The place was anything but glamorous, with old bags hanging from the rafters wrapped in layer after layer of duct tape, to the point that you couldn't tell if the bag was really intact any longer, or if the guy was just punching a giant column of tape. It made Mickey's gym from the Rocky movies look shiny and well maintained, but it still put out some of the best boxers and MMA fighters in the area.
My client was the reason why. He was sitting on one of the benches that surrounded the fenced octagon cage in the corner. A great trainer, he was also an astute businessman, who knew both the good and the bad side of how to work contracts and fights in a sport where, if you dug hard enough, you tended to find lots of Sicilian names in positions of power, although there were also lots of Russians, Latins, and others in certain areas.
"Hey Greg," I said, sitting down on the bench next to him. "How can I help you out today?"
"Nothing too serious," Greg replied, his eyes never leaving the cage. "Kid up there has a fight coming up in a month. His opponent is pretty dangerous, and the odds right now are not in our favor."
"Okay, so you want a scouting report on him?" I asked jokingly. "Thought you guys swapped tapes nowadays."
"Not a typical scouting report," Greg replied. "Instead, I was thinking maybe you could pay his gym a visit, and.... verify a rumor I've heard that his opponent has a bad left knee. Nothing too serious, especially with the magnitude of this fight, but something that might make him a step slow on his takedowns, and a bit more vulnerable to low kicks."
"That sort of info would be very helpful to a trainer, especially if his fighter has a pretty good kick," I said. "What's the pay?"
"Not a lot," Greg admitted. "Say, ten percent of our winnings on the action, and of course you can put your own money in if you want."
I shook my head. "Greg, you know I don't gamble like that. You know I normally handle more high profile stuff than this, but I'll be happy to give this guy a visit. You got his information?"
"Of course," Greg said, reaching inside his shorts and pulling out an envelope. "It's on this SD card. Also a small gift, thanks in advance."
I felt the envelope, and felt both the data card and what was most likely a prepaid credit card, one of the methods of payment I preferred. "Mind if I take care of it this weekend? I can give you a call Monday if you like."
"Probably better to do it tomorrow, I've heard this guy doesn't like to do gym work on weekends," Greg replied. "But Monday is great. Like I said, this fight has some serious implications. There's going to be guys from Vegas at the fight, and they've been giving us a few calls. If my boy up there can get an impressive win, he's got his ticket to the big leagues all ready to go. So, thanks man. Say, you want to get some work in? Just take it easy on the kid, he's no match for you."
I chuckled and stood up. "No thanks, Greg. You know my style doesn't match up well in the cage." Greg nodded his head in agreement, then offered his hand to shake. We shook hands, and I was on my way.
* * *
Mark
Heading towards the nearest RIST station, I made a snap decision, and took the University train instead of the Park train. Getting off, I headed back to the hospital, checking the ER. Dr. Green was still on duty I saw, although he looked like he was getting ready to leave. I melted into the background, and shadowed Green as he left to head to the parking lot. When he got into his car, I noted the license plate, and watched as he drove away in a cut-rate Lexus.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed a number from memory. "Hey, Luka? Yes, it's the Snowman. Listen, can you do me a favor and run a license plate for me? I'll text it to you. Yes, yes, I know you owe me one, and this makes us even. Just need his address. Text it when you get it. Thanks."
Chapter 10
Sophie
After our late lunch date, I didn't see Mark until the original day we had planned, Tuesday. Friday was packed with classes, while Saturday I worked a double shift at the tavern, and Sunday a double shift at the hospital. Monday Mark said he was busy with work all day, so I used the day to rest and just go to my morning class.
Sunday was the strangest shift I had ever done at the hospital. I had been dreading the shift, knowing it was sixteen hours with at least eight of them being with Dr. Green. Boy, was I in for a shock when I came in.
First of all, Dr. Green was wearing an eyepatch when I came in, one of those temporary ones that we give out to patients who have had an eye injury. "What happened?" I asked Brad, who was manning the front desk.
Brad shook his head. "He says he walked into a door frame and smacked his eye a good one, but everyone knows he's full of it," Brad whispered, both of us taking glances to make sure Dr. Green wasn't nearby. He was safely across the ER in one of the exam areas, so Brad continued.
"He came in Friday night late, and they did X-rays on his head. If he ran into a door, he must have been doing it at a full on sprint, because he's cracked the hell out of his orbital bone. I think half the reason he has the eyepatch on is so that he doesn't freak out the patients with a swollen shut black eye."
