“Yeah.” Rodgers looks embarrassed. “That and a few other things. We’ve talked about it. His diet isn’t the problem.”
“So what is?”
“Well.” Rodgers rubs the back of his neck. “I think it’s a little too much polish on the brass knobs.”
My head jerks back to study his face, looking for confirmation of his meaning. His crimson complexion and pointed stare tell me that I haven’t misunderstood him.
“Really, Terence?” I raise my hands in the air. “You want to go there? With me? Now that’s brass.” I turn away from him and walk toward the door.
“Louise, wait.” He falls in alongside me. “You’re a nurse, right? I can talk to you straight up.”
“No,” I gasp in response, stop, and stand there staring him. I’m not one of the guys, and I refuse to discuss this with him. “You think because I’m a nurse it’s okay to discuss my sex life? No. Hell no.”
He sighs, looks around, then steers me down to a quiet corner of the room.
“Believe me, I don’t want to talk about any of this,” he says, sulking. “But he’s got a big fight coming up, and he’s never been this…undertrained.”
“I don’t know what you want from me. I can’t help with his training.”
“I’m not asking you for help with his training. That’s my job. But even I can’t help him if he won’t listen to me.” He pauses for moment.” I need your help, Louise. Usalv needs your help. Please.”
“Of course I’ll help him. He can ask me for anything.”
“That’s just it. He won’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because the one thing he needs from you the most is the one thing he’s afraid to ask you for.” Rodgers lowers his head with a slight shake.
His solemn face makes me panic. “What? What the hell does he need from me?”
“He needs you to cut him off. Keep it zipped and locked above the knees.” Rodgers folds his hands. “A change in a fighter’s sex life screws up their training. A sudden drought messes up the sleep cycle. A rapid uptick depletes their stamina.” He looks at me. “Sound familiar?”
I’d wondered about that. Just this morning, when my head cleared enough to assess the cost to my own career, I’d become curious about what it was doing to Usalv’s. Now I know.
“And what am I supposed to say? Rodgers told us to cut it out? We’re not teenagers you caught screwing around in the backseat.”
“Don’t do that. It would cause more harm than good.”
“Then what? Tell him I’m not interested anymore?” I shake my head. “I can’t do that to him.”
Rodgers looked flustered. “Headache, Backache. Too tired. Time of the month,” he suggests.
“For how long?”
“Until the fight is over.”
“Three weeks? Are you insane?”
“What?” He seems honestly confused. “My ex-wife had headaches that lasted for months.”
“I can see why,” I tell him through gritted teeth.
“Louise.” He takes a deep breath. “Do you have any idea what’s at stake here? If he wins, he stands to make over a million dollars in payouts, endorsements, sponsorships. Do you want that to be on you?”
“This is not on me. He knows what’s at stake, too.” But even I don’t believe what I’m saying.
“You know, I’m just a gym rat who trains guys to fight. Sometimes I have to look out for their best interests. When they won’t. When they…can’t. I hoped that maybe a nurse could understand that.”
A pang of guilt courses through me. I never meant to mess up Usalv’s life, just like he’d never meant to mess up mine.
“This sucks. You know that, right?”
“Thanks, Louise.”
24
The clock on the mantle chimes out twelve-fifteen as I pace in front of the fireplace. It’s Saturday night and I’m trying to ease off in the bedroom to keep my fighting from going to hell in a handbasket. Since we need to cut back, I’ve prepared a special evening for Louise tonight.
Only problem is, she’s not here.
By seven, the sheets were changed, the bathroom was cleaned. Hell, I even bought a new bottle of Bushmills along with some candles and that fancy bath stuff she likes.
By nine, she still wasn’t home, so I thought I’d screwed up her schedule again, but then noticed her Dansko clogs on the foyer doormat. Sweet Lou always wears those when she works.
At ten, I risked castration for being over-possessive and texted her. Ten minutes later, she replied. I needed to relax, everything was fine and she’d be home soon.
“Louise?”
The front door eases open with a loud creak. I strain to hear Sweet Lou’s footsteps from the darkened living room. She shuffles to the stairway and peers up at my bedroom door.
“I’m here, Louise.”
She startles at my voice. “What are you doing still up?”
“Waiting for you.”
“Oh.” Her response is an unenthusiastic mumble.
“I thought you’d be home sooner.” My voice remains calm but questioning.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize we had plans.”
WTF?
“Oh.” I struggle to stay calm. “Well, we’ve been spending every evening off together, together. A text would have been nice.”
She nods, speechless before pulling the light jacket off her shoulders and tossing it onto the banister with tired robotic movements. A long silky forest green sweater held shut by a slender silver zipper clings to her curves over tight skinny jeans.
“You look pretty tonight.” It’s true. Hopefully by saying it aloud I can get this night back on track.
“Thank you.” Her tepid smile encourages me.
“Come join me.” I gesture toward the chaise lounge near the window. As I step out of the darkness into the lamp light of the foyer, Sweet Lou’s lips part as she stares, and I struggle to suppress a surge of pure pride.
