On The Ropes Series Box Set

by Aly Martinez

  I was still chuckling when her tortured eyes met mine.

  “‘Take care of Quarry.’”

  “Huh?”

  “That’s what my letter said. ‘Take care of Quarry.’ That’s it.”

  My stomach fell.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  What the hell had Mia been thinking?

  Then my stomach dipped even lower.

  What if mine only said ‘Take care of Liv’?

  I’d spent over a year obsessing over all the words I hoped she’d written. Just because I wasn’t man enough to actually read them didn’t mean I hadn’t envisioned what they would say a million different times. I’d drafted that letter in my head more often than I’d ever admit, but never once had it been about Liv.

  The disappointment must have shown on my face, because she immediately said, “I’m sure yours is better.”

  I wasn’t.

  But, suddenly, I had every intention of finding out.

  Had Mia been capable of being friends with Liv just to keep an eye on her? Yup. She had even been crazy enough to pull it off. I was already going to be livid if that were the case. But, if I found out that her final words to me had been written out of jealousy, I was going to lose my fucking mind.

  There was only one way to truly know.

  After the world’s quickest shower, I donned my hearing aids and headed out in search of the only remaining pieces of Mia March.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Liv and I stood on the front porch of a familiar, brick, two-story house in the middle of the suburbs. Liv had called when we’d left the gym and said that Mrs. March seemed excited that I was finally coming by. I was so damn nervous about what I was going to find in my letter that I couldn’t even bring myself to worry about what I was going to say to Mia’s parents.

  That all changed when Mrs. March opened the door.

  Mia had gotten her mom’s deep, green eyes, and the sight of them smiling up at me caused my heart to wrench.

  “Hey there,” she said cheerfully, pushing to her toes to give me a hug.

  It wasn’t quite the greeting I had been expecting, but I wouldn’t complain.

  Mr. March was standing behind her, and no sooner had his wife released me than he extended a hand in my direction.

  “Good to see you again, son.”

  “You too, sir.”

  “I saw your last fight on HBO. You should be proud.” He smiled as if I hadn’t threatened his life the last time he’d seen me.

  “Thank you,” I said, following him into the large family room I’d spent numerous nights in with Mia.

  I’d never been so thankful for the distraction of that letter until I was in that room. It would have been easy to get lost in the memories, and I had a feeling I wouldn’t have been left in one piece on the other end of that journey back in time.

  Mrs. March stepped in front of me and offered a hot-pink envelope in my direction. “As much as we’d love to catch up, I’m sure you’re eager to read this.”

  I stared at the envelope for several seconds before gathering the nerve to take it from her hands. You would have thought it was filled with anthrax for the way my pulse spiked when my fingers made contact.

  “We’ll give you a minute,” Liv said, squeezing my forearm. The quiver in her voice was obvious to everyone—but especially me.

  I never tore my eyes away from my name written in Mia’s handwriting as I caught her elbow. “Stay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My words might have been firm, but my eyes were pleading as I looked up at her. “If this goes downhill, I’m going to need someone to keep me from losing it.”

  She released a loud sigh of relief. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

  Walking from the room, Mrs. March called out, “Well, if you two need anything, just holler. Oh, and, Quarry, my wedding china is in that cabinet.” She pointed across the room. “Please leave it standing.”

  It was a joke, but I still felt like a dick that she’d felt the need to make it.

  “Look, I’m really sorry about…well, everything.”

  She smiled warmly. “We may have known about the tumor, but we got letters from Mia, too. The second paragraph of mine was devoted to apologizing for whatever hell you caused after finding out she was gone. She threatened to haunt me if I had you arrested for any of it.” She giggled, but her eyes filled with tears, revealing her true emotions. “I miss her so much. I wouldn’t even mind a ghost right about now. So don’t tempt me, okay?”

  I chuckled around the lump in my throat. “I’ll steer clear of the china.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  With one last grin, they left me and Liv alone—together.

