by Tracey Ward
Damn straight.
What do you want for your winnings?
What do I always want?
Burritos.
I frowned, surprised she was wrong. Enchiladas, I corrected.
*eye roll* You do this every time.
Do what?
Forget what food you like. You don’t like enchiladas, you like burritos.
Bullshit.
Bull nothing, it’s true!
Enchiladas. I insisted.
Burritos.
Enchiladas.
You’re hopeless. You’ll eat what I make you and you’ll love it.
That was true so I let it slide.
“Yo, Coulter!” Callum shouted from the parking lot. “Shake a leg, bitch! Let’s move!”
I slid down off the picnic table I’d been sitting on, typing Jenna a quick goodbye as I headed for Callum’s truck.
Gym. Warm up. C U 2nite.
Hypocrite.
U luv me n e way.
Burritos.
“What are you smiling about?” Callum asked as I climbed into the cab of his truck. “Is that Laney?”
“No. Why would it be Laney?”
He laughed, starting the car and swinging us out of the parking lot. “Because she’s been all up in your shit lately. I think she’s worried you’re going to graduate, leave school, and she won’t have gotten a taste of your—“
“Stop,” I warned him.
“She’s cuckoo for your Cocoa Puffs, man.”
“Yeah, I know,” I replied blandly.
Everyone knew. She wasn’t desperate and she definitely wasn’t waiting around for me, but she was pretty open about how she felt. She wasn’t content with saying hey to each other at school or having the occasional conversation across the dinner table at her house. She wanted more. More of me.
“You gonna do anything about it?” Callum persisted.
“No,” I replied decidedly. “Nothing.”
“Why not?”
“I have my reasons.”
“Fine. But if you don’t use it, it will fall off. That’s just science.”
“Thank you for the PSA.”
“You’re welcome. You hear back from UCLA yet?”
I scowled at the buildings whipping past us as he drove us deeper into Los Angeles territory. My territory. I could feel myself both tensing as we sunk into the slums and relaxing the closer we got to the gym. “No. Not yet. I got two more acceptances, though. Pepperdine and USC.”
Callum beamed, punching me hard in the shoulder. “Done deal then, bro! Go to USC with me! We’ll play football together, rush the same frat, bang the same chicks.”
“No.”
“To which part? We don’t have to join a frat, I guess.”
“No to all of it. I’m not going to USC and I’m not passing girls and VDs back and forth with you.”
“Then where are you going to go to school? Are you holding out for UCLA?”
I was but I didn’t say it because if I didn’t get accepted, if that rejection arrived, then I’d failed. My first choice was out the window and I’d always know wherever I went was something of a settle. I was lucky to be going anywhere, and if the financial aid didn’t come through, I wouldn’t be going anywhere. First choice or last.
“I’ll figure it out when it happens,” I muttered. “For now I need to focus.”
I had a bout that night. It was my first one in over a month and I was heading to the gym with Callum to get warmed up. The actual competition wasn’t until later that evening, but Callum was leaving that night for a camping trip and he wanted to help as much as he could before my match.
He was going camping with most of the guys from the football team. Sort of a goodbye/going away deal for us seniors. I had been invited but I had this bout I absolutely wouldn’t bail on, but more importantly I just didn’t want to go. Miner and Jenner would be there, alcohol would be flowing, and I had vowed the second I walked out of that jail cell that I wouldn’t drink again until I was legal. I was back on track from my brief, horrifying slip up and I was determined not to do it again. Life wasn’t likely to hand me a third chance at getting it right.
When we got to the gym I hefted my bag of gear onto my shoulder and scanned the surrounding neighborhood. No familiar faces or cars.
“Is this guy something you gotta worry about?” Callum asked.
“I worry about every opponent.”
“All of them?” he asked suspiciously. “I thought you were good.”
“I am good, but so are they and the second I start thinking I’ve got a fight won before I even get inside the ring is the day I start losing. I go into every fight feeling like I already lost. Like I’m digging myself out of a grave.”
