Fight Like a Girl

This week's F3 prompt: the pugilist...

Prompt: THEMED WORDLIST – Fist, Jab, Knuckle, Spirit, Fighter, Rhythm
Genre: Any
Word Count: 1500
Deadline: Thursday, April 14, 2011 about 4:30 pm.

Fight Like a Girl

His fist came at my chin, slow-motion, I could see the blonde hairs standing up on every knuckle, the blonde hair that was a pale imitation of the cheaply dyed hair on his over-oiled head. Why do Huffy's men have to be such pugilists? Really, a gun'll do you better every time.

I leaned back, way back, Matrix-style, setting my right hand on the sticky alley pavement to support my lowered body and giving thanks that I wasn't wearing a Matrix-style trenchcoat that would only get in the way. A half-undone sequin dress provides much better maneuverability, even if it did catch the streetlight and possibly bring attention to us.

Where'd my date go? He wouldn't want to have missed seeing my dress shredded. It's the most he'd've seen of me yet. Two weeks of me dodging his advances had left him frustrated. He deserved to see what he could. It's the least I could do for the guy. Lord knows I wished I could've let him convince me to do the naked dance. The man was hot.

Still hyper-aware, the slight breeze caused by the hooligan's arm passing over my barely clad body gave me goosebumps. I tucked my body inside itself, then arched up in a breakdancer-style move, courtesy of Paulie, my brother who fancied himself a b-boy back in the day. I swung around to the rhythm of Run DMC, my black hair flying out, a steady beat in my head keeping time with my blood, and I lifted my left leg approximately chest height to catch the thug in the lungs. Too bad I wasn't wearing my stilettos. Would've torn a hole in him instead of just giving him a barefoot-size bruise. Where'd my shoes go?

He heaved backward. Good. I hate guys who think they are champion fighters, boxers with no one to brutalize except women they meet on the street. Okay, so I'm no ordinary woman, but still. Whatever happened to the spirit of chivalry? I really rather prefer men who defer to women. Makes my job much easier.

Deep breath. I advanced, coming after him like a bad nightmare, relentless in my forward motion. Jab, twirl, step, turn, duck, bob away from his never-ending, completely predictable moves. It was like dance practice, but boring dance practice for a routine you've done a million times before. Slide, shuffle, slide to the right. Clap your hands and do-si-do.

He fell, exhausted, heaving and holding his over-extended gut. Maybe at one time he was fit, a real boxer. But not anymore. He's no match for a professional. I gave him one last kick in the kidneys for good measure, then bent my knees and leaned real close to his bleeding ear.

"You give Huffy a message for me, got it?" I used my most threatening voice, somewhere between a hiss and a growl.

He nodded.

"You tell him Nat's back in town and back on the job. You tell him he sends another one of you after me, and I won't content myself with a beat down. I'll string the next guy up from ear to ear and then come after Huffy and make him wish he'd never been born."

He grimaced. God, you throw a couple of cliches at these bruisers and they take you seriously. Huffy really needs to upgrade.  

"Got it?" I smacked his oily head for good measure.

He groaned.

I stood up, found my discarded purse and strived for nonchalance as I walked away, barefoot and torn up. And I'd lost track of my so-called date to boot. Jones was gonna have my head. I screw up my chance at being a legitimate bodyguard by losing the hot shot they'd assigned to me. Fat lotta good trying to rise out of the gutters'll do for me. Maybe I should go back to freelancing. Ugh.

I sighed, then froze. A shadow approached, and I crouched. Really? Another one? I blew my bangs out of my eyes. God, I wish this night was over.

"Are these yours?" Mr. Tall, Dark and Sexy held out my four-inch Jimmie Choos. I stood up, reluctantly. Where'd he been hiding the last few minutes? At least he wasn't dead. My job was still safe. For the moment.

My heart fluttered, damn it. "Yes." I tore them from his grasp, relentless against the betrayal of my hormones. I balanced on one foot, then the other, to put them back on. I pulled the hem of my dress down and the top of my dress up, wiggling my hips while trying to look at least halfway decent. "Let's go."

I sashayed off in a huff, leaving Adonis reeling behind me. There's more than one way to bring 'em to their knees.