by Lynn Rider
“And now?”
“I still love to read, but once I got back on my feet, I took that inspiration to the dance floor and started choreographing my own dances.”
“Will you show me?” I ask and her cheeks tinge pink.
“Now?”
I shrug. “I’d like to see your dances.”
“They’re rough. You’d be better off going to the ballet and see professional ballerinas performing professional dances put together by real choreographers.”
“I’ll take you there too, but I want to see you dance. And don’t sell yourself short. You were on your way to being a professional ballerina. I don’t know much about the fine arts, but I know that school you went to is the best.”
Her eyes drop to the table. “I haven’t done much with my dances. I can only practice them when I’m alone at the studio because the kids have to learn other routines for the recitals and I don’t want to confuse them.”
“Why wouldn’t you do anything with them?”
“It’s really not my place. Martha and her husband Francis own the studio now. She’s a retired ballerina and he’s a former choreographer. I think they have the recitals covered just fine on their own.” She smiles, but it’s forced.
“If you had your own studio, would you be able to have your say in the dances?”
“Yes, but that’s not going happen. I owned that studio at one time and couldn’t do it.”
“Mia, you were younger and still grieving. I’m sure it was all too much at the time, but with time, would you like your own studio?” Her eyes drop to her wine glass where her fingers tap against its stem as she considers my question. I’m not sure why this is such a difficult answer to find, but there’s something that has her lost in her thoughts, searching for the answer.
“Yes, I would like to open my own studio one day.”
“I’ll help you,” I reply, confidently.
“Thanks, but it’s something I need to do,” she says quietly before clearing her throat. “Do you like to read?”
I frown at the change of subject. “No, it’s sort of a weakness for me.” She watches me, but doesn’t reply. Mia knows when I go back in time, allowing me to do it in my own way. “I could barely read when I met Vic. I’ve always taken to numbers quickly, but words…not so much. Somehow, I’d managed to fool everyone or maybe they just felt pity for me, but I continued to pass each grade hardly able to read a simple written sentence. By the time I met Vic, I’d left home and was officially a ninth-grade drop-out. His sister was a retired teacher and she started tutoring me at the gym each afternoon. I overheard her telling Vic I was reading at a third-grade level. I read okay now…thanks to her, but I guess because of that, I always question comprehension. So, other than short articles, I avoid it if I can.”
“That’s normal, Chance. A lot of people don’t enjoy reading. I’ve heard it said, you’re either a fan of math or language, usually not both.” She shrugs. “I’m not very good at math. Beyond the basic stuff, I’m lost. Once they started putting letters in the problems, I was a goner,” she scoffs and I smile, liking that she never makes me feel less-than because of my past.
She bites into her pizza and a loud crunch explodes through the silence. “I’ll make this date up to you,” I promise her.
She shakes her head. “Make it up? This is the best date I’ve ever been on,” she says, then lifts her pizza into the air and chews.
“Now you’re being funny.”
“No, I’m being serious. I’ve already learned how limited your cooking skills are. Frozen pizza isn’t always as easy as the back of the box makes is sound. You nailed it!” She giggles.
“Girl’s got jokes…”
She giggles harder and I can’t stop smiling.
26
Mia
“So, when can I come back?”
Huh? I just told Audrey that I moved in with Chance in the last five minutes and she’s already starting. Where’s the sisterly concern? The one that should have her saying, why haven’t you called me…I’ve been worried sick…you’re going too fast…be careful with your heart…
“I mean, Chance’s rich, right? I can move in with you guys.”
“Audrey! I’ve lived here for less than a week. Give it a rest!”
“What’s the sense in staying there with him if I’m here? I think you misunderstood. You were supposed to catch him, but he’s supposed to give us both protection—”
“Audrey, you need to shut it!”
“Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s too soon. You need to establish the relationship. Get out and let Paul know you’re a thing—”
“Audrey, I don’t want to talk about Paul!” I seethe, my heartbeat racing faster with the mention of his name. Hell, making this call to Audrey had my heartbeat racing. She’s a reminder of the outside world that I’ve managed to forget while locked up with Chance.
When he left this morning for his first day of training, I knew I had to also break free of the little bubble we’d created for ourselves. I’d called Martha first, asking for my job back. She was all too excited to hear from me, laughing as she said she hadn’t had time to give it away. She cancelled classes this week due to the sporadic power outages in the area, but I can go back next week, never skipping a class.
Then I returned Brittany’s call, feeling guilty for not calling her back before, but promising to meet her for coffee if she could come into town before her shift today.
Finally, it was time to deal with Audrey. You’d think my sister would be first on my list, but if being honest, I wouldn’t have called her at all. I’m still angry with her, but the anxious plea to call her in the voicemails she left had me afraid she would be worried sick. Not once since we’ve been on the phone has she mentioned her concern for me, only her concern for herself.
Some things never change.
“He’s really not that bad of a guy, Mia.” Audrey says, yanking me from my thoughts.
