Stars of Fortune
Page 43
“It’s not quite finished.”
“You’re the boss, but it looks perfect to me. I Googled you, you know.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yeah, the first night. Wanted a sense of who was what. I brought up some of your paintings, and they were pretty great. But this? Alive and in person, it’s freaking awesome.”
“Thanks. I wanted to do something sunny, something clear and beautiful. Like cleansing the palate, I guess.” A thought struck her. “I’ll trade you.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll make you a trade for the painting if you want it.”
“I did enough digging to have an idea what an original Sasha Riggs goes for. But . . . I figure my firstborn’s a ways off, so that’s safe.”
Interested, she shoved her hands in her pockets, studied the painting again. Wanted it. “What did you have in mind?”
“Teach me to fight.”
“You want me to teach you to fight?”
“Today, in the cave, I froze. Now that I’ve calmed down, and finished my pity party, I accept that wasn’t altogether my fault.”
“A god had you by the throat, Sash. It’s give-yourself-a-break time.”
“Yeah, there was that. But my instinct right along was duck and cover, or run and hide. It wasn’t stand and fight. You had the gun, but now that I can look back on it, see it all more clearly than when it was exploding around me, you weren’t just shooting. You used your fists, your feet. Kicks and spins. And Annika . . .”
“Yeah, she had that whole Cirque du Soleil thing going.”
“And I just stood there because I don’t know how to fight, not physically fight. You could teach me.”
“You don’t have to give me the painting for me to teach you some basics.” Thumbs hooked in her pockets now, Riley studied the painting again. “But since I’m not an idiot, I’ll take it.”
“Can we start now? I just need to clean my brushes.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“But somewhere more private.”
“You should change into a T-shirt or a tank, something that gives you more room. Meet me in the olive grove around back.”
“All right. Thanks, Riley.”
“Hey, fun for me—plus the painting. I need a couple of things.”
She cleaned her brushes, knives, jars, exchanged her shirt for a black tank. By the time she got out to the grove, Riley was there, and pulling on leather gloves.
“Private enough?”
Sasha looked back at the villa. You could see if you looked, she thought, but she wouldn’t feel nearly as exposed as she would have on one of the terraces or on the lawn in front of the house.
“Yes. Just enough.”
“Okay, first things first. Make a fist.” When Sasha did, Riley shook her head. “Just as I figured. You keep your thumb up like that, you’re going to—”
“Ow!” Sasha snatched her hand away after Riley bent her thumb back.
“Exactly. Remember that, and keep your thumb folded down. See?” She demonstrated; Sasha mimicked her.
“Thumb down.”
“Always outside, never inside the fist. Okay, punch me.”
“I’m not going to punch you!”
The smirk came quickly. “I can guarantee that. But try. Come on.” She tapped her nose. “Straight in the face or this lesson’s over.”
Irritated, intimidated, Sasha struck out. Riley tipped to the side, and let the halfhearted punch meet air.
“Like you mean it this time. It’s my face, Sash. I can promise you’re not going to hurt me. A little faith here.”
That’s what it came down to, didn’t it? All across the board. A little faith. She punched out again, putting enough into it that when Riley sidestepped, she stumbled forward.
“Okay, see, you’re punching like a girl.”
“I am a girl.”
“Nobody’s a girl in a fight. You’re a fighter. You need to distribute your weight, your balance, and for right now, you’re going to plant your feet. Knees a little soft, but you need to feel solid on the ground.”
Riley circled her. “That’s better. When you punch, don’t throw your body at it, bring the punch out from your shoulder. Lift your shoulder as you extend your arm. No, don’t straighten your legs. The power comes up from your legs, and when you straighten them or lean forward like that, you lose power and balance. Keep your body centered. And exhale on the punch.”
Riley nodded or frowned as she circled, as she ordered Sasha to try it with her left. Left again. Left then right.
“Don’t flap your elbows like chicken wings. The jab’s not sexy maybe like a cross, but it’s your most powerful punch. Defense, offense. It punches, it pushes, and best of all it can distract while—”
She jabbed out at Sasha with her left, followed it with a right cross. Both fists stopped less than an inch from Sasha’s face, and came so fast and hard she lost her breath.
“Didn’t see the right coming, did you?”
“I hardly saw either of them. How many fights have you been in?”
“I don’t keep count. Here.” She held up her gloved hands, palms toward Sasha. “Fist in the palm, like the ball in the glove. Left. Come on, rookie, left! Left. Right. Left. Better. Lead with your knuckles, exhale , lift your shoulder. Concentrate. I want you to rotate your arm. You lift, and as you jab, you rotate. All one motion now. Left!”
