Anyway, I’ve got a scripture apron to put on. (Don’t ask.) Have fun in Seattle. Wasn’t that whole grunge thing over in the nineties? Or do they still worship Kurt Cobain? Don’t wear too much flannel—it’s not a good look for anyone.
I took my first drop-in contemporary class at Fluidity after my shift at the diner on Thursday. I was exhausted from crabby customers and scripture-themed menu items, and my feet hurt something fierce, but I forced myself to go. I’d never improve my technique if I didn’t practice.
The studio faced a busy street where anyone on the road could look in and see the dancers. I paid my twenty dollars and then stretched while waiting for class to start. The class was a mix of adults and kids in their late teens, both men and women. I hung back but the teacher—an African American woman named Robbie—quickly drew me out. She had that way with all the students, engaging them in the class, and free with both praise and correction. The pressure to be the best threatened to stress me out, but Robbie made the class fun and I couldn’t wait to go back for another.
Afterward, I bussed back to the diner, grateful that I didn’t have to work the late shift. I was on my way to meet Bronwyn and her boyfriend at his place, which was supposedly nearby. Almost kitty corner to the diner, if I had the address right.
I glanced at the address in my phone and then at the building in front of me. It was a gym, large and square with a giant shirtless man wearing boxing gloves painted on one side, a sign proclaiming it Eastside Boxing. I must’ve typed in the wrong address, Bronwyn’s boyfriend couldn’t live here.
Movement down the road drew my attention. A tall man had ducked into a big SUV. He started the car, but didn’t drive away. From a distance, it seemed like he was looking at me. He probably wasn’t, but my heartbeat quickened and I darted inside the gym.
Inside, Eastside Boxing appeared empty. Lights shone over the front desk and down one side of the gym, but it was dark over the boxing ring. Punching bags hung from the ceiling, and there were mats on the floor. The faint hum of voices reached my ears so I planted myself in front of the desk, looking for a bell to announce myself. There wasn’t one.
I texted Bronwyn, asking if I was at the right place.
That’s the place. He lives upstairs. Running late. Be there soon. Just yell for him.
Shoving my phone in my purse, I peered around the gym. There was an upstairs landing at the back of the gym. I headed toward the voices, skirting the ring, my flats noiseless on the mats.
At the back of the gym, a light dangled over two guys fighting on the floor, one clearly winning. Two men stood on either side watching the fight, one tall and brown-skinned, the other short, stocky, and white. Both were wearing gray sweatsuits. I stopped, not wanting to interrupt a class. There was a cry. Blood flew.
I rushed forward. “Stop! What are you doing?”
Three big men all turned their ugly stares to me.
Chapter 8
JAY
I’d reached the point where I actually wanted my marks to have the money they owed Simon. He wouldn’t like that very much. It wasn’t that he didn’t like to get paid, but the longer it took them to pay up, the more interest they owed. At a twenty percent rate per week, that was a lot of extra cash Simon raked in. Plus, the longer he owned them, the more info he could squeeze out of them in the process, which was good for his day job.
Nico Higgins was different than most of my marks. He wasn’t a dealer or some crook that couldn’t get a proper loan because of their record. Nico just couldn’t catch a break. Simon was ticked that the only damage I’d done to Rafael was a broken arm, and then some bruises and broken bones to his gang. My heart hadn’t been in it. It rarely was anymore, but my mind had been occupied with that cop who’d pulled me over, and what he wanted. I hadn’t told Simon about it. After my shoddy smackdown, if he found out I was keeping something from him, I’d be screwed. So, even though Nico was almost a friend, I had to do things properly, with witnesses.
I didn’t expect one of them to be a girl.
“Stop! What are you doing?”
I looked up without letting go of Nico. She was probably around twenty, with hair that tumbled past her shoulders and legs that didn’t quit.
“Okay,” I said to Alfonso and Alonso. “Which one of you geniuses forgot to lock the front door?” They started toward her.
“Hold it,” I said, and they froze. They answered to me on this one, though Simon had only sent them to make sure things were done right.
