He made real notes this time. Saigo—Anya—being moved meant no school for her. Again, the thought sent a strange twinge through him.
“What?” he murmured to Merrill, who’d drilled him with a stare the whole time. Lorna and Kensley had moved on to talk about a contract wording.
“Nothing. For me, anyway. I’m not sure about you.”
“There’s nothing for me either.”
“Bullshit,” she said with a laugh.
“Hey,” Lorna said, tapping her pen on the table. “No side conversations.”
“Dimi hooked up with Saigo.”
“Whoa,” Kensley said with a smile. “Way to go, Dimi!”
“God,” Lorna murmured, shaking her head. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I’m not ‘doing’ anything,” he said, looking at each of them.
“Technically, you’re doing her,” Merrill said with a smirk.
“It happened, yes, but it’s nothing. The same way everything that happens at Cavendish is nothing.” He shrugged and met Yuki’s eyes last.
“Don’t fuck this up for us,” she warned.
“Nothing’s going to get fucked up,” he assured her. “It was sex. End of story.”
“She’s got another engagement this week,” Yuki continued, tapping the table for emphasis. “I don’t need any emotional issues popping up.”
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going to stand in the way of a high revenue month.” He grabbed his folder, closing it and putting the pen in his breast pocket. “Ladies,” he said in farewell.
* * *
Combination, kick, uppercut, kick, Dimi recited in his mind, his body spraying sweat on the heavy bag as he leaned and ducked.
He liked this gym. It was ten minutes from his small house and consisted of used equipment in a storage unit on the backside of a business development. The flyer had simply said MMA Training.
He paid the owner a wad of cash a few years ago and had been visiting regularly until recently. Until Anya showed up.
Something about their conversation the other day ate at him. He didn’t want to exchange secrets and goals. He didn’t want to get caught up in having to worry about her, about whether she was getting sucked into the Cavendish lifestyle and away from her own goals.
“Dude, you’re going to kill that bag,” said Nate. Dimi paused and turned to bump his wrapped fist against the one the younger man held out.
“That’s the point,” he said. “Hey,” he greeted Xavier, Nate’s friend. They were part of a youth program he’d set up with Felix—the owner—and the local police. They’d trained to the point where now they trained the repeat offenders the police directed to the gym. It was a version of what he wanted to achieve with his own gym.
“You haven’t been around in a while,” Xavier said, bumping his hand the way Nate had.
“Yeah, things went to shit at work, but I’m back now.”
“Shit, we were hoping you were busy setting up your gym,” Nate said.
“Yeah. Here though. Instead of New York,” Xavier added.
“I got off track with that too,” he admitted, realizing how off track he’d gotten with everything. Something he’d never thought possible. Anya. He could feel her hair on his fingers.
“Aw, shit! Look at that face!” Xavier crowed, covering his mouth and pointing. Nate looked at him and then turned away and waved at him.
“Naw, you didn’t!” he said then turned back again. “He did! Dude, you cannot let a chick fuck you up.”
“What?” Dimi asked, stunned. “No chick… I am not fucked up by a chick.”
“Now he’s delusional,” Nate said to his friend. “Tell us how this happened. So we can help you fix it.”
“Man, that’s what ‘went to shit at work.’ Wasn’t it?” Xavier jabbed him in the chest as he asked it.
He rubbed his taped hand over the back of his head, trying to frame an answer, and then realized his action said it all. He propped his fists on his hips and stared at them.
“Yeah, I fucked a woman I work with,” he stated.
“That’s all right, that’s all right.” Nate patted his shoulder. “Just don’t let it get involved, you know? Don’t let her fuck with the dream, man.”
“Keep the big head on straight,” Xavier agreed, reaching to tap Dimi lightly on the temple. “While the little head is getting that sweet pussy, man. You know?”
“Like, if she starts talking about love and shit…” Nate said.
“Feelings, man,” Xavier added, nodding to Nate. “Chicks love to talk about their feelings. Even if it’s feelings about other things that don’t have shit to do with you.”
“Or if they say, like… ‘Can we talk?’” Nate said in a falsetto. “That’s your cue to get the fuck out. Because she’s about to get serious on your ass, and you don’t need that.”
“Yeah,” Xavier agreed. “That’s chick code for ‘Give me your balls so I can hang them on my rearview mirror,’ you know?”
“I get it,” Dimi said, realizing this would go on until they were ready to quit regardless of what he said.
“You’ve got a vision, man.” Nate punched his arm. “Don’t let her fuck it up.”
“Yeah, don’t let her fuck you up,” Xavier warned.
Both of them high-fived and then looked at him knowingly. They were right. Time to bring the gym to the front burner. Anya could look after herself. He just needed a little distance, physically and mentally.
“Why does everyone think I’m going to fuck things up?” he asked. “Especially two thugs like you.” They laughed, and then he slapped hands with them as well. “Thanks for keeping me real, assholes.”
“Not a problem,” Xavier said then walked around to hold the bag for him. “Glad you’re back, man.”
21
Anya walked into the cafeteria, searching the light crowd for Jenn. When she saw her wave, she started to walk over, briefly hesitating when she saw Jenn tap the guy with the man bun beside her. Steve.
