Chapter Four
An hour later, Andrea jumped off the yacht with overwhelming relief. She was so happy she almost kissed the ground, but she'd already embarrassed herself enough as it was. She muttered some quick goodbyes to Alex's friends, who seemed even more curious about her relationship with Alex after seeing them both descend from the upper deck in wet clothes. But at this moment, she didn't care what anyone thought. She'd dried off since the ocean had given them both a cold shower, but she was still cold and a little queasy. She just wanted to get dry and warm and hope her stomach would settle down.
After getting in the car, Alex turned the heat on high and sent her a quick look. "Feeling better?"
"Immensely."
"You're getting the color back in your face."
She pulled down the visor and was horrified at the way her tangled, damp hair was falling out of her ponytail. She pulled out her hairband and ran her hand through her hair, which didn't do much to improve her appearance. There was more pink in her cheeks now, but the little makeup she'd had on was completely gone. She did not look at all like any of the other women who'd left the party in the same condition in which they'd arrived.
"Checking the damage?" Alex asked. "You don't look that bad."
"The mirror says otherwise. But I am happy that at least I didn't throw up on you."
"I'm happy about that, too."
She put the visor back up and settled in her seat as the heat finally began to stop her shivers. "Are we going back to your house?"
"Yeah. I'll drop you off at your car."
"I was hoping we might have time to talk or that you could give me a tour of your home."
"Sorry, but I have an appointment. We'll talk later at the cocktail reception for the mayor."
"Another party?"
"You wanted to see how I live. This is what I do on the weekends," he said with a shrug.
"Actually, I want to get to know you, not just follow you around. Is there any way you can postpone what you're doing this afternoon?"
"I'm afraid not."
Frustration ran through her. "You can pretend that letting me tag along at parties is doing an interview, but we both know it isn't. If you didn't want to tell your story, you shouldn't have agreed to be the cover story."
"I've certainly had second thoughts about that in the past twenty-four hours."
"Do you want to pull out? If you do, you better say so now, because the magazine is up against a tight deadline."
"No, I honor my commitments," he said, shooting her a look as he stopped the car at a light.
"Great. Then let's set up a time to talk, to have a real conversation, either before tonight's party or after. Or we skip the party and meet tomorrow," she said, trying to get their relationship back on a more professional level.
Alex didn't answer right away. In fact, he seemed to be pondering something fairly serious, then he said, "All right. You can come with me now."
"Where are we going?"
"To hell and back."
"What?"
"Hang on."
Alex gunned the motor and with a decided squeal of the tires, he made a sharp right turn and sped down the street. It soon became apparent that they were traveling to the other side of town, to a neighborhood very far from the one in which Alex lived.
* * *
The streets in the area of San Francisco known as the Tenderloin were dark and grimy with homeless people on every corner and an air of poverty and despair. Alex's Mercedes came under scrutiny every time they had to stop at an intersection. Andrea instinctively locked her door at one particularly seedy corner.
The motion brought Alex's gaze to her face. "Not your scene? Do you want me to take you home?"
"No. I'm a reporter. I'm used to following stories wherever they go."
"Even to hell?" he said dryly.
"Where are we really going?"
"You'll see."
He drove down another block, past a liquor store, a pawn shop and a bar boasting ninety-nine cent tacos. It was not the San Francisco of the tourist brochures, the cosmopolitan city where people like Alex Donovan wined and dined in fancy restaurants or on elegant yachts. It was an urban neighborhood suffering from harsh economic realities.
She couldn't imagine where they were going. Maybe Alex was taking a shortcut. It was the only answer that made sense. What business would he have on a street like this?
Eventually, he turned into an alley, the passageway so narrow Andrea thought she could reach out a hand and touch the buildings they were passing. Finally the alley opened up and set back to one side was a parking lot and a dirty white sign that read To Hell And Back.
Alex pulled into a spot and cut the engine. Then he waved his hand at the sign. "You thought I was kidding."
"What is this place?"
"For a few weeks a long time ago, it was my home."
"Really?" She was more than a little intrigued by the first personal piece of information he'd revealed.
"Let's go inside."
"All right." She followed him through a large warehouse door. One step into the lobby area told her they had entered a gym. While the outside of the building had been less than stellar, the inside was modern and clean. A teenager with a baseball cap on backwards was typing on a computer behind the counter. He stood up and gave Alex a high five.
"Haven't seen you in a while," the kid said.
"I've been working," Alex replied. "Andrea Blain, meet Sammy Jordan."
"Nice to meet you."
"You, too." He turned to Alex. "Are you looking for some action today?"
"No, I need to see Mick. Is he in his office?"
"He's working the ring."
"Thanks," Alex said, as the boy sat down, returning his attention to his computer.
Alex led her through another set of double doors that led into a large open space. She paused for a moment to take it all in. There were weights and fitness machines on one side of the room, with at least a dozen guys working out. Then there was a large area with nothing but boxing bags hanging from the ceiling. An instructor was showing a kid how to use his legs in a kickboxing maneuver. Finally, there were two glass-walled rooms that appeared to be exercise studios, although there were no classes currently in session.
Alex moved toward the boxing ring where two teenage boys were battling while a middle-aged man oversaw their match. As they walked across the gym, Andrea was more than aware of a few gazes turning in their direction.
"Everyone is looking at us," she murmured. "You must be well-known around here."
He gave her a dry smile. "It's all you, Andrea. Not many women come through those doors."
"So what are we doing here?"
"I need to talk to Mick. He's the owner."
They paused at the edge of the ring. Alex made no move to interrupt the sparring match.
Andrea watched for a moment and then said, "What did you mean when you told me that you lived here a long time ago?"
"It was after my aunt died. I didn't have anywhere to stay, and Mick let me sleep on the couch in his office for a few weeks until I could finish high school. I was going to quit school and get a job, but he wouldn't let me."
