Chapter Twenty-Seven
Braxton
I was awoken at eight am on Friday morning by Winston, who was hunched on my chest purring hungrily. Groggily, I scooped him up in one arm and set him down on the ground next to my blue jeans. It was mid-morning, and steadily strengthening sunlight shone through the gray curtains.
I stumbled into the kitchen and fed Winston. When I checked my phone, I found I had a message from Jaimie.
Hey honey-bun, she wrote, just a heads up: you’re going to be getting some news today. Be prepared for that :)
Confused and intrigued, my pulse fluttering with apprehension, I texted back: Anything I should be worried about?
Her reply came almost immediately: Nope. Something to look forward to, I should think.
Hmmm, I wrote back.
To which she said: Sorry I haven’t been around much the last couple days. The boss-man and I have been working over-time on something FUN and secret. You should be hearing about that in a bit.
Should I be worried about that? I replied.
Nope, she said again. Just enjoy your day XO
“Honestly,” I muttered at my phone. I enjoyed a good mystery as much as she did, but this was exasperating.
I’ll try, I texted. By the way, you left your jade necklace at my place on Sunday night. I don’t remember how it came off, but I found it on my coffee table and figured you might like to have it back.
Her response came a minute later: Mind if I come over tomorrow and get it?
No, or I could come over there.
Either way :)
I had a sneaking suspicion she had left the necklace there on purpose, but I wasn’t going to press the issue.
When I arrived at the gym at nine am, I found Nick on the elliptical trainer, his face shining with sweat. I asked him if he had heard any news.
He shook his head emphatically. “No, should I have?”
“Jaimie’s been teasing some big announcement all morning. She made it sound like a positive, but I can’t help feeling a little worried. I wish she would just come out and tell me.”
“And you’re sure it has something to do with your job?”
“She said she and Carruthers are about to announce something, and it sounded like the two announcements were connected.” I shrugged. “I hope this doesn’t all turn out to be a big nothing-burger.”
“Sometimes trivial news is better than bad news,” Nick pointed. “At least you’re not going to jail probably.”
“Fingers crossed.”
“Yeah. Did I tell you I’m seeing a girl now?”
I flinched in surprise. “Who?”
Nick smiled. It was obvious he had been waiting to tell me this all morning—and he knew very well he hadn’t already told me. “Her name is Charise, and she’s a police lieutenant with the Boulder PD. She used to be a dancer and loves musicals. Last night, at her request, we watched Singin’ in the Rain.”
I snorted involuntarily. There was something absurd and a little precious about huge Nick sitting on a couch crying over a Gene Kelly musical. “How was it?” I asked him.
“It was good,” he said, his face impassive. “I just get scared, you know.”
“Why? That she’ll arrest you?”
He shook his head. “I just feel like I really have a chance with this girl, and I don’t want to blow it. I’ve blown every other chance I ever had with a girl.”
“You were also a lot younger,” I reminded him. “You’re not likely to repeat the mistakes of the past.”
“I hope not. I don’t know that for sure.”
One question was nagging at me uneasily. “How old is this woman?”
Nick winced in embarrassment. “She turns thirty-two on the thirty-first.”
“So, about ten years older.”
“She’s more settled and mature than a lot of girls our age. That’s part of her appeal to me.”
There was no good way to phrase this delicately. “Are you sure this isn’t some kind of trap?”
Nick stared at me blankly, his mouth agape. “What are you even talking about? What kind of trap?”
I could see I was going to have to spell it out. “Are you sure she really likes you for you? Are you sure she’s not just after something?”
“I think she has a healthy respect for my brain as well as my body.”
I rubbed my head wearily. I could see this was going to take a while.
But before I could inquire further, there came a patter of feet on the warm tiles, and Bruce came into the room, his curled hair all askew. Setting his blue and white lunch pail down on the bench next to me, he said, “Coach wants to see you in his office again.”
He looked perturbed. I glanced cautiously at Nick. “Do you know what about?”
