All or Nothing

by Meg Maguire

  “The DJ promised to email me the playlist and cc you. I told him, ‘Upbeat make-out music for classy people.’”

  Jenna laughed. “Sounds perfect. Jeez, we’re actually in good shape. I didn’t see that happening this time last week. In fact, on Wednesday, after we’re done shopping for extras, I’m taking you to lunch, to say thanks.”

  “I won’t stop you.”

  “But today and tomorrow, we’re focused on man-procurement. Let’s see if we can’t get a few of our better prospects to commit. Or at least RSVP.”

  While Lindsey got busy with that, Jenna sneaked downstairs, thinking she’d see how Mercer’s day was.

  He wasn’t in the gym itself, but the door to the makeshift office—formerly a storage room—was open. She waved to a bunch of fighters as she crossed the floor mats, shoes in hand, to peek around the threshold. Mercer was sitting on an old metal desk under the room’s rather harsh overhead light, talking on his phone, the fingers of his free hand drumming the desktop. His face looked ominously, dangerously sexy in the severe glow from above. He didn’t see her.

  “No, I’m interested,” he said. “Full-time, though, right? Great. I’m done here as of January first.”

  Jenna’s stomach constricted. She’d spent the past couple hours with Lindsey, thrilled to see how excited her assistant was about the opportunity Jenna had given her. But on the flip side, she was wrecking the dream job of the man who shared her bed...and heart. Buzz killed dead, she backed away and headed upstairs.

  * * *

  BY MID-WEEK, Jenna and Lindsey’s gentle email reminders had indeed managed to garner a few more RSVPs from Greater Boston’s male population. Jenna had ignored Lindsey’s snide suggestion they simply title the subject line “Free Shrimp!” She’d gone instead with “Real Men Wanted.” Every guy liked to think of himself as a real man, both in the rugged sense and also the inclusive Everyman sense. It won them over a dozen new acceptances, bringing the total number of confirmed guests to an impressive but manageable seventy, and the ratio to about sixty percent women, forty percent men. Doable.

  The trip to find extra decorations had been a success and on Wednesday evening Jenna was camped out with boxes of would-be centerpieces.

  The door clicked, announcing Mercer’s arrival and filling her with happy, antsy energy. She smiled as he stepped inside. He’d been gone the entire afternoon, taking Delante to a steep hill on the South Shore to run sprints, something to do with lung capacity or some other sadistic fighter-thing.

  “Hey, you.” He closed the door, looking as exhausted as she’d ever seen him. “What’s happening here?”

  “Centerpieces for the party. Don’t judge yet—they’re not done.” Before her was a wasteland of vases and glass pebbles and willow branches, soon to be transformed into miniature trees and festooned with the survey question cards Lindsey had printed. “How was torturing Delante?”

  “Great. The countdown’s kicked in. He’s got a healthy fire under his ass now.” He stretched his neck and tossed his keys on the coffee table. “Some kids crumble under pressure, but for him, that’s what he was missing.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Yeah. Now I just need to focus on finalizing all the last-minute crap for the tournament. Too bad I don’t have a Lindsey of my own—I’m useless with juggling details. Rich is even worse.”

  She frowned her sympathy.

  “That was always your dad’s thing,” Mercer said. “Though luckily the promotions company’s pretty organized. You eat already?”

  “I was waiting for you.” She stood and stepped over the mess. “Nothing fancy, pasta and these good sausages I found in the North End.”

  “I’d eat my own leg, I’m so hungry.”

  She got dinner ready while Mercer showered. He emerged and walked to where Jenna stood stirring the sauce, and wrapped his arms around her middle. He smelled like soap, and she knew exactly how his wet hair would feel if she turned and kissed him and ran her hands over his head.

  She’d arrived here expecting someone so different. Tough and stubborn, an opponent. And here he stood, her unlikely boyfriend. She ached to tell him she loved him. She’d said those words to men she’d been less enamored with than Mercer. Not insincerely, either. She simply hadn’t known a romantic attachment could run this deep.