“Seriously? And you like doing this?”
“I love it,” I answered honestly, heading inside.
“Is that how everyone boxes?”
“No. Everyone’s got their own outlook. That’s mine.”
“Did your coach teach you to fight like that? Like a loser coming up from behind?”
“No,” I replied curtly, tossing my bag on the floor and scanning the small crowd inside. “It’s how life did.”
“Who are you looking for?”
“Dan. He said he was going to try to bring Jenna to this one.”
Callum’s eyes widened. “The beanpole? In here?”
I grinned. “Yeah. She wants to come watch. It’s her birthday this month and she asked Dan if he would sneak her to one of my bouts as a present, so don’t ever mention it to your parents. I don’t want your mom saying anything to Karen. She doesn’t want her here. She doesn’t like the neighborhood.”
“How old is she now? Fifteen?”
“Turning fourteen.”
“She gettin’ hot?”
I scowled at him. “She’s not hot. She’s just a kid.”
Callum snorted. “Dude, fourteen is not a kid. And if she gets half as hot as Laney, I’ll wait in line all night to get with that.”
My muscles clamped down tight, angry. “It’d be tough to stand that long on two broken fucking legs, wouldn’t it?”
“Whoa,” Callum said calmly, putting his hands up. “Take it easy. I shouldn’t have said that. I was talking out of my ass. I know she’s like a sister to you.”
“She’s not my sister. She’s my friend and a kid.”
“Whatever you say.”
I ran my hand through my hair roughly. I felt a tightening in my gut that I didn’t bother trying to tamp down. It was the anger. The animal.
The idea of Jenna walking into school next year, the beautiful baby sister of one of the most notorious party girls on campus, made me sick inside. She wasn’t Laney, not by a long shot, but I knew she struggled with everyone expecting her to be. I worried how she’d be treated by guys on campus from Laney’s fan club, and I wouldn’t be there to stop it.
“Do me a favor,” I told Callum. “On this camping trip you’re going on, you tell every last one of the underclassmen that no one lays a hand on Jenna Monroe next year, you got it? No one. I mean it. I’ll take teeth as trophies.”
“You got it. I swear.”
“Good.”
He spun his keys in his hand thoughtfully before warning, “You know Jenna will be pissed if she finds out you did this, right?”
“Yeah, I know. I’ll take that beating when it comes.”
And it’d be worth it.
***
Four hours later Callum was gone, I was about to enter the ring, and both Dan and Jenna were nowhere to be found. I’d texted Dan to see if Operation Smuggle Nonpareil was still in effect and he’d promised me we were greenlit. So then where were they?
I needed to get my head in the ring and out of the meager crowd that was gathering, but I was having a hard time with it. Despite the warning I’d told Callum to pass on to the guys on the team, I was worried about Jenna next year at school. I was worried about me and what college I’d go to. I was worried about the constant
temptation that was Laney Monroe. I was worried about the Asshole and what would happen tonight when I went home. Would there be another fight? There always seemed to be lately.
Everything I did pissed him off. Even getting up in the morning and getting ready for school. He didn’t know I’d been applying to college, not yet, but he knew I was graduating soon which to him meant I needed to get a job to stay under his roof. A job where he could collect my paychecks from me. I hadn’t been looking for work anywhere and just the other day he’d told me there was an opening at the cannery where he worked. I’d told him I’d think about it. He’d responded by putting his fist in my side, my face into the drywall, and reminding me that if it was good enough for him, it was good enough for me.
I’d spent the rest of the night there in the gym hitting the bag, over and over, counting out the days until I would turn eighteen.
One hundred and eleven.
I hadn’t stopped until my knuckles were raw and bleeding.
“You ready, kid?” Tim asked, his voice low and raspy.
I nodded, focusing my eyes on my gloved hands and putting the rest of the world out of my mind. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
“Good. Morgan is a Southpaw, remember that. He’s also fast. Maybe faster than you. Keep moving. Never stop moving.”
