Redemption

by Shey Stahl

  Before my workout on Sunday, I met up with Marcus for brunch at Tilikum Place Café. It was one of my favorite places to eat. My morning started off good. It was a given that I would be sore but when I pulled on a pair of jeans, they suddenly didn’t feel too tight.

  How cool was that? It had only been a few torturous days, but this made the pain bearable.

  I took the bus to the restaurant. When I walked in, Marcus was already seated at a table in the corner. Sundays were always busy here, crowded and usually an hour wait. Luckily, Marcus was always prepared and had made reservations.

  I smiled as I approached him. He did the same, stood and wrapped his skinny arms around mine. Marcus was tall but had a lanky build, brown eyes and dark hair that fell in his face. Very different from the man I was hanging out with these days.

  “So, Tallan…” Marcus took a seat folding the napkin on the table on his lap. “What have you been up to?”

  “Not much.” I did the same, sitting across from him and then raised my water glass to my lips and took a drink. A few drops fell down my chin as I gracefully attempted to rid my face of the fact that water wasn’t my drink of choice. “Hired a personal trainer to get my ass in shape.”

  Marcus laughed as I wiped away the water. Only he wasn’t laughing about me being in a constant state of disarray and always spilling everything. By the bright-eyed look, he was entertained by the idea that I was working out. I didn’t think it was funny.

  Why did people laugh when I said this?

  “You look fine to me. Why would you do that?”

  “Denial. You’re in denial.” I motioned to my ass barely fitting in my jeans. “I didn’t get like this by accident. Anyhow, I’m meeting Silas in a few weeks and I wanted to look good.”

  He looked down at the menu one last time. “You’ve been talking about him for years. That’s good to finally get closure, right?”

  “That’s my hope.”

  We ordered our meals. I kept myself under control and ordered a veggie omelet and orange juice. I wasn’t sure I could have orange juice, but I was dying for some. Marcus gave me a look because he knew when we came here, I devoured a plate of pancakes.

  Not now though. I was a woman on a mission.

  Marcus shook his head, brushing his thick brown hair from his eyes. “So, what have you been working on?”

  “Lunges.”

  He smiled his crooked smile. Marcus could be considered cute, but I’d never given much thought to it. Kind of like Jared. It was never going to happen.

  “I meant on your articles.”

  “Oh, that.” Of course he was talking about work. He was a task-oriented person. This was funny because he was good friends with Jared now, since they met in college, and his complete opposite. “Mostly city council articles. Just finished up an article on the Seattle Light Rail Project. I’ve got two articles I’m working on for various blogs, but what do you have in mind?”

  And then he hit me with “What do you know about Destry Stone?”

  I sighed. Somehow, I knew the conversation would go this way. “Jared told you, didn’t he?”

  His head tipped back from laughing. Jerk. “Yeah, well, he said you were working out with him.”

  “See, he’s worse than a fucking girl. Can’t keep his mouth shut. I bet he told you about cutting me out of my jeans too, didn’t he?”

  Marcus smiled, still laughing but looked down at his food that had arrived. “He may have mentioned something like that.”

  “He’s such an asshole.”

  “Who, Jared or Destry?”

  “Well, both really. But Jared right now.” I leaned forward, resting my hands on the table. “I’m going to kick his ass. And now that I’m getting in shape, I’m just the person to do it too!”

  And then like a switch was flipped, something he was so good at, his face was suddenly serious. “About Destry… how well do you know him?”

  I took a moment to think about the question and cut into my omelet. How well did I know him? I didn’t. “He’s my personal trainer, but he’s about as closed off as a safe.”

  Marcus frowned, squinting his eyes. “I know you. A challenge is good. How do you feel about writing an article about him? Something to profile him as a local guy.”

  “Good or bad? I’ve heard mixed feelings about him and after spending a week with him, I’m understanding the bad.”