  “Smells awesome,” he said.

  “So do you.”

  “Compared to my usual stinky man-fragrance, I’m sure I do.”

  “Get us some bowls and utensils, Mr. Rowley. And the cheese shaker.”

  “Will you kill me if I watch the Sox-Yankees game?”

  “Of course not. I think I’d get excommunicated if I stopped you. Let me clear off the couch.”

  They settled in the living room, and Jenna liked the atmosphere—each of them absorbed in their own concerns. Mercer’s presence felt warm and easy and natural.

  The Sox lost, but Mercer almost seemed to relish it. Like Boston itself, he thrived as the underdog. If only that spirit could’ve somehow saved the gym.

  Jenna managed to come up with a decent arrangement for the little card trees, though her fingers were nicked and achy by the time Mercer switched off the TV at ten. She wondered if he’d like to work off his Sox angst in one of their beds.

  “I, um...I have some news,” he said.

  “Oh?” She tensed.

  “Yeah.” He turned to the side, hugging one of his knees and looking her in the eye. “I think I’ve secured a pretty damn decent training gig for the New Year.”

  “Oh,” she repeated, numb. “Where?”

  “Philly.”

  The word knocked the wind out of her. “Philadelphia?”

  “Yeah. Straight-up boxing. Not mixed disciplines. But I know the guy who runs the gym—he worked for your dad ages ago. Good young prospects to work with.”

  “That’s so far away.”

  His expression softened, reflecting her own preemptive grief. “It is far. But it’s a good fit. And it gets me out of Massachusetts and away from all the old rivalries between the facilities here.”

  “Right.” Wilinski’s and its fighters had never quite managed to shed their pariah status, he’d said, and suffered a lot of trash talk for it.

  “You okay?”

  She nodded. She had to be all right, since it was his decision. Hurt like hell, though. “When do you think you’ll go?”

  “It’s an open invitation. So whenever things get wrapped up here...”

  “Right.”

  He smiled grimly. “Don’t go into guilt-mode again.”

  “I can’t help it.” And it wasn’t only guilt. It was selfish sadness and frustration, this official notice that they’d be breaking up. This proof that whatever he felt for her wasn’t enough. For the second time in her life, a man was choosing boxing over keeping her close. Only this time, she was old enough to realize it.

  She shook her head. “That’s so far away....”

  “Listen, Jenna. I’m not talking about this with you. It’s what I’ve got to do, and I need you to just trust and respect that my decision’s a good one.”

  “It has nothing to do with respecting or trusting you. It’s about me needing to understand, because...well, because I’ve gotten awfully attached to you.”

  His expression softened. “And you know that’s mutual.”

  “We talk about everything else. I can’t stand the idea that my plans are driving you all the way out of your hometown.” Your territory, she thought. Like she’d emasculated him, sent him packing off to distant lands to start his ruined life over.

  “Well, I don’t want to talk about this with you, okay?”

  “Why not?”

  Another sigh, a heavy one, and he stared down at his knee. “Because it’ll make you feel bad.”


  “I feel bad already. Try me.”

  He ran his hands over his head. “I can’t stick around here. I can’t be this close to the gym after it’s closed. I can’t keep seeing you, keep coming over here—certainly not continue to live here—remembering how things were before you showed up.”

  Her mouth dropped open. She felt slapped.

  “See? I told you it would hurt. But seriously, once the gym’s gone and my entire purpose in this town is finished, coming by here to see you... It’ll be like walking past a grave. I want to tell you I’m above winding up bitter about it, but I can’t promise that.”