I’m shirtless with wet hair from an earlier shower. Black and blue striped pajamas ride low on my hips, exposing fifteen years of punishing workouts.
Saying no will not be easy for her.
She hesitates a moment, then sinks down into the sofa and curls those endless legs up under her. Long, unpolished fingernails rake through thick heavy curls as she wraps them in a tight bun with an elastic band around her wrist. Lines etched near the corners of her mouth give her a stressed out, tired appearance.
I know just the way to sort her out.
“There’s a new bottle of Bushmills.” I walk over to the table next and stand close, making it hard not look at me. A bottle of amber liquid and a clean tumbler rests next to her favorite chair.
“Would you like a drink?” I brush against her nearby elbow as I reach for the glass.
“No, no thank you. I’ve already had a lot tonight.”
Her words stop me cold, and a rush of irritation rises up my neck like the pummeled puck of a high striker. “You went out for drinks? With who?”
“Macy. We caught up a bit after I pulled a late night at the library.” She rubs my forearm in a soothing gesture. “I needed someplace to be that wasn’t work, school, or here, you know?”
Really?
“Surely being here isn’t all that bad for you?” I kneel down in front of her to study those unguarded, expressive eyes.
“Being home is very…distracting for me.” She unfurls those long legs onto the floor where her knee brushes against mine.
Sweet Lou’s gaze wanders down to where we’re touching and then slowly skates upward over me where she fixates on my abs, biting her lower lip as she stares.
“I think a good distraction is exactly what you need right now.”
I touch her knees, then gently part them. I graze my mouth against her in an eager kiss. She stills a moment before those tender lips move against mine and her tired body shudders back to life.
I fumble with the slender zipper of her sweater. The metallic buzz of tiny
teeth working fills the air.
“Ah-h.” A strangled groan erupts from her throat.
My heart races at the sight of her flesh colored bra with tiny flowers along the top of see-through fabric. I trace the flower stems up from the bottom ruffle to the tiny nipple that serves as the bud. Perfect.
Her thighs brush against my hips as she shifts into me. Moments later, Louise cries out again, and she wraps her long legs tight around my waist.
Fuck, I love when she does that.
An urgent heat scorches through me. I get to my feet, lifting her with me. But as we turn to head for the stairs and up to my bedroom, she shifts to an uncomfortable angle in my arms.
“Oh, God,” she begs. “Don’t. Stop.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t,” I whisper into the nape of her neck.
“That’s not what I mean. Let me go please.” She squirms underneath me and struggles to place her feet on the ground.
“What?” I rasp in her ear, shocked and confused.
“We…we shouldn’t do this.” She sounds firm and resigned.
The room stills until all I can hear is the sound of our tortured breaths and the quick beating of our hearts pressed together through the filmy lace of her bra.
“Why the hell not?”
“I’m sorry. I guess I’m a little…”
“A little…?”
“Tired.” She glances down at the floor.
“Tired?” Something’s wrong.
She’s never said anything like this before, never acted this way before. Have we both been sore or tired after a long week or bad day? Sure. But we’re always glad to see each other, no matter how we end up spending the evening.
And neither of us ever starts something we don’t want to finish.
“Didn’t you sleep this afternoon?”
“Not so much. Had a lot on my mind.”
“Like what?” Something tells me I’m not going to like this.
She turns toward the lounger and settles back where she was, then brings her knees up to her chest and hugs them. “I’ve had a shit week.”
I rest my hands on the waist of my pajamas and stare down at the floor. “We all have them, sweetheart.”
“I know, but you don’t understand…” she pleads.
“Bet I do.” Images of getting my ass handed to me by Lucky Mike Daughtry followed by Rodgers clergyesque pep-talk flash through my mind.
“I’m sure you do. I didn’t mean it that way.” She breaks eye contact and shakes her head. “But I really fucked up my class this week.”
“Okay…” I raise my open palms to the ceiling. “But you’ve put in extra time tonight instead. It’ll be fine.”
“I hope so.” She nods. “There are just so many hours in a day though.”
“Don’t worry so much, sweetheart. We all get a little overwhelmed and tired.” I kiss her shoulder before pulling the fuzzy sweater back over it. I run my hand down her shoulder and grasp her fingers. “Things will be better in the morning. Come on…let’s just go to bed.”
I pull her gently up from the couch, but she resists.
“Um, I think I’ll have a shower then crash in my room tonight.” She pulls away. “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”
“Why? It’s the one day of the week you do sleep in.” I meet her eyes and she turns away from me.
“I’ve got to study.” Her gravel voice cracks.
“But I thought that’s what you did tonight?” Concealing my irritation becomes more difficult by the minute.
“I need to study some more. I’m way behind.”
“Don’t you think you’re being a bit ridiculous?”
“I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“Well, then you should have also realized that I know you’re a shit liar. Anyone who knows you would say the same. And I know you better than anyone.” I let my words hang in the air.
“I’m not lying,” she explodes.
“Then what the hell are you doing?” I ask.
“I’m trying to focus on what’s important.”
“I thought we were important.”
