Sweatpants at Tiffanie's

by Pernille Hughes

  ‘So we don’t need to worry…?’ Natalie asked tentatively.

  ‘Your job is super-safe, Nat. I’ll let myself go before I set you loose. I promise.’ Tiff held her gaze until Natalie nodded and relaxed.

  She started in the sparring hall. Mike let her go by herself. It still smelled of lingering sweat, but also fresh paint and varnish. Flipping on the lights, she saw the ring back in centre stage. It looked magnificent. As intended, the refurb made the room look sleek and up to date. Tiff walked a clear straight line directly across the hall to the ring and laid her hand flat on it, as the heart of the gym. This place was hers. It had given her a home when she needed it, it was her future too and she would fight tooth and nail to protect it. No-one was going to take it from her. It felt like a pledge.

  ‘Ahem.’ Engrossed, she hadn’t heard the footsteps behind her. She turned to see a familiar, if unwelcome, figure loitering halfway across the floor.

  ‘Can I help you, Ron?’ she asked. Mike stepped into the room and leaned against the far wall, arms crossed. He had her back.

  ‘Tiff.’ He gave her a curt nod. ‘Heard about the accident.’ She cocked her head at him. Perhaps this was his attempt at small-talk.

  ‘It wasn’t much of an accident, Ron. It was an attack. Broken ribs, broken nose, eye trauma and extensive bruising.’

  ‘Yes, right. Well, good to see you’re on the mend.’ He nodded at her body. She looked a bruised mess and her sleep was filled with nightmares and flashbacks. Not that she wanted to discuss it with Ron, and judging by his awkwardness nor did he. ‘The gym’s looking all right,’ he said, pained to say it.

  ‘Well, it’s taken some work and some repairs.’ They stood in silence for a moment. Tiff broke it. She had things to do; Mike hopefully. Inane chat with Ron wasn’t on the list. ‘Is that why you came, to admire the changes? Go ahead, then let yourself out.’ She was out of manners where he was concerned.

  ‘Actually, there’s something I came to discuss.’ He cleared his throat. ‘My plans fell through. With my club. The supplier went bust.’

  ‘I know. Mine too.’

  ‘Oh. Right. Bastard. Well, I’d rented my unit on a short-term lease to start with, and the landlord’s got cold feet due to the glitch in the cashflow.’

  ‘That’s unfortunate.’ She was trying to be civil, but honestly she wanted to drag him by his hairy ear and hurl him out of the door. She saw his expression pull together.

  ‘So I’ve become aware most of my lads plan to come here, and on that basis, I’m not going to have much of a club, am I?’ Tiff waited for him to reach his point, which made him more irate. ‘Look, I’m not going to have a gym or a job. I won’t have a business.’

  Finally Tiff bit.

  ‘Ron, you call them your lads, but you pinched them from here. Aside from them being a disloyal bunch who you shouldn’t count on, I can’t see how you think this warrants you any sympathy. You stabbed me in the back. You set up a competing club and took the clients with you. You didn’t give a stuff what happened to me.’

  ‘I made you an offer to rent this club and you turned it down,’ he said indignantly. Apparently she had brought his actions on herself.

  ‘I considered your offer and decided it was best for the whole business to follow my own plan, which still made room for you.’

  ‘Well, the lads would have had nowhere to train while you did all of your alterations,’ he huffed.

  ‘Yeah right, like that was your motivation. It was only two weeks, although admittedly it’s become three. You could have gone on holiday in that time. But that’s not what this is about, is it?’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘What are you here for Ron?’ She was going to make him spit it out.

  ‘You need a coach.’ He pulled himself up to his tallest, which wasn’t very, and puffed out his chest. Tiff wondered whether he had brought any humble pie with him at all.

  ‘Actually Ron, I have a coach.’ She gave Mike a super-cheesy grin. Ron looked behind him, then back at her, more layers of mardiness setting on his face as he came to understand.

  ‘Well, an assistant coach then. He can’t do all the sessions.’

  ‘Mike can pick his own assistant.’

  ‘I know these lads. I know this club and the job.’ His face was puce now, little bits of spit flying from his mouth as he argued.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Tiff, needing clarification, ‘are you asking for your job back?’

