Kellam

 

“You have a fire inside you, Kell. A spark that your skills ignite, and it makes you explosive. You’re brilliant and fast,” his sensei told him. “But you don’t know everything. You need to control your temper.”

“They jumped on that kid for nothing, Sensei. He ran, but he wasn’t fast enough. Why teach me these skills if I can’t use them to help others?” Kell fumed, his nose still bleeding, his fist swollen, and knuckles scuffed from meeting bone. He’d taken on seven of them. Seven bullies who were recovering in the WellStar Medical Center while he’d been in lock-up for the last nine hours.

Quick yanked Kell by his collar and dragged him farther into the dojo. “You could’ve seriously injured, or even killed them. They’re not on your level, so you’ve disgraced yourself. Your victory is pyrrhic. If you don’t learn to control yourself, the authorities will classify your skills as a weapon. And I’ll no longer be able to help you. You have to be careful.”

“It’s them that should be careful, not me, Sensei.” Kell growled.

Quick pulled on his long hair, a clear sign he was frustrated with him… again.

Kell didn’t like to see his master so upset. He knew better. His mentor/master/sensei deserved better than to be woken at three in the morning to come rescue him, yet again. Roman Webb—nicknamed, Quick—had been saving him his entire life. From the days he’d been a young heir and a member of Atlanta’s high society, Kell had been nothing but trouble and disappointment.

If it wasn’t for Quick, Kell would probably be serving a lengthy sentence in some penitentiary. He had a temper and many men had felt his wrath. He’d been bullied, abandoned, beaten and kicked for as long as he could remember. It was only natural he’d start kicking back at some point. It was Quick who’d found him running from five boys on Whitehall Street in his private school uniform nineteen years ago. At the time, he’d been too small, too weak, too young to defend himself. All he could do back then was curl up in a ball on the ground or haul ass. Now, he no longer had to run. He was no longer afraid. Not of bullies, his abusive father, not of the fucked-up judicial system, not anyone. He was truly free. He had no fear.

He had no one.

“I’m working on something for you Kellam. Something big, but you’re blowing it.” Quick’s deep voice sent shivers down Kell’s spine. “I’ve talked to Duke about you again. I thought you were done with this juvenile bullshit. Fighting on street corners.”

“I wasn’t figh—”

“Shut your mouth when I’m speaking!” Quick barked in his face, making Kell snap his mouth closed.

My apologies, Sensei. He tried to say with his eyes, because he wouldn’t dare speak again. Kell didn’t back down from anyone out there on the street, but when it came to Roman Webb, he gave the Grandmaster every bit of the respect he deserved and had earned. To Kell, it was an honor to converse with him on any level. Even being reprimanded.

“This is your last warning, Kellam, and certainly the last time I’m pulling you from lockup.” Quick stepped closer. Kell swallowed but he held his footing. He stared straight ahead, his gaze level with Quick’s chest. The man was six- three, and Kell stood at an impressive five-nine. His sensei’s voice was dark and full of warning, “If you wanna be a goddamn vigilante, then do it someone else’s dojo.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Kell said in a low but firm tone.

“Get the showroom floors buffed and shined and the mats sanitized before the seven a.m. classes, since you have so much energy,” Quick added, before he turned his back and left the large warehouse.

Dang it! Kell wanted to turn around and punch the heavy bag beside him but he refrained, because his hands were already sore and the work he had ahead of him was going to be torture. Way to go, dummy. Kell hadn’t had to clean mats since he was a white belt—a budding seed in the life of martial arts. Now look at him, a black belt reduced to humiliation. Regardless of the fact that no one was there to see him. He knew what position he was in. He truly had disgraced himself as he fell to his knees with the bucket of warm water and cloth rags. 

By the time eight-thirty arrived, Kell was stumbling back into his small apartment, more tired than he’d felt in a long time.  But he deserved that punishment and he took it like a man. When was he gonna learn? After his sensei gave up on him? Jesus. Kell closed his eyes and took a couple of calming breaths. He couldn’t take another man walking out of his life. Like a glutton for punishment Kell went to his old laptop that sat on the small dinette table in his even smaller kitchen. He found his way to his father’s Twitter page, aggressively clicking on the images and staring angrily at the overly-tanned, grinning faces looking back at him. Taunting him. His father finally had the family he’d always claimed he deserved.