“Southpaw. Fast. Move.”
“He’s too lean. No muscle. It makes him quick but there’s no oomph to it. He’ll hit ya, but you’ll barely notice. He’ll still get the points, though, so don’t let him.”
“I won’t.”
“Yeah,” he said dryly. “Stay in your head, kid. I don’t know what you got goin’ on out there and I don’t care. Stay in your head.”
“I’m in it.”
He slapped me on the shoulder in response then disappeared down onto the floor in my corner.
I bounced on my toes over and over again, building that tension. That energy. I watched Morgan do the same as he eyed me angrily. I didn’t bother putting on the hate face. I never did. I kept my face blank and my body loose. I waited until the last moment. Until I was allowed to let the control slip and the anger – the animal – would run free.
The referee walked into the center of the ring. He called for a clean fight. A good show of sportsmanship. He raised his arm in warning.
I took two deep breaths.
When his arm fell, so did the walls keeping the animal locked up tight.
I didn’t know anything when I was in the ring like that. I didn’t know my own name. I didn’t know who Morgan was, who my coach was, who was in the audience and who wasn’t. None of that mattered. All that mattered to the animal was the hunt. The kill.
I tracked my prey’s movements carefully. He swung to the left, took a jab at me. Tested me. I pulled away just fast enough to avoid him and snapped like a viper, upper cutting him in the chin at only half speed. Still he stumbled back. He was quick to recover, but now he thought he knew how strong I was. How fast.
He had no idea.
The guy regained his footing just as I pounced on his weakness. I threw a punch that gleaned off his head weakly, giving him the confidence to reach out and take a stab at my face. He landed the hit cleanly, snapping my head to the side, but I was already moving again. I was already taking that opening on his left side that he offered up to me so easily in his greed to get that hit on me. I landed two solid blows to his stomach before his hand was even done with the follow through from his punch. The wind shot out of him. He stumbled back again.
Blood in the water.
The animal was content. It darted and dashed, it landed hits, it took blows, but it was allowed to return them. It gave what it got and then some. It delighted in its prowess. In its control.
Three rounds we went. Three rounds the three of us – the prey, the animal, and I – went, and when it was over I felt good. It hadn’t been a close bout but it’d been a strong one. It had been an effort to win and when the final bell rang and I closed the cage on the animal, he was smiling with satisfaction.
I waited patiently next to Tim while they tallied the scores. It took them forever to tell me what I knew.
I’d won.
When the announcement came, I simply nodded in understanding. I was still numb. Still coming out of the near trance I went into when I boxed.
Right up until I heard the scream.
I looked down at the crowd, seeing it again for the first time, and there was Dan. There was Jenna.
She was bouncing up and down on her feet, her hands in the air, her long, black hair dancing around her face, and her wide gray eyes were locked on me excitedly. She shouted my name along with incoherent excited praise. I’d never seen her look so crazy, and it was all for me.
That was awesome.
I smiled as I pointed my still gloved hand right at her, claiming her crazy as mine, and letting her exuberance pull me out of the dark and right into her. Into her pure joy.
I’d gotten so used to using boxing as a way to relieve the angry tension in my veins that I’d forgotten what it felt like to love it. Looking down at Jenna smiling proudly up at me, I started to remember.
And I couldn’t think of the last time a win had meant so much to me.
Chapter Eight
One Month Later
I was on a date with Laney Monroe.
I said I never would, yet here I was.
And here’s how that bullshit went down:
“You have another letter,” Dan said, holding the thin envelope out to me. “It’s from UCLA.”
“Will you open it for me?”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” I replied with a jerky nod. “Yeah. Please.”
“Alright.” Dan used a long, shining letter open that looked like a dagger from a Shakespeare play to slice open my biggest and brightest dream.
It didn’t take him long to read it. There wasn’t much to be said.
