Chapter Six
Brittany
“So, you ready for today?” I asked.
Lacey pretended not to know what I was talking about. “What do you mean?” she asked innocently.
“Umm…I thought we decided to start training this evening after our shift,” I reminded her. “You know, for the winter marathon.”
“Fuck,” she sighed. “I was hoping you had forgotten.”
I laughed. “Me and Danny both?”
“A girl can dream,” she huffed.
“Oh, come on,” I chided. “It’s not going to be that bad. It might even be fun.”
“Spare me the pep talk,” Lacey said with a roll of her eyes. “I’ve heard it before.”
I shrugged and poured myself another cup of coffee. Free refills were a perk of the job, and Danny never begrudged us coffee. In fact, he argued that it boosted productivity. It was definitely cheaper than Xanax.
“I can’t believe you’re so enthusiastic about this,” Lacey observed. “You hate working out as much as I do.”
“I know,” I nodded. “But I think I’ve been in sort of a rut lately. I figured getting out there and doing something different would help me a little.”
“And of all the things you could have done, this is the one you chose?” Lacey asked, fixing me with a judgemental glare.
“It was Danny’s idea,” I reminded her. “I just agreed to it.”
“Which makes you just as responsible, in my opinion.”
I burst out laughing. “Quit complaining,” I said. “It’s time to get on board. Remember the hot guys.”
“That’s the only thing motivating me to do this stupid shit,” Lacey nodded. “But I’m warning you now, if there are no hot guys at this marathon, I’m coming after you and Danny both.”
“Noted,” I nodded.
Just then, the door to the diner squeaked open and Talen walked in. He was dressed in the same hoodie he had worn the previous day. And again, he had it hiked up around his face and head as though he were trying to hide from someone. I could barely see his face as he passed us silently and slipped into the same booth he had used the day before.
“He’s a strange one, isn’t he?” Lacey observed, glancing over at him.
“I think so,” I nodded.
“Did you get much out of him yesterday?”
“Not really,” I replied. “I don’t think he’s the talkative type – not that he’d have much to say to me in the first place.”
“Please, most men have a lot to say to both of us,” Lacey said. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re hot as hell.”
I smiled. “Maybe he’s gay?”
“Look at him,” Lacey said dismissively. “He’s definitely not gay.”
“He could be married.”
“There’s no ring on his finger.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not married,” I pointed out. “He might have lost it, or he might not be used to wearing one.”
“Nah,” she said, shaking her head. “He doesn’t look like the marrying type.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Okay, since you’re such an expert…why don’t you flesh out a back story for him?” I challenged. “I’ll take him his coffee.”
I left Lacey behind the counter contemplating Talen’s life story and headed towards his table with his coffee. He glanced up as I approached, but there was no smile on his face. His hoodie stayed firmly in place so that I only saw one bright blue eye that reminded me of the sea before a storm.
“Good morning,” I said. “Here’s your coffee.”
“Thanks,” he replied shortly.
“What can I get you?”
“The same,” he said.
“Just toast?”
“Just toast,” he nodded.
“Coming right up,” I said, before walking away.
I slipped behind the breakfast counter and popped in a couple of slices of bread. “Well?” I said to Lacey. “Have you got him figured out yet?”
“He’s a big guy…”
“Astute observation,” I smiled. “You should have been a detective.”
“Shut it, smart mouth,” Lacey said. “I’m not done.”
“I should hope not,” I laughed.
Lacey shot me a glare, and I raised my hands in deference. “My apologies, please continue.”
“Despite that serious demeanor of his, I can tell he’s young. Young, but experienced. He’s seen a lot of life, and he’s been through some tough shit. But he’s quiet, reserved… Doesn’t like talking too much… Not because he doesn’t want to, but because he can’t…”
“What?” I said frowning.
“He’s an undercover agent,” Lacey said conspiratorially. “He’s working for the government, and he’s trying to nail down this mastermind group of criminals.”
“In Quebec?” I asked incredulously.
“Exactly.”
“I think you’re overestimating how exciting this town is.”
Lacey laughed. “It’s just one possibility,” she said.
“Is there another one?”
“He could be a drug dealer.”
I laughed. “Not as great a story,” I admitted. “But it’s a little more realistic.”
“What about you?”
“What about me?”
“What do you think his back story is?”
“Oh,” I said, glancing in his direction. “Well, you’re right, he is young. But experience has aged him. He’s lost people he loved early on and that’s hardened him to an extent, made him scared to open up and let people in. That’s why he’s so brusque with strangers… It’s just a means of self-preservation, a way to keep from getting hurt. He moved because no one knows him here, and he likes the anonymity. He likes being a passing ship in the night.”
When my eyes focused again, I realized that Lacey was watching me with one raised eyebrow. “What?” I demanded.
“Nothing,” she smiled. “It’s just, you’ve got this look in your eye.”
“What look?”
“You kind of like him don’t you?”
“No,” I said defensively. “I just… I was playing the game.”
“Sure, sure,” Lacey said. It was obvious I hadn’t convinced her. “It’s just obvious you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about him.”
“I have not,” I said, trying to make the claim sound absurd. “I’m just good at building back stories, that’s all.”
She smiled. “If you say so.”
I groaned. “You are infuriating, you know that?” I said as the beep from the toaster went off.
I popped the toast onto a plate and headed back to Talen’s table. I set it down in front of him, but he didn’t even look up. He just nodded in thanks and started eating. I turned and walked away, resisting the urge to look back over my shoulder. When he left the diner fifteen minutes later, a part of me breathed a sigh of relief. I wasn’t sure why I should feel relieved. I just did.
That evening after our shift, Danny, Lacey, and I headed down to a local high school track to begin training for the marathon. We were all tired out and Lacey complained persistently, but Danny and I were insistent.
I recognized that we were all feeling different versions of the same thing: we wanted to change the monotony of our lives. We wanted to find something purposeful to occupy our time. I wasn’t sure if this was it, but at least it was a start.
“Okay,” Lacey said, looking between Danny and myself. “What the hell do we do now?”
We were standing on the running track that circled the lush grounds. “Umm… I suppose…we start running?” Danny suggested.
“Uh, okay,” Lacey nodded.
“Wait,” I said. “Shouldn’t we stretch first…or something like that?”
“That’s a great idea,” Danny nodded. “Warming up. That’s what we need to do.”
“Oh yeah, this is going to go down well,” Lacey said sarcastically, as Danny and I proceeded to stretch out our arms and legs in an imitation of what we saw on television.
“We can stretch for ten minutes and then start running,” Danny said happily.
Inevitably, our ten minutes of stretching time turned into conversation. “So... Carrie called me,” Danny confessed, just as I was reaching down to touch my toes.
I straightened immediately.
“What?” Lacey demanded.
“Yeah,” he nodded, and I wondered momentarily if this was the catalyst for Danny’s desire to run this marathon. Maybe we were all just trying to expel our demons in any way we could.
“Why did she call?” I asked. “It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Three years,” Danny nodded. “Three years since we spoke last.”
“Geez,” Lacey breathed. “She contacted you?”
“She’s in town for a few days.”
“She wants to meet you?” I asked.
“She wants to meet me,” Danny nodded.
“And?” Lacey demanded. “Are you really considering it?”
