by A. S. Teague
“But what’s the point in dwelling on it? Wallowing in pity, lying around, drinking all day. None of that’s going to change anything. It’s not going to make that prick change his mind. So, why waste any more time?” He pushes against the counter, standing upright, and saunters over to me. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, he tells me. “It’s time I move on, realize that part of my life is over. And, you know, I’m okay with that. I’ve got a good job, I’ve got friends––for the first time in my life, sad as that is––and, baby, I’ve got you. So, yeah. I hate like hell that I’m never going to compete again. But my life isn’t over––not even close. Our life? It’s just beginning. You know?”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. “I’m not sure how you manage to do it, Ryker Hawke. But I swear you do or say something every day that makes me fall even more in love with you than I already was.” I cup his cheek and give him a quick kiss. “I had this speech all worked up in my head, and now, I don’t even need to use it.” I laugh. “You wanna hear it anyway?”
He smiles and nods. “Sure. But, first, let’s eat.”
It’s been a week since the meeting with the president, and although I haven’t been training like before, life has gotten somewhat back to normal. Rebecca is still treating me with kid gloves, and I appreciated her concern, but I’ve told her time and time again that I am fine. She is, however, thrilled that we are no longer spending our evenings in the gym.
I am sparring with Mickey when Tripp materializes beside me.
“Hey, man. I wanna talk to you about something before we get going.” He glances at his watch and then looks me over. “You aren’t going like that, are you?”
Wrinkling my brow, I ask, “Going where?”
He pats me on the shoulder and then looks at Mickey. “Hey, get one of the other guys to finish up.” He looks around the gym and shouts, “Yo, Jake! Come take over for Ryker.”
Jake jogs over to us, and after I’ve finished pulling the striking pads off, I hand them to him, and follow Tripp to the locker room.
I snag a towel from the closet and mop my face with it. “What’s going on?” I ask, still confused.
He sits on the bench and says, “Breccan and I have been doing some talking these last few days.” He averts his gaze.
My mind begins spinning, and I try to figure out what this conversation could be about. As I conjure up all the things they could have been talking about in reference to me, my stomach lurches.
I probably owe Breccan and the gym big time for the training they’ve given me in preparation for my comeback that is no longer happening. I was planning to approach Tripp about it and let him know that I plan to pay them back every penny I owe them—I just haven’t quite worked out how I’ll be able to do so.
Swallowing hard against the bile that’s creeping up the back of my throat, I tell him, “Listen, man. I know I owe y’all. I’ve been trying to figure out how to pay you back.”
He shakes his head. “What? No. I don’t care about that shit. You don’t owe us anything.”
“Of course I do. Training isn’t free,” I argue. Not only that, but I’m not about to take any handouts. It’s bad enough I’ve had to suck it up where Rebecca’s concerned.
He puts a hand up. “Stop.”
I clamp my jaw shut.
He continues. “That’s not what we want to talk to you about.”
“You about to fire me, then?” I ask hesitantly.
He throws his head back and roars, “Fuck no, we aren’t firing you!” He dramatically clutches at his side, howling. “Next to Breccan, you’re our best trainer. Look at fuckin’ Mickey. His ass was on his way out until you stepped in and took over his training.”
I don’t want to tell him that I agree. It would be pompous of me, but he did have a point. Since I started working here, several of our guys have had huge victories over tough opponents.
“Look, man. You’re making me nervous. It’s been a week of disappointments. I guess I’m just waiting for more bad news,” I finally admit in the hopes that he’ll put me out of my misery.
Tripp stands and claps me on the back. “Yeah, I hear that.” He clears his throat and says, “Listen, if the meeting with the board today doesn’t go the way we’re hoping it will, Breccan and I want to know if you’d be interested in buying into the gym with us and becoming a partner?”
When he finishes speaking, my head spins. Just a moment ago, I was convinced I was about to lose my job, and now, Tripp is offering me a chance at advancing.
