Chapter Eighteen
Brooklyn
I knocked on Dad’s open office door and stepped inside. He and Liam were talking about an upcoming fight and which spots to fill. Good. Liam’s already here.
I hoped he’d be on my side, but maybe that was overly optimistic. “I need to talk to you guys about the budget and some ideas I have to fix it.”
Dad waved me inside, and I swung the door closed because I had a feeling this conversation would end up getting loud and confrontational, no matter what figures I presented.
“Is Finn around?” I asked. Even if he didn’t take my side, he’d make faces and keep things light and do his whole arbitrator thing.
“He already left for the day,” Liam said.
Well, no use putting it off any longer. “Okay, so give me a chance to make my point before you freak out.”
Liam pointed at himself. “Me or Dad?”
“Yes. But mostly…” I forced myself to meet Dad’s eyes. Things had been icy between us ever since our dinner and my subsequent refusal to pimp myself out to my ex. “You want me here to take care of admin and accounting stuff and to keep the gym running as efficiently and profitably as possible, right?”
The noise he made landed somewhere between a grumble and a grunt, which basically boiled down to I will neither confirm or deny, but proceed and I will proclaim my judgment.
“We should open the gym up to the general public. We need the funds that would bring in more than ever.”
Dad straightened and opened his mouth, and I stepped closer to his desk and plowed on through so that I’d get it all out before he went to shutting it down.
“It’d be good for a lot of the fighters. The guys who’d make good teachers, like…Adam and Finn.” I thought of last night’s workout with Shane. He encouraged and made me feel strong, while also pushing me. “And Shane. Maybe even Kyle.” I glanced at my brother. “No offense, Liam, but I’m afraid you’d be too hardcore for, like, ninety percent of the population.” Especially now, when you’re constantly missing Chelsea but in denial about it.
Liam shrugged. “None taken. You’re not wrong. I barely have enough patience to deal with training and keeping everything else up and running as it is.”
“Yeah, and I totally get that. But once in a while you could step in, like, say, if we can’t find anyone else in the whole world.”
Liam cracked a smile; Dad, not so much. He’d at least stopped trying to interrupt, so I’d still mark it as a momentary win.
“We’ll run it based on upcoming fights, having others step in when the usual instructors need to be in training camp mode and don’t have as much time. That way, our fighters won’t all need side jobs—or more often than not, two side jobs. We all know the only real money to be made is at the very top, and the rest of these guys are barely scraping by and struggling to get in enough training to actually have a chance at getting far enough to make a decent living.
“It’d free you up, too, Liam. Constant cash flow coming in means less stress and more time for you to train as well.” I dared a glance at Dad, whose frown had reached epic proportions. “I know it was your dream to open and run a gym that catered strictly to professional fighters, but hardly anyone can make that work these days.”
Dad leaned forward, bracing his forearms on his desk. “Are you completely caught up with all the bills and invoices?”
The air puffed right out of my sails. “Of course not—I can’t do three months of bookkeeping in less than three weeks. But I can see the writing on the wall, and if that’ll help you see it, too, I’ll literally write it on the wall right now. Where’s a Sharpie?”
Dad shook his head. “We don’t have a ladies’ locker room.”
“I thought of that. We can put up a wall between the two sides of the locker rooms, and I know you’re going to bring up the fact that only one side would have showers, but most women don’t shower at the gym. They go home to do it. And if we have enough female members, we can expand the area and add showers later.”
“It’s not what I wanted to do here,” Dad said, and I let my head drop back so I could plead with the heavens for help getting through to him. “I wanted a huge team of fighters that dominated in the cage and for Team Domination to mean something.”
“It still will! It’ll mean fighters get trained by the best, and people who want to lose weight or get strong or learn how to defend themselves will also learn from paid experts who know what they’re doing.”
“I could get on board with teaching self-defense classes,” Liam said. “Less whiney dudes who don’t want to put in the effort and more teaching chicks to kick ass if anyone messes with them.”
Affection for my brother calmed my irritation at Dad. “To be fair, some dudes might want to learn how to defend themselves.”
“To be fair, I’ll delegate the whiny dudes to Finn.”