“I would have if the diner had been doing better,” he admitted.
“What are you talking about?” I asked. “The diner’s doing great.”
“It’s managing,” he said evenly. “It’s getting by. We manage to break even and that’s a far cry better than what we were doing at the beginning. It’s the regulars that keep us afloat. Without them, I don’t think I’d be able to sustain the diner.”
“Danny…”
“I need to hire more people,” he continued, cutting Lacey off. “I should have renovated the diner two years ago, and I should have given the two of you a raise two years before that. But I just can’t afford to do any of it. It’s the reason we’re stagnant; it’s the reason we’re stuck in the same place.”
I could sense the frustration in Danny’s voice, spurred on by the reappearance of his ex-wife. I couldn’t help but sympathize. I knew what it felt like to be trapped.
“Do you know why she wants to meet?”
“Probably to see if I’m doing better or worse now without her,” Danny admitted. “It’s the only reason I can think of to contact an ex. It’s not like we left things badly…but things weren’t exactly good, either.”
Danny paused for a moment. “She’s engaged apparently,” he said.
Lacey and I exchanged a glance.
“His name is Curt.”
“Urgh,” Lacey said immediately. “Always hated that name – and I’m not just saying that.”
We both knew she was just saying that, and Danny smiled in appreciation of the sentiment. “Is it wrong to want to beat her at life?” he asked in a small voice. “Is it just…too pathetic?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I know exactly what you mean. When anyone thinks you can’t or won’t amount to anything, it just makes you want to be as successful as possible just so you can rub it in their face.”
Lacey looked at me pointedly. “Are you talking about...”
“Yes,” I said, before she could mention his name.
“Living well is the best revenge,” she said. “Who said that?”
“Someone smart,” I sighed.
“Yeah…”
Danny let out a low breath. “I just… Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I had something to look forward to, you know?”
Lacey put her hand on his shoulder. “What are you talking about?” she said. “We have this marathon to look forward to.”
The very absurdity of that sentence, especially coming from Lacey, made us crack up. And then we were all laughing and suddenly things didn’t seem quite so bad.
“Shall we start running?” Danny suggested. “I think we’ve stretched enough.”
“Sure thing,” we nodded and took off down the running path.
Twenty minutes later, all three of us collapsed onto the soft, downy grass of the main field. All I could hear for the first five minutes was the sound of our intermingled panting, creating a pathetic melody of sound.
“I think we did quite well for the first day,” Danny said.
I snorted with laughter. “Half an hour?” I reminded him. “And, that’s including the stretching.”
“It’s ten minutes more than I thought we’d last,” he said. “Especially with Lacey.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. They were the sweetest words I’d heard all day.
Chapter Seven
Talen
I had been waiting for the weekend. After one week of intensive training, it was nice to have a shorter schedule. Training on weekends started later than usual and ended earlier. It was the small respite my body needed.
I rolled out of bed and walked outside to the kitchen. This was the first apartment I’d lived in where the bed was actually placed in a completely separate room. It felt almost extravagant as I passed the living room on my way to the kitchen.
My fridge was completely empty, so I didn’t even bother to open it. I poured myself a tall glass of water and drank it quickly. Once I was fully hydrated, I slipped on a pair of track pants and a dark green hoodie that was similar to my black one. Before I left the apartment, I checked my account balance on my phone. I was told the first payment for my contract would come in today.
I waited for the page to load, and a second later, I found myself staring at my account balance. I raised my eyebrows in awe. I had never had so much money sitting in my account. It was a surreal feeling to know that I didn’t have to worry about expenses…at least for the moment.
I stared at the page for a minute longer, taking the time to memorize the exact figure. When I’d had my fill of, I closed the page and headed out.
I passed a bunch of different diners on my way to the campus, but for some reason, I found myself at the ugly pink and green diner again. It wasn’t like I ordered anything special – I could have gotten toast and coffee at any old place – but something kept pulling me back to Danny’s. On the heels of that thought, the image of the tall, dark-haired waitress with the siren blue eyes popped into my head.
I was pretty sure I had dreamt about her last night, and it had been dangerously close to a wet dream. Her eyes had preoccupied my thoughts the last couple of days. They were a unique mystical blue that placed her in a different time and era. I liked that about her, I liked that she looked as though she didn’t quite belong. It was how I felt most of the time.
I realized I was being ridiculous. I was constructing a personality around this woman. I was creating a story for her that fit into this weird fantasy I had. It was just my way of occupying my thoughts when I was bored. She wasn’t in the diner when I walked in, but the redheaded waitress was.
She gave me a tentative smile, but that was all. She seemed to have cooled towards me since our exchange on my first day here. I gathered she was the type of woman who liked to have attention right off the bat, and my reservedness had offended her in some way.
A few seconds later, my usual waitress emerged from the kitchen. She was wearing a fitted white shirt that was tucked in at the waist by a flowing yellow wrap around skirt. She had tied her black hair back into a loose knot at the back of her head. A couple of strands of blue-black hair fell loose on either side, framing her heart-shaped face. I could make out the blue of her eyes from where I sat.
I watched the way she moved. She was light and nimble on her feet, tending to twirl around as opposed to a straight turn. There was a certain dance to the way she walked, as though she were humming a song under her breath and was trying to mimic the melody in her movement.
It was the first time I’d seen her bare shoulders and the pale skin of her back. When she turned her back to me, I realized she had a tattoo inked onto her skin just underneath her neck. I was only able to see it because she had her hair tied up. Intricate vines ran up and down a tiny birdcage, and from its center, a little bird was preparing to take flight.
I dropped my gaze as she turned around and started to walk towards me. I had to admit, the tattoo intrigued me and made me wonder if she had others.
“Morning,” she greeted, setting down a plate of toast and a mug of coffee in front of me. “I assumed you’d want the same thing you always get.”
“Thank you,” I nodded.
She smiled and prepared to turn away, when the question burst from my lips. “Do you have any more?”
I didn’t know what made me ask the question. I didn’t even know why I cared so much. All I knew was that I wanted an answer from her. She turned to me slowly, and it was clear that she was surprised, as well as a little confused.
“Excuse me?”
“I noticed the tattoo on the back of your neck,” I explained more fully. “I wondered if you had any more?”
“Oh,” she said. “I have two more.”
My gaze must have been questioning because she gave me a slightly self-conscious smile. “You won’t be able to see them with my clothes on.”
Her cheeks reddened instantly after she spoke, and I couldn’t help but smile at her embarrassment. “What I mean is…”
“I know what you mean,” I nodded.
“Right,” she said, standing awkwardly in front of me.
“When did you get your first tattoo?” I asked, stubbornly refusing to let her walk away from me.
She hesitated a moment, and I knew she was a little taken back by my sudden interest in conversation. “I was fifteen,” she replied.
“I was thirteen,” I volunteered.
“Young,” she observed. “Which one was your first?”
“It’s a date,” I replied. “On my back right shoulder.”
“A date?” she repeated.
“Yes.”
“I’m sure there’s a story there.”
“There is,” I nodded. “Just like the caged bird on the back of your neck.”