Louise springs off the couch and walks to the far side of the coffee table, putting distance between us before she turns to face me.
“We are. It’s just that I’ve been planning this career move for a while.” She hugs her knees. “I’ve switched jobs to get ICU experience, taken extra shifts, lived with roommates, moonlighted to make this work. It’s all turning to shit before my eyes and I can’t let that happen.”
“Your career? This is about your career?” I retreat to the living room entrance. “I don’t fucking believe this. Where does that leave us?”
“I’m not sure. Exactly.” She sighs. “I just think that we both need to breathe a little and let the rest of our lives catch up.”
“I thought you didn’t do friends with benefits? Or am I misunderstanding?”
“I don’t.” She’s firm. “But you told me once that if I thought we were going too fast, or if it felt like too much, I could ask you to stop. Do you remember saying that?”
“Yes.”
“Well…I’m asking.”
"Fine." I feel my blood pressure surge. “But don’t you think we’re both old enough to make room in our lives for someone else? Haven’t we both worked hard enough for that to happen?” Questions I’ve been wrestling with alone come pouring out of me now.
“I don’t know how to do that.” She sounds hopeless.
“Neither do I. But guess what? I can be as detached and distant as you want me to be.” My lie is an act of self-preservation. “What I can’t do is turn it on and off like a switch, depending on how you’re feeling about the rest of your life at any given moment. I deserve that level of consideration and respect from you.”
“Yes, you do.” Tears well in her eyes. “I just can’t give it to you right now.” She appears defeated, out of arguments, out of fire. “I can’t promise not to be distant if I’m stressed out. And I can’t deny my feelings when we’re together.”
“Well that’s fucking fantastic.” All I want to do is take her in my arms and tell both of us that everything will be okay.
“I’m doing the best I can, okay?”
“So am I.”
“But I’m being immature for not wanting to flush my training down the tubes? Thanks a lot.”
“Immature?” What brand of bizarro is this? “I never fucking said that.”
“Sure you did. You just said I was old enough to figure out how to make this work.”
“Aren’t you?”
“Yes! No! I don’t know…”
“You know something, Lou? This is batshit craziness.” I’ve lost my patience along with my temper. I stomp out of the living room to the laundry, and grab a pair of pants out of the basket and a shirt from the dryer. I get dressed. Fast.
“What?” she cries from the living room.
“You’re pissed off at me, because I won’t give you what you want. The problem is, you don’t know what you want. Or you’re just not brave enough to say it out loud. So here’s where I get off the merry-go-around.”
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“I’m trying to be honest with you.” I stop in front of her on my way to the front door. My soul fills with remorse as I stare into her tearful eyes. “I’m trying to tell you that I give a fuck. And I think you want to hear it. So now that you’ve heard it, the rest is up to you.”
“Up to me? What do you mean?” Panic erupts from her expression.
“The next time I touch you, it will be because you’re begging for it,” I whisper into the hair at her crown. “You want me? Come get me.”
I grab my phone and keys from the foyer entry table. My chest tightens as I open the front door and walk out into the crisp air of the Chicago night.
25
“Welcome to tonight’s Friday Night Fight. I’m Toby Green here with Miguel Lopez. We’ll be calling the action for you this evening.”
/> “Good to be here Toby. Tonight’s main match is shaping up to be a must-see event. For this heavyweight match-up we’ve got Chris ‘the Raptor’ Manning fighting against Usalv ‘Madman’ Markovski in a three-five-minute round match up.”
“Manning’s had a lightning rise through the ranks. He’s known for his devastating combination strikes which have earned him some major upsets early in his career. But he’s got his work cut out for him tonight.”
“Agreed, Toby. Markovski is a seasoned veteran, former heavy weight title holder and top contender who’s incredibly fast for a man his size. Plus, he’s got an unrivaled ground game.”
“And that sums up the contest we’ll see tonight. Whether Manning’s style of striking will keep this fight vertical or if Markovski can take it to the mat. Manning does not want to find himself grappling with Markovski on the ground.”
“Very true. But don’t forget that both men have the strength and speed to deliver a one and done punch. Anything can happen here.”
“Let’s head down to the prep point where the fighters will check in to the octagon…”
“Macy, over here!” I yell from my table in the corner of O’Shea’s. She’s at the hostess station when our eyes meet. Macy waves back and then hurries over to my corner table, closest to the big flat screen by the bar.
“Hey, Lou.” She shifts a nearby chair over so she can see me and the flat screen at the same time. “Thanks for the invite.”
“I couldn’t not watch this, but seeing it alone? No way.” We exchange a quick hug. “Thanks for coming. Seriously.”
“Oh, you know us Irish. We love a good drink and we love a good fight. Turning down a twofer is heresy.” She nods at the full pitcher of Killkenny I’ve ordered for the table. “Pass me a cup. Actually, pass me two. Nobody should drink alone and I’m drinking. So you’re on duty.”
She pours out two beers and slides one over to me.
“It is good to see you, Macy.”
“It’s good to see you too, Lou.”
We clink our glasses together and I take a slow, thoughtful gulp of beer.
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