Wait! What? “Audrey, you haven’t talked to Paul, have you?” I pinch the bridge of my nose, taking a deep breath. I took her cell phone, worrying she’d be too weak to go without him…or whatever it was he was feeding her.
“Mia, are you ever going to treat me like an adult?”
“When you start acting like one, I will treat you like one,” I respond dryly, my mind still stuck on the idea that she may have talked to Paul.
“You just do your thing Mia. Play house with that hot ass boxer until you’re in the clear and I’ll be here, shoveling shit and pushing hay from the back of a truck to feed those nasty ass cows.”
“Don’t be an asshole. We both know why you’re there shoveling shit and feeding cows. Being here hasn’t been a walk in the park, Aud. I’ve sunk to a new low by getting on that stage, lost my car, and still owe my credit cards, and Paul, a shit load of money. So, I’ve had my own shit to deal with.”
“You’re right. We both have it bad,” she says solemnly, but I don’t get caught on the tone, rather what was said.
“If you’re looking for some kind of condolences on the life you’ve been forced to live because of your addiction, you can hang it up. There won’t be any, Audrey. I was happily living my life before all this shit.”
“Get off your high horse. Your life was boring and it’s not like it hasn’t worked out for you. You have Chance now.”
“Audrey, I need to go. I have some errands to run,” I say exasperated with this conversation.
“I thought you didn’t have a car?” she accuses.
“I don’t. Chance is letting me drive one of his until I figure out—”
“Must be nice.”
“I need to go Audrey. I’ll call in a few days—” The quiet click tells me she hung up. “Audrey?” I ask, testing the connection before looking at the black screen of my cell phone. “Bitch,” I mumble under my breath as I toss my phone on the bed.
Brittany’s eyebrows finally relax as the sinister grin spreads onto her pretty face. “This is to
o good not to share down at the club. Please let me be the one to tell Gigi that you are living with Chance McKnight!” She shifts in her seat, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder before rubbing her palms together.
I glance around the quiet coffee shop, hoping no one heard her. I hadn’t considered how excited she was going to be when I told her why I’d drifted off the radar since being fired that night. I’ve had a few days to absorb the idea that Chance moved me in, and when we’re alone, there’s no place I want to be more than in his arms. But hearing it aloud, in public, reminds me of the danger I’m putting him in with being associated with me.
“You can’t tell anyone Brit. It’s all kind of new and Chance and I didn’t exactly talk about what we’re calling it—”
“Does it even matter what it’s called? You just told me he came in, packed your shit and basically told you that you belong with him and you’re worried about how to label it because you didn’t talk? Sweetheart, this is one of those times when actions speak louder than words…you’re his. He might as well have pissed on you.” She tilts her head to the side, her smirk daring me to challenge her.
I smile, pushing my apprehension aside. I know she’s right on all accounts, except that pissing part, but she’s forgetting a very important piece that I can’t even bring myself to address right now. I still owe Paul money. Just the thought has the warm coffee rolling uneasily in my stomach.
“I just don’t want anything to jeopardize what we’re building.”
“I can understand that, but when you’re ready to let the cat out of the bag, please let me be the one to open it up down at the club. She’s going to blow a fucking gasket and I want to be there to watch it explode.” She giggles. “And you’re forgiven for not calling, by the way. Just don’t do that shit to me again. I was really worried.”
“I’m sorry, Brittany. Everything just happened so fast and then I got caught up in Chance.”
“That’s the only reason I’m letting you off the hook. I can totally see how that can happen and for the first time since knowing you Mia, you’re happy. It looks good on you.”
I try to fight back my smile, but I can’t and it beams brightly. “I am happy. He makes me very happy.”
“Speaking of happy,” she says, digging in her big bag, “I know we’re not the closest of friends and haven’t known one another for very long, but I’d love for you to come…if you can get away.” She slides a white envelope over the table. I lift it up and open the seal. “I know it’s an hour and half away, but they give each student four tickets and really, I’m pretty pathetic because, well you know my foster parent’s cut me off and I don’t have any friends…other than you—”
“Of course I’ll be at your graduation, Britt,” I interrupt, looking up from the tickets. She blows out a relieved gust of air and smiles. “I’m so proud of you and wouldn’t miss it.” I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.
“Well, friend…what are you going to do with yourself now that you live with Chance?”
“I got my job back at the ballet studio. They’ve cancelled classes for the week because of some trees that snapped with the snow, but Martha was happy I wasn’t gone. She hadn’t replaced me, so I’ll report to work when the studio reopens, just like usual.”
“And Paul?”
My eyes drop to the table, considering my response. “I don’t know what to do. Talking to Audrey is useless. It’s like she comes to terms with where we are in waves. Sometimes she gets it and other times, she’s clueless, saying he’s not a bad guy.”
Her eyes widen. “You don’t think she’s talking to him, do you?”
“I didn’t think so before, but the way she said something that last time we talked, it’s crossed my mind.”
“Have you talked to Chance about—”
“No,” I say forcefully, garnering attention from a nearby table. I shrink bashfully. “No, I haven’t mentioned it. I’m worried it’s trouble he won’t want.”