Her blue eyes met mine and an unspoken understanding passed between us. She knew I wasn’t willing to share my story just yet, and I knew she wouldn’t ask for it. By the same token, I knew she wasn’t willing to share her story with me, and I was going to respect that. It was one of those strange moments of clarity that left you feeling a little lighter without knowing the concrete reason why.
She reached up to touch the tattoo I was talking about. Then she dropped her gaze from mine. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said.
“I will,” I replied.
I watched her walk away, staring at the bird on the back of her neck. I was willing to bet anything that the bird represented her. But that left me no closer to figuring out the significance of why it was there in the first place. It bothered me that I wanted to know so badly – it was so uncharacteristic of me to want to know about other people’s lives, especially because it gave other people permission to be curious about mine.
I ate my toast and tried to stop imagining caged birds with blue eyes, but I kept seeing sunshine yellow in my peripheral vision and the bird popped into my head all over again. When I stepped up to the counter to pay, Brittany was cutting a piece of pie for a customer in the corner booth.
She accepted my money with a nod and a smile. Then I walked out of the diner without saying another word to her. I walked to the training campus, using the miles as a warm up before I entered the ring. Ryan was already prepped and waiting when I entered the massive training space. We started sparring with one another, just practicing moves and working on different approaches. The point was not to fight; the point was to strategize.
“So, you done anything fun while you’ve been here?” Ryan asked.
Almost a week had gone by, and Ryan was still persistently talkative. He never seemed to mind that he did all the talking, while I gave him the shortest possible answers I could think of. He just kept flinging questions at me, as though he were determined to crack through the silent wall I had built up.
“I’ve been busy.”
Ryan laughed, even though I had been completely serious. “Obviously, but what do you do when you finish training?”
“I go home and sleep.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“Huh,” he said, sounding surprised.
“What?”
“Nothing… It’s just, I expected you to be more of the adventurous type.”
“This is my adventure,” I defended myself. “Right here in this ring.”
“No offense, man, but that’s pathetic.”
I managed to suppress my smile at the last minute. “I told you I was serious about the MMA.”
“So am I,” Ryan argued. “But I still find the time to have a little fun every now and again.”
“Fun?”
“Yes, fun,” he said firmly. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it. Maybe you should try having some one of these days. It might actually make you smile more.”
As Ryan dropped his defensive position, I took advantage of his distraction and hit him in the face. “Fuck,” he groaned, doubling back and falling against the ropes of the ring.
“See?” I said. “I am having fun.”
Ryan shook off the punch and rolled his eyes at me. “We’re only training for half the day tomorrow,” he said. “Why don’t you let me show you around town? I’ve been here longer than you have and I know some good places.”
“Uh…what kind of places?” I asked skeptically.
“Just some chilled out bars with a nice young crowd,” Ryan replied. “Lots of hot girls.”
“I’m not interested,” I said immediately.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not here to meet people,” I said.
“Man, you like to play hard to get, don’t you?” Ryan joked.
I rolled my eyes. “Are we training or talking?”
“Come on, man,” he said. “We’re going to spend the next couple of months training together. We might as well try and form something resembling a friendship. I’m sure it’ll help us out in the long run.”
I dropped my stance and looked at him carefully. “You’re not going to let up until I say yes, are you?”
“My plan is to wear you down.”
I sighed heavily. “Fine then,” I conceded at last.
“You’ll come out with me tomorrow night after practice?” Ryan asked, as though he wanted my full verbal consent.
“You’re not giving me much choice.”
“Fuck, yeah!” he said, punching the air with his fist. “You’re not going to regret this.”
I rolled my eyes at him and stepped out of the ring just as Steven walked in with a short, skinny man with an unfortunate goatee.
“Burbank,” Steven called. “Get over here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”
I walked over to the two of them, eyeing the shorter man carefully. He was definitely not a fighter, but the sly, critical way he was looking me over told me he had experience in the business of the MMA.
“This is Wendell Jones,” Steven introduced. “He’s your promoter and he’s got some fucking great news for you.”
“Oh?” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“I’ve set up a fight for you,” Wendell said in a reedy nasal voice. “It’s going to be in January.”
“January?” I repeated. “That’s awhile away.”
“Trust me, you’re going to need the time,” Wendell said firmly. “You’ve been matched up with a pro fighter.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Whom am I going up against?”
Wendell gave me a smile. “Kendrick Conner.”
I knew the name well and realized Wendell was right. I would need every month in between now and the fight to get ready for it. Conner was no joke. He was a serious fighter with a killer technique. He was only a couple of years older than I was, but he’d been in the MMA a hell of a lot longer. I would need to bring my A game if I wanted even the slightest chance of beating him.
“You confident, Burbank?” Steven asked.
I squared my jaw. “I guarantee you this…in January, I will be.”
Chapter Eight
Brittany
“Did my eyes deceive me or was Mr. Hot Hoodie actually making conversation?” Lacey pounced on me the moment I joined her behind the breakfast counter.
“We both know you have twenty-twenty vision,” I smiled.
“Well?” she demanded. “What did he say?”
“Nothing much,” I said evasively.
She glared at me. “You’re being purposefully annoying.”
“Yes, I am,” I nodded. “And, it’s so much fun.”
“Oh, come on,” Lacey insisted. “Spill… I have to get Mr. Keegan’s order out to him soon.”
I snuck a quick glance in Talen’s direction, but he was looking down at his toast. “He asked me about my tattoo,” I told her.
“The one on the back of your neck?” Lacey asked.
“Yup.”
“Hmm…” she said, her expression changing instantly. She was smiling now, and there was a coy knowing about her smile. It was as though she were privy to a secret I had missed out on.
“What?” I asked, frowning at her.
“He noticed your, tattoo,” Lacey said pointedly.
“Thanks for the update,” I said. “But I’m already aware of that.”
“And, are you also aware of what that means?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to misinterpret it.”
Lacey shook her head at me. “I know things about people, Brit,” she said smugly. “Whereas you go through life being generally clueless, especially when it comes to yourself.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“He was obviously checking you out,” she pointed out.
“Or it was just a casual observation that caught his interest,” I said. “He’s been in here every day for the last week, and he only just noticed my tattoo today.”
“Today’s the first day you had your hair up,” Lacey pointed out.
“Okay, fair point,” I said. “But it still doesn’t mean anything. He’s got a body full of tattoos – maybe he’s just interested in them. Maybe that’s what he does for a living, he’s a tattoo artist.”
“Nah,” Lacey said, waving away that suggestion.
“It’s a possibility.”
“He does something dangerous,” she said confidently.
“And you’re basing that on…”
“On the fact that his body is covered in scars and bruises – or did you not notice?”
I frowned. “Actually, I hadn’t.”
“Seriously?”
“I was always focused on…” I trailed off, catching myself before I gave too much away.
“On what?” she asked shrewdly.
“Nothing.”
She smiled. “His rippling pectorals?”
“His face,” I said, giving her a glare. “He has an interesting face.”
“Well, look closely the next time,” she instructed me. “What did he ask about your tattoo?”
“Nothing much, really,” I replied honestly. “The whole conversation revolved around our body art. He told me he was thirteen when he got his first tattoo.”
“Wow, he shared personal information about himself?”
“It was hardly very personal,” I said. “He told me it was a date on his back shoulder, but he didn’t mention the significance of the date.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“He wouldn’t have told me,” I said. “He wasn’t willing to share that much with me. I could tell.”