  “That’s the thing, Tallan.” Marcus relaxed in his chair, taking a drink of his coffee. “No one knows for sure what happened with that fight.” Setting the cup down, he stared at me. “Only Destry. I’d kinda like to leave it up to you on this one. Write the article on how you see it flowing once you find out more about him and what happened.”

  Write the article? How the hell am I going to do that? It wasn’t like the guy had said more than five words to me that didn’t involve the words reps, squats, lunges, and don’t waste my time.

  “So basically, do the research… talk to him and write what I feel happened to cause him to not get in the boxing ring professionally anymore?”

  “Yeah, I’m certain you’ll find the answer everyone’s looking for.” Marcus reached for the check when the waiter brought it by. “He won’t talk to reporters and knocked out the last person who tried to do a story on him.”

  I started digging through my bag for money. “Oh fabulous, that makes me feel better.” I handed him a twenty, only to have him push it back at me.

  “He’s not going to do that to you.” He held up his credit card. “And I’ve got this.”

  “So you say. Have you met him?”

  Marcus laughed again. “I can attest to his left hook, yeah.”

  “So, you’re the one he knocked out?” I laughed so hard, causing a new pain in my ribs to emerge.

  I wasn’t sure why, but Marcus’s revelation about him being the one who got tagged by Destry was funny as hell. And it wasn’t the first time Marcus had been knocked out trying to get information out of people. But, yeah, it was hysterical.

  “Sadly, yes. Down for the fucking count.”

  PART OF ME, okay, all of me wasn’t thrilled about getting to know Destry better for the simple fact that he’d been such a douche to me so far. I was okay with working out and not venturing into the friend zone with him. Writing this article meant I’d have to ask him questions in roundabout ways, and judging by the interactions we’d had so far, this wasn’t going to be easy at all.

  I decided to walk back to my apartment and not only get a little exercise since my legs were so sore, but maybe warm them up a little, and it was a beautiful day in the city.

  When I made it home from brunch and my walk, Catie was in our apartment, with the door unlocked, and Jared was apparently in the shower. If I was in there, Jared would have gone ape shit to know the door was unlocked.

  “He bitches at me, but the door is unlocked yet again.” I locked the door behind me when I stepped inside the apartment. “What are you doing here?”

  Catie rolled her eyes but continued to watch whatever movie she had on. She was sitting in the chair closest to the balcony with the door open. The breeze was actually nice, for once. Kind of nice to have fresh air in the place. Spring in Seattle was one of my favorite times of year, when it wasn’t raining, which was more often than not. Us Seattle natives had to take advantage of days like that as much as we could.

  After grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge, I sat next to Catie. “Hey, you remember that sports editor I knew in college, Marcus?”

  “Yeah, I think.” Catie looked up at the ceiling, thinking for a moment. “Yeah, I do. Jared’s friends with him, right?”

  “Yes.” I glared. “Anyway, he was asking around about a story on Destry. He suggested I do a story on him. Help him get his name back.”

  “You hate him,” she pointed out when Jared appeared around the corner without a shirt. “Why would you want to help him?”

  “I’m not even sure. There’s something about him that I find… intere
sting.” I looked over at Jared and then stood to jam my finger in his chest. “And you, asshole. Why did you tell Marcus you had to cut me out of my jeans?”

  “Because that shit was the funniest thing I’ve participated in all year.” Jared stepped back and pulled a T-shirt over his head. “You ready to go, Catie?”

  Annoyed, I narrowed my eyes at him. “And here I thought you were my friend; instead, you’ve probably blabbed to everyone about my skinny jeans fiasco.”

  “Umm… how many people count as everyone? And they can only be classified as skinny jeans if you can get them on and off and, well….”

  Oh, holy hell, Jared is a dead man.

  I looked at the two of them, puzzled. “Where are you two going?”

  “Lunch.”

  “Dating, huh?”

  Jared glared at me. “No, just going to get food.”