“You’ve been accepted,” Dan told me evenly, lowering the letter and raising his eyes to mine, “but they’re offering little to no financial aid. No scholarships of any kind.”
I nodded repeatedly, but I had no words.
“You have acceptance letters from a number of excellent schools,” he reminded me, handing me the letter. “Schools that are offering incredible financial aid to you. Cal offered you almost a full ride.”
“I know,” I whispered. UC Berkley, or Cal more commonly, had sent me an acceptance letter with a scholarship that made my knees weak. If it’d been from UCLA, I’d have already packed my bags, but I’d held back. I’d stowed the letter and I’d waited for this moment. Now it was here and it was almost worse than a rejection because my dream school was at my fingertips, but the same old issues were still holding me back.
“Son, you can’t beat yourself up over this,” Dan warned me, seeing me start to fall in to a funk. “I know it was your dream school and I am sorry, but it doesn’t mean you won’t go anywhere. You’ll choose another school and you’ll do well there. Maybe even better than you would have done at UCLA.”
He was right. I knew that. I was upset and that was okay, but I couldn’t sulk like a kid. I had to look at my situation and make the best choice I could with the options I had.
But that didn’t mean it didn’t sting like a son of a bitch that my top choice had essentially told me no.
“If it’s any consolation,” he sighed as he sat back in his chair, “Laney will be thrilled.”
“She’ll be happy I got rejected?”
He scowled at me. “You didn’t get rejected, but yes, she’ll be happy. Now she won’t have to go there.”
“Why would she go to UCLA? She hates the Bruins.”
“I think you can guess why she’d want to.”
My shoulders slumped slightly. “Me?”
“That’s what I think, yeah,” he replied, his voice heavy with disappointment.
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you sorry? She’s the one making impulsive choices about he
r future based on a boy.”
“I’ve never given her any reason to do that. I’ve been careful not to encourage her. I would never try anything with her, I promise.”
“You don’t want to date her, I understand. The two of you are very different people.”
“It’s not even that. I know that I—“
Dan sat forward, frowning. “That you what, Kellen?”
I held up the worthless acceptance letter from UCLA, feeling frustrated. “That I’m not good enough.”
“Stop.” Dan held up his hand, his mouth a stern line. It was the face and tone he took in the courtroom when he commanded the floor. “Stop right there. No one in this house thinks you’re not good enough for anything. I’d give you a scholarship through the firm in a heartbeat if you’d take it, but you won’t. I brought you into my home and let you near my daughters and my wife because I trusted you. Do you think I’d let just anybody in here?”
“No,” I admitted gruffly.
“No, I wouldn’t. Those women are my life and I trust every one of them with you. If you want to date Laney, then date Laney. She’ll do it gladly and you have my blessing because no one in this house thinks poorly of you but you.” He chuckled to himself, sitting back heavily. “I’d worry more about you in that relationship than her, but if you think you can handle the madness, then God speed, son.”
I grinned, nodding my head. “Maybe I’ll do that.”
I hadn’t meant it. I hadn’t planned on asking her out. I was just happy to know Dan wouldn’t want to shoot me if I did.
But the ball was in motion and after that bout Jenna and Dan had come to watch, I found out word had gotten through the grapevine. Laney knew I had asked if I could take her out. She was ecstatic and I was trapped. There was no good way to get out of it. No way to tell her that I hadn’t planned on following through, that I didn’t have the faintest idea what we’d talk about on a date, but it turned out it didn’t matter.
Laney didn’t especially want to talk.
She had turned sixteen just three days ago and for her birthday she’d gotten her driver’s license and a car. She drove me out to a remote park overlooking the dark ocean in the sleek, black Volvo with leather seats that she was now straddling my lap in. The expensive sound system played music low and deep through the speakers on every side of us as she slid up and down against me. We were both still fully clothed and I was dead set on us staying that way, but if this didn’t end soon I wasn’t so sure.