“Who are you?” I asked the girl.
Her wide eyes didn’t leave Nico’s face, her mouth hung open.
“You know this girl?” I asked Nico.
He shook his head and coughed, blood spraying from his mouth.
“You’ve hurt him,” the girl said.
With a short laugh, I let go of Nico and stood up. I wiped my hands on my pants. “Keep your eyes on him,” I ordered Alfonso and Alonso.
I walked toward her and she didn’t back away. Impressive. My gaze slid from her bare ankles, over the thin tights covering her legs that showed every curve and muscle, to the short skirt. Then higher, to her loose shirt which hung off one shoulder, showing a hint of smooth, pale collarbone. “What are you doing here?”
I brushed a knuckle under my nose. Her eyes met mine and she let out a squeak. I’d probably smeared Nico’s blood on my face.
This girl was beautiful, her dark eyes holding me in place.
She was also terrified. Whatever guts she’d had were used up. She wouldn’t be a problem.
“Get out of here,” I said, then turned back to Nico, who was hunched and trembling on the floor, pressing one hand to his ribs. Beside him, Alfonso and Alonso were having an argument over who was better in the Rush Hour movies, Jackie Chan or Chris Tucker.
I grabbed Nico and hauled him to his feet. He moaned. “You know I have to.”
“Please, Jay.” One of Nico’s eyes had swollen shut and he gasped for breath as if I’d done some internal damage to his lungs. I hadn’t. “I’ll get it, I swear, I just need more time.”
What a disappointment—the begging had begun. And Nico had seemed so promising. I’d almost respected him. I hit him again and he doubled over, wheezing. “You know how this works.” I put my foot on his chest, holding him down.
There was a click, and I turned around.
The girl hadn’t left. She was holding up a cell phone. “Stop now or I’ll call the police. I’ve already taken a picture.”
One girl against three men, and she hadn’t run away. Her voice didn’t even waver. Her threats were cute, but I had to admire her spunk.
“Want me to take care of her?” Alonso asked. He sounded bored, as if he were asking to take out the trash. The girl blanched.
“I’ll do it, I swear I will,” she warned, her finger poised over the screen.
Trouble, that’s what she was. I couldn’t let her call the cops. I motioned to Alfonso and Alonso and they went for her. She backed away, fingers frantically tapping the screen. Then she broke into a run.
Alonso grabbed her before she made it past the boxing ring. Her phone went flying across the mats.
“Let me go,” she yelled, struggling to get away. Alonso dragged her back to me, his hand over her mouth, while Alfonso picked up her phone.
“No, we’re good,” he said, probably talking to a 911 operator. “My little sister. She likes to prank. Yeah. Sorry.”
Nico had started to crawl away and I grabbed onto his chin, forcing him to look at me. “Two more weeks. And that means interest.” I let go and he rolled over, clutching himself.
Alonso pinned the girl’s arms behind her body. She was still struggling. She stopped when I grabbed a towel sitting on a shelf then walked toward her, wiping my hands.
“Wait for me outside,” I said. Alfonso handed me her phone, which I pocketed. Alonso let her go and they both left the gym without looking back.
As soon as they were gone, she bolted. I grabbed her, pulling her
against my chest. “I just want to talk.”
Her eyes narrowed as if she didn’t believe me. I loosened my grip but didn’t let go of her arms. Her bare skin felt cool under my fingers.
I stared at her, this girl who’d interrupted my business. She shivered under my gaze. I would’ve liked to see her body move that way for different reasons.
“Wrong place, wrong time,” I said. “I get it.”
“I don’t think I’m the one in the wrong here,” she replied.
“What about trespassing?”
“The door was open.”
I laughed. The girl was gutsy. It was sexy as hell.
I tilted my head. “Haven’t you heard that saying about curiosity?”
Her eyes were dark brown, framed by impossibly long lashes. Her lips lush and inviting. She was tall, barely shorter than me, and it seemed to give her a certain power, the way she looked at me without flinching.