  ‘I figure you owe it to me.’ Ah, not asking, demanding.

  ‘Really? How’s that?’ she choked. He was serious.

  ‘Years of service to Blackie.’

  ‘None to me.’ Good god, she thought, he must have thought he could walk in, accuse her of damaging his business and walk back out reinstated. He must think her desperate or stupid, and as far as Tiff believed, she was neither.

  ‘I have no clients now. I can’t keep my business afloat.’

  ‘That was the risk you took, Ron. That’s the risk I’m taking now. That’s business, I believe and what was it you said to me? Oh yeah, may the best man win.’ Tiff leaned back against the ring, resting her outstretched arms along the edge. ‘Ron, to not waste your time, I’m going to be completely straight with you; I’m not re-employing you. I want staff who are trustworthy and reliable. You’re neither. I can wish you good luck with your club though; everyone needs some luck with a new venture, and for what it’s worth, I think having two boxing clubs in town would be good; we can spar against each other. But Ron, there’s no role for you here.’

  Ron looked like he was about to explode.

  ‘I might owe you some thanks however, Ron. You made me think I wasn’t capable of running this place, that my ideas were ridiculous. Seeing you here now, I guess I proved you wrong, which gives me no end of confidence. And as thanks for that, I’m going to do you a good turn – although you might not think so at first. You hate change as much as I did. You think it’s safer. But it isn’t. Change is healthy and exciting and can bring you so much more happiness than you ever thought. So if you like, consider me not taking you back a favour.’ She sincerely doubted he ever would. ‘I gift you the joy of change, Ron.’ Though her sentiments were sincere, she couldn’t resist returning the smirk he’d given her in the pub.

  Ron on the other hand virtually had steam coming out of his ears. He turned to Mike, expecting him to talk some sense into her, but he simply shrugged and said ‘She’s the boss.’

  Ron stormed out without another word.

  She stayed where she was, eyes shut, focusing on her breathing, centring herself as Fliss had taught her to do in the Pilates class, then growled loudly ‘What an arse,’ which made her feel so much better.

  ‘Man, you were badass.’ Mike was looking at her moony-eyed. ‘I’m going to need a minute before I can walk…’

  Chapter 35

  Wishing she really was badass, Tiff headed for the upper floors trying not to relate the space to the attack, but it was difficult. She remembered being chased up the stairs, her eyes screaming in pain, she remembered stumbling through the studio trying to breathe through blood.

  She felt Mike’s hand take hers and was grateful for it. The daylight, as it streamed through the studio into the corridor, made all the difference to her being able to walk the hallway again. She paused by the poles, running her hand down the nearest.

  ‘Want to demo your skills for me?’ Mike whispered into her ear. He felt her shudder. ‘Ah, god, sorry. Too soon?’

  She turned to give him a small smile. ‘That was a tremble at you being close, muppet.’ His pupils dilated at that, and he pulled her by the hand away towards the top floor. The tour was obviously on a time-line.

  Her bedroom door was closed. Given they all knew it was where she’d been sleeping, she supposed someone had shut it for privacy. Letting the door swing open it looked exactly as she’d left it; the duvet cast aside on the mat bed, her bed-socks curled up in little balls where she’d
hastily deposited them. Only her bag had been touched, where Mike had collected her some clothes. It was far too late to get embarrassed about him rooting through her smalls.

  Tiff had no desire to spend significant time in there again. The sooner she cleared her things out the better, and the sooner it could be returned to some practical use. Cogs now turning, she considered the room again. She tilted her head as she looked at the right-hand wall that was adjacent to the cleaner’s store. That wall could go and it’d be a bigger, more useful space. The cleaning kit could shift elsewhere.

  ‘Shelby!’ she yelled down the corridor. They waited a while and then, preceded by an unfamiliar ding, the lift doors parted majestically, revealing an unimpressed Shelby.

  ‘You rang, ma’am? It was Nat, not me, who offered you a cuppa.’

  ‘Small change of plan, babes.’

