GRAYSON
Once Grayson has showered and eaten enough to feed a small country, he blends up a high protein smoothie to recover from the tough session that morning. A lot of people think that being a top fighter is just about learning the moves and pumping iron. There were way too many fighters he’d seen who had succumbed to drugs to gain that all-important muscle mass. West had taught him that good nutrition was the way to go. So, Grayson is almost religious about making sure that his body gets what it needs.
Sunday afternoons were always downtime for him. There were no training sessions, and he liked to keep the time for himself. He would usually call his mom, see how she was doing but she was on vacation with her new man. Grayson had only met the guy, Brad, a couple of times and besides from having a douchey name, he seemed to be a stand-up guy. He was crazy about his mom and that’s all that Grayson really needed to know. After everything that she had been through, she deserved to be with someone who treated her right, and Grayson had made it clear to Brad that if he didn’t treat his mother with respect then bad things would happen.
What’s shaking dickwad? His cell phone lights up with a message from his sister, Kay.
She was eight years his junior and had been too little to remember what went on in their house when they were growing up. As a result, she was a better adjusted person than he would ever be. She was always cracking jokes, the life and soul of the party. Whenever she came down from NYU to visit him, his friends had thought she was hilarious. He smiles just thinking about her.
Is that the mouth you kiss your mother with? He fires off a response.
Maxed out on my phone bill. Call me. Grayson sighs heavily, as he reads the message. That was the other difference between him and Kay, she went through money as if it were water. As he hits speed-dial, he makes a mental note to send her some more cash.
“It’s only midday, you’re a college kid, aren’t you supposed to be lying in a pool of your own puke somewhere?” Gray grabs his smoothie and ambles over to the garage. It’s not exactly something out of Pimp My Ride, but it does what he needs, for now. Aside from a personal chef, a new all-singing, all-dancing garage was on his wish list for after he wins the fight.
“Ha, ha, very funny Gayson.” She snickers at the name she’d given him when she was an annoying adolescent.
“Real mature, Kay.” He shakes his head, as if she can see him through the phone.
“Ready for the fight? You gonna kick some King Kong butt, or what?” She sounds excited as she asks the question. Kay was one of his biggest supporters.
“Training hard, you know how it is. Shame you can’t make it.” He switches the phone to speaker so that he can work on the Harley that he’s restoring.
“I know, damn summer classes,” she grumbles loudly. “If I was smarter, I’d be able to come see you destroy that motherfucker!”
“Hey, watch your language!” He’s well-aware that sometimes he sounds like Kay’s dad rather than her big brother. “And you’re plenty smart, you just don’t do the work.”
“Yeah, well you know I don’t believe in an education system based on stupid test scores.” He can almost hear her pacing up and down as she talks.
“Those stupid test scores are going to get you into law school so just can the shit.” Grayson shakes his head. He would kill to be even a tenth as smart as his little sister, and she looked at it like it was nothing.
“Someone’s especially grouchy today. What happened? You didn’t get laid last night?” She waits for him to tell her that his sex life is none of her business but no response is forthcoming. “Gray, you alright? You sound…weird.” She sounds genuinely concerned.
Great, he thinks, even my sister over in another state knows that something’s up. “It’s nothing, Kay. I just ran into someone I used to know, that’s all. An old friend.” He turns the wrench hard, snapping off a rusty screw when he should have finessed it out. “Goddammit.”
“Friend…right.” His sister doesn’t even try to pretend that she’s going to just let that go. He takes a sip of his smoothie. “Would this friend have a vagina?” And then, he spews it out. “Woah, you totally like her! Have you boned her yet?”
When Grayson has recovered the power of speech he manages to croak a few words out. “It’s not like that, Kay.” Oh God, he thinks, you sound like a chick.
“Dude, you’ve got it bad! Take some advice—remember as well as being your sister I’m also a girl, incredible I know—call her! If you like her, which you clearly do, then call her. None of this wait three days bullshit. Call her.” Kay is getting worked up as she dispenses the advice.
“Are we still talking about me here?” Grayson frowns, as he wonders if he’s going to have to fly up to New York to kick some guy’s butt for not calling his sister.
“Grayson Christopher Fletcher! Call her. I’m hanging up now. Love ya, bye!” The dial tone chimes signaling that Kay has done exactly as she has threatened. He shakes his head, wondering how he landed such a bossy little sister.
He turns his attention back to the bike. Working on the old rust-pot usually calms him, but today he can’t concentrate, his mind is going in about a million different directions or, more accurately, just one particularly distracting one. He digs into the pocket of his ripped jeans, pulling the napkin out carefully as if it might break apart. He feels like a kid, wanting to text her but not daring to, wondering what she’s going to think about him if he does, wondering if she’ll even reply.
The look on her face when he had mentioned ‘old times’ was enough to make him beat himself up over how he treated her for the rest of his natural life. He can’t let her believe that he hurt her on purpose all those years ago. The very thought of it is like a knife twisting in his gut. She deserves more than him, she always had. He had only left her because he thought it was the right thing to do, because he thought it would be safer. He has to have the chance to explain that to her.