“There’s no way any son of my mine is a goddamn fairy. That’ll go over well at the next election.”

Kell flinched as if his father was right there yelling in his face. He’ll never forget the way he’d cast him to the wayside as if he were a used car and it was time for a newer model. He’d already begun working on a new family before he’d even discarded his current one. All Senator Mark Knight cared about were appearances and staying in office. He valued his designer and custom-made suits more than his real image. He cared for his multi-acre estate home—paid for mostly by dirty campaign contributions—more than he cared for his son. Even his vintage car collection remaining the talk of the country club poker parties took priority over having dinner with his family.

Now that Kell’s mother had passed and he was gone, his father had his picture-perfect household, complete with a blonde, plastic-infused wife, and the new heir to his reputable name, already a child prodigy—the stepbrother he’d never be allowed to know. Kell slammed the lid down on the picture of his dad and his unknown sibling in the skybox seats at the United Center, enjoying a Blackhawks game. Rubbing elbows with the elite. Kell had once been in that world, but at fifteen, he’d told his father that he was gay and it wasn’t forty-eight hours later before he was dropped and discarded like a diseased dog.   

“I was so glad I prepared for this. I knew you’d try to screw things up for me. Just when I’m getting ready to launch the largest campaign of my career and you pull this shit. Gay!” his father fumed. “I’m being punished for something, but I don’t know what. My own son is trying to sabotage my name. God, if only your mother was here she could fix this mess. She’s probably turning over in her grave.”

Kell stood there gaping at his dad in complete shock. Coming out hadn’t gone anywhere near how he’d planned. His dad was supposed to tell him he loved him no matter what.

“Are you doing this because you don’t want to go to Pinecrest anymore? Huh?!”

Kell had been bullied and tortured daily, hourly, at Pinecrest Academy. His father constantly ignored his pleas to be transferred elsewhere. At fifteen, he was positive he was solely attracted to boys. He’d accept any school, public or private as long as it didn’t have homophobic assholes. Who knew his father was one, too? He hadn’t seen it coming. His dad might ignore him and put him off on his nannies and sitters entirely too much, but there were lots of public outings where he was proud to have a son. He told everyone as much.

Kell couldn’t breathe. “Dad, I’m trying to be honest with you. I’m not lying to hurt you.” A tear ran down one cheek and he hurried to wipe it away, not wanting to show more weakness. “I need your help. The upper classmen at school are getting crazier!” Kell twisted his hands nervously. “Then do you think you can pay for me to have more one on one lessons at the dojo?”

His father stood from his desk so fast his leather chair flew back and slammed against the expensive china hutch behind him. “Ugh. That goddamn dojo won’t see another dime of my money. It never made you a man. Hell, I deserve a refund. Get upstairs. Pack your bag, you’re heading back to school early.”

His father had James, his driver, haul him back to the best private Catholic school in Georgia, the school from hell. Little did he realize that it would be the last time he’d see his father.

Kell got up from the table on shaky legs and stared out of the window. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, being cast out of his family still hurt like hell. All because of how he looked and how he chose to love. It’d been twelve years since that terrible day and the wound was still raw. Kell took another deep breath and held it for five seconds before blowing it out slowly. Why do I continue to look down that road? Nothing can be changed. Questioning himself was meaningless. His sensei would say, “Your past can’t be changed but your future is within your power.”

He had a good life and he should be grateful, because most outcasts like him didn’t always land on their feet. If it hadn’t been for Quick, Kell was positive he would’ve been one of those negative statistics. But, his sensei had seen something in him and had taken him in. Helped him to finish his classes at the school that his father continued to pay for, and nothing more. Kell had a minimal allowance that his father gave him each month, which would’ve been enough if he’d had the balls to stay on campus, but he’d been convinced those seniors were going to follow through on one of their deadly threats. Instead, he’d started sneaking back into the dojo after classes and sleeping in a sleeping bag until Quick had caught him and made Kell tell him everything. From that day on, martial arts had become his life.