  *

  Natalie had been right; people weren’t put off by the bad publicity. Two weeks after officially opening, it was still early days but they were coming. Tiff got a thrill with every new member to join, ecstatic when the initial classes started hitting their quotas.

  Once word got around that ‘The Assassin’ was the new trainer, there’d been a surge of signups to the boxing club and most of the old group had miraculously reappeared. To Tiff’s delight, Amina had asked if she could train to be Mike’s assistant coach. Amina took no prisoners in the ring. She was totally into equality; she’d aim to whoop anyone, regardless of age, gender or orientation. She was going to be a great asset.

  Eyes recovered and improving on the physical front, Tiff was relishing having a thriving shiny hive of activity around her. Much as she loved her numbers, this definitely beat doing the books. Ribs allowing, she always took the stairs up and down with a skip in her step, and she always broke into a grin as she passed Shelby’s.

  What had once been a clandestine bedroom and the adjacent cleaning cupboard now housed a serene treatment suite, tastefully decorated and offering the latest therapies. It was one of her ideas that Tiff was most proud of. It was a USP and a heartfelt thank you wrapped up in one.

  Shelby had stood so still when she’d outlined her idea, Tiff wasn’t even sure she was breathing. Mike had squeezed Tiff’s hand in encouragement. He didn’t think it was beyond bonkers. Shelby stepped into the room and took a good look around, giving little away, appearing very business-like.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ Shelby asked.

  ‘What, other than customers having treatments?’

  ‘No, I got that bit, but what’s the deal? Would I be staff? I don’t mind being staff,’ she qualified, lest Tiff thought her ungrateful. ‘I just want to know from the start.’

  Tiff looked at her long and hard.

  ‘Shelby, I love you, but the thought of you being staff is a living nightmare. I was more thinking of you being your own boss. How about you get the first six months rent-free while we both set up and bring the customer base in. You’ll be as much a part of that effort as the rest of us. Thereafter we agree a rent and the rest is yours. You can call it Shelby’s at Tiffanie’s, or whatever you want if you need the distinction, but it’d be your business to run and own.’

  ‘Do I have to wear lycra?’

  ‘God no. You can stick with a beautician uniform. House colours might be nice though.’

  ‘How about reversed – black with blue trim?’

  ‘Done.’

  ‘And I get first dibs on any future gyms you open?’ Shelby demanded, as if this was a full- blown negotiation and she was Alan Sugar’s love-child. Tiff gaped at Shelby envisaging more gyms. ‘Oh come on babe, go big or go home right? Global domination or damnation…?’ Tiff was still stunned. ‘Jesus, am I the only one around here with any imagination?’

  ‘Shelby. Do you want it?’

  Shelby took Tiff’s hand, and the three of them stood there looking at a cupboard like overawed kindergartners.

  ‘It’s a dream come true, Tiff,’ she said squeezing her hand. ‘I love you too, babes.’

  The ‘Closed’ sign now hung askew on its hook, the proprietress having granted herself a later start for two mornings a week. It was great having your best friends working under the same roof, but Tiff found Shelby’s later morning helpful when it came to getting admin done. She had some rather important paperwork to handle now. She had her nose in it as she walked into a wall of muscle in the empty bar.

  ‘I was just looking for you,’ she said.

  ‘I was just looking for you,’ Mike replied, gently sweeping her off her feet and sitting in one of the seats, Tiff on his lap. The smell of new leather wafted up around them. ‘I’m always looking for you.’ That earned him a kiss. Aside from the full complement of kit, the only thing not fully operational was the bar, as the licence was still pending. In the meantime, the space had opened as a café. In the earlier hours of the day, the quieter hours, it made a useful venue for Mike and Tiff to curl up in a chair for some mutual lip exercise. Like just then.

  ‘I’ve got these to show you.’ She waved some estate agent particulars in front of his face. They were looking for somewhere, together, close by.

  ‘My thing is way more serious,’ he said. That didn’t bode well.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well,’ he said gravely, ‘I’m not sure if you realise, but now you’ve got a wonky nose—’

  ‘I do NOT have a wonky nose,’ Tiff said, outraged. She swatted him with the particulars.