“But he was the one that initiated conversation?” she asked.
“I suppose… Not that it means anything.”
“Would you like it to mean something?” Lacey asked curiously.
“Stop it,” I said. “You’re trying to get me to overthink.”
“No, I’m not,” she said. “I’m just asking a simple question.”
“Don’t you have to take Mr. Keegan’s order out?” I reminded her.
“Damn it,” she swore, disappearing into the kitchen.
Smiling, I started to cut out a piece of pie for Monica just as Talen walked up to the counter to pay for his breakfast. He didn’t say anything; he just slid the money across the counter towards me. I accepted it with a smile and a nod. His deep blue eyes held mine for a moment and then he was gone.
It turned out to be a particularly busy day at the diner. We had a few regulars, but mostly, the customers were unfamiliar walk-ins looking for a kitschy little diner to take the edge off their hunger. Around mid-day, Lacey and I were swamped with customers. We darted around the diner, realizing that we were quickly running out of space. I for one was happy to be so busy. It usually meant more tips at the end of the day.
“Hi, boys,” I said to the middle booth that was occupied by three gangly men who looked to be in their early twenties. “Welcome to Danny’s, what can I get you today?”
“Are you on the menu?” the guy with the bright red shirt asked, giving me a little wink.
I suppressed a cringe and instead, put on a smile, reminding myself that I had to work hard for tips. “Unfortunately not,” I said, keeping my tone light and friendly. “But I can recommend the pecan pie, it’s to die for.”
“I’d still rather have you,” he said, giving me another unnecessary wink.
“You couldn’t afford me,” I said, opting for the rebuttal that was as cliché as he obviously was.
His friends laughed, and he joined them. I had to fight really hard to keep from rolling my eyes at how juvenile they all sounded. The second table I was waiting on held a young family – two harassed looking parents and their two-year-old twins. I looked up just in time to see the little boy push over the bottle of sauce. Thick red sauce splattered across the table and the boy cooed in delight at his handiwork.
“Uh…give me a second, boys,” I said, excusing myself and rushing over to their table.
“Oh God!” the mother was saying. “Jeremiah, look at his mess.”
“Don’t you worry about it,” I said. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Could we have another booth?” the father asked, holding his daughter’s hands down so she didn’t dip them into the mess.
“Of course,” I nodded. “The one in the corner is free. Why don’t you go ahead and move, and I’ll bring your meals right over.”
First, I moved their meals and drinks over, then I took down an order from the table with the three idiot road trippers, and then I got to work cleaning down the sauce spill. By the time I was done, the family had finished with their meal and were ready for the check. Hurrying, I brought it over to them and waved them off in their little blue minivan. Then I went back to their table and checked for my tip.
I opened it up to find nothing but the receipt for their meal. “Are you freaking serious?” I said, under my breath.
Breathing deeply, I decided to put all my hopes on the table with the three road trippers. I had to suffer through another half hour of inappropriate – not to mention sexist comments – and in the end all I got out of them was three lousy dollars. The day got progressively worse and by the time my shift was finally up, I had collected a total of seven dollars in tips.
I rested my head against the counter as Lacey took a seat beside me. “Rough day?”
“The worst,” I sighed.
“How’d you make out in tips?”
“Seven measly bucks,” I complained. “What about you?”
“All I got was sixteen,” Lacey replied.
“Still better than seven,” I pointed out.
“True,” she nodded. “Are you okay? You look wiped out.”
“That’s because I am,” I said. “In fact, I think I’m going to head out now. Can you say goodbye to Danny for me?”
“Are you sure you want to leave now?” Lacey asked. “You haven’t even eaten dinner.”
“Danny’s given me like five free dinners in this last month alone,” I said. “I can’t keep relying on him to feed me.”
“He doesn’t mind.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t want to take advantage,” I said.
“I could lend you some money?” she suggested. “It won’t be much, but it’ll be enough to get you a nice hot meal?”
“I love you for offering, but no thank you,” I said firmly. “I can manage.”
“You’re sure?”
“Positive,” I said, as I grabbed my coat and put it on. “To be honest, I’m not even hungry. I just want a good night’s sleep.”
“I know what will cheer you up,” Lacey said, clapping her hands together. “Bowling!”
“Bowling?” I repeated in disbelief.
“Danny and I were talking about going old school and heading over to Millennium Park tomorrow night,” Lacey said. “It wasn’t set in stone or anything, but now I think we should definitely all go.”
“Aw, Lace…”
“Come on, Brittany,” she insisted, cutting me off. “You need to have some fun. All this working can’t be good for the soul.”
I smiled. “Alright,” I nodded finally. “I’ll come.”
“Excellent,” she said, clapping her hands together.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said, as I headed out.
It was a cold night, and I regretted wearing a skirt today of all days. I had hoped the sunshine yellow might act as a good luck charm, but it seemed to have had the opposite effect. I reminded myself that I needed to collect my car tomorrow, too. I had decided against getting the repairs done, not that it was much of a decision considering I didn’t really have a choice. I didn’t have the cash to pay for the repairs, which meant I had to just drive the car and hope that it wouldn’t kill me.
I had told Lacey that I wasn’t hungry, but that had been a lie. I just hadn’t wanted her to feel sorry for me and knew she would have insisted that I take her tips for the day. I passed a couple of different corner shops on my way home, but I resisted the urge to go into any of them. If I spent the money on a hot meal tonight, then I wouldn’t have money for bowling tomorrow.
So I gritted my teeth and kept walking. The cold didn’t exactly help my hunger, but I told myself to be strong and stop thinking of food. The moment I got to my apartment, I changed into my soft woollen pyjamas and drank two glasses of water, hoping that would distract my stomach a little. Then I got into bed and pulled the covers up around me.
I stared up at the ceiling, feeling frustration set in just as concretely as hunger. “Think of something else, Brittany,” I told myself. “Wallowing doesn’t do shit.” As I looked back on my day, I realized with a start that the highlight had been talking to Talen.
“Okay,” I said. “Fine. I’ll think of Talen.”
It was a last ditch effort to distract myself, in addition to being a desperately pathetic plan. But to my surprise, it worked.
Chapter Nine
Talen
“You ready for tonight?” Ryan asked, ducking away from my punch and backing into the corner of the ring.
“Tonight?” I asked, in confusion.
“Yeah...” he nodded, panting slightly.
“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” I asked.
My concentration was focused solely on our fight, but I could tell Ryan wasn’t really paying attention. He seemed excited about something and his head wasn’t in the ring.
“Tonight,” he reminded me. “I’m taking you out, remember?”
I froze in place and dropped my fists. “Fuck.”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “It’s good to see how excited you are.”
“Do we have to do this?” I asked.
“Yes!” he said firmly. “You already gave me your word.”
“I don’t recall giving you my word.”
“We were standing in this very ring,” he said seriously. “Or close enough to it, in any case…don’t desecrate this sacred place.”
I rolled my eyes. “You are such a weirdo.”
“You’ll learn to love me.”
“You’re making it freaking difficult.”
Ryan gave me a big smile. “If I was a weaker man, that might actually hurt.”