But I knew who I was. This wasn’t a prelude to something great. She had courage, but this kind of girl would never go for a guy like me. Not after what she’d seen. Not based on the way she was looking at me now, her chin high and her mouth tight, as if she knew she was better than me.
My hands tightened on her skin. “Next time, things might not go so easy for you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning. To be careful.” I let her go. “Not everyone in my line of work is as nice as me.”
She let out a snort of laughter. It was unexpected, and I smiled before I could wipe it away.
“Maggie?”
I blinked at the voice. It was Bronwyn, Nico’s girlfriend, still in her biking spandex. I’d met her on my first visit to Nico. She was the kind of girl I was used to, tough and hard. Jaded.
“You,” Bronwyn said to me, an accusation. Her eyes widened. She rushed past me and the girl. “Nico, baby, talk to me.” She placed her hand gently on his face, turning it to hers. “Where does it hurt?”
I glanced at the girl—Maggie. She was staring open-mouthed at Bronwyn and Nico and the little show they were putting on. She didn’t see me slip past her. I’d become beneath her notice. I quickly scrolled through her phone, deleting the picture she’d taken of me with my foot on Nico’s chest. I put the phone on the front desk and left.
Chapter 9
MAGGIE
Bronwyn pressed a baggie of ice to Nico’s face. He winced, cracking open a cut on his lip which began to bleed again. She tsked.
We were in Nico’s “apartment,” which was one big room above the gym floor. He had a dresser with a fat TV on top, the kind I hadn’t seen since I was a kid at my grandma’s house. There was also a small fridge and a rusty sink. Shelves covered the empty wall space, full of books, baskets, clothes, shoes, dishes, as if he had a whole houseful of stuff crammed into one room. Bronwyn and Nico were sitting on a low bed, and I perched on the corner of a wooden rocking chair. Sitting in these always made me think I should be knitting something, not that I knew how.
“Shouldn’t you go to the hospital?” I asked, grimacing at Nico’s beat-up face, the red cuts marring his light brown skin. It was a mess now but it would look even worse tomorrow.
“No!” they said at the same time.
“No hospitals,” Bronwyn added.
“Can’t afford them.” Nico rubbed his chest. I hoped he didn’t have any broken ribs. Bruises would heal on their own but broken bones could lead to internal bleeding, couldn’t they? Nico needed professional help, not ice and a tensor bandage.
“You should’ve seen your girl here,” Nico said to Bronwyn. They sat close, legs pressed into legs. His hand rested on her knee as she took care of him. It seemed an unconscious thing, as if he didn’t know which parts were him and which were her. I’d been like that with Hank, once.
Bronwyn shot me a look. “What did you do?”
“She stormed right in,” he said. “Told Jay where to go and how to get there.”
“Fat lot of good it did.” I couldn’t believe this was Bronwyn’s boyfriend. He was slightly shorter than her and a bit on the pudgy side, with a round face and an easygoing smile. He wasn’t what I’d pictured at all.
“I especially liked it when you threatened to call the cops.” He laughed. “Classic.”
I frowned. Wasn’t that what you were supposed to do when you encountered bad guys? Too bad it hadn’t worked. I should’ve called before taking the picture.
Bronwyn shook her head. “Don’t get on the wrong side of Jay Thornton. Seriously.” She leaned back and inspected Nico’s face.
Like I needed a warning. I’d already seen what this Jay guy could do with his bare hands.
“He’s not that bad,” Nico said.
Bronwyn gave him a withering look. “You’re an idiot.”
There’d been a moment when Jay held me, his touch like fire, his eyes searing into me, and I didn’t know whether to run or stay and be consumed. Maybe I was just as much of an idiot as Nico.
“He just kicked the crap out of you and ‘he’s not that bad?’” I asked.
Nico shrugged. “Okay, he’s bad. But there are worse out there, believe me. And it’s not like I didn’t know this was coming.”
I leaned back in the chair and began to rock. I felt like Mrs. Win, a lady back in Hillstone who I swear had always been old. No matter what time of day it was, you could find her on her porch in a rocking chair, rocking and watching. That’s what I was doing now, rocking and watching a world I wasn’t a part of. I wondered if Mrs. Win felt like a spectator too.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “Why the beatdown?”