"I didn't read about this place in any of the articles you've done previously."
"It never came up."
As Alex finished speaking, Mick came down the stairs. In his early fifties, Mick was built like a linebacker, tall, broad and square. His hair was a dirty blond and cut very short. He wore gym pants and a t-shirt, and she could see numerous tattoos on his arms. The heavy lines around his eyes and mouth hinted at some hard living.
"Alex," Mick said, slapping Alex on the shoulder. "Haven't seen you in a few months. Where have you been hiding?"
"My office mostly," Alex said. "Mick Galliard meet Andrea Blain. Andrea is writing an article about me for World News Today. She's shadowing me this week."
"And you brought her here?" Mick asked, surprise in his voice.
The two men exchanged a rather pointed look, then Alex shrugged. "She was in the car."
"Well," Mick replied. "I guess that's a good enough reason." He turned his sharp gaze to Andrea. "It's a pleasure."
"Mine, too," she said, shaking his hand.
Alex pulled an envelope out of his pocket. "I wanted to bring this by for you, Mick."
Mick's lips drew into a line. "That better not be money."
"I talked to Howard. You should have come to me."
"You've done enough already, Alex. This is my business, not yours."
"You're doing good things here, Mick. That's what matters. So put your pride aside. And use this for the kids."
Mick hesitated and then took the envelope and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks. It's just a loan. I'll pay you back."
"I don't want you to pay me back. As long as you keep getting results, that's all that matters. How is it looking for the next event?"
"I've got an up and coming champion," Mick said, nodding his head to a solidly built older teenager who had just stepped into the ring. "Kyle has strength, speed, agility and smarts. Kind of reminds me of you."
"Of you?" Andrea echoed, giving Alex a questioning look.
"I spent a few hours in the ring."
Mick snorted at that. "More like a few months." Mick turned to Andrea. "Alex was good. He won a couple of regional events, but while he had all the moves, his heart wasn't in it. He was meant to do a lot more. And he did. Now I have to get back to work. You two going to stick around?"
"For a few minutes," Alex said.
"Don't be a stranger. I know you've got a gym in your house, but we've got some machines here I know you don't have yet."
"I'll keep that in mind."
As Mick went back to the ring to set up the next match, Andrea gave Alex a thoughtful look. "You keep this place going, don't you?"
"Not at all. I just help out every now and then. Mick has been a savior for a lot of kids in this city—kids who can't pay to use a gym. It's an important place in this neighborhood, and I chip in when he needs it."
"He was your savior, too, wasn't he?"
Alex's gaze was serious and reflective. "Definitely one of them."
"Were you really as good a boxer as Mick said?"
He smiled. "I held my own. But what boxing really gave me was confidence, a feeling of power, of being able to take care of myself. Mick teaches these kids a lot more than how to fight. And the boxing ring is a good place to burn off anger and other emotions that can lead kids into trouble."
She thought about that. "Did you have a lot of anger after your parents died?"
"The normal amount."
"You like to be vague. Is that because you don't want to talk to me, or because you just can't talk about those feelings?"
He looked away from the ring to meet her gaze. "Maybe a little of both."
She liked his answer. It felt honest and real for the first time. "I understand."
"You do?"
"I was thirteen when my father died. I still had my mom and my sister, so my situation wasn't at all like yours, but I do know the pain of losing a parent. It's hard to talk about. And I wasn't much older than you."
"It is hard to talk about. I didn't realize, Andrea. I'm sorry for your loss."
"Thanks."
Their gazes clung for a long moment, and a different kind of shiver ran down her spine, one that wasn't just sexual chemistry but an emotional connection.
She cleared her throat, realizing they were getting off track once again. She wasn't supposed to be the one talking; he was. "So tell me more about your time here."
"Not much more to tell. I went to school, worked in the gym, did some boxing, slept on Mick's couch until graduation, and then I moved on."
"To the video arcade and then the tech company?"
"To name two. I had many jobs over a five-year period. I did whatever I could do to make enough money to pay rent to someone, usually friends who offered me their couches for a hundred bucks a month."
"You've certainly come a long way." She was beginning to realize that Alex's rags to riches story was very genuine and would probably inspire a lot of readers once they heard his story. She wondered why he hadn't spoken more about his past in previous interviews. "How come you didn't bring the other reporters here?"
"I prefer to focus on the present and the future."
"But the man you are today has been shaped by your past, and that's interesting."
"We all have pasts. We all have challenges. I don't like it when people use hard times as an excuse or even as a reason why they succeeded. The past becomes a crutch or a stepping stone, but all that really matters is living in the moment, making the right decision, living your life."
She nodded, wishing she'd had her phone recorder on so she could have captured his words. Then again, he probably wouldn't have spoken so freely if she'd been recording or even taking notes.
"We should get going," Alex said. "I have to make a few calls and take care of some work items this afternoon. Then we have the party tonight."
"I'd like to talk to Mick about you, get his perspective on the Man of the Year. Would that be possible?"
"Not today. Saturdays are busy. Maybe another time."
"All right." She didn't need Alex to talk to Mick. In fact, she'd probably get more information out of Mick if Alex weren't around.
"That was a little too easy," Alex said as they walked out of the gym.
"What?"
"Your willingness to leave without asking any more questions."
She gave him a smile. "I can always come back."
"I'm going to be sorry I brought you here, aren't I?"
"I don't know. Does Mick have some dirt on you?"
"If he did, he wouldn't tell you."
"Probably true." She'd seen the affection between the men and she had no doubt there was loyalty as well, especially since Alex was supporting the gym financially. But even if Mick couldn't relate any secrets, he could still give her insight into her subject, and the more insight she had, the better questions she could ask Alex.