I took a step forward and punched him in the gut. He spun into the ropes and bounced towards me. At the last second, he managed to parry out of my second punch and suddenly, we were back in the fight. Five minutes later, I had him on the ground in a headlock.
“Tap out,” I instructed him.
“Never!” he said dramatically.
I tightened my grip on him, and he let out a high scream. “Fine, fine…tapping out.”
He banged his hand against the floor of the ring, and I released my grip and stepped back. Ryan lay there for a moment before he flipped himself over and stared into the high ceiling hanging above us. “You are a killer,” he sighed.
“I have a match to train for,” I reminded him.
“I heard,” Ryan nodded. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Should I have?”
“We’re supposed to be training partners, man,” he said, sitting up and shaking his head at me. “It’s the kind of thing you share. Anyways…congratulations; it’s a big fight, huh?”
“He’s a good fighter.”
“Good?” Ryan repeated incredulously. “This is Kendrick Conner we’re talking about. He’s a fucking fantastic fighter. I’m surprised they paired him up with a rookie – no offense.”
“Some taken,” I grunted at him.
“Aw come on, you must admit, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.”
“They do this sometimes,” I said. “Pair a seasoned fighter against someone relatively unknown… It creates intrigue and tends to draw the crowd. If the newcomer manages to hold his own, it propels his career, even if he doesn’t win.”
“But you’re planning on winning,” Ryan said.
“Of course,” I nodded. “Why show up if you’re not planning on winning?”
“That’s the spirit,” Ryan nodded, pushing himself to his feet. “Now we should head out. It’s time for our boys night.”
I groaned. “Please don’t call it that.”
“Then what should I call it?”
I rolled my eyes and headed towards the lockers as Ryan shouted out after me. “I’ll meet you at your place at seven. Be ready.”
He was five minutes early. I was lounging on my couch with the television on when I heard his enthusiastic knock. Sighing, I turned off the TV and went to answer the door. Ryan was standing there in a teal blue shirt and dark pants. He had obviously combed out his hair and he was wearing so much aftershave that I had to resist the urge to gag.
Ryan looked me over once and raised his eyebrows. “What the hell are you wearing?”
“What?” I asked, looking down at my jeans and t-shirt.
“You can’t go out in that,” he said, pushing past me and entering the apartment without my invitation.
“Why the fuck not?” I demanded.
“Because we want to make an impression tonight and that certainly won’t do it,” he said, looking around. “Where’s your closet?”
“Stay the fuck out of my closet,” I said firmly.
Ryan ignored me and walked into my bedroom. Stunned, I followed him in disbelief. I had never met anyone with less respect for personal boundaries. He was rifling through my closet as though he owned it.
“Are you kidding, man?” I asked. “Those are my clothes.”
“Pathetic excuse for clothes, if you ask me,” Ryan said, holding up a t-shirt and shaking his head. “Seriously don’t you own anything in color? I feel like everything in here is black, white, or gray.”
“My moods are usually black, white, and gray,” I retorted. “And right now, I think it’s bordering close to black.”
“So dramatic,” Ryan said, without concern. “Hey, you have a button down shirt. It’s black, but it’ll have to do. Put this on.”
“You’re seriously dressing me?” I demanded, as he threw the shirt to me.
“I am,” he nodded pleasantly. “You’ll thank me later.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
“Just put it on.”
“Isn’t this shit what women do?” I asked, as I swapped my t-shirt for the shirt he had just thrown at me.
“I have three sisters,” Ryan said.
“Well, that makes sense,” I said. “No masculine energy in your household, huh?”
“Apparently your household had a little too much masculine energy,” Ryan said, darting a glance in my direction. “Seriously, this macho man thing you’ve got going on is impressive and all, but it doesn’t scare me.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Ouch, you wound me.”
Ryan laughed. “Do you have some cologne or after shave?”
“I think you’re wearing enough for the both of us,” I said.
“Well?” he demanded.
I sighed. “No I don’t have any cologne or after shave.”
“Seriously?”
“Until recently, I couldn’t afford shit,” I snapped. “And certainly not luxurious crap like colognes.”
“Hmm…I could rub myself on you?” Ryan teased.
“You come near me and you’re dead,” I promised.
He laughed. “Okay, let’s head out. I know this great bar in the city. It’s called Camille’s.”
“Doesn’t sound like much of a bar,” I said critically.
“Wait till you see it,” Ryan said. “They have pool tables, video games, a killer dance floor and the music is always great. The liquor is awesome, too.”
“I don’t drink,” I said, as we headed out of the apartment.
Ryan turned to me in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Not for a couple of years now,” I admitted.
“Are you in AA or something?”
“Nothing like that,” I said. “Just a…personal choice.”
“Why did you make it?”
“That’s a long story,” I said evasively. “And, now’s not the time for it.”
I saw Ryan’s face scrunch up a little, but he didn’t insist. We drove into town, and he parked outside a massive bar that to be seemed bursting at the seams. I could sense Ryan’s excitement as we walked in and something about it reminded me of Sam. I found myself warming towards Ryan slowly, much to my chagrin.
Pulsing lights filled the space. The bar was right in the center in the back of the pub. On its left was the dance floor and on the right were a bunch of pool tables mixed with seating for anyone who wanted to eat or drink. The atmosphere was alive and electric.
“Let’s go sit by the bar,” Ryan suggested. “That way we can check out the talent.”
I followed him to the bar, where we managed to grab two stools. Ryan promptly ordered beer for himself, while I asked for water.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like something harder?” Ryan asked.
“Positive,” I nodded.
“It’s not an addiction is it?” he asked.
“No,” I replied. “Just a choice.”
“Then why deprive yourself?”
“Because discipline is my biggest weakness,” I replied. “And overcoming it takes drastic action.”
“Wow…okay, sensei,” Ryan said, with wide eyes.
“Fuck off,” I said, rolling my eyes at him.
“Hey,” he said, his eyes honing in on someone behind me. “There’s a stone cold fox over there checking you out.”
I turned subtly and caught her reflection in the huge mirrors that adorned the walls of the bar. She was an attractive woman – tall, skinny and overly conscious of herself.
“Nah,” I said, turning my gaze away from her.
“Are you serious?”
“Not my type,” I said, gulping down my glass of water.
“She’s everyone’s type.”
“I like brunettes,” I said, and instantly Brittany’s face popped into my head.
“You’re going to be difficult about this, too, aren’t you?” Ryan guessed.
I smiled. “I’m not looking for a hook up.”
“Fine,” he said tiredly. “Then you can be my wing man.”
“Fine,” I said. “Go for it.”
He smiled and looked around. “Hmm…how about that girl over there by the pool table?”
The girl Ryan was eyeing was blonde and petite. She was wearing a red skirt and a green top that clashed badly in my opinion.
“She looks sufficiently lonely,” I nodded.
Ryan shot me a glare. “Is that meant to be helpful?”
I smiled. “I thought it was.”
“You just sit there, drink your water, and watch how it’s done,” Ryan said confidently.
He jumped off the bar stool and walked over to where the petite blonde stood. It was close enough that I could actually make out there conversation.
“Hi, there,” Ryan said. “You look like you could use some company.”
She raised one eyebrow. “I do?”
“You looked lonely,” he said. “I thought I’d come over and make you…not lonely.”
