Page 39

Chapter 39

Showing Up

Parker

There’s an atmosphere in the gym. It hits me the second I walk in. Sunday mornings kick my ass at the best of times, but Zara is ruthless today. Double drills. Suicides. Heavy duty sparring.

It’s only when she stalks to the office to yell at someone down the phone that we finally get a break. I collapse on the mat, sucking in air. I close my eyes, letting the pain wash over me. It’s the good kind of pain. The kind that means you’re getting closer to what you really want.

“Fuck sakes!” I open one eye, turning to the far corner of the gym as Jack launches a volley of punches so hard that his knuckles split.

I wince, one eye on Zara’s office. Gyms are about respect. Zara has a lot of rules. First one being nobody can curse but her.

Jack's got an attitude and most of the other guys ignore him, but I can’t just leave him. Hell, I’ve been him. “Wait for the bag to settle”, I roll off the mat, wincing as I notice a purple bruise under his left eye. “You’ll jar your wrist if you meet it halfway”.

I’m rewarded with a glare, but he changes his timing. His next three strikes are right on the mark. “You’re welcome”.

“Didn’t ask for your help”.

“The blood on your knuckles did it for you”. I study him. “If you don’t want another black eye to match, you’re gonna need to start training properly. Unless you’re gonna scowl someone to death. They are pretty fucking lethal”.

The punches cease long enough for me to catch the glimpse of a hastily hidden smile.

I can tell from the way his eyes are narrowed that he’s imagining someone’s face on that bag. I hold it steady for him, whilst he unloads a volley of kicks. The last one nearly topples him. “Plant your right foot”.

“I know”, he says, but he does. And nearly kicks my head off.

“Better”. We go on like that for another round, before he mumbles something. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t get it in training. The black eye”. Ah, fuck. Please don’t say you got it at home. Home is so much harder to fix. “Fight at school”.

“Did you win?”

“Aren’t grown-ups supposed to tell me I shouldn’t be fighting at school?”

“ Grown-ups ? Jesus, how old do you think I am?”

“I don’t know. Like thirty?”

I mime being stabbed in the gut. He carries on kicking. “I don’t tell people things they already know. Shift your balance”. Jack repositions uncertainly. “No, like this. Watch”. I take his place, arching my leg and extending it so my foot neatly slaps against the bag. I do it a few more times. “Give it a try”.

I watch as he mimics my move. He gets it the second time. “Like this?”

I nod. “Did it help? Kicking the guy’s ass?” He carries on kicking for a moment, then eventually shakes his head, his fringe flopping in his eyes. “It never does”.

“What would you know about it?”

“How do you think I ended up here?” I aim a punch at his bag, rattling its hinges. “I got into a fight at college. A big one”.

A cheeky grin spreads over his face. “Did you win?”

Smartass. I nod. “Did it help?” he asks, in perfect mimicry. I’m starting to like him. I’m about to answer when Zara bellows, “Di Rossi! Shift your ass”.

I offer him some knuckles. “I’ll tell you about it next week”.

“I’m here evenings too. If you wanna spar”, Jack shrugs, “Or whatever”.

I clutch my heart dramatically, “I’ll be counting the minutes”. He rolls his eyes, but I catch a grin as he starts packing up.

“Take your good sweet time”. Zara grumbles as I jog over. “Remind me why I keep you around?”

“Because in the four weeks that we’ve known each other you’ve grown fond of me”, I smile winsomely, “And I’ve become like a much, much younger brother to you?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. You’re much more of a pain in the ass than my younger brother. Grab those pads. People never clean shit up around this place”. T-minus two hours till I head off to Chez Carter. My legs feel weak just thinking about it. “Was that Jack you were talking to?”

“Not sure I’d classify it as talking”.

“You got more out of him in ten minutes than I have in two years. He’s a pain in the ass”, Zara says, “Can’t blame him, given his home life”.

Something flips in my stomach. “He said he got his black eye at school”.