I laughed, then sobered as my gaze drifted back to Dad. “Liam’s in and I know Finn will be, too. I can talk Adam and Shane into it.” I did my best to ignore the suspicious side-eye Liam gave me when I mentioned Shane. “If we started on this now, I could recruit teachers, work out a schedule, and organize the publicity push so people could start enrolling. Then it’d be in place before I left.”
Dad stood, his large hands braced on the desk in front of him. “Or you could stay, fix things so that we can keep it running the way I like, and be here to set it up if it comes to that.”
Anger rose, hot and fast. “Are you kidding me? Don’t you remember how this went last time, when I told you I was leaving and you demanded I stay? I thought you wanted us to have a relationship, not repeat old fights from now until eternity.”
“Everything I say somehow offends you,” Dad said. “And you already have one foot out the door.”
“Can’t wait until I get to make it two.” I turned to Liam. “Try to talk some sense into him. For your sake and Finn’s, if nothing else.”
I stormed out of the office. Apparently not fast enough, because while I couldn’t make out Liam’s words to Dad, his response came out loud and clear.
“If she really wanted to help, she’d get my fighter a shot at the guy who left the team because of her.”
…
My phone buzzed, vibrating against my desk. After a lengthy phone conversation with Trey, where I’d relayed the fight with my dad and vented about how impossible he was, he and I’d been texting back and forth the past hour or so.
I assumed he was offering more encouragement—cheery words I’d read after I finished entering these last few figures. I was this close to seeing how much profit the gym had made in March.
Trey had said all the right things, and I wished it made me feel better. Instead I was pouring my annoyance into catching up on the books—for my brothers’ sake—so I could leave San Diego early and get back to San Fran where I belonged.
A twinge wrenched my chest. That’d mean saying good-bye to Shane.
Ugh, why’d that thought have to come along for the ride? I’d been doing so well at not thinking about him as I’d talked with Trey, our bond finally drifting across the distance and up through the line.
I hit enter so the program’s formula could add and subtract and work its magic. “Yikes. This is exactly why we should hold workout classes, but no one listens to me.”
At this particular moment, that was especially true considering everyone else had gone home for the day.
I grabbed my phone so I could see what Trey had texted me. Only it wasn’t Trey.
Shane: I’m bored. Come over and entertain me.
His address—presumably—followed.
Me: I should come over and teach you a lesson, because clearly you still don’t know how to say please or ask politely.
Shane: PLEASE come teach me a lesson. I’ve been very naughty.
Heat settled into my cheeks—I’d walked right into that one.
I tapped my lip, contemplating how to reply. I couldn’t go over there, even if the temptation danced through my mind, making all sorts of justifications about why it wouldn’t be a big deal.
The fact that I felt the need to justify it was reason enough.
Me: I’ll have to teach you a lesson during our sparring session tomorrow.
Shane: This is why I don’t ask. Then you go thinking you’ve got options, and I don’t want to wait till tomorrow. I want to see you NOW
Me: We’ll also have to work on your temper tantrums.
Shane: Sounds like we’ve got a lot to fix. We better start ASAP
Shane: COME OVER
Me: Can’t. I’M WORKING.
My phone rang instead of chimed, and my response to the unexpected noise involved jumping and nearly dropping it. After a quick moment to compose myself, I answered.
“Are you at the gym alone?” Shane asked.
“No?”
“Damn it, bruiser. It’s nine thirty at night.”
“Adam’s here,” I said, since he was the one who’d left last.
Shane grumbled something I couldn’t quite make out, but I was sure there were at least a couple of expletives.
“Well, anyway, thanks for the update on the time. Looking at my cell phone to find out is so taxing.”
“Keeping track of you is taxing,” Shane said.
“I don’t need you to keep track of me. Besides, I’m getting ready to head home,” I lied. It was quiet and I was on a roll. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though.” Hopefully I hadn’t sounded as desperate as I felt for tomorrow to be now.
“Good night, Brooklyn,” he said.
“Good night, Shane.” I hung up and tried very hard to not think about how a few minutes on the phone with him had made me feel better than I’d felt all day.