I cringed. I had actually believed Ryan was good at this. But after the first five seconds, it was clear that he had no game whatsoever. Apparently, the petite blonde realized that, too.
“Uh…actually, I’m not lonely at all,” she said, her tone changing instantly.
“Let me buy you a drink,” Ryan said, without taking the hint.
“I’ll buy my own drink, thanks,” she said before walking away.
Ryan stood there for a moment before he walked back towards me. “Turns out she’s a lesbian,” he told me convincingly.
I suppressed a laugh and nodded. “Okay, how about that girl over there?”
“The blonde or the redhead?” he asked, following my gaze.
“Either,” I shrugged.
“I’ll go for the redhead this time,” he said. “I’m all about equality and diversity.”
Over the course of the next hour, Ryan hit on four different women. He started employing cringe-worthy pick up lines that were so bad that inevitably I had to look away. After being shot down, Ryan would walk over to me with a faltering smile and give me some barely transparent excuse.
He claimed that one woman was married, two others were mentally impaired, and the fourth was had nostrils that were too big up close. I listened to all his excuses and laughed until my sides hurt. I realized that I was actually having a good time. Sure it was at Ryan’s expense, but he didn’t seem to mind all that much.
Towards the end of the night, when it was clear that Ryan was too drunk to be allowed to approach any woman, I grabbed him by the arm and marched him out of the bar.
“Aw come on,” he begged, with slurred speech. “I was jus…just…getting started.”
I smirked. “You were done two hours ago. Get in the damn car.”
He collapsed into the backseat, but apparently, Ryan was as talkative a drunk as he was sober. “Today was a successful…success,” he announced from the backseat. “Don’t you think so, Talons?”
“It’s Talen,” I corrected, in amusement. “And, I think we had very different experiences of tonight.”
“You were smiling,” he said, in a high voice, as though he thought I was a child.
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve just never seen a guy crash and burn in such quick succession before.”
“Please, I was a triumph.”
“I’m sorry, are you delusional?”
“Delusional like a fox,” Ryan stuttered.
“Whatever that means,” I said.
“Aren’t you glad you came out with me tonight?” he asked.
I pursed my lips. “Yeah, maybe I am.”
“You know what this means, right?” Ryan asked.
“What?”
“This means we’re finally friends.”
I laughed. “If you say so,” I said, shaking my head at him.
Chapter Ten
Brittany
“Well, isn’t this fucking typical,” Lacey complained moodily.
“What is?” I asked.
“This whole marathon thing was his idea, and he’s not even here.”
I smiled. “He had to go over the accounts for the diner,” I reminded her. “Sundays is the only free day we have and you know Danny likes to be on top of things.”
“Humph.”
I laughed. “You know what? I actually enjoy the running.”
We slowed our pace to a leisurely jog, and Lacey threw a glare in my direction. “Are you being serious?”
“I am,” I nodded. “It helps clear my head. And, it actually makes me feel…proactive.”
“I’ve heard runners say shit like that,” Lacey said. “Always thought they got too much fresh air.”
“You really are a fitness grinch, you know that?” I accused, in amusement.
Lacey laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll give it a rest…for now.”
“Thank God.”
We took a seat on one of the benches lining the track. I stared down at my running tights. They were an old pair that I’d dug out of storage. There were a couple of holes in the knees, but they were small enough that I could still get away with wearing them.
“Thinking about doing some shopping?” Lacey asked, noticing my fixation.
I sighed. “You need money to shop,” I reminded her.
“We could try some discount places in the city.”
“Still too expensive,” I said. “I need to save every penny I make.”
Lacey looked out across the field. “Did you get your car back?”
“I picked it up yesterday,” I nodded.
“No repairs?”
“I couldn’t afford them,” I sighed. “So, I’m just hoping nothing major happens when I’m behind the wheel.”
“Have you thought about selling?”
I snorted with humorless laughter. “No one would buy that car – it’s a piece of junk. My only option is to drive it till it conks out completely.”
“I’m nervous about you driving it,” she told me.
I shrugged. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
Lacey nodded. “Mom called last night,” she said, changing the subject.
“How is your mom?”
“Doing well,” she replied. “All things considered. She’s pushing sixty now and still working two jobs. Sometimes I wonder if that’s going to be me in thirty-five years.”
I recognized the frustration in her voice. It was the kind of disillusionment that settled in after years of working your ass off and having nothing to show for it. I wanted to reassure her, but I happened to share her cynical mindset. All the optimism I used to have had dried up a long time ago.
“All we can do is what we’ve been doing,” I said. “Work hard and hope we get lucky somewhere down the line.”
“Get lucky?” Lacey repeated. “What on earth does that mean?”
I smiled. “You know what? I have no fucking clue.”
We both burst out laughing. We were interrupted when my phone started ringing. I picked it up and saw Danny’s name on the screen. “Hi, bud,” I said. “You better have a good reason for not being here.”
“I was going through the accounts,” he said apologetically.
“I told Lacey that was what you’d say.”
“It took longer than usual,” he admitted, and his tone told me that he was a little down.
“Is everything alright, Danny?” I asked, my tone changing to one of concern.
“We didn’t do so well this week,” he sighed.
“Did we at least break even?” I asked.
“A loss,” he sighed. “It’s small, but it’s still a loss.”
“How can that be?” I asked. “I thought we had a pretty busy week.”
“The cost of meat went up last month,” Danny said. “And we had a few breakages, plus electricity… Our overheads are eating away at any profits I manage to make.”
“Shit,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, Danny.”
“I guess I just wasn’t in the marathon training mood today,” he said.
“Hey, I get it,” I told him. “But you’re still in for bowling, right? It might cheer you up.”
“Oh I’m definitely in for bowling,” Danny said. “I really need the distraction. I was thinking of heading to your place now, actually. Then we could all leave together from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I nodded. “See you soon.”
We hung up, and I turned to Lacey. “Poor Danny,” I said.
“Loss, huh?” she said, shaking her head. “That sucks.”
“Pretty much,” I agreed.
She groaned in frustration. “Man, I am such a bitch!”
I looked at her with a start. “Umm…why?”
“Because our best friend basically just said his business wasn’t doing so well and all I can think of is ‘damn, I guess that means we’re never going to get a pay increase.’ I am just a horrible human being.”
I gave her a sympathetic glance. “You’re not,” I assured her. “You’re just trying to survive, same as everyone else.”
Lacey gave me a look that told me she had a confession to make. “What is it?” I asked.
“Nothing,” she mumbled.
“Come on,” I said. “Out with it.”
“Lately I’ve been thinking…”
“Yes?”
“I don’t know, maybe it would be worth it to look into some other jobs.”
I met her eyes for a moment. “You mean like a second job?”
“No, I mean like…another job.”
“Oh,” I said.
“Yeah…” Lacey nodded. “I am a terrible friend.”
“Come on,” I said bracingly. “You’re not. You’re just being practical. Danny will understand.”
“Will he?”
“I think so,” I nodded. “We have each other’s backs.”
“Then why do I feel as though I’m stabbing him in his?”
“Because you are a good friend,” I said. “And, you’re worried about how leaving would affect him. But Danny’s a good guy. He’ll understand.”
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” she said. “It was just an errant thought I had the other day. I just don’t want to be fifty and still be waiting tables.”