Damnit, he had to stop letting his sensei down. Quick wanted him to join Duke’s bail recovery agent training course. Kell’s eligibility had already been determined. He was of legal age and a permanent resident. He’d had a gun permit since he was twenty-one. He’d completed the eight-hour fugitive recovery course required by the state of Georgia and had passed with flying colors. One thing Quick had done when Kell’s father sent him into exile, was to make sure he finished high school, but at another Catholic Academy. He said that Kell deserved the best education and he shouldn’t let his pride keep him from receiving just that. So, he’d let his father continue to pay for the tuition, and Kell had stayed away as promised. His sensei had coupled his own teachings with his honors studies.

Quick wouldn’t lead him astray after all this time. He’d guided him through the most important years of his life—young adulthood. Never making him feel like he didn’t have a family. Quick welcomed Kell into his home, and to dinner every night, on trips with Quick’s son, Vaughan, who didn’t hesitate to treat him like a baby brother.

Kell’s path was right there, laid out for him, Quick pointing him toward a newer, more fulfilling path. All that remained was for Kell to join a reputable bond company and start training. And there was no agency better than Duke’s.

It was time for a new direction. He didn’t want to retire a martial arts instructor. He enjoyed assisting Quick and working with the students, but it only put a couple of bucks in the bank. In a few years he’d be knocking on thirty’s door.  It was time to make some grown-up decisions. He couldn’t keep going like this. His anger and bitterness getting the better of him. Him thinking it was his duty to stick his nose into any situation and try to right any wrong. Like the man who’d been rude to the pregnant woman on the bus by refusing to let her sit as she held a grocery bag in one hand a toddler in the other. Kell had made sure that bastard learned some manners that day. Or the selfish, entitled frat boys—those were the ones he really hated the most—were fussing at a homeless man for begging too close to a restaurant they were dining at. Kell was more than happy to rid them of their “spare change” and give it to the homeless man. People could be so damn disrespectful, and it ate at him until he had to do something. But sometimes his somethings were overdone just a bit. However, the word ‘overdone’ was a gross understatement for describing his latest bout.

Kell stared down at the busy street that had come alive with the nine-to-fivers hurrying to their destinations. He closed his eyes, wondering how he was going to convince Quick that he was really ready to make some changes when he still had the stench of blood, sweat, tears, and the county lock-up on his skin. Kell was pissed with himself for losing control again and using his skills, but when he’d seen that scared boy turn the corner, hauling ass with trouble fast on his heels… Kell had taken off to save him. Is that what I think I’m doing… saving people? He’d seen that kid running for his life and something in Kell had snapped and it was him he saw running. Just like he used to. Terrified.

Bullying was the ultimate crime to him and it had to be stopped. And so he did. Kell wanted… no he needed to put the fear of God in those idiots. Next thing he knew, his elbows had connected and shattered jaws and the heels of his boots cracked ribs. His strikes had been too fast to block. His opponent’s defensive moves were comical to him. They were slow and clumsy, but his takedowns were so precise Kell didn’t even have to look at the man he’d struck behind him as he backhanded the jackass who’d approached to his left, all while keeping his eyes on the two men working their way off the ground in front of him.

Kell backed away from the window. He went to the small area rug in the center of the room where the sun cast a beam of light and eased down into the full lotus position then placed his hands palm-up on his knees. He centered his being. Letting all thoughts flow from his mind. No fighting, no bullying, no father, no hate. Just a calm spirit. He didn’t know how long he’d meditated before he’d been able to see his path to set his goal, but it finally came, and the words whispered about in his mind in a soothing tone.

From this moment on, I will control myself and adhere to my teachings. I will turn away from my past that poisons my mind and seize my future. My only goal is to make my sensei proud and to be the man he trained me to be. I will continue to fight for what’s right. And I will only do it in a just way.