  Less than five seconds after that, I slid a stack of folded, white notebook paper from the envelope.

  Quarry,

  Surprise! I’m dead!

  I’d worry that it was too soon for that joke, but I’m assuming you aren’t reading this thirty seconds after I took my last breath. You’ve been known to hold a mean grudge. I’m also going to assume that Liv caved first and it took her rushing to your house, screaming that I didn’t love her, to drag your ass here today.

  Am I right?

  You should probably put her out of her misery and give her the last two pages. That’s her real letter. And tell her I love her. TONS. And TONS. And like fourteen more than that.

  Don’t question it. Just do it!

  A laugh bubbled from my throat. I shouldn’t have been surprised that Mia had manipulated us from the grave. She was a nut.

  Liv tipped her head in question as she studied me warily. “You okay?”

  “Um…she says she loves you tons. And tons. And like fourteen more than that.”

  Her chin began to quiver as I peeled the back two pages off and handed them her way.

  “That’s your letter.”

  Snatching them from my hands, she yelled, “Turn around!”

  “What? Why?”

  “Turn around!” she screeched so loud that I decided right then and there that even going deaf had its perks.

  As I turned away, she didn’t delay in burying her forehead between my shoulder blades. She didn’t wrap her arms around my stomach, but I suspected that was only because they were holding Mia’s final words in front of her eyes.

  Good words.

  Happy words.

  Not jealous at all.

  I blew out a relieved breath, and as Liv start giggling behind me, I decided to go back to reading.

  First off, I need to apologize.

  I’m sure you had to put on a suit and sit through some dreadfully boring funeral. My bad. I really wanted something a little more “lively,” but Mom nixed it, complaining that a DJ would be tacky. Whatever. Besides, I figure, if I let her plan my funeral, it will at least give her a distraction for a few days. It’s the least I could do since I croaked and all. Anyway, I hope it didn’t suck too much.

  Now, on to the hard stuff. I’m guessing that you’re still mad at me for not telling you about Tommy the tumor. (Yes, I named him. Zip it.) But, if you’re here expecting an apology, I don’t have one for you.

  Wait! Wait! Wait! Don’t start shredding shit yet. I do have an explanation.

  It’s best if I start at the beginning.

  (Imagine I’m dramatically clearing my throat right now.)

  The day the doctors found that asshole Tommy in my brain was the most surreal day of my life.

  I went from happy and healthy to dying in just one visit to the doctor.

  My mom cried as he rattled off statistics about the typical life expectancy for someone like me, but with every number, I only got more and more pissed.

  I didn’t want to know that shit. Months. Weeks. Days. Why? So I could waste the rest of my life marking days off the calendar?

  That’s not living, Quarry.

  That’s waiting to die.

  I typed out no less than seventy-five texts to you on my way home that day, but i
n the end, the only one I actually sent said “I love you.” You know what you replied? “Love you too. Whatcha cooking me for dinner? I’m starved.”

  I was dying…and you wanted me to cook dinner. I laughed until I couldn’t see the words through my tears. It was the first time I’d smiled since I had been given my life sentence—and the exact moment when I decided not to tell you or Liv the truth.

  Fine. I have a brain tumor. But why does that get to dictate how my life ends? Why did I have to spend an entire afternoon holding my grief-stricken parents’ hands when we could have been making jokes over a greasy burger that I no longer had to worry would make me fat? I mean, who wants to live like that? Where everyone around you cries all the time and treats you like you’re made of glass. Definitely not me. I wanted to live the fun life I’d made with the people I loved while I still had it.

  You might remember the feast of lasagna, salad, cheesy, garlic bread, and banana pudding I made you that night. But what I remember is the peace I felt while you sat on the counter trying to throw lettuce into my hair when you thought I wasn’t looking. I remember the rush of excitement that morphed into a fit of laughter when you threw me over your shoulder and spun around after you got caught mid-toss. And I remember the overwhelming sense of contentment that washed over me right before I fell asleep securely tucked into your side on the couch.