"Jesus," I whispered, taking a closer look. On the edges of the bandage holding the eyepatch on his face, I could see some of the telltale yellowing of a fading scar. "Any guesses as to what happened?"
"None at all," Brad replied. "He won't talk about it with anyone."
Our conversation ended, but for the rest of the day Green did everything he could to avoid me, passing me off to one of the other attending physicians, something he had never done before. When my duties required that I talk with him, he was almost painfully polite, never once using any foul language, nicknames, or even derisive tones. Instead, it was always "Miss White," and then passing me back off to the other doctors as quickly as he could.
Even the nurses and other staff noticed Green's odd behavior. "What the hell did you do to him, use your Jedi mind tricks or something?" Gary, one of the male nurses, asked about halfway through the shift. "I've never seen him act this way, and I've been here almost as long as he has."
"I didn't do anything," I said, a little weirded out myself. "Seriously, I've been going to class and working at the Shamrock the past three days."
"Well, whatever you did, keep it up," Gary said, as he and I helped a patient into a wheelchair for going upstairs. "He's been nicer to everyone this shift, and even the patients are complaining less. Aren't you, Mr. Teague?"
"Go blow yourself," the patient, an old alcoholic who was in at least three times a month, usually with something connected to his kidneys or liver, snapped. "Fuckin' hospital people and your damn tests. Just stick me with the same damned IV you gave me last time and let me relax in peace!"
"Now Mr. Teague, you know I can't do that," Gary joked, giving me a wink. While Gary didn't often work with the patients, he had the uncanny ability to let almost any harassment or bad treatment from the patients just roll off of him. It had earned him perhaps the only semi-respectful nickname Green ever gave anyone, Duck. As in, water off a duck's back. "Pushing you upstairs for scans makes my life worth living."
By Tuesday, the mystery had gotten deeper, leaving the entire ER buzzing with rumor. Claiming a personal matter, Dr. Green took a sudden leave of absence with the hospital and got out of town, not telling anyone where. As I waited inside my apartment for Mark to pick me up for our date, I just set aside the whole thing, and thought about Mark.
Even though I hadn't seen him since the previous Thursday afternoon, we talked every day over the phone, or sent text messages to each other. We'd spent an hour on Sunday morning just talking, most of the time on speakerphone as we both went about our breakfast routines, just talking about the best places to get pizza in town. It was great, and the more we talked, the more I realized that not only did I like Mark, I was starting to fall for him. It scared me, honestly, but thrilled me at the same time.
I was tapping my foot on the carpet, dressed in my second best dress, a blue sleeveless one piece that stopped just above my knees. I could make it d
ouble as a cocktail dress if I wanted to by adding some accessories, but tonight I wanted it more casual, so I left them off. I was just checking my earrings for the fourth time when the doorbell rang. I checked my peephole and saw Mark standing out on the narrow concrete walkway. He was dressed up just a bit, in black chinos paired with a red long sleeved shirt that hid his impressive physique. Still, he looked devastatingly masculine, and my heart sped up just a bit.
"Just a second," I called through the door, turning to the small mirror next to my coat rack to check my appearance. I couldn't tell if I looked good or not, but at least my makeup didn't make me look like a clown in my opinion, so I opened the door. "Hey."
Mark's immediate response was both funny and touching. He said nothing, just looking at me with his funny little smile, his eyes going up and down my body while I stood there, fidgeting just a bit. "What?"
"You look beautiful," he answered, "and I wanted to take a moment to remind myself of that. Seriously, you look amazing in that dress. Shall we?"
We had decided on a classic date, going out to a movie. In our phone calls and text messages, we found that we both enjoyed the classic movie theater experience, and agreed to go to a recent blockbuster neither of us had seen yet.
"We'll probably throw out half of this," I said as I took a handful to munch on, "but it's just part of the tradition. Big popcorn, big drinks."
"And both of us doing extra cardio tomorrow," Mark whispered. "But you're right, it's a huge part of tradition. When I was a kid, I sometimes replaced the popcorn with candy though. Two big movie theater sized Reese's Cups, or maybe the Reese's Pieces."
"Me too," I giggled, taking a sip of my soda. "Except mine was Junior Mints, or Mounds. Now though, no way. Maybe I'm just growing up, but all that sugar just doesn't do it for me any more though."
