GRAYSON
Not even four hours of sleep, and Grayson is feeling like crap as West runs him ragged on the beach.
“I told you, you rock up with a hangover, you’re gonna regret it!” West shouts over his shoulder, as he cycles ahead of Grayson.
“And like I told you, I don’t get a hangover from two freakin’ beers, West.” Grayson breathes hard, as he struggles to catch up with the bike, knowing that his coach is cycling hard to stay ahead of him.
“If it’s not the booze, then where the hell is your head at, G? Because it’s not here, and it’s not on the damn fight, which is all you should be thinking about.” West shakes his bald head, but the anger in his voice is tinged with concern. “If you don’t win this fight, it’s more than just your rankings that are on the line. If you can’t pay him back, Grayson, then you know there’s going to be trouble.”
Grayson pushes on, ignoring the burning sensation in his quads as he sprints past West’s bike, channeling everything into the physical effort. He stops abruptly, leaning down and taking deep breaths in, trying to stop himself from vomiting from the exertion.
West pulls up beside him and lays a paternal hand on his shoulder. “I’m not trying to get your back up, kid. I just don’t want to see you ruin this for yourself, not when you’re so close.”
Grayson looks up at the man who has been more like a father to him than his own ever had, and he nods reassuringly. “I know, West. I’m going to get it done, don’t worry. Then, after this fight, Morrison will finally be off my back, for good.”
Just the thought of it was enough to make Grayson’s shoulders relax. Morrison had taken him out of the ring that fateful night and helped him make more money than he had ever seen before winning and throwing fights. But there was a price, there always was. As soon as West had discovered him in the underground ring and wanted to train him, for him to go legit, Morrison had gotten nervous. Grayson was his biggest moneymaker, and he wouldn’t let him go without a fight. Grayson was still trying to pay off the debt that Morrison had decided was a fair exchange for how much he’d “helped” Grayson. The money he earned from this next fight would be enough for his final payment, and then he would really be free.
“I don’t trust that motherfucker.” West’s voice is grim, and his expression is stern as he looks pensively out at the sea.
“You’re not the only one, my friend. But what other choice do we have?” Grayson claps West on the shoulder and heads over to the outdoor gym equipment on the beach before the conversation can go any further.
He doesn’t want to talk about Morrison, and all the emotions and memories that the name stirs up. As he pushes through the pain, doing one pull-up after another, unbidden a face comes into his head, the face that he couldn’t get off his mind all night. She is the real reason that he’d barely slept, tossing and turning until he’d figured it was pointless to even pretend that he was still sleeping. He wonders what she’s doing right now, wonders if she was glad to see him.
“What’s the matter, genius? You lose count?” West’s voice breaks through Grayson’s reverie.
He realizes that he’s dropped down from the bar and is just standing, staring out at nothing. I really must be losing it, he thinks. He forces the thought of Adriana out of his mind, focusing on the repetitive movements of the pull-ups, then push-ups, then crunches, then sprints and everything else West throws at him.
By the time they’re on their way back to Grayson’s house for a shower and a high-protein meal, the cafés and restaurants along the beach are starting to fill up with the brunch crew. The smell of scrambled eggs and toast reaches his nose, and he almost starts salivating. It had been a hard work out; he’d pushed himself even more than usual. It was the only way to get Adriana out of his mind.
“Grayson Fletcher!” The sound of his name being called makes him stop in his tracks. He turns around, shading his eyes from the sun, which is already blasting down. He almost crosses his fingers hoping against hope that it isn’t one of his one night stands looking for a re-match; he really isn’t in the mood to fight off the bimbo patrol today.
But instead of a silicon-pumped groupie, he sees a redhead waving at him from under an enormous hat and dark glasses that take up most of her face. He gets a wave of panic that she might indeed be someone he’s slept with, before she takes off the glasses and winks at him cheekily. He breathes an audible sigh of relief, recognizing her from the night before.
“Willow, right? Adriana’s friend.” Grayson takes a few steps towards her table, looking askance at West who throws him a knowing glare and waves him on.
“That’s right. How you doing? Take a load off.” She points towards an empty seat opposite hers.
“Thanks, but I’m kind of sweaty and gross, I wouldn’t want to spoil your appetite.” He throws her his lopsided charming smile, before the panic rises up in him again. “Is Adriana with you?” He wonders if he sounds as desperate to Willow as he does in his own head.
Willow gives him an appraising look from behind her dark glasses. “Would it be a good or a bad thing if she were?”
Grayson frowns at her. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m trying to figure you out, Grayson Fletcher. Your reputation precedes you. You’re the love ‘em and leave ‘em type, but the way you looked at Adrie last night tells a different story.” Willow lifts her glasses and pins him with a direct look. All traces of the charming PR girl are gone, replaced by a woman who means business. “You’ve hurt her once already, if you have any plans to do it again, then you should leave now.” She settles herself back into her seat and picks up her menu. “Now, what’s good here?”
Grayson looks at her with his mouth open. “You’re the one that called me over here, and now you’re warning me off Adriana? How does that make any sense?”
“Like I said, Fletcher, I’m trying to figure you out. Adriana is a very dear friend, and I’m working out if you deserve her.” Willow doesn’t even look up from the menu she’s perusing as she says the words.
“Deserve her? Did I miss something? We haven’t seen each other in close to ten years!” Grayson realizes that his voice is getting louder, but he can’t seem to contain his frustration.
“Do you believe in soulmates, Fletcher?” Willow asks the question in the same tone that she might use to order an orange juice.
“Oh my God, you’re early! What happened? Did the world as we know it turn upside down? It doesn’t matter; I don’t care; All I care about right now is breakfast, I’m starv—” The moment Adriana takes in Grayson standing in front of Willow is written plain across her face, and she literally stops dead in her tracks, blushing to the ends of her jet black hair.