  That night, and however many nights I got after it, I wasn’t waiting to die, Quarry. I won’t apologize for that.

  I am sorry I couldn’t stay with you forever though.

  I love you, Quarry Page. And I know you loved me too. But, if you’re reading this, I’m past tense. You can’t be afraid to move on.

  Live, Q!

  Love.

  In the present!

  Go!

  Like, right now!

  Put this letter down.

  And live.

  I know I did.

  Thank you for an amazing life,

  Mia

  P.S. It’s safe to exhale now.

  My breath left my burning lungs on the rush of a laugh. God, Mia. In all the times I’d imagined the words on those pages, I’d never once considered how I’d feel after having read them. The relief was just as surprising as it was exhilarating. Her note didn’t really say anything I didn’t know, but it still freed me. The last memory I had of Mia alive was her connected to a slew of wires and machines at the hospital. And the one before that, she was seizing in the front seat of my car. But, in that letter, she wasn’t broken and helpless. She was laughing and cracking jokes. Which was exactly how I wanted to remember her.

  Two arms folded around my waist. “You still okay?”

  “Yeah, Rocky, I’m good. You feeling any better?” I asked, tilting my head to wipe a stray tear away with my shoulder.

  “Much,” she replied, squeezing me tight. “I’m getting a tattoo!” she announced. “Right now. Tonight.”

  I dropped my chin to my chest and sighed. Fucking, Mia. Somehow, in only two pages, she’d convinced our little Miss Preppy to get inked.

  “I wouldn’t mind starting on my sleeves,” I said, glancing over my shoulder.

  Moisture was flowing from her eyes, but a wide smile split her mouth. “Thank you. I know you didn’t exactly want to be here, but I needed that.”

  I grinned because, deep down, I knew I’d needed it more. Instead of admitting that, I said, “Come on. Let’s get that virgin skin some ink.” I paused, shoving my letter into my back pocket. Quirking an eyebrow, I said, “You tell your dad I took you to get a tattoo, I’m kicking you out.”

  She hiccoughed a laugh, drying her eyes on the back of her sleeve. “I’ll blame it on Mia. He can’t be mad at her, now can he?”

  “I’m sure she’d be willing to accept the blame even if he could.” I laughed.

  With quick goodbyes and promises of returning for dinner, Liv and I left.

  Three hours later, we headed home newly inked.

  Alone—together.

  Chapter Nine

  Liv

  Three years later…

  “LIV!” GWEN YELLED AS I exited my classroom at the community center.

  I made my way toward her desk. “Would you stop yelling? You’re making the sign language students wish they were deaf. No one wants to hear you shouting all the time.”

  “It’s not all the time! Only when I need you. If you have such a problem with it, maybe you could talk to that rich boss of yours and see if he’ll fund getting the intercoms fixed.”

  I rolled my eyes. She wasn’t talking about Melvin, the man who ran the local community center where I ran the American Sign Language program. She was talking about my other boss. The one who more than likely wouldn’t bat an eye at buying a new intercom system. I, however, refused to ask him for anything else after he’d paid for all new desks and books not even six weeks ago.

  “Nope. No way,” I replied.

  “Fine. Then learn to deal with me yelling.” She shrugged. “Anyway, the new volunteer is waiting up front.”

  Folding my hands together in a prayer, I pleaded, “Tell me he’s better than the last fifteen people I’ve seen.”

  “Can he really be any worse than the lady who brought her parrot to the interview?”

  “God, I hope not. Who would have thought it would be this difficult to find some decent help?”

  “Uh…” she drawled. “It’s a free assistant position. Who would have thought anyone would want that job?”

  “Well, let’s just pray this guy does. He’s my absolute last chance of hiring someone and getting them trained before I leave next week.”

  “Okay. I’ll have a chat with the big guy upstairs. And you hurry up before he gets sick of waiting and decides to find a real job.”