The movie started, and we both were soon engaged in the action on screen, enjoying the pretty mindless plot. You knew within twenty minutes who the love interest was, the problem and the solution. Still, it was an enjoyable movie, made even better when Mark put his arm around my shoulder and lifted the arm rest between us. Snuggling against his strong chest, we balanced touches and bodily contact with watching the movie, until by the time the end credits rolled, my body was humming.
"Great movie," Mark said, his hand still resting on my shoulder, rubbing in slow, soft circles. "You ready to go?"
"Not really," I said, reaching up and kissing him. Our tongues met, a moan coming from deep in my chest as his hand brushed against my breast. His fingers molded against the curve, and we soon found ourselves making out like a pair of high school students, until a polite cough behind us interrupted us.
"Sorry guys, but I need to clean up," the staff member said, holding up his trash bag and broom. I felt myself blushing, but Mark just nodded calmly and helped me to my feet, his hand resting casually on my lower back. He handed the staff our half eaten tub of popcorn and led me out of the movie theater, acting for all the world like he owned the entire cinema complex.
Outside, we chatted about the movie for a bit as we walked across the parking lot, and Mark held the door of his Mercedes open for me. Coming around to the driver's side, he settled in before looking at me. "Back to my place?"
I could hear the question in his voice. If I said no, he'd accept it, while at the same time if I said yes, I'd be in for another experience I'd never forget. The decision was an easy one. "Your place it is."
* * *
Mark
It took a while for Sophie to adjust to my condominium overlooking the Park. After going and putting away my wallet and keys, I found her still standing in the living room, looking around. "This place is amazing."
"Thanks," I said honestly. "It took a lot of work and even more luck to get it. But I'm not thinking of stopping here."
"Oh?" Sophie said, breaking her temporary paralysis. "You plan on buying the penthouse or something?"
I laughed and went over to the glass door that led out to my balcony. Opening it, I let the night air in, enjoying the light chill. "Take a look," I said, waving Sophie over. "What do you see?"
"The Park, mostly," Sophie said, stepping outside and putting her hands on the railing. Her body was slightly bent over at the waist, giving me a wonderful view of her ass as she started swaying hypnotically back and forth, and I missed part of her next words. "...and of course the lights. Why do you ask?"
I pried my eyes away from the view of Sophie's posterior to lean on the railing next to her. I looked out at the city, and sighed. "I see a city that screams out, exploited by those who take advantage of it. I see pimps, hustlers, drug dealers and whores, all scrabbling and fighting amongst each other while not realizing they are being held down by those with real power, the real crooks who pull the strings around here."
Sophie turned to look at me, her green eyes searching my face. "You have a pretty negative point of view of things.”
"Sorry, don't mean to sound all down or anything," I said, "Especially after such a great date. But it is how I see this city. Anyway, my eventual goal is to go someplace where I'd not be afraid to raise a family, have my children."
"So you're thinking of having children?" Sophie asked, quirked her eyebrow. Those green eyes never left my face, and I stood up, returning her gaze.
"When the right woman agrees," I said, running my hand down her back. The feel of her back through the silky fabric of her dress was soft and amazing, and I leaned in closer. "But when she does, yes. I'd like to have children, at least two. A girl and a boy."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Sophie asked, her smile disappearing. She rested took her left hand off of the railing to cover mine. "You said the right woman. You have to find her first."
Instead of answering, I pulled her closer, whispering into her ear. "I think I already have," I said, hearing her breath catch. "That is, when she realizes that she's the right one."
"I see," Sophie replied. "Well, you might have to convince this woman that she should choose you. What more do you have to offer besides a very handsome face, an obviously large bank account, and a pretty good taste in music and movies?"
I laughed, and ran my hand down her back to rest on her hip. "I can also cook, and I promise that I'd never let her down."
"Really?" she said, turning totally to me and wrapping her arms around my waist. "That's quite a lot to live up to. You might be challenged to prove it every night. Your woman might have a very active libido, after all."
Picking her up in my arms, I turned and carried her inside, towards my bedroom. "I can't let her down," I said, burying my face into her neck and kissing the tender soft skin. "I guess I'll just have to show her what I'm made of."
I knew that satisfying her sexual needs would never be a problem. But the whole family thing was a fantasy for me. I wished it could someday be so, but in my line of work, I’m not sure if that day would ever come.
To Be Continued…
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