“Money,” Nico replied.
Bronwyn sighed. She left Nico clutching the ice pack and took the stained cloth to the sink. She rinsed it out, blood tinting the stream of water red.
“Nico borrowed some money from a loan shark,” Bronwyn said, her back to us. “Jay’s job is to make sure Nico pays him back.”
I stared at Nico’s purpling face. “By beating you up?”
“A reminder,” Nico said, “of my deadline. Well, missed deadline.”
Yeesh. And Jay had called himself nice. “Is this normal?”
“Borrowing from a loan shark or getting beat up by his enforcer?” Nico asked. He eyed me. “The butt kicking, yes, the borrowing… I don’t know. Not for someone like you.”
I didn’t take offense to that. “Why did you do it?”
Bronwyn returned to Nico, taking up the task of holding the ice baggie. “He needed the money, duh.” She seemed annoyed and I didn’t know if it was with me, with Nico, with Jay Thornton, or the universe in general.
“I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Nico said. Bronwyn’s lips tightened. “I lost my job. It was a little over a year ago now. Haven’t found a decent one since. I already had a loan with the bank that I couldn’t pay off. Lost my apartment. I needed the money and this was the only way I knew how.”
“How are you going to pay him back if you can’t pay back the bank?” I asked.
Bronwyn snorted. “Good question.”
Nico put his head in his hands and Bronwyn rubbed his back.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “You can’t pay so they, what, take the cost out of your flesh?” It seemed almost Biblical. “How will that help?”
“Motivation,” Nico replied through his hands. “A warning when I miss a payment. A reminder that the interest has gone up.”
“Can’t they just tell you…with words…?” Borrowing money from a loan shark in the first place seemed like a dumb idea, but what did I know? I’d never been in dire financial straits before—who knew what I’d do if it came to that. But hurting someone to get the money back, how would that help? It was bad business in my opinion.
Not that anyone cared about my opinion.
“That Jay guy is a piece of work.” I got up from the rocking chair and went to the window that looked down on the gym. It was dark; I could barely make out the ri
ng, but it was easy to remember Jay Thornton’s intense gaze holding me in place. How he’d laughed and the warmth of it had caught me completely off guard. I bristled. It annoyed me that I’d been afraid of such a low-class jerk.
“Jay is the one who set me up with the loan in the first place,” Nico said. “He works downstairs.”
I turned back to him. “I don’t get it.”
“I needed the money, I knew he worked for a loan shark, so I asked him to arrange a meeting with his boss. He didn’t want to. He warned me not to do it but I was desperate. I knew what I was getting into before I signed the contract. I knew Jay would be the one. If you get on the wrong side of a loan shark, trust me, Jay is the guy you want to come knocking. The others aren’t so nice.”
I looked at Bronwyn but her face remained impassive.
“Those other guys with him?” Nico said. “Tweedledee and Tweedledum? They would have put me in a coma.”
“So this loan shark sends Jay because he’s…nicer?” I asked, incredulous.
Nico laughed. “He sends Jay because Jay gets the job done. Tweedledee and Tweedledum don’t get the same results.”
“I feel like I’m in the middle of a noir movie,” I said. “Or something by Quentin Tarantino…” Fraze and I had been caught watching Pulp Fiction once and Dad had grounded us both for a month.
Bronwyn growled. “I hate to break it to you, but this is real life. And getting in the middle of Jay Thornton’s business could have gotten you worse off than Nico.”
An apology rose to my lips but I stopped. I’d been there to meet Nico like we planned. And I was only trying to stop him from getting hurt. Why should I apologize for that?
Nico lay back on the bed, groaning. “Sorry we didn’t show you a better night.”
I grabbed my bag. Clearly they wanted to be alone. “Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault.” It was Jay Thornton and his crazy sweatsuit goons who had ruined this night, and my view of the whole world while they were at it. “It was nice to finally meet you, Nico.”
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