  Smoothing my dress down, I sent up my own prayer. Please, please, please let this guy work. “Give me a minute. I need to grab my phone so I can give him some dates.”

  “I’ll put him in the after-school room.” She closed her eyes, dramatically craned her head back, and began loudly praying to the ceiling.

  “Thanks,” I laughed, snagging the papers from my inbox on the corner of her desk.

  While flipping through the various announcements and memos, I wandered back to my classroom just in time to hear my phone chirping in my purse.

  When I picked it up and saw the two names I’d been added into a group message with, I knew it wasn’t going to be good. It chirped repeatedly as message after message popped up on my screen.

  Quarry: Fuck face?

  Quarry: Limp dick?

  Flint: How old are you again?

  Quarry: Old enough to know that if I can wipe my ass with a hundred dollar bill, I can damn sure dress myself too.

  Flint: As your agent, you’d have to pay me 30% before you even found a shitter.

  Quarry: Good point. You’re fired.

  Flint: Oh please, I’m not that lucky.

  Me: What the hell are you two blowing up my phone for now?

  Flint: Thank God! The voice of reason! Tell him he has to wear a tux tonight.

  Quarry: She’s not telling me shit. She’s gonna tell you that I can wear whatever the hell I want.

  Flint: Liv?

  Me: Please hold. I need to catch up on all 78 messages I missed while I was…ya know…WORKING!

  I quickly scrolled up to find that this argument had started when Quarry had asked if Flint or I would drop off the red Chucks he’d left in his locker at the gym. He wanted to wear them to the On The Ropes Youth Boxing Fundraising Gala we were attending that night. This had resulted in Flint’s telling him that he had to wear a tux. Which had led to Quarry’s refusal. Which had led to Flint’s insulting him for his lack of professionalism. Which had led to Quarry’s rattling off his vast knowledge of curse words in search of just the right one to accurately describe his brother. It had apparently been going on for over an hour. I hadn’t heard Quarry refer to anyone as a unicorn dildo in a while, so I was almost sad to have missed all the
action.

  But not really.

  Me: Okay. All caught up.

  Quarry: So tell him.

  Me: You don’t have to wear a tux.

  Quarry: BOOM! Forget about bringing my Chucks. I’m about to drive over to your house just to rub this shit in your face.

  Me: Not so fast. You don’t have to wear a tux, but you do have to wear a suit. I hung a new Armani in your closet this morning.

  Quarry: Fuck. That.

  Flint: Oh look! The great and powerful Oz agrees with me. How’d that go again, Q? Boom? LOL!

  Quarry replied with a picture of Flint taking a hard right to the chin back in his boxing days.

  Me: You two need to grow up. Q, wear the damn suit. No tie and with your black Chucks. You can take the jacket off after we get there. BOOM! I win. Now, leave me alone. I have to finish up here so I can go get my hair done.

  Flint: Thanks, Liv.

  Me: No prob. Later.

  Quarry: I just cut you out of my will.

  Me: I’ll survive off the money I’ve been swindling out of your bank account.

  Quarry: Ha. Ha. Ha. So funny.

  Me: Who’s kidding? My heels aren’t cheap, and you pay shit.

  Quarry: And here we go again. You aren’t getting a raise!

  Flint: He can’t afford a raise. I went up 2% last month.

  Me: 2% for Flint is my entire salary! What the hell?

  Quarry: No hablo Inglés.

  Me: No seas un cabrón tacaño y dame el maldito aumento!

  Flint: Runs to Google Translate.

  Quarry: Waste of time. They don’t do all the cuss words. I tried.

  Me: Fine. No raise. But you should know, it’s your month to pay our water bill. I will be taking approximately 427 baths, washing 333 loads of laundry, and flushing the toilet 8422 times. I have a weak bladder. Sucks for you!

  Flint: You’re going to bathe over twenty three times a day?

  Me: If I have to!

  Flint: While doing eleven loads of laundry?

  Me: Hey, don’t doubt my commitment. I’m all about sticking it to The Man.