“I get it,” I said. “I don’t want that for myself, either.”
Lacey nodded and then she smiled. “Should we head off then?”
We got up and made our way back to my place. We decided to take the scenic route through Hatfield Avenue, which incidentally held all the biggest, best, and most expensive homes in the area. We loved to look at the homes. They were massive two- and three-story houses with huge front yards, fancy cars in the drives, and perfect paint jobs.
“What do you think rich people worry about?” Lacey asked, as we walked through the neighborhood.
“I don’t know,” I said. “They probably worry about whether the gardener will do a good enough job in the backyard because of the lawn party coming up on Sunday.”
Lacey smiled. “Or maybe they worry about whether the new designer sofa they purchased will match the décor of the living room.”
“Or if the laundromat will be able to get the stains off the Persian throw that they purchased in Venice a few months ago.”
“A Persian throw from Venice?” Lacey asked, with one raised eyebrow.
I laughed. “I don’t claim to understand rich people.”
“Obviously not,” she said.
I sobered up a little when I saw the swing set in the front yard of a beautiful Victorian-inspired two-story home. “In all seriousness, though, I’m sure rich people have their problems, too.”
“Oh yeah?” Lacey said challengingly. “Like what?”
“I bet they worry about their kids, the same as any parent would,” I said. “I bet they worry about falling sick because disease doesn’t discriminate.”
“They may worry about their kids,” she nodded. “But at least they have the money to support their children and send them to college and give them the best possible start in life. They may worry about falling sick, but they have brilliant health insurance plans and enough money to spend on the best doctors, the best hospitals, and the best medical care.
“I’m not denying that rich people have problems, I’m just saying they have more options when it comes to figuring out those problems.”
I nodded. “Yeah…” I sighed. “Man, it would be nice to be rich.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, changing her tone suddenly. “One day, we’re going to own this whole row of houses!”
It was a meaningless sentence. It was far off dream that I knew would never be realized, and yet, it made me feel better. We might be broke, but we could still dream. And it would be one of the few things that could keep us sane. We found Danny waiting outside my door when we arrived.
“You beat us here,” I smiled. “Been waiting long?”
“Ten minutes,” he said.
“Sorry,” I said. “We took Hatfield Avenue.”
“The long route again?” he said, shaking his head as we walked into my tiny apartment. “You guys like torturing yourselves, don’t you?”
“The houses are pretty,” Lacey said.
“And it’s nice to imagine yourself in one of them?” Danny asked knowingly.
“Always,” she nodded. “Now, let’s get to the important stuff.”
“Which is?”
“Deciding what to wear,” Lacey said, dragging Danny and I over to my closet.
Lacey and I usually borrowed clothes from one another. Despite the fact that our styles were so different, we always managed to put together different combinations that would transform each piece of clothing into our own unique styles. It was a skill you learnt when you had only a few choices to work with. You learnt to be versatile.
“How about we shower first?” I suggested.
“Together?” Danny asked, with one raised eyebrow. “Kinky.”
Lacey and I glared at him together. Unconcerned, he fell back onto my bed and smiled widely at the two of us. “Because if you did, that would really make my day. And, I haven’t had a particularly good one so far.”
“Sorry, bud,” I said. “You’re going to have to be satisfied with bowling.”
Lacey and I took it in turns to shower. I put on my ratty old bathrobe, while Lacey wrapped a towel under her arms. Then we started throwing clothes around, much to Danny’s annoyance.
“Must we do this every time?” he demanded. “Just pick something. It’s just bowling.”
“But there might be hot guys there,” Lacey said.
“The hottest guy there will be me…”
“Urgh, that isn’t saying much now is it?” she teased. “Oh my God, Brit,” she said, holding up an old dress that I had owned since I was a teenager. “This is practically vintage.”
I laughed. “You like it?”
“It’s fabulous,” she said. “A little too long at the hem, though.”
“You’re not cutting the hem,” I said sternly.
“Aw come on,” Lacey wheedled.
“No way,” I said, shaking my head.
“Hey, what about this one?” Danny asked, picking up a slinky black number.
I rolled my eyes at him. “That’s lingerie.”
“Oh… Well, it could pass as a dress.”
“I’m not wearing that one, Danny.”
“Man, it’s like you guys don’t even like me.”
We spent a happy half hour playing around with different combinations of clothes. I didn’t have much, but it didn’t seem to matter. We had each other and that company made all the difference. We laughed, we talked, and we complained, and in the midst of all that chaos, I had a realization.
No one could have it all. Some people had money and security and others had love and friendship. The ideal situation would be to have both. But I knew that if I had to choose between them, I would choose this moment every time.
Chapter Eleven
Talen
I groaned as my phone rang for the third time that morning. Whoever it was, was going to be annoyingly persistent, it seemed. I sat up and answered the call.
“Sup, bro!”
“Sam,” I sighed. “It’s fucking early.”
“I know,” he replied happily. “I figured I’d catch you before you started training.”
“You could have also called me in the night after training.”
“I’m just coming off a shift,” he said. “I had a little free time, and I thought, what would piss Talen off at this hour?”
“Asshole,” I said, but I couldn’t suppress my laugh. “So, what’s up?”
“You tell me, Mr. Big Shot MMA Fighter. How’s the training going?”
“It’s going good,” I replied. “The trainer is good and my training partner is…”
“Is?”
“Well, he’s a bit strange, but I can work with him.”
“Strange?”
“He’s from Louisiana.”
“Well, that explains it,” Sam laughed.
“He’s a little like you…” I thought that explained it more.
“Fuck off,” he said, good-naturedly.
“I got my first match.”
“Get out!” he gasped. “Really?”
“Really.”
“When, where, and with whom?”
“It’ll be in January,” I said. “The ‘where’ has yet to be decided, and it’s going to be against Kendrick Conner.”
“Are you fucking serious?”
“Aren’t I always.”
“Jesus!”
“What do you think?” I asked. “Do you think I have a shot?”
“If anyone does, it’s you,” he replied. “And, I don’t think I’m being biased when I say that.”
I smiled. “Thanks, bro.”
“This is great though, Talen,” Sam said, and he sounded in awe. “If you beat him, it’s going to make your career.”
“I’m aware,” I nodded. “It’s a lot of pressure.”
“You’ve always been good with pressure.”
“If you say so,” I said. “How about you? How is Mia? Renni?”
“Both doing great,” he replied. “I see them almost every day, except on the days when my shifts are so hectic that I just can’t make it over there. Sometimes I sneak in at night, though. Mia’s given me a share key.”
“What’s it like, being a kind of stepdad?”
“I feel like I’m already a dad,” Sam replied. “It’s grounded me in a way I’ve never experienced before.”
“I’m glad; you were certainly in need of grounding.”
He laughed. “Met anyone interesting over there?”
I paused so infinitesimally that Sam didn’t catch it. “Nope,” I said. “No one. I’m too busy with training.”
“Yeah I can imagine,” he agreed. “Anyway, I’m gonna let you go. I need to go get some sleep.”
“Lucky you,” I said moodily. “I gotta get ready for training.”