“Probably did. The woman who runs his foster home is doing her best, but it’s hard. Kids coming in with no sense of belonging. It’s just a race against time to get them on the right path before they turn eighteen”.

She nods towards the door. “Jack’s close to ageing out. That’s why I give a cut price on his training. Soon he’ll be on his own”.

I nod, fighting the weird feeling from my insides. My dad used to mentor some kids at his gym, but nothing as serious as this. I mean, it’s not my problem. I barely know him.

“I want to talk to you about something”. Zara gestures at me to sit. “Harvey was due to fight in an amateur bout in a couple of weeks but he’s pulled out. I paid his entrance fee so there’s a spot open. It’s in your weight class, and I want you to fill it”.

“What?” I can’t believe my ears. “Me?”

“You were preparing for your first amateur fight before you joined us. It’s three rounds. The card is here in town. Expenses are low. So is the pay”.

“When?” I flicker with excitement.

“Two weeks. You’re nearly at weight already. This is the real thing, Parker”.

“You said the pay is low”.

“Couple of hundred bucks. Minus taxes. I’ll waive my fee”.

“How many private lessons does a couple of hundred bucks buy?” She frowns, “For Jack”. She looks like she wants to say something, but I cut her off. “Back to the fight. Do you think I’m ready?”

“Do you think you are?

You know you are, kid.

“Yes”. I look around at the mats. The mitts. The blood and sweat. “Hell yes, I am”.

It’s strange. I’ve wanted this for so long. I thought it’d feel different. I guess I’m just not used to things going my way. I glance outside to where Jack is waiting for a bus. He gets on, and it pulls slowly away. I shake my head. Focus, Parker .

There’s only one person I want to tell. Only one person I ever want to tell. “What do we know about my opponent?”

“He’s undefeated”. For now . “You might know him actually. His name is Tank Hudson”.

* * * *

Crashing Brandon’s birthday would normally scream level five clinger alert, but truthfully, I have no faith that his dad is actually gonna show up. I call Brandon to confirm where he’s at, and activate stealth mode to sneak up his mile-long driveway undetected.

I keep him chatting whilst I bundle my ridiculously oversized balloons out of the car and ring the doorbell. The look on his face will stay with me until the day I die.

He rushes forward and I meet him in the doorway, embracing him in the tightest hug I’ve ever given anyone. “Happy almost-birthday, Brandon”, I whisper in his ear.

He pulls away from me so that I can’t see his face. I’ve never seen him choked up before. Ever. “Did I do something?” When he turns back, his eyes are glistening. What he says swells and breaks my heart at the same time.

“You showed up”.

* * * *

Brandon tells me about his dad not showing, which was predictable. Then he tells me about Winston’s heel turn, which makes me want to blow things up. Brandon doesn’t go into too much detail, but whatever Winston’s said has my boyfriend rattled, and it pisses me off.

Luckily, I have the perfect distraction.

I reach into my backpack and fish out his card. “Happy Birthday”. He opens it, and blinks as a scrap of paper falls out. He unfolds it.

This is a very long password that no motherfucker except Rocky or Dodger will ever know.

“That’s our old password”, he says excitedly.

“Care for a trip down memory lane?” I dangle my car keys in-front of him.

I half expected a racoon to have made off with the picnic I had laid out for us. Birthday boy’s favourites. Mini cheeseburgers, pizza slices, potato chips and light beers. I can’t think of anywhere better to take Brandon than our old secret spot. Last time we were here was before his non-Graduation party.

Before he changed my world. Just like he’s been doing ever since.

Brandon’s grinning ear to ear. “This is fucking amazing”.

“I wanted to give you something that money can’t buy”. We settle down on the blanket. “And not just because I don’t have any money”.

“Do you remember when you introduced me to this place?” He jerks his thumb towards the now-dilapidated factory, with broken windowpanes and boarded-up doors. “You used to wait for your dad here. I wanted to find somewhere to kick a ball without getting yelled at”.

“It was the best part of my day”, I grin. I feel very free. And safe. I hold out my hand and he takes it straightaway. “We were last here right before Graduation”.

