"Have a seat, Eli."

Shuffling into Dean Talbot's office, Eli settled himself carefully into the visitor's chair.  It never seemed quite sturdy enough to support him.  The opulent office usually felt comfortable, but today it just made him feel out of place.  There was a tablet on Talbot's desk, the lurid headlines about the late lunch already blasted across the news site that was open.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Talbot glanced at him, surprise making his bushy eyebrows twitch.  "What are you sorry for?"

"I didn't mean to cause a fuss," Eli said, curling in on himself.  Boxing had always been so good to him, he tried to repay the organization by avoiding scandal.

"That?" Talbot asked, gesturing at the tablet.  "That's nothing.  Getting a DUI?  That's a fuss.  Fistfights in bars?  That's a fuss.  This is just publicity."  He leaned forward, lacing his fingers together on the desk and staring intently at Eli.  "I'm not worried about this.  I'm worried about you."

Feeling his ears heat, Eli dropped his eyes to his hands where they twisted together in his lap.  "I'm okay."

"Are you?  Because I remember Richard Blake, you know."

Eli winced.  Blake had been another mistake; a fellow boxer who had seemed perfect up until Eli had knocked him flat in the ring.  "This isn't like that."

"A charming and aggressive man who inserts himself into your life and won't take no for an answer?"  Talbot sighed.  "I'm not accusing you of anything.  I just want you to know that, if this becomes an issue, I'll have him removed.  No questions asked."

"It won't be necessary," Eli said before he could even think about it.  It wouldn't be.  Van took no for an answer all the time.  Sort of.

Talbot looked at him for a long time, his brows furrowed.  "Keep it in mind, son."

"Thank you, sir," Eli said, getting to his feet.

"Eli, just because you aren't breaking any of the organization's rules doesn't mean that there aren't rules against it on his end.  I had a particularly enlightening conversation with Sgt. Harris's Captain earlier."  Talbot waited for Eli to turn back before he continued, "This could hurt his career if you're not careful."

Swallowing hard, Eli nodded.  "There's nothing going on, sir," he said, but the unspoken 'yet' echoed in the air so loudly that they both had to have heard it.  Turning on his heel, he hurried out before Talbot could call him back.

He didn't want to think about the fact that none of this was going to be an issue simply because Van wasn't likely to come back after a day like that.

 

#

 

Eli woke up ten minutes before his alarm for no particular reason.  He stared at the ceiling trying to ignore the erection tenting his sheets.  He'd dreamed about Van again, and he was hoping this didn't become a pattern.

Rolling out of bed when the alarm went off, he stalked into the bathroom to brush his teeth.  The burn of the mint was just another irritation, and he slugged back his protein shake without looking at it.

"You look like you're having a great day," Kim said as he stomped down the stairs.  She was sitting in the big armchair with her stocking feet tucked up under her, a magazine on her lap.  There was no one else in the room, and Eli had to remind himself that he wasn't expecting there to be.  "If this is about those reporters from yesterday, I've pulled their passes."

"It's not," Eli said, making an effort to keep his voice even.  "It's nothing."

Kim raised her eyebrow at him, sipping her coffee in silence.

"It was one meal," he said.  "Nobody is going to blame him for steering clear after a day like that."

She flipped the page on her magazine, her eyes never leaving his face.

"I think one of the reporters actually brained him with their camera."

"Probably.  They're not very careful with the victims, the vultures," she said, her voice as neutral as Switzerland.

"Who wants to deal with a circus like that every time they go out?  Nobody."  Eli flopped onto the couch and crossed his arms, glaring at the wall so that he wouldn't have to meet her eyes.

"And then there's the phone thing," Kim agreed.

Sitting up abruptly, Eli turned his narrowed eyes on her.  "What phone thing?"

"Oh, hadn't you heard?" she said, her eyes wide in surprise like he didn't know she would take over the world if it didn't mean dealing with so many people.  "One of the reporters managed to get his phone number."

Groaning, Eli raked his hand over his hair.  It was too short to get a good grip on for a reason, but at times like this, it wasn't nearly as satisfying.  "Shit, Kim.  He'll be halfway to California by now."

"Definitely," she said cheerfully.

The only sound was the crinkle of her magazine.  When she reached the end, she closed it with a sigh.  "I suppose I'd better get to work," she said.  "Gotta earn that paycheck somehow."

Eli ignored her as she got up and passed behind him on her way to her room.

"You should get down to the gym.  Natalie will be pissed if you're any later," she said, patting him on the shoulder.

She was almost in her room when Eli gave in to the question he'd been asking himself all day.  "Hey, Kim?  It wouldn't have worked out anyway, right?"

Kim paused in the doorway, her blood red lips turned down at the corners.  "I don't know, Eli.  I'd like to think it will work out someday."

"Me too," he said, staring at the wall as she closed the door quietly behind her.

There was nothing to say that Van would have been any better than any of the other guys.  Eli's gut twisted at the thought, screaming that Van was different, but he ignored it.  It had said that before, and look what it had gotten him.

Unable to justify putting it off any longer, Eli dragged himself to his feet and headed for the gym.

"No.  No, no, no.  Who taught you that?"  Natalie's voice floated down the hall as Eli approached.

"My dad."

Eli stumbled to a stop as Van's reply echoed in his ears.

"This is all wrong.  Tell me that this man isn't a professional."

"Not a trainer.  He's a musician."

"What are you doing here?"  Eli found himself in the doorway of the gym, his voice echoing in the air.

Natalie glanced at him.  "I'm showing this idiot how to not break his wrist the next time he throws a punch."  Her eyes slid to the clock.  "You're late."

Van grinned at him, watching in bemusement as Natalie manhandled his elbow and made him go through the same motions several times.  "I figured I'd meet you down here today since it's easier to change in the locker room."  He punched the heavy bag, and Natalie groaned.

"Not like that.  God is testing me," she said, wrestling his hand back into position.

"But... Your phone," Eli said, his head starting to pound.

"Got a new one, and a new number," Van said with a shrug.  "It's the same model as yours, actually.  Lion had it couriered.  He included a promo cover from his newest movie if you want it."  He gestured toward a small duffel bag next to Natalie's.

Eli shook his head slowly.  He'd had guys try to impress him by claiming to be related to someone famous before, but this was the first time they'd gone so far with it.  "I still don't believe you," he said, starting his stretches.  "And you're making me look bad getting here so early."

Laughing, Van winked at him.  "Right.  You look terrible," he said dryly.  "But, hey, if you want to look good, how about a race?  I win, you come to dinner with me."

Exasperated, Eli just stared at Van for a moment.  Didn't anything faze him?  "What do I get if I win?"

"Whatever you want," Van said licking his lips.

"Focus, Donuts.  Jesus, that was worse than the first one."  Natalie tugged on her hair and shook her head. Looking between the two of them, she groaned.  "Kim was right.  Look, I'm gonna post a sign that says no kissy faces in my gym.  That goes for both of you."

Eli started to smile, watching her pinch Van's side when he glanced over.  "Yes, Natalie," he singsonged, dropping into push-up position.  Maybe, just maybe, he might let Van win.