  ‘Sorry, now you’ve got a mildly kinky nose,’ Mike conceded, clamping his arms tighter around her waist, ‘they fit together better when we kiss. How lucky is that?’ He kissed her nose for good measure.

  ‘So very lucky,’ she said.

  ‘I like it.’

  ‘Not so fussed myself.’ Three weeks on from the attack, Tiff still wasn’t used to seeing the new shape of her nose.

  ‘We could have them reconstructed at the same time. His ‘n’ hers nose jobs.’

  ‘How very heat magazine.’

  ‘If we got them done in LA, stayed at the house, we could sell the spread to OK.’ He nuzzled her neck. It made her quite swoony. God, she was lucky to have him. They didn’t stop until Shelby slapped Mike on the head, en route to her salon.

  ‘Sucking face isn’t good for custom, you know. Grosses people out.’ She didn’t wait for an answer.

  ‘Was that it? The kisses?’ Tiff asked, ‘Was that your thing to out-serious my thing?’

  ‘Those were pretty serious kisses,’ he said, ‘but I came bearing business gossip.’

  ‘Spill.’

  ‘My old club in Kent is for sale. The building’s smaller, but the setup is quite similar. The old coach is retiring, the assistant is ready to move up.’

  She looked at him and waited. He was almost bouncing with the information, so the wait was short.

  ‘I know this place only just opened, and there’d be some travelling needed for the refurb, but I thought you could do the same there as you’ve done here. The next link in your chain.’

  Tiff looked around. She loved this place. There were still things to finish – she still wanted that balcony for starters. She’d assumed she’d have some time to settle in, adapt to this change, but then, what was Gavin’s quote regarding opportunity? Nope. She couldn’t remember, but she had the gist.

  Only, there was the tricky issue of her having used all the monies.

  ‘I’ll lend you the dosh,’ Mike went on. ‘You don’t need to go to the bank.’

  He knew her well enough to understand her aversion to banks. But now she needed to tell him she didn’t want his loan.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Mike, you’ve been coaching for a couple of weeks now, and I think we need to revise and adjust.’ Confusion crossed his face. He slowly nodded for her to go on. ‘I don’t want you to be my coach anymore.’

  She watched him pull away and the hurt ride across his face. ‘Right.’ He tried to sound like he understood, but he really didn’t.

  ‘
Or rather, I don’t want you to only be my coach anymore. Don’t make it a loan. Make it an investment. Be my partner, Mike. In this gym and the Kent gym if we can get it, and any future clubs.’ Now she held her breath and waited.

  That smile she loved, the one that did funny things to her, resurfaced on his gorgeous wonky face.

  ‘That sounds like a plan,’ he said.

  Tiff smiled a very smug smile.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘I totally out-serioused you.’ He made to tickle her, then when she squealed ‘Ribs!’ diverted to a deep kiss.

  ‘If we’re going to be partners,’ she said sternly, ‘we need to be straight with each other. Totally straight.’

  He tucked her hair over her shoulder and nibbled her neck.

  ‘Totally. Always.’

  ‘Good,’ she said, kissing him gently to seal the deal. ‘Tell me where that bloody key is hidden.’ He threw back his head and laughed, then dug around in his pocket, almost spilling her onto the floor, before holding up a solely-stocked key ring.

  ‘It’s been here since that night after Blackie’s funeral. I … well I didn’t want anyone else to find it.’

  ‘What, after ten years, you thought someone was going to chance on it?’

  He nodded slowly, eyes fixed on hers. ‘Can’t be too careful. Plus it meant I could see you.’

  ‘Pff! You didn’t even like me after Blackie’s funeral.’ Rubbing the key between her fingertips she remembered how snarky they’d been towards each other, and her shouting at him. Then she pushed it into his palm and closed his fingers around it. It was his key, to the gym and to her.

  Mike gave her a heart-melting smile, one that made it unimaginable that they could ever have been anything but meant for each other. ‘Angel,’ he said, pulling her closer, ‘even when you’re shouty you’re impossible not to like.’ He kissed her neck bringing on the swoony all over again, before whispering, ‘And seeing you in your PJs I was already wondering whether I could take you for breakfast.’