The next time I went to Nico’s over at Eastside Boxing, I had backup, aka: Bronwyn. I didn’t want to tackle that place alone—who knew what I’d find. Jay Thornton beating up another helpless person, or maybe him and his minions having a Battle Royale in the middle of the ring, a big melee of women and children getting pummeled because they couldn’t afford bread.

My imagination had been getting the better of me ever since I’d witnessed Nico’s beatdown, but now it was just getting silly. And given where I worked, it wouldn’t be long before Christians and lions got thrown into the mix.

We pushed through the door and there he was, standing in the ring just like I remembered. Except instead of women and children and a giant brawl, there were two teenage boys wearing boxing shorts and gloves. They circled each other, and Jay circled with them. He towered over them, broad shoulders hunching and muscles bulging as he showed them how to jab.

“You’re staring,” Bronwyn said.

I followed her, skirting a group of students stretching on a black mat. “Am not.”

Jay’s eyes met mine. I was staring. And now, so was he. I wrenched my gaze away but I could still feel his eyes on my back as I took to the stairs.

Bronwyn burst into Nico’s apartment without bothering to knock. They greeted each other with a sloppy kiss that I tried to ignore. The room smelled of garlic and basil, despite the lack of a stove.

“I made lasagna,” Nico said, cutting into a foil pan. It had been over a week since I’d seen him and his bruises had faded a little.

“Meaning he called Ricardo’s down the road and ordered some,” Bronwyn said. Nico handed me a plate with a small piece of lasagna oozing on it, a fork sticking out of the top.

“You can have seconds,” he said. “I just don’t like wasters.”

“Yes, sir.” I sat in the wooden rocking chair so Bronwyn and Nico could share the bed.

I took a bite, the sauce almost burning my tongue. The flavor was good, but it didn’t lessen the sting of my third-wheel status. Bronwyn had invited me, and it didn’t seem like they cared. Then again, maybe she felt sorry for me.

She’d biked past me as I was walking home after a drop-in class at Fluidity, my shoes leaving wet footprints behind because they’d somehow ended up outside in the sprinklers. I hadn’t seen her until she circled back, screeching her bike to a halt inches in front of me.

“What now?” she’d asked.

“It was Mean Girls Day at dance class,” I’d replied.

She offered to take me home on her bike but I doubted it could carry both of us. When I finally got home, she practically forced me to come to Nico’s for dinner, after throwing my soaked flats in the trash.

Bronwyn was busy telling Nico the story while I ate the rest of my lasagna. “What was with the vendetta, anyway?” she asked.

“I accidentally bumped into one of them,” I said.

They both stared at me. “That’s it?” Nico asked.

“Well, they said some stuff, I said some stuff. Names were called. It wasn’t pretty.” Not that I’d stop taking classes at Fluidity. Robbie was an incredible teacher—one of the best I’d ever had. I’d spend every day there if I could afford it. I thought about taking fewer shifts at the diner, but I needed the money. And after hearing about Nico and the loan shark, I didn’t ever want to be without some kind of cash flow.

“Point me to this dance studio,” Bronwyn said. “I’ll wait outside with my bike and run over their feet when they come out.”

I laughed. “You don’t know what they look like.”

She shrugged as she took a second helping from the pan. “I’ll just do it to every female who goes there. I’m sure I’ll nail the right ones eventually.”

“Sounds like a full-time job,” Nico said. He stood over the lasagna, as if debating on seconds. He sighed and took his plate to the sink. “If you got paid running over ballerina’s toes, I’d be all for it.”

“Ask Jay Thornton’s boss,” I said. “He might be in the market for that kind of thing.”

Nico washed our plates then tossed us some sodas from the mini-fridge. “You don’t want to work for that guy, trust me.” He sank back on the bed, putting his head in Bronwyn’s lap, forcing her to lift her plate. “If he was a bit nicer, I probably would ask him for a job.”

“What do you do now?” I asked.

Nico groaned.

“Sore subject,” Bronwyn muttered.

“Sorry,” I said.

“I hold the very dignified position of decontaminating this fine establishment and maintaining its level of hygiene to state industry standards.”

“Like a janitor?”

Bronwyn shot me a look.

“Not like a janitor. A janitor,” Nico said.

It could’ve been worse. At least he had a job. Cleaning the bathrooms at the diner wasn’t much better.

“Nico’s tried to get other managing jobs, but he can’t,” Bronwyn said.

I frowned. “Can’t?”

“No one will hire me,” Nico replied.

Bronwyn stroked his hair. “I’m pretty sure the loan shark had something to do with that.”

Now that really made no sense. How did he expect to get the money back off a janitor’s salary? Maybe he liked having people afraid of him?

Nico’s face had gone red.

“If only you could—”

Nico spoke over Bronwyn. “I’ve just had a streak of bad luck for the past, oh, two years. Not counting you.” He looked up at her, tickling underneath her chin. She slapped his fingers away. “Next time you bring home a stray, pick a rich one.”

He was talking about me. I pulled my feet up on the chair. I wished I was rich, someone with a family inheritance, or maybe a lottery winner. Then I could help Nico out. And Frasier, and my parents…

“She wasn’t a stray,” Bronwyn said, as if I wasn’t in the room. “She was a favor.”

“Nice.” I was getting used to Bronwyn’s blunt way of saying, well, everything.

Nico swiveled his head to look at me. “Then I guess you’re owed one in return, right?”

“Next time I see Frasier Hale,” Bronwyn said, “I’ll be sure to mention it.”

“Next time you see Frasier Hale,” I said, “be sure to mention it fast, or it’ll be too late.” If he did come around, he wouldn’t stay long. He never did.

Nico pushed himself off the bed. “Forget all this nonsense. Let’s do something where I can actually have a chance of improving my situation.”

Bronwyn rubbed her hands together. “Ooh, yes. I’m sick of getting whooped by you every time. Maybe with Maggie, I’ll actually have a chance.”

“In what world could you ever beat me?” Nico said, going to one of his many shelves. I had no clue what they were talking about.

It became clear when Nico turned to me with two game boxes in his hand. It went from clear back to unclear in a matter of moments as Nico and Bronwyn tried to explain Settlers of Catan to me. The instructions sounded like a foreign language, and I was still the third wheel, but I was glad to be there. I started having fun, and for a while I forgot to be lonely.