  “Mercer—”

  “What we’ve got going on, it’s great. I want it to end still feeling great, not just for us, but because you’re Monty’s daughter. I want us to end on a high when I move away. I don’t want to stick around here and find out in six months or a year that I resent you, and have what we’ve got end in some ugly fight. That would wreck our relationship, and the memory of the one I had with your dad. I couldn’t save the gym. But I can keep from hurting you, which he would’ve wanted. And what I want, too.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but the thing was, he was right. He was being painfully honest with her. She didn’t want Mercer to resent her. She didn’t want to watch him settle for some consolation, good-enough job in the city, a witness to whatever successes might lie ahead for her. Or worse, to watch her fail in the long run, discovering he’d sacrificed what he loved for nothing.

  Mercer was a good man, but only a saint could possibly be asked to do all that and smile through it.

  “I understand.”

  “Good.”

  “Still sucks, though.”

  He smiled. “I know. But it’ll suck less than an ugly breakup. Or even if we just...fizzled, or whatever.”

  She doubted very much that something as passionate as the bond they shared could ever just fizzle, but she nodded. Perhaps snuffing out their candle was the most merciful way to go.

  “When we say goodbye, it’ll be sad, but we’ll still like each other.”

  Much more than just like. “I know.” She scooted over to lean against him, laying her cheek on his shoulder. “But it’ll still suck.”

  He stroked her hair and missed the top of her head. “That it will.”

  12

  JENNA STARED BLEARILY at her laptop, headache brewing. She glanced up as Lindsey swept through the door. The office was finally organized, but Jenna couldn’t yet say the same about the party.

  “Good morning, and happy Mixer’s Eve,” Lindsey said brightly. It was Friday, the day before the party.

  “Actually, I’m afraid it’s not such a good morning.”

  Lindsey frowned and shrugged off her jacket. “No? What’s happened?”

  Jenna looked at her screen, at the bad news in question. “Our event security’s fallen through. I woke up to the email.”

  “An email cancellation? How tacky.”

  “No kidding. Apparently the company just folded overnight. Some dispute between the owners. And these are the guys Tina recommended.” She sighed. “I don’t suppose you’ve got any go-to security folks?”

  “Weddings don’t usually call for bouncers. Though some of the ones I’ve survived really should’ve considered it.”

  Jenna rubbed her temples. The fact that she’d been sleeping poorly didn’t help her mood much. Two nights in a row she’d gotten perhaps four hours’ real rest. The remainder of the time she’d spent lying awake with a possessive arm locked around Mercer, brain stuck on an endless loop of to-do items and panicky calculations of how many weeks remained before the man she loved moved away.

  “You think we could get away without it?” Lindsey asked. “It’s only a cocktail party.”

  “Not a chance I want to take. Neither of us is up for playing bouncer, if people break the two-drink-maximum rule and get rowdy.”

  Lindsey nodded her grudging agreement. “I’m sure we’ll find something. It’ll just cost. I’ll call around first thing.”

  “No, I’m on it. I’ve already got a list of possible companies. Though most of the websites want two weeks’ notice. We’ve got less than two days. But as soon as this coffee kicks in, I’m getting my groveling boots on. You want some?”

  Lindsey nodded and took her seat. “Please. The Green Line broke down on me, no surprise.”

  “You’re right on time,” Jenna said, filling a mug.

  “Yeah, but I wanted to be early, since it’s the eleventh hour. Thanks,” she said, accepting the cup. “What do you want me to tackle while you worry about security?”

  “Organizing. Confirm when the food and drinks and music are getting there, and make sure the hotel can still send a van to pick us and all those centerpieces up. Mercer offered, but he’s busy with his own party of sorts.”

  Lindsey nodded. “One with paramedics on hand in place of cocktail waiters. Say no more. I’m on it.”

  “Thanks.”

  After a pause, Lindsey skirted the desk and patted Jenna’s shoulder. “Don’t stress. Up until the security thing, we’ve had amazing luck. Trust me. If nothing had gone wrong by now, I guarantee something would’ve imploded at the actual party. Something always implodes. Now we just know what it is!”