  “Fucking each other and food.” I smiled at them, curious to see how they would react. “That’s considered dating in some cultures and in other cultures, it’s considered friends with benefits… so which is it?”

  Jared reached out and pushed me. I didn’t have great balance and fell back on the couch. “Says the girl who is thinking about her personal trainer in dirty ways.”

  Catie laughed as they headed for the door.

  “Should I start looking for a place to stay? Are you moving in together soon?”

  Jared flung his arm up behind his head and flipped me off when he got to the door. Then he stopped before closing the door. “Yeah, ask the champ. I’m sure he’s got room in his ring for you.”

  Ask the champ, my ass.

  Champ? Hmm. Shit. How the hell am I going to write this article?

  Ordinarily I had no problems writing whatever. I was good under pressure and digging into topics that weren’t covered too often.

  Lately I’d been more on the political side of news. This would be entirely different. In a strange way, I was looking forward to the challenge of it. If there was one thing I knew for sure, Destry Stone was the biggest challenge of all.

  A boxer who is scheduled to face a champion or the favored fighter.

  I met Destry at the bar around five that night. He said we had to be finished by seven so he could meet someone. Part of me wondered if he had a date, but no way was I going to ask that yet. I’d have to work up to this with him.

  “I’m down an entire jean size,” I told him, conversationally. “How’d that happen in a week?”

  Destry shrugged as we stretched out our muscles on the mats. “Water weight probably, but sometimes the first ten pounds come off quickly.”

  “I’ll be a size six before I know it!” Reaching forward, I pressed my chest into my leg to stretch out my calf that had been bothering me.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a woman who wears a size ten, Tallan,” Destry reminded me, shaking his head and standing. “Or a size zero. Women shouldn’t be limited or defined by a fuckin’ number. But just so we’re clear—” He paused, leaning in closer. His breath hit my face when he whispered, “I like curvy women. More to hang onto.”

  Fuck, is it hot in here?

  Commotion in the staircase broke out and a door slammed shut. Someone was on their way down to the basement. “You shouldn’t be in here,” Danny said, following a blonde babe down the stairs. I watched her walk toward Destry with a slow strut. She had on these skin-tight jeans, a black shirt that clung to curves, and flowing long wavy hair.

  Destry, who had finished stretching, was over by the weights and turned to look over his shoulder. His body immediately tensed. “Stay out of it, Danny,” Destry grumbled, glaring at the woman immediately. He took a step toward her. “What are you doing here?”

  While her body language screamed confidence, the moment Destry spoke, her shoulders sunk a little, her cheeks flushing. “Came to give you your key back.”

  Destry smiled at her, that full-on grin he had. The one I’d only seen once. Only it was clear it was forced. “Nice of you.”

  The woman sighed and I could tell their parting wasn’t pleasant. Her hand went to her hip. “Don’t be an asshole.”

  Destry held up his hands, his smile turning to a condescending one I also recognized. Ah, yes, here it comes. He was getting ready to be an asshole to this woman too. “I said, nice of you. How is that being an asshole? Sounds like a compliment to me, but then again, what the fuck do I know, right?”

  He held out his hand to take the key and she dropped it on the floor. “Have a good day, champ.”

  He winked at her, leaning down to pick the key up and threw it against the wall. It pinged as it made contact and then fell to the concrete floor. Their eyes stayed connected for a moment. “Fuck you.” He turned to walk away and then added, “Stella.”

  Oh God, that was Stella? Holy. Shit. She didn’t look anything like her pictures.

  When I saw Stella Summers, a few things went through my mind. Again, why would anyone name their daughter Stella Summers? Were they high? And then my next thought was damn, I wasn’t even on the competition radar compared with a girl like her.

  But Destry was right. He liked curvy women. And long legs, and huge tits. One thing was certain. Stella was stunning.

  With a rigid posture, Destry walked back over to me when Stella left, the door slamming behind her. His posture and mood much like it was last night, different and tensed. Or was that sadness?

