient.
angelicedg: Wow, one sitting. Props! I'm not 100% sure this is what you meant by face claim, but I'll give it a shot. Jo isn't based on anyone in real life, rather I just have a picture of her in my warped mind. If that's not what you meant feel free to school me.
Deathcutie20: Thank you very much!