“He could pay it off. I know I don’t need to tell you this, but your boyfriend is loaded.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not his problem. It’s Audrey’s and I’ll figure out something to get her out of it.”
“I’d give my left tit to have a sister like you. I hope she knows how lucky she is.” She reaches across the table and grabs my hand.
“Audrey doesn’t know how lucky she is to just have the air she breathes. She takes everything and everyone for granted. But I’m all she has, so I’m stuck with her.” I smile sadly, the reality of that sinking in deeper.
27
Chance
“Is that all you got Phillips?” Vic calls out from the side of the ring. “Either your head is up your ass or Chance is on fire today.”
I dance around the ring, waiting for Phillips to retaliate. Saying shit like that is like lighting a match under someone’s ass. No fighter likes to be reminded he’s not pulling his weight. Not me and especially not this punk. He’s a nineteen-year-old little shit that hasn’t earned his place in the gym hierarchy yet, which makes him that much hungrier to earn it. What better way than to knock a titled fighter on his ass? Even if it means fighting dirty to do it.
Phillips weighs in near me, but he’s sluggish muscle and bulk. I’m taller by several inches and muscularly lean, faster on my feet. He grabs me, trying to grapple me to the ground. Vic scolds him from the side, but I twist, breaking free of his hold, my own street fighting instincts not forgotten.
He’s better suited for MMA, but Vic won’t listen to me. Says if I can make the transition from street fighting, using any tactic to stay alive, he can break Phillips of it, teaching him the same discipline. I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Sometimes Vic’s love of boxing and the belief it’s a dying sport has him believing anyone can be a boxer.
Phillips takes a jab, partially connecting to my rib cage before I deflect, taking advantage of the opening when he forgets to set up and I land three solid contacts to his ribs before he can recover.
“Gotta watch him, Phillips!” Vic calls out and I wonder who’s being trained here. Today’s my first day back after my last win in Atlantic City several weeks back. First week is usually an assessment of my performance compared to my upcoming opponent. We build the next ten weeks around that. Vic’s been riding me for hours: cardio, bags, and now sparring. Now his attention seems to have shifted to this kid.
Phillips’ eyes narrow under his headgear; he’s angry and taking it personal and that pisses me off. I don’t have time for his shit. After he and I get done dancing around in this ring, I still have another hour of cardio before I can get home to Mia. I step in, landing a series of punches. Not wanting to hurt him, I knock the wind out of him and watch him fall to the mat, fighting to get it back.
“What I tell you about the block?” Vic climbs between the ropes to help Phillips and I motion for Smith to unlace my gloves. I push my mouth guard out and throw it in the bucket before Phillips has his breath back.
“Where you think you’re going?” Vic yells to me as I step from the ring.
I turn around. “My work here is done.” My eyes flit down to the sour look Phillips is directing at me and smile before looking back at Vic. “I’m going to do cardio, then to the shower, and then drag my ass home to my woman. Cut me some slack, it’s my first day back,” I say grinning as his mouth drops open.
Vic hadn’t asked me today about the mysterious lady in my life. I expected it to be the first question from his mouth after being holed up for a day and half with a snowstorm. When he didn’t mention it, I assumed he forgot about her, but given his expression, he probably thought I’d blown my load and tired of her by now. If it had been anyone other than Mia, he’d be spot on, but she’s different.
His thin lips creep into a grin and he shakes his head. I turn, not waiting around to hear any shit and head for the far wall.
“That kid wants a piece of your ass,” Smith says through a chuckle, handing me a jump rope.
&
nbsp; I look across the gym, taking in the old man hovered down inches from Phillips’ face. I’ve been on the receiving end of that lecture a hundred times over the years.
“He better listen to that old man if he thinks he’ll ever see the day where he brings me down.”
Smith and I chuckle, beginning our cardio. Smith may not compete anymore, but it doesn’t stop the big son of a bitch from training like he does. We both put on our headphones, ready to begin the last hour of torture.
Vic steps in front of me forty-five minutes later. His mouth moving, I see the angry vein in his neck popping, and I read my name on his lips. I yank my headphones off. “You gotta call Edward. He says he’s been calling your cell phone and you’re not answering.”
“Well, no shit,” I mutter, following him to his office. “Did he say anything?” I ask eagerly, knowing today’s the day Michelle is being served. I woke up anxious this morning, but after lying with Mia in my arms, she calmed me, convincing me to stay focused on my training.
“He said he’s been calling your cell phone and you’re not answering,” he says grouchily.
“What’s up your ass?” I ask as we step into his office.
“Phillips. He’s a pain in my ass.” He slides his antique rotary phone across the desk and I shake my head. It’ll take me five minutes to dial his number on that thing. I grab my bag from the floor and dig my cell phone out of it, dialing Edward with the touch of one finger while mixing my protein shake. Vic looks at me in challenge when he sees me doing my end-of-workout routine. I ignore him, going about my business, pouring water into the shaker bottle. I’m either gonna be pissed off when I get off this phone or ready to celebrate, either way, I’m calling it a day.