  I knew who Stella was but wanting to ease the discomfort in the room, I asked, “Who is that girl?”

  “Ex-girlfriend,” he mumbled, staring at his phone now in his hand.

  “Oh, wow, she’s pretty.” I was trying to be kind, but I failed to realize that wasn’t what he wanted to hear right then.

  He glared, eyes flashing with annoyance that I even spoke to him. And by glare, he looked like he wanted to murder me for saying that.

  Okay, well, apparently we don’t talk about that.

  His stare made me nervous. Made me want to run from him before I even knew anything more about him based on the anger behind that stare. Somewhere, somehow, someone had fucked this guy up emotionally. In fact, emotionally damaged didn’t do this guy justice.

  Emotionally devastated might.

  “We’re done for the day,” he said, still staring at me, waiting on my reaction.

  “What?” He couldn’t be serious, could he? No workout all because of that girl? “All we did was stretch.”

  “I said we’re fuckin’ done.” By the way he spoke to me, it was as if I wasn’t even worth his time to explain. “We’ll pick up tomorrow.”

  That pissed me off. “I’m paying you to train me, not blow me off.”

  “Then don’t come back.” Destry laughed and walked toward the stairs, leaving. “Wouldn’t bother me at all.”

  Was he fucking serious? By the door slamming behind him, he was. And if I didn’t already hate this guy, I did now.

  It is ruled an accident butt when two fighter’s heads collide and the referee determines that neither fighter intentionally head-butted the other. Typically both fighters are warned to be careful, but no fighter is penalized.

  I couldn’t say I was pleased about last night and what happened between Destry and me after Stella left. I think I hated the guy more now than I did when I first met him. Like the hate was festering.

  He called late last night and asked that we workout in the morning because he had plans that night. I said okay but didn’t say much else. And like I said I would, I met him at the bar earlier than I cared to.

  His scowl was similar to yesterday when he said, “All right, I have a few rules we should have talked about earlier.” He didn’t waste any time going into them either when I got to the bar. “Don’t ask me personal questions.”

  “And?”

  He didn’t look at me when he spoke; instead, he stared at the ring to his left. “Don’t waste my time.”

  We already talked about that. Why did he have to be so weird all the time? “Got it. But let’s be honest h
ere, you wasted my time last night.”

  He nodded and I watched the way his throat moved when he swallowed and how unbelievably sexy it looked. “I’m sorry about that. It won’t happen again.”

  Say what? Destry Stone knew how to apologize? Had the stars aligned?

  I would have thanked him for at least acknowledging that he was wrong, but I was so annoyed with him at that point I didn’t give a flying fuck about Destry Stone’s life, or that he apologized. I didn’t want to know anything, and I was going to tell Marcus exactly that when I saw him later tonight.

  We were an hour into the workout when all the water I had been drinking these days caught up to me. I had to pee. Oh, my God, did I have to pee. I had no choice but to use that bathroom I swore I’d never use.

  Have you ever used a porta potty? Okay. So, imagine that but after four days in hundred-degree weather after a concert. That might give you an understanding of what that bathroom resembled.

  By the time I returned, I was ready to vomit and for some reason, Destry was smiling again. “What’s with that face?”

  I gagged thinking of that awful smell. “That bathroom smells like someone died in there.”

  He shrugged. “Someone probably did.” And then he cracked a smile. “There’s a locker room. You could have used that.”

  I wanted to kill him. How could he have not told me? “There’s a fucking locker room?”

  His eyes brightened as he spoke. “Yeah, with a shower too.”

  “You, motherfucker.” I threw my towel at him, which he caught. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”

  Shaking his head, he shrugged and tossed the towel on the ground. “Come on, let’s go for a run.”

  I wasn’t looking forward to a run but at least I could get some fresh air and maybe get that smell out of my nose from the bathroom. “Who is that guy?” I asked when I saw a man come downstairs and set a punching bag near the ring.