Luca
“Some woman was here looking for you earlier. Stephanie,” Ana Maria says from the front desk, not even looking up from the copy of Entrepreneur she’s got spread open on the desk in front of her.
“What’d she want?”
I check my phone. There are no calls or texts from her. Strange.
“She trained with Jose for a while, then left,” she says. “Seemed pretty upset about you not being here, too.”
The magazine makes a raspy schick as she wets her finger and turns the page.
The gym is packed when I head inside.
It’s just past five in the evening and all of the after-work crowd is in, working off the frustration from a day on the job.
I find Jose right away. He’s by the ring, which is his usual haunt when he’s not back in the office napping. Even in his sixties, the old guy’s still a fighter and can’t resist the action.
“Keep your eyes open, puta,” he yells at one of the boxers in the ring.
One of our newer members is getting his ass kicked by some guy who’s real name no one but Ana Maria knows, but who everyone calls the Axeman because he looks like a lumberjack on steroids.
“Slip that fucking jab, you mouth-breathing fuckwit,” I yell to the new guy.
The new guy is getting eaten alive in there.
Somehow, I don’t think he’ll be back.
Putting both hands on the ropes, I stand next to Jose, watching the fight and trying to think of what to say.
“You need to take care of that woman, kid,” he says without taking his eyes off the action inside the ring.
“The hell you talking about?”
“She came in here looking for you. Something’s got her in knots enough that she thought it was a good idea to let me train her. We went through a full workout. You can guess how it went.”
I blink. God damn.
When I first came here, I was good. Damn good. I could brawl with the best of them and make whoever I was fighting like an amateur who had no place in the ring. The kind of life I lived will either sharpen you or shatter you and I sure as hell didn’t break.
Then, one day, I worked out with Jose. I finished, but I nearly needed a cane the next day.
“If you don’t un-fuck yourself, you limp-wristed puta, I will get in this ring and beat you so fucking hard your dead grandmother’s asshole will pucker,” Jose screams to the new guy.
This new guy is re-defining what it means to be a dumbass. Somehow, mid-fight, he’s managed to turn his gloves around backwards on his hands. It boggles the fucking mind.
And the Axeman is just toying with him.
“Are you trying to suck this much? Are you trying to fucking piss me off? Slip that fucking jab, you brain-dead culo, or I will get in this ring and stomp the shit out of you myself.”
I can’t resist screaming at him. Sometimes, work is a great kind of therapy.
But I still can’t stop thinking about Stephanie and what’s got her so upset.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“She needed to hit something. You know how it is. So I helped her out, made sure she didn’t hurt herself. But I’m telling you, man, she’s acting like she’s near the end of a twelve-rounder and it’s not going her way.”
We watch boxing for a little while, both of us yelling pointers to the new guy, who’s still getting his absolutely killed by the Axeman.
“Jose, Stephanie is the first ‘regular’ girl I’ve dated. She isn’t a stripper, she isn’t some wise guy’s little sister. I can’t just throw some cash or booze at her and expect her to get better. When you need to do something special for your wife, what do you do?”
He goes silent for a minute.
“This isn’t like you’re trying to get out of the doghouse. She cares about you, kid — you’re the one she wanted to see. Her problem’s with her dad’s shop, you probably know that. So find a way to help her with that and get her mind off those troubles.”
“How?”
“That’s for you to figure out.”
I chew on his words for a while while I watch the Axeman pummel his opponent in the ring. Fact is, I’m still at a loss and that’s something I do not enjoy. In my past life, that’d get you killed. In my current line of work — in the boxing gym — you’ll wind up lights out on the floor.
I head back to my office to think. In just a couple minutes, I’m sure I’ve got an answer.
I pick up the phone.
“What do you want?” Ana Maria’s voice comes back over the intercom.
“What sort of a gift would you get for someone who’s dealing with work problems and maybe doesn’t have the easiest job in the world?”
There’s a long stretch of silence and I’m about to buzz her again because maybe she’s hung up on me.
“Is this for me?” she says.
“No, it’s for Stephanie, the chick I’ve been seeing.”
“Oh, so you’re hooking up with members, now? Is that your latest recruiting strategy?” she says. “Ok, I’m going to think real hard here and put myself in her shoes. I’m working a tough job, maybe with people that aren’t the smartest, and I’m handling a lot more responsibility than was in the job description and — even though I’m absolutely killing it — it’s stressful.”
Ana Maria’s one of the only people that I’d let talk to me like this. Without her, this place would grind to a standstill. We both know that.
“Alright. So, you’re in her shoes now. You’re feeling under-appreciated, even though you’re brilliant and you work your ass off and everything would fall apart without you —”
“Strangely, this feels familiar. I don’t know why.”
“What can I get you that would help you relax?”
“I know just the thing,” she says, with no hesitation.
Even though she’s all the way in the front lobby, I can hear her smile.
“Whatever it is, get two.”