“I remember that afternoon. I was going to tell you that I liked you”, Brandon says softly. “I had it all worked out, but you were in your head about Millie, so I bottled it. I knew nothing would happen between us, but I wanted you to know”.

“It must have been torture. Being so close to me”. My lips twitch. “But unable to have me. I wish I’d have known”, I reach for him. “My life is so much better with you in it”. We start making out, easily falling into each other’s kisses. His hand runs down my chest, when he suddenly he stops.

“Uh, Di Rossi?” He raises an eyebrow, “Either you’re really pleased to see me, or…”

Busted. I slip a small silver cylindrical flask from my pocket. His eyes widen as I remove the cap, “You didn’t think I’d let tonight go by without a Fuckboy Sidewinder, did you?”

We spend most of the early summer evening lying curled up together on the grass. Talking. Kissing. Touching. Every time we break apart it only takes a second before I’m on him again.

“It was here I decided that I wanted to do MMA professionally”. My head curls against his chest. “I came one step closer to that today. Zara thinks she’s found me a fight. A proper one. Well, an amateur proper one. It’s two weeks away”.

“Holy shit”. His chest tightens beneath me.

“I know. It’s been one hell of a 48 hours”.

“Do you need to make weight?”

“Only a few pounds. I’d already been cutting for the fight that never happened. Whilst you’re enjoying the finest trappings that barbeque can buy, I’m opting for chicken and broccoli”.

He rolls over so we’re facing each other. “How does it feel?”

For a moment I don’t know how to answer that. “Good”, I say, “Just like I thought”.

“You’re sure?” I squeeze his hand, but something catches my eye. A glint of light, like a flash. I glance around but I can’t see anything. It was probably nothing. Headlights from a passing car, probably. “Parker?”

“Sorry, distracted. Where were we?”

“I was asking about training. I see no broken bones or black eyes, although this is a superficial examination”.

“No black eyes. Not on me anyway”, I pull him on top of me. “Unless you want to look closer”.

“I’m looking pretty closely”. Okay, we’re kissing again. Long, searching kisses. “What were you saying about someone having a black eye?”

“Jack. One of the kids there. He’s in a pretty shitty situation”. I relay his story. Brandon listens thoughtfully.

“Sounds like he needs someone to look out for him”.

“Zara’s got her hands full with one reprobate already”.

“I meant you”.

I almost choke on my chicken breast. “Me?”

“Who better?”

“It’d be like the blind leading the blind. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing in my own life, let alone someone else’s”.

“Sounds like you made a connection with him”.

“Brandon”, I shake my head. “I gotta focus right now. This match, it’s everything I’ve been working for”.

“I know”, he rubs my shoulder, “I’m on your team”.

”I know nobody thinks I can do it. My mom. It was always my dad’s thing. But now it’s mine as well”.

Brandon stares at me. “People think you can do it. I don’t think anyone’s comparing you to your dad”. He has to say that. He’s my boyfriend, after all. I don’t bother disputing it. “Your family love you. Almost as much as I do”.

The world spins around me.

“You know that I…”, I say, blood pounding in my ears. “I mean. I feel the same about you. It’s not that I don’t want to say it, it’s just that whenever I do, someone leaves. But the thing I can’t say? I do. I really fucking do, Carter”.

“I know you do”. We’re kissing again. It’s so comfortably that I don’t hear the footsteps until the car engine starts. I break off. “What was that?”

“Nothing”. A car door slams. Brandon glances round. “Who else would be here?”

“I don’t know. I’ve got this feeling. Like someone’s watching us”.

“Special contribution to scaring the shit out of me”. We both rise to our feet. I start moving quickly towards the fence. Brandon’s hot on my heels. A red mustang spins its wheels and zooms off in the distance. “What the hell…?”

“Paparazzi don’t normally come out here”, I say slowly. Brandon chews on his lower lip, eyes fixed on the space vacated by the car. “Do you think someone was following you?”

“Not me”, His hand drops from mine. “Us”.