I imagine my name on the door, directly under Breccan’s and Tripp’s. I’ll finally be able to be proud of my life again. Even though I never gave a shit what people thought of me after my drug scandal, it will be nice to show everyone that it didn’t ruin my life. I’ll be able to proudly talk about my gym and my fighters, not just the gym I work at.
But, more than the pride of being a co-owner of one of the best gyms in the country, I’ll finally be able to provide for my family again.
My mind jumps to Gram and how I’ll be able to move her out of that hellhole we’ve been living in. Being a partner means I won’t have to worry about making a week’s worth of food stretch to two. I can afford to take Rebecca out and not have to skip the water bill for a month. I’ll be able to buy her things for the first time since we got together.
Maybe even a ring.
My face splits into a grin so wide that it makes my cheeks hurt. I stick my hand out at Tripp, and he quickly grasps it.
“Dude, I can’t even begin to tell you how that offer makes me feel. But I don’t have any money. I don’t have any idea what the buy-in would be, but I can almost guarantee it’s more than the twelve dollars in my bank account.”
He waves me off. “Breccan and I discussed that, too. We’ll work something out, man.”
“You talk to Rebecca about any of this?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
He shakes his head. “Nah. She’s got a big fuckin’ mouth. Figured we’d wait until we talked to you first.”
With excitement flowing through my veins, I tell him, “You mind if I go tell her––” I stop mid-sentence when the first part of what Tripp said to me echoes in my head. ”Wait. What do you mean by ‘if things don’t go our way with the board’?” I question.
“At the meeting today. If they turn us down.”
“What fucking meeting?” I growl.
He presses his lips together and then surmises, “Ah, Rebecca didn’t tell you, did she?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and, using my thumb and forefinger, pinch the bridge of my nose. “Fuck. Of course. Rebecca. I swear, man, that woman is going to be the death of me.”
“You and me both,” he mumbles.
“So, what kind of meeting do we have today?” I ask, still fuming. I swear, if it’s Rebecca’s doing, there’s no telling what I’m in for.
“Breccan knows one of the guys on the board. He called for a meeting to see if we can’t get them to override Brown’s decision.”
I shove a hand through my sweaty hair. “Christ!” I bite out. “No one thought that it would be a good idea to tell me about this meeting. You know, since it’s my fucking life?”
He puts his hands up in surrender. “Look, man. Rebecca said she told you about it.”
“Yeah, I know it’s not your fault. But fuck, I don’t understand why she won’t let this shit go!”
I have no interest in meeting with the board. I have no interest in meeting with anyone if it’s in regard to my fighting for the league again.
I stalk to the locker room door and slap it with my hand, causing it to swing open. “Rebecca!” I shout.
Her head pops up from behind her computer screen, and a shy smile forms when she spots me. “I can explain!” she shouts back at me.
Using my arm, I make a wide sweeping motion into the locker room, indicating that I want her to do just that, and she jumps to her feet. Once she’s inside, I let the door go, and it slams shut behind us.
With his hands i
n his pockets, Tripp says, “I’ll, uh, just let you two sort this out.” He ducks around me and, on his way through the door, says, “Meeting’s in an hour downtown. Make it quick.”
Not even bothering to wait on him to leave, I round on Rebecca and growl, “Why can’t you leave it alone?”
Dramatically, she crosses her arms and stomps a foot. “Because you don’t deserve this punishment! You didn’t do anything!”
Even through my irritation at her for meddling, her words warm me, and I know she’s only interested in making things right for me.
I close the distance between us and pull her into my arms. “I know that you think you’re doin’ what’s best for me, doll.” I kiss the top of her coconut-scented head and then lean away from her. “But, baby, I’m really okay with it. Really.”
It’s mostly true. If I never fight again, I’ll be okay with that. But, if the board overturns Brown’s decision, I’ll be okay with that, too.
“You’re a fighter, Ryker. You can’t possibly be happy being told your career is over when it shouldn’t be.”
