Chapter 1- Once upon a time, with tape on the knuckles.
I'm 25 years old, and am pretty average on most counts. I was raised in a small town in the Midwest, by parents who loved me. Aside from one bad thing, a thing I have been trying to forget since I was 5 years old, my life was pretty normal. I was a dancer most of my youth, and involved in more clubs and activities than most people could imagine. Not only does it look good on college applications, but it allowed me later in life to be able to fit in everywhere with everyone. I am the consummate chameleon. I attended a small private college in the Pacific Northwest and fell in love. No more snow, no more dry air, not too hot, not too cold, it was a Goldilocks-type fit for me, and I set out to make a life and a future on my own. After graduation I was offered a position in Portland, Oregon, and I jumped at the chance. Opportunity doesn't always knock, so when it does, be ready. Yet another chance to test the chameleon.
I am pretty comfortable in Portland. I was able to leave college with no debts thanks to scholarships, so I can be flexible with my employment and not ever worry about funds. Living in downtown Portland allows for certain automotive freedoms as everything is a light rail ride away, and if I ever do need a car to get out of the city, I have some good friends with whom I have carte blanche on their automobiles…being responsible has more perks than just being the 'good girl'.
I haven't dated much, as I have been way more interested in keeping males in the friend category. Those I have dated have called me many things: distant, elusive, a control-freak, a conundrum, too controlled. I just never got too serious, and didn't invest much into someone or something that could hurt me. One actually said in a post-break up conversation that he felt like I was some escape artist with some shield around me to keep everyone out. Some might chalk all that up to the "bad thing", but I don't like to dwell on it too much. When I do dwell on it, I end up at the boxing club with some sore arms and a lot of sweat. I suppose that's how I deal with anything that I can't immediately wrap my brain around. I can think of worse ways.
It was on one of those dark and dwelling days when I first moved to Portland that I found myself at JaKe's. I walked into the building and immediately felt like this was a place I could spend some quality time working things out. It wasn't sleek and pretty. It was gritty, dirty, and a place to be raw. There was no perky receptionist in spandex so things were looking up. The sounds of someone on a speed bag were coming from the back so I yelled a hello and out came a huge sweaty male, all looming and aggressive walking towards the front. When he came closer his face broke into a huge grin and he introduced himself.
"Hi, I'm Jason Kemper. Sorry for my appearance, I forgot to lock up. How can I help you?"
He was handsome, and stunning, but not so much that I felt uncomfortable. I told him that I was new to the area, and was looking for a place I could work out. Of course he looked a little shocked that a quiet girl like me would want to join a boxing gym, but he immediately showed me around the place, talked to me about the schedule, and set me up with 2 free passes to check it out. He was charismatic, and genuine, and I liked him immediately. I saw him 4 times a week at the gym, and we became friends instantly. He seems to know everyone in Portland, and very quickly I was in his circle of friends and invited to join him in social settings. I set the boundaries early that we would just be friends, and he never pushed it. Jason was easy and uncomplicated and never asked for the reason behind some of my harder workouts. He seemed to just know that there was something more to me, and he let me be.
When I walked into JaKe's after my strange telephone call, I was determined to have one of those kick ass workouts that leaves me exhausted. I had my hood up when I walked in, and I did a quick arm raise as I passed Jason as a greeting. He always knew that 'hood up' was a stop sign for pleasantries and that I would need a sparring partner shortly as a finish to the workout. I put my iPod on shuffle to my 'bad ass' mix and got a shiver down my spine. I have mood music. I have music for good days and bad days, and I have a mix for when I am feeling like such a bad ass that I get lost in the music on the streets of Portland on a Saturday afternoon. I could blame my dance background, or the fact that I have a weakness for 80's music and movies where every scene of my life should be expressed in the form of a dance move set to music. It was on this Saturday that I was strutting a little too carelessly to Eminem's "Shake that" when I was jumped in the alley that put me on this path that could lead to a complication. "The kitty has claws." That guy has no idea. I will take the tension that's been building since I was blindsided by those idiots and wrap my brain around this problem. I will sleep well tonight, and hopefully be done with this whole mess by tomorrow at 5:15 pm. I wonder what playlist I should pick for that meeting. Perhaps some 'Cat Scratch Fever' would do the trick.