Sam laughed. “Just wanted to start your day off right, man! You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes, said goodbye, and hung up. Then I showered quickly and headed over to the diner. I had always meant to try different places when I moved to the area, but somehow the ugly green and pink diner had wrestled its way into my psyche and I always headed in that direction without making a conscious decision.
When I got there, Brittany was behind the counter. She was dressed in dark jeans and a tight gray sweater. The term “hourglass” had never been more appropriate. Her dark black hair had an almost blue sheen under the sunlight, and her blue eyes were bright and intense. She looked up as I entered, and her face lit up into a soft welcoming smile.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” I replied.
“Same old?”
“Same old,” I nodded.
I headed to my usual booth at the back of the diner. A few minutes later, she approached with a plate of toast and a steaming mug of coffee.
“How was your weekend?” I said. I spoke abruptly, as though I was afraid she would disappear if I didn’t speak soon enough.
She turned to me and smiled. “It started out pretty crappy, actually,” she said honestly. “But it picked up towards the end. We went bowling.”
“Bowling?”
“Sounds juvenile,” she said. “But sometimes juvenile fun is just what you need.”
She had a soft smile, the kind that made dimples erupt on her cheeks. A part of me wanted to reach out and touch those dimples. It was such a strange thought that it caught me by surprise and I found myself staring at her.
“What about you?” she asked.
“Uh…mine was…okay.”
“Just okay?” she asked.
“I went to a club with a friend,” I said.
“And?” she asked. “Did you enjoy yourself?”
I shrugged. “I suppose I enjoyed watching Ryan get turned down all night.”
She laughed. “Poor Ryan,” she said, as if she already knew him.
She was about to say something when an older lady sitting at a booth near the breakfast counter shouted out for Brittany.
“Coming, Monica,” she replied. She turned to me apologetically. “You’ll have to excuse me. Monica’s not the patient type…especially when she’s hungry.”
I nodded, and Brittany turned away. I tried to avert my gaze, but it fell directly onto her beautifully-shaped ass. I had to admit, she looked amazing walking away. Brittany was at the cash register when I walked up.
“One of these days, you’re going to need to have a real breakfast,” she said, accepting my cash.
“I’m a creature of habit.”
“How boring,” she said, but her smile softened her words.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Her smile widened. She walked around the counter so that she was at my shoulder, and I had to crane my neck to the side to meet her face. She brushed past me a little as she passed.
“You should let me show you around,” she said as she walked backwards slowly. “I know all the good spots around here.”
I raised my eyebrows slightly. “Umm…I’m really busy at the moment.”
“Well, when you stop being busy, let me know.”
Then she turned and headed over to see to the new diners that had just walked in. I allowed myself only a moment to watch her before I headed out towards the training grounds. I didn’t see Ryan when I walked in, but I caught sight of Wendell by the ring usually reserved for our training.
“Wendell,” I nodded, as I approached.
“Talen,” Wendell replied. “You’re looking particularly bulky today.”
I frowned at that incredibly creepy comment and removed my coat. Wendell looked me up and down with a critical eye that also held a note of personal interest. His goatee didn’t exactly help matters, either. I ignored his gaze and started my warm ups.
“Did Steven let you know about Wednesday?” he asked.
“No.”
“You’re not going to be training on Wednesday.”
I turned to him. “Why not?”
“Because we’re going to be doing a promotional photo shoot for you in preparation for your upcoming fight.”
I stopped my stretches and glared at him. “Say that again.”
“A promotional photo shoot,” he repeated. “To get your image and your name out there before your fight with Kendrick Conner.”
I took a deep breath. “Do I have to do this?”
He narrowed his eyes at me. “We’re spending a fuck load of money to do this,” he said. “Most fighters don’t get this kind of backing – and trust me, they want it.”
“I get it-”
“You realize you’re going up against Kendrick Conner, right?” Wendell asked. “That guy is no joke.”
“I’m aware,” I replied tiredly.
“You realize that this guy will have the support of the entire crowd, right?” he continued. “No one will know or care who you are…”
“I don’t need them to-”
“That’s just a bunch of tough talk from a guy who’s never played a big crowd before,” he interrupted harshly. “You need the crowd on your side. You need their attention and their interest because without it, you’re not going to get a second fight. You understand?”
“I understand,” I said, in defeat.
“Excellent,” he nodded. “Then I want you here at nine o’clock on Wednesday. And, Talen?”
“Yeah?”
“Practice your smile.”
I rolled my eyes as Wendell walked away laughing. A few moments later, Ryan stumbled up to me while I was doing sit ups.
“I saw Wendell on the way in,” Ryan said. “What did he want?”
“I have a photo shoot coming up,” I replied.
“Damn, they’re pulling out all the stops huh?” he said, clearly impressed.
He sat down cross-legged in front of me as though he were a five year old with a story to tell. He looked a little pale and his eyes held a tinge of redness, but apart from that, there was no real sign that he had been drinking heavily last night.
I shrugged. “I would have preferred to avoid this humiliation.”
“Humiliation?” Ryan repeated, looking at me as though I was insane. “Come on, this shit is what models do.”
“Do I look like a fucking model to you?” I demanded.
Ryan looked me over and smiled. “You are a studly piece of man candy if I ever saw one.”
“Weirdo,” I said, standing up and heading over to the ring. “Let’s get our training underway. Or are you too drunk from last night to fight me?”
“Ha!” Ryan said, standing up and following me to the ring. “I can hold my alcohol. I haven’t had a serious hangover since I was seventeen. That’s how you know I’m a real man.”
“That’s a lot of big talk coming from a guy who’s lost in this ring more times than I can count.”
“I’m just trying to boost your confidence for your upcoming fight, dude,” he said quickly. “Don’t mistake my kindness for weakness.”
“Too late,” I said, as we faced off against each other.
I had to admit, Ryan impressed me. I knew how much he’d had had to drink last night and despite that, he was quick on his feet and thoughtful with his moves. We spent an hour in the ring, fending off attacks from one another. I won twice and by the end of the second round, Ryan was on his back, panting hard.
“Remember…” he yelled from the floor. “I’m just giving you confidence here.”
I laughed and helped him to his feet. We decided to do some cardio for a half hour before we got back into the ring. Steven came in for a couple of hours in the middle of the day to give us some specific pointers before leaving us to our own devices again. By six o’clock, we had worked ourselves into a comfortable exhaustion and headed to the locker rooms together.
“Good training session, huh?” Ryan said, wiping his face with his hand towel.
“Really good,” I agreed. “Apparently, drinking helps you perform.”
He rolled his eyes at me. “I can’t believe you didn’t drink a thing last night.”
“I swore off alcohol a while ago.”
“Why?”
I hesitated. I had never been one to go into personal accounts of my life. “I had my reasons,” I replied evasively.
“Geez, you’re tougher to crack than… I don’t know… Something that’s hard to crack.”
I laughed. “Your thick skull?” I offered.
“Fuck off.”
Twenty minutes later, I was ready to get a good dinner and hit the sack. I had just put on my jacket when my hands slipped into the pockets out of habit. I felt a scrunch of paper in my right pocket and pulled out a folded note that I was certain hadn’t been there that morning. Then I remembered the feel of Brittany brushing up against me that morning at the diner.
Her name was scrawled across the paper and underneath it was her number. I smiled, folded the note back up, and slipped it into my breast pocket.