I shake my head. “Of course I’m not happy about not deciding when to call it quits. That should have been my decision to make. But I’m tired of having my hopes fuckin’ crushed. I’m ready to move on with my life, even if that life doesn’t involve fighting anymore. I promise you I’m at peace with it now.”
She sighs heavily. “I know you are now. But I had Breccan set this meeting up when you weren’t okay. Just go, please?”
Deciding it’ll be easier to go than have to listen to Rebecca if I don’t, I nod. Her face breaks into a broad smile, and she stands on her tiptoes, pecking me on the cheek before reaching around and smacking me on the ass.
“Go shower!” She wrinkles her nose. “You stink!” Her heels clap on the floor, and she makes her way to the door. “Be quick. We gotta go soon!”
“Yes, mother,” I drawl.
She gives me the finger before pushing her way through the door and back to her desk.
Groaning, I grab my duffel from the locker and make my way to the showers.
***
“I’m sorry,” Rebecca says, tracing the outline of my hand with her fingertip. “I really thought they were going to say yes.”
The meeting with the board was much less infuriating than the meeting with Brown, but the outcome was the same. No deal. I had tried my best to not get my hopes up, but despite my efforts, a little glimmer of hope had somehow wormed its way inside me. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t care what the board had to say. That, either way, I would accept their decision and move on. But that is easier said than done.
Clearing my throat of the emotion that’s once again threatening to spill over, I tell her, “Baby, it’s not your fault. Don’t be sorry.”
She releases my hand and turns on her side. “It is my fault. I kept pushing it. I just don’t understand why the board can’t override Brown. What’s the point in the board if they have no power at all?”
We’re lying in her bed, a sheet covering our naked bodies. We opted to skip the gym and do our workout in the bedroom instead.
I shift to my side so that we are face-to-face. As I trail a finger along the curve of her hip, I tell her, “Good question. I’m sure that, if we did some digging, we would see that Brown handpicked all of those members himself. Probably to assure that he would remain in control. Although Breccan’s man seemed like a good guy.”
After the meeting, Breccan’s contact on the board apologized to me for not being able to help more. We shook hands, and right before he turned to leave, he muttered under his breath that he knew that Brown was lying. He just couldn’t prove it. I kept that bit of information to myself, however, not wanting to give Rebecca anything else to get upset about.
“Yeah. I could tell he felt bad about it. Breccan said that, when he talked to him earlier in the week, he’d indicated that he thought Brown was a jackass, too. But I guess, when you’re only one of five, there isn’t much you can do,” she tells me.
I agree with her. “Nothing more to do about it, doll. Time to move on with my life.”
Her face darkens. “He should have to pay for what he did. It’s not right he gets away with it.”
“As Gram always says, he’ll get what’s comin’ to him eventually.”
She huffs. “Just wish it could be me that gives it to him.”
After placing my palm flat on the side of her thigh, I run my hand back up her body. Her skin breaks out into goose bumps, and my mouth twitches. I lift my hand from her shoulder and grab her breast, giving it a light squeeze.
“Definitely real.” I wink at her, and she giggles. “And all fucking mine. That motherfucker wishes he could have what I’ve got.”
A line appears between her eyebrows, and she whispers, “Maybe I could…” before her voice drops off.
“What’s that, baby?” I ask.
She quickly shakes her head. “Nothing. Hey, tell me about Tripp’s offer today.”
I recap our conversation for her.
She nods. “Mm-hmm. That sounds good,” she mumbles, staring over my shoulder.
“Rebecca?” I wave my hand in front of her face.
She blinks at me twice.
“Whatcha thinking about?”
“Revenge,” she mumbles, her eyes twinkling.
I laugh. “Remind me to never get on your shit list, then.”
“Don’t screw over anyone I love and you won’t have anything to worry about,” She assures me. “So, Tripp tell you how much it’ll cost to buy into the gym?” she asks, changing the subject.
I’m not sure which I’d rather talk about. Both her getting revenge and the cost of my future seem to be equally frightening.