“Hey, you two,” she greeted, disappointed she wouldn’t have time with Jenn alone.
“Hey, Dr. Wilcott,” her friend mocked. “Why did you want to meet up here?”
“I dropped off a payment at the registrar’s office and it made sense.”
“Congrats on that, by the way.” Jenn held out her pinky for their standard shake.
“Payment for what?” Steve asked, not looking up from his laptop where he typed furiously. She strained forward to peer at his screen, which was full of multi-colored lines of code.
“Anya’s starting med school this fall.”
“We both are,” Anya corrected. “What are you coding?” she asked, impressed at his ability to talk while typing at high speed.
“A bathroom wait-time app for restaurants,” he said.
“Isn’t it brilliant?” Jenn asked, scooting her chair closer to Steve and rubbing her shoulder against his. “In busy restaurants, you can add your name to the app queue and when movement is detected in the bathroom, it’s your turn.”
Anya looked at them both, trying to find the brilliance.
“So you don’t have to get up and wait in a line-up.” Jenn explained. “If you ever ate at popular restaurants, you’d know exactly why this is needed.”
Anya shrugged and looped her purse over the back of her chair.
“So you two are a thing?” she asked, her forehead creasing when Jenn rolled her eyes like a moody teenager.
“You could say that,” Jenn said, nudging Steve again.
“Babe, please,” he scolded, inching his laptop away from her. “I’m at a tricky part.”
“I’m sweeter on him than he is on me, but eventually he’ll fall and you’ll hear it for miles.”
“I keep telling her I’m a heartbreaker, but she doesn’t believe me,” Steve said with a straight face.
Anya looked him over, his mousy blond hair pulled away from his face for the first time she could remember. He had a mustache
and beard, large pores on his nose, which was centered in a long face. When he smiled at Jenn, she saw even, nice teeth. Was it flattering that his teeth were his nicest trait?
“I believe you’re a heartbreaker,” she said, giving them a half smile. “So you’re in love?” she teased Jenn.
“The love-for-now kind of love, yes,” she answered with a nod. “He’s nothing like my normal type of guy, which I think is what is so attractive.”
“How so?” Anya asked.
“Well, he’s funny and watches musicals and is self-employed. Has his own place. Wow, maybe I am in love!”
“C’mon, you don’t believe in love. I was teasing.”
“How many times have we watched Grease together?” Jenn demanded.
“A million,” she answered without hesitation.
“You can’t watch it that many times if you didn’t feel something about love.”
Anya was about to deny it then realized that made a kind of sense.
“Besides,” Jenn went on, “we made a pact, and I’m going to honor it.”
“What pact?” Steve asked, typing with a flourish and hitting a key hard before closing his laptop.
“To let nothing, especially guys, get in the way of graduating.”
Anya looked at her hands linked on the table.
“Uh-oh,” Steve said, and they both looked at him. “Somebody broke the pact.”
Jenn’s eyes shot to her.
“No, I didn’t,” Anya denied immediately, but in the back of her mind, she wasn’t entirely sure. “I slept with Trevor, and that didn’t break the pact.”
“So you admit you’ve slept with someone?” Jenn asked, looking at her with interest and then slapping a hand over her mouth. “Or… did you actually become an escort?” she whispered through her fingers.
“No!” the denial sounded fake, so she followed up quickly with “I slept with a security guy. He works at the HOA where I’m house sitting.”
“I demand details.”
“I demand some apple juice,” Steve said, getting up and heading to a vending machine.
“He’s your typical security guy. Tall and lots of muscles. He had to fix something on the panel of the condo, and we got to talking… nothing earth shattering.”
“So not a doctor-to-be? Not a book-smart intellectual?”
Anya paused, calculating how much to admit to her friend.
“Not a doctor-to-be,” she answered.
“So, not your type.” Jenn laughed. “Sounds like a perfect fuckboy. No emotions, no drama, but great in the sack.” Jenn grinned and leaned back as Steve rejoined them. “But once in a while, they could buy you an apple juice. Asshole.” She shoved Steve good-naturedly as he popped the lid and drank then offered the bottle to her.
“I share though,” he said with a smile.
* * *
Instead of walking up to her front door, Anya walked a few extra steps to knock on Liz’s door. When there was no answer, she did the same to Elliot’s.
“Come in,” called a voice, and she pushed open the door.
The living room glowed in a burst of flame as a strange creature roared and swung a flaming sword through a dragon. Then it paused, and the room was silent.
“Hey, Anya!” Elliot greeted, popping into sight from where he’d hunkered on the couch facing the giant TV screen.
“Hey, guys,” she said, when Liz popped up as well and waved.
“Come and play,” Liz invited. “We’ve got popcorn, cheese puffs, and wine.”
“What are you playing?” she asked, perching on the arm of the couch.
“Dark Souls 3,” Elliot said, restarting the game and directing the weird flame monster on the screen through a battle.
“We’re taking turns,” Liz explained, grabbing her glass of wine and hunching back into the couch. “Although Elliot is owning this game, so I’m drinking too much. In the middle of the day.”
