Page 4 of Acid

His mouth parts in shock as he runs a hand through his dark brown hair, which is graying at the sides. I continue, "I may have opened it to be nosy, but it's all in notes, and I counted it. There's $2,650."

He blinks, and I send him a grin before leaving his office, feeling happy.

If he knew I was the person donating to the gym—his fourteen-year-old daughter—he'd choke, but if he knew how I got it, he'd probably have a heart attack, which is why Cass keeps quiet and bandages me up.

I hand out the bottles of water to the men in the gym, and some women, my eyes focusing on the old white paint that's cracking on the walls, the chipped wood flooring, and the old, worn-out sign on the front desk.

Every time I give Dad the “sponsor” money, he spends it on the major things that need doing, including paying off loans that he's had to take out on the house, not wanting to touch the only thing bringing in money. I just wish he'd use some of it to fix the gym up a little.

Mom doesn't need two handbags a month or a new pair of shoes, and neither does Andrea.

I swear, something isn't right with their relationship; it's like my mom already knew her before she begged for a sleepover at my house last year, as Andrea sought me out purposely to get into my family, or maybe I'm just jealous of how close she is to my mom suddenly, when I never got that attention.

I give William a grin, and the man playfully scowls at me, making me giggle as I hand him the water bottle before looking around to ensure I got everyone. I frown when I notice a boy with shaggy dark blonde hair beating the crap out of the bag.

"Be careful, Ollie!" my dad shouts. I look his way to see him frowning with concern from the doorway to his office. The boy grunts in acknowledgment before his hits on the bag become more forceful.

Huh.

Shaking my head, I walk over to the ring.

"Hey, uh, um, excuse me?" I say loudly, trying to get his attention, but he ignores me. I look at my dad and raise my brow, not knowing what to do, but he just grins and tips his head to the boy.

Okay, then.

I speak even louder, "Excuse me, boy, beating up the bag," causing him to stumble a little, and I wince as his right fist misses the bag before he grabs it to stop himself from falling.

Oops….

Tension radiates from him, sweat clinging to his shirt, and he snaps, "Will you fuck off, girl!"

No, he didn't!

Narrowing my eyes, I angrily drop the crate with the last water bottle. I can already hear my dad chuckling as I storm to the ring and jump in, just as he gets ready to hit the bag again.

He tenses as I snap back, "Geez, I was asked to give everyone water. You don't have to be such a jerk about it!"

He looks at me sharply, his dark green eyes mesmerizing, but I hold the pretty boy's gaze, and snarl, "Just because you are angry doesn't mean you take it out on everyone else, especially when I was trying to do something nice!"

He looks at me in shock, his mouth opening a little, and I cross my arms over my chest, glaring at the boy.

Seriously, how hard is it to be nice? Why are the pretty ones always the mean ones?

"Well, it looks like you met your match, Ollie," my dad says, causing the boy, Ollie, to snap out of it. We both look toward the edge of the ring to see my dad leaning against the ropes.

I give him a smile, my tension leaving my body, until the angry brat opens his mouth.

"She can't take me, John, and you know it; maybe with her mouthing off, which is going to get her in trouble one day, but physically, nah," he scoffs, and my dad raises a brow at me, a challenge shining in those eyes.

I narrow my eyes, but he grins, clearly wanting me to take the