Bruce shook his head. “No, he just wants to see you.” Picking up his pail, he slunk dispiritedly out of the room.
“Do you think maybe this was what she was talking about?” I asked Nick.
“It’s hard to say with Coach.” He brought the elliptical trainer to a halt and got off. “One time he called me in just to complain about U of C budget cuts. Another time, he was excited because he had found an old vinyl recording of Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner’s joint album on eBay. You just never know.”
With a mingled sense of curiosity and trepidation, I left the gym and walked down the narrow, carpeted hallway to his office, Nick following close behind.
I found Coach seated at his desk with President Carruthers sitting opposite.
“You wanted to see me?” I asked, my heart in my throat.
“I do.” But instead of motioning me to sit, he held out a small bag of pretzels. “Take one.”
Perplexed, I hesitated. Coach grunted in annoyance. “Sometime today, Savery!”
I reached in and took a handful, but instead of eating them, I held them awkwardly in one palm.
Coach motioned toward Carruthers. “I’ll let him explain what’s going on.”
Carruthers, who was holding a fat three-ring binder in his lap, beamed warmly. “I assume you remember Luther Van Bones? LaMotta’s opponent in Vegas.”
“I do.” It would have been hard to forget Bones.
“Well, you’re never going to believe this”—Carruthers chuckled as though at a joke to which only he was privy—“he actually injured himself this week during training. He pulled a hamstring in his lower leg, and now he’s down for the count. He should be up and running again within ten days, but I spoke to him shortly after he left the doctor’s, and he specifically asked to face you in an upcoming match.”
“Me?” I asked, almost inaudibly. “Why—why me?”
Carruthers shrugged, looking chipper. “Apparently he got a good look at you during his rumble with LaMotta and decided you would be a worthy opponent.”
I supposed I ought to have been flattered, but I was immediately suspicious. “Are you sure he doesn’t just see me as an easy win?”
Coach actually laughed. “Easy? If you think you’re an easy win, Savery, I’m afraid you may need to work on your self-image.”
“No,” said Carruthers, “he thought a fight would benefit both of you. He knows that your role in helping LaMotta achieve victory in the octagon was significant and knows by reputation that your fighting skills are formidable.”
“It’s an excellent opportunity,” muttered Coach. “It’s true that Bones got destroyed by Bruce, but Bruce is one of our best players.”
“Yeah, and it was touch-and-go there for a while,” said Carruthers. “I’ll say this: it’s rare that I feel this much excitement for a prospective match. Even if I wasn’t obligated to be there, I’d want to come for this.” He laid down his binder and folded his hands over it. “So, what do you think? Are you willing?”
I answered without hesitation. “Yes, of course! I’m thrilled.”
“Excellent!” Carruthers clapped his hands. “Then we’ll have my assistant begin drawing up the paperwork. You’re not going to regret this, and contrary to what you seem to think, I think you have a good shot at winning this match. As long as—”
“As long as you keep your temper,” said Coach, “and don’t let him get the better of you.”
“I won’t!” I said fervently. “Thanks so much, guys.”
The moment we were out of the office, I turned to face Nick, who doubled over laughing, his fists clenched in victory.
“You are going to RULE!” he exclaimed. “Bones is going to regret ever having requested you!”
“Let us hope,” I said quietly. My thoughts were on Jaimie, who had undoubtedly participated in the negotiations. Knowing her, she had likely advised Carruthers and nudged him toward a decision. She would be reaping the benefits of my gratitude for days.
I left the building and walked outside into the open air. It was the quiet part of the morning, and the warm sun glinted off the tops of the cars in the parking lot as though winking in celebration.
Jaimie answered on the first ring. But before I could speak, she interrupted. I could tell at once there was something wrong.
“Braxton?” She sounded scared, even frightened. “I just got some distressing news.”
“What’s up?” I asked, my pulse racing. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ren. I wasn’t expecting this to happen so soon; I thought I had more time.”
“Is she hurt?”
“No, she’s fine. She’s great. She just landed a book deal with a major publishing house!”