“That was my last bottle, so you can only get so drunk.”
Anya looked at the huge TV, the stack of games on the coffee table, and the multiple game consoles on the floor. There were huge framed photos of New York City and San Francisco on the walls, a bean bag chair, and a cart with bottles of alcohol and glasses against the far wall.
“I’ve never played one of these games,” she admitted.
“What?” both Elliot and Liz exclaimed, glancing at her with horror. Anya shrugged.
“We never had a system when I was growing up, and I never hung out with people who played.”
“Until now,” Liz said.
“Is this all your stuff?” she asked.
“Yeah, I bought it this past weekend.”
She thought about her own condo and how plain it was. She hadn’t even bought bookcases like Dimi had suggested. It was as if she was in a bubble while everybody’s life went on around her.
“I checked with my coordinator, and they’ll pack everything up and ship it to my place next week,” Elliot said, moving his controller and clicking buttons as he jumped the monster into an underground cave.
“You leave next week?” Anya asked.
“And I leave the week after,” Liz said. “I have to have my evaluation first—I think this weekend. I hope. Fun as all this is, I’m ready to get back to my apartment.”
The news deflated her even more.
“Do you guys have school in the fall?” she asked.
“Not now. Not with this gig,” Elliot murmured. “Dammit!” he yelled when some kind of demon shot a green light at his character and killed it.
“Finally,” Liz said, grabbing the controller. “I’m not going back to school either. Maybe after this gravy train runs out.”
“Huh,” Anya said, watching Liz play and pulling at a small thread on her purse.
“What about you?” Elliot asked, turning his head to her but not taking his eyes off Liz’s character. “Look out, look out!” he shouted.
“Oh, I’m definitely going back. First year med school starts the end of September.”
“Well, you want to be a doctor, so… sucks to be you,” he said. “But, you know, good for you and all that.”
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“You’ve got a whole life of school ahead still. But you’re focused. Probably way more dedicated than Liz or me.”
Anya shrugged. “Maybe,” she said, pulling the thread until it loosened all the way. She looked down and saw there was now a gap between the zipper and the leather of her purse. Great.
“Damn,” Liz said when her character died.
“Thank. You,” Elliot singsonged, plucking the controller out of her hand.
“So graduate school and then what?” Liz asked. She shifted on the couch so she could face Anya.
“Graduate school…”
“Four years of that, right?”
“Yeah. Four years of med school, then four or five years in residency, then get licensed and I’m done.”
“A doctor when you’re thirty. You must want it really bad,” Liz murmured, sipping her wine. “I don’t know if I’ve wanted anything that bad.”
“I guess I do,” Anya agreed, letting out a long breath.
“At least you’ll have Cavendish to pay off all your schooling. You’ll be able to start from zero when you’re ready to do all your doctoring.”
She nodded, and a big crash on the screen grabbed their attention.
“Motherfucker,” Elliot yelled and jumped up, clicking on the controller like crazy.
“Go! Go!” Liz yelled, and then they both cheered and high-fived when he got his character over a chasm of weird lightning snakes. Or whatever they were. She was ready to join the high-fives, but they dropped back onto the couch to face the screen.
“Well, I should get going,” she said, standing up.
“Cool,” Elliot murmured.
“Maybe we could get together this weekend,” she suggested. “Since you’re both leaving soon.”
“Get him, get him… ri
ght there!” Liz yelled, putting her hands on her head. “What?” she asked after a second, glancing back at Anya. “Oh yeah. Wait. I think I have an engagement. You fucker, you are so lucky!” she exclaimed, making Elliot laugh.
“I’ll see you later,” she said and left.
* * *
Anya closed her door and dropped onto the couch as if her body weighed too much to take another step.
She looked at the bare walls, the plain furniture, and the curtains she always kept closed. Then at the immaculate kitchen she treated as if she was staying at a friend’s house. She thought of her new friends next door preferring to play a video game, and then glanced at the stack of boxes she hadn’t unpacked.
This self-pity is bullshit.
She grabbed her phone and clicked her Skype app to call Jenn. She hit the video button, and when Jenn answered, she was in a dark room.
“Hey, girl!” Jenn greeted.
“Hey, girl,” Steve mimicked when he leaned in and out of the Jenn’s frame.
“What are you guys up to?” she asked. So much for catching Jenn on her own for a heart-to-heart.
“We’re watching The Notebook. Wanna come over and cry with us?” Jenn asked.
“I wasn’t crying,” Steve muttered from off camera.
“I don’t think so,” she said.
“What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
“Just calling to see if you wanted to do anything this weekend,” she improvised.
“Sure. Can I finally see this place you’re living in?”
“Yeah. I’ll let you get back to the movie. Talk to you later,” she said and disconnected.
That was a big, fat fail. And now Jenn might come over, her nosy friend getting a little closer to her Cavendish secret.
She dropped her phone on the couch and looked at the boxes of textbooks. Maybe I just need to unpack. She half-chuckled at the double meaning of ‘unpack,’ her eyes going to the one box that didn’t look like the others. The one that didn’t hold books.
Disciplined Page 19