On the way to the meeting with the board, I tried broaching the subject with Tripp, but he skirted the issue, instead saying we would discuss it later. His avoidance didn’t bode well for me, but I pushed it out of my mind, deciding that it didn’t matter what the cost. I’d find a way to make it happen.
“Nah, not yet. Said we’d talk about it next week.”
She pushes my shoulder, rolling me onto my back. Then she throws her leg across my body and straddles me. With her hands flat against my chest, she leans forward and, in one swift motion, rocks back onto my cock, taking me all the way inside.
A deep rumble escapes my chest, and my back arches.
A sly smile on her face, she murmurs, “Yeah, let’s talk later.”
Stepping off the elevator, I take a deep breath and straighten the white button-down shirt I’m wearing. I’m nervous, but when I picture Ryker’s face the day he came home from the meeting and told me that his career was over, I straighten my spine.
“May I help you?” the receptionist asks warmly, snapping me out of my trance.
I clear my throat. “Yes. I’m here to see Mr. Brown. Rebecca Toler. I believe he’s expecting me.”
She nods and then looks at the computer screen. “Ah, there you are,” she murmurs before picking the phone up and pressing a button. After a pause, she speaks into the receiver, “Mr. Brown, Miss Toler is here.” After replacing the phone in the cradle, she looks up. “He’s running a few minutes behind. Have a seat.”
I settle into one of the chairs she pointed to and pull my compact from my purse. I check my makeup in the tiny mirror and reapply my lipstick. I’m applying one more layer of gloss when I hear my name.
The slimy voice that calls me causes the hairs on my neck to stand up, but I swallow quickly and stand, smoothing out the short skirt I’m wearing. Strutting over to the open door in four-inch heels, I force a smile to my face.
“Mr. Brown, how are you today?” I ask loudly.
“Better now that you’re here,” he answers, gesturing for me to enter his office.
My mind screams at me to turn back, but I ignore it and continue inside, taking a seat in one of the plush chairs across from his large desk.
Brown pauses beside me and runs a hand across my sh
oulder, gently sifting his fingers through my hair. My skin crawls at the contact.
Once he’s settled behind his desk, he leans forward and asks, “So, I was mighty surprised when I got your e-mail requesting a meeting. You interested in coming back to work for me?”
I cross and uncross my ankles, trying to get comfortable. “Oh, I’m too old to be one of your girls now, Brown. I do miss it sometimes though. Saw Dezzi and Trin not too long ago. Made me a little nostalgic.” I smile wistfully.
I never regretted leaving when Breccan did, but there were times I missed the girls I’d formed close friendships with.
“You’re welcome back any time, Rebecca. I know everyone in the organization misses you. I know I do.” He smiles, and it reminds me of the Grinch.
His heart’s two sizes too small, too.
Shaking my head, I tell him, “You’re too kind. Always have been. But that’s not why I’m here.”
He stands and comes to the front of his desk, propping a hip on the corner. “So tell me what you needed to see me so badly for.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and bite the inside of my cheek hard enough that tears form. Slowly, I lift my lids and look up at him through wet lashes. “Ryker Hawke,” I tell him.
His face hardens. “What about him?” he sneers.
A sob escapes my lips. “Did you know that he chased me for weeks?”
Brown wrinkles his brow and shakes his head.
I sniff. “Yep. I resisted as best I could, but he’s charming.”
Dryly, he replies, “Yes, I can see how he would have a certain, appeal.”
“He swore to me that he never did the d-drugs,” I stutter before placing a hand on his knee.
He looks down, but quickly, his gaze bounces back to mine.
“You know me. I don’t tolerate that kind of shit. So he swore it, and I believed it. What a fool I was though.”
His eyes narrow, and he asks, “What changed your mind?”
“Well, you did, of course,” I reply instantly.
“Me?” he asks incredulously.
I nod vigorously, causing my breasts to bounce. His eyes follow the motion.