“You’re the boss, but it looks perfect to me. I Googled you, you know.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yeah, the first night. Wanted a sense of who was what. I brought up some of your paintings, and they were pretty great. But this? Alive and in person, it’s freaking awesome.”
“Thanks. I wanted to do something sunny, something clear and beautiful. Like cleansing the palate, I guess.” A thought struck her. “I’ll trade you.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll make you a trade for the painting if you want it.”
“I did enough digging to have an idea what an original Sasha Riggs goes for. But . . . I figure my firstborn’s a ways off, so that’s safe.”
Interested, she shoved her hands in her pockets, studied the painting again. Wanted it. “What did you have in mind?”
“Teach me to fight.”
“You want me to teach you to fight?”
“Today, in the cave, I froze. Now that I’ve calmed down, and finished my pity party, I accept that wasn’t altogether my fault.”
“A god had you by the throat, Sash. It’s give-yourself-a-break time.”
“Yeah, there was that. But my instinct right along was duck and cover, or run and hide. It wasn’t stand and fight. You had the gun, but now that I can look back on it, see it all more clearly than when it was exploding around me, you weren’t just shooting. You used your fists, your feet. Kicks and spins. And Annika . . .”
“Yeah, she had that whole Cirque du Soleil thing going.”
“And I just stood there because I don’t know how to fight, not physically fight. You could teach me.”
“You don’t have to give me the painting for me to teach you some basics.” Thumbs hooked in her pockets now, Riley studied the painting again. “But since I’m not an idiot, I’ll take it.”
“Can we start now? I just need to clean my brushes.”
“I don’t see why not.”
“But somewhere more private.”
“You should change into a T-shirt or a tank, something that gives you more room. Meet me in the olive grove around back.”
“All right. Thanks, Riley.”
“Hey, fun for me—plus the painting. I need a couple of things.”
She cleaned her brushes, knives, jars, exchanged her shirt for a black tank. By the time she got out to the grove, Riley was there, and pulling on leather gloves.
“Private enough?”
Sasha looked back at the villa. You could see if you looked, she thought, but she wouldn’t feel nearly as exposed as she would have on one of the terraces or on the lawn in front of the house.
“Yes. Just enough.”
“Okay, first things first. Make a fist.” When Sasha did, Riley shook her head. “Just as I figured. You keep your thumb up like that, you’re going to—”
“Ow!” Sasha snatched her hand away after Riley bent her thumb back.
“Exactly. Remember that, and keep your thumb folded down. See?” She demonstrated; Sasha mimicked her.
“Thumb down.”
“Always outside, never inside the fist. Okay, punch me.”
“I’m not going to punch you!”
The smirk came quickly. “I can guarantee that. But try. Come on.” She tapped her nose. “Straight in the face or this lesson’s over.”
Irritated, intimidated, Sasha struck out. Riley tipped to the side, and let the halfhearted punch meet air.
“Like you mean it this time. It’s my face, Sash. I can promise you’re not going to hurt me. A little faith here.”
That’s what it came down to, didn’t it? All across the board. A little faith. She punched out again, putting enough into it that when Riley sidestepped, she stumbled forward.
“Okay, see, you’re punching like a girl.”
“I am a girl.”
“Nobody’s a girl in a fight. You’re a fighter. You need to distribute your weight, your balance, and for right now, you’re going to plant your feet. Knees a little soft, but you need to feel solid on the ground.”
Riley circled her. “That’s better. When you punch, don’t throw your body at it, bring the punch out from your shoulder. Lift your shoulder as you extend your arm. No, don’t straighten your legs. The power comes up from your legs, and when you straighten them or lean forward like that, you lose power and balance. Keep your body centered. And exhale on the punch.”
Riley nodded or frowned as she circled, as she ordered Sasha to try it with her left. Left again. Left then right.
“Don’t flap your elbows like chicken wings. The jab’s not sexy maybe like a cross, but it’s your most powerful punch. Defense, offense. It punches, it pushes, and best of all it can distract while—”
She jabbed out at Sasha with her left, followed it with a right cross. Both fists stopped less than an inch from Sasha’s face, and came so fast and hard she lost her breath.
“Didn’t see the right coming, did you?”
“I hardly saw either of them. How many fights have you been in?”
“I don’t keep count. Here.” She held up her gloved hands, palms toward Sasha. “Fist in the palm, like the ball in the glove. Left. Come on, rookie, left! Left. Right. Left. Better. Lead with your knuckles, exhale , lift your shoulder. Concentrate. I want you to rotate your arm. You lift, and as you jab, you rotate. All one motion now. Left!”