  Jenna smiled. Lindsey was a frank and grounding presence.

  She also had to admit she was anxious about more than the cancellation. She was down about Mercer leaving, and though she tried to tell herself they still had a few months together, that it was for the best... Well, it hurt. A few months was plenty of time for him to start resenting her, the thing they both feared even more than their actual parting.

  “I have that appointment with the events person at the hotel at ten-thirty,” Lindsey reminded Jenna. “I’ll swing by the printing place on the way.”

  “Do you need petty cash for a cab?”

  Lindsey drained her cup in two gulps and grabbed her purse. “I’ll walk. It’s gorgeous out there.”

  “Great. See you in a bit.”

  Barely a minute later, Rich appeared in the doorway. He’d been turning up to say hello with rather tactless frequency since Lindsey had started. That she was thoroughly immune to his charms didn’t seem to deter him. Quite the opposite. But he seemed to have forgiven Jenna for the gym’s upcoming closure, and she welcomed his shamelessness. It beat angst by leagues.

  “She’s gone out for the morning,” Jenna said, opening a new email.

  “Who has?”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’re not half as smooth as you think you are,” she teased. “I hope you’re better at poker faces when it comes to your matches.”

  “The best,” he said with a smile. “And I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “What can I do for you, Richard?”

  “Nothing. Just saying good morning. You all ready for your big party?” He swiveled the guest chair around to take a seat.

  “Nearly. Except the security guys we hired fell through this morning.”

  “Ouch. You really need muscle for a cocktail thing?”

  “Probably not, but it’s not a risk I’m going to take. Do you know anyone in security, by any chance?”

  “Got a cousin who’s a mall cop in Peabody, but you don’t want to hire him. Trust me. What about us, though?”

  “Who? You guys downstairs?”

  “Sure. I’d do it. Mercer’s, like, in love with you, so he’d do it.”

  She blushed, praying Rich wouldn’t notice.

  “How many you need?”

  “I booked three, but I think two would do. But come on—we decided not to invite any of you to come to the party because of how rude it would be. Once the gym closes,” she added quietly.

  “Sure, but me and Merce already kn
ow the score. Plus you’d offer to pay us, right? It’s not like you’re using us to pad the male population. Mind you, we would show up all your blue-shirted business-weenies.”

  Jenna frowned, considering his offer. It’d be tough to find anyone she trusted as much and on such woefully short notice. And she would pay them.... But she didn’t like the idea of the gym and Spark overlapping this way, or of feeling she was taking advantage of Mercer. “Maybe.”

  “What maybe? It’s totally easy. No classes for either of us to worry about after five on Saturdays. We won’t drink. I’m charming as all get-out. Gimme, like, two minutes to talk Mercer into it, and your problem’s solved.”

  “You can’t rough anybody up. You can only escort people out if they get drunk, that kind of thing. Very quiet, very discreet. No scenes. Though likely you’ll just be bored, standing around all night, watching nervous people flirt.”

  “Fine. What do we need to wear?”

  “Same as the guests. Business casual, but with security badges, I guess. I wonder where I could get those from....”

  “I’ll find something,” Rich said. “Probably a good idea. If we pass for guests, we’ll seduce all your single ladies away.”

  “Well, fine. You’re on. If you can pull it off, you’re welcome to the gig. We were going to pay the other guys forty dollars an hour—”

  Rich waved the notion away. “I only cared that you’d offer to pay us. Mercer won’t let you, and much as I’d like to think I’ll take the money, I probably won’t.”

  “We can argue about that later.”

  “Great. I love a good fight.”

  Jenna smiled at him. “Thank you. That’s very helpful. I’ll need you there early tomorrow. The party starts at seven and goes until ten, officially, probably more like ten-thirty. But you guys should be there at six-thirty, to meet the hotel staff and get a sense of the room, that sort of thing.”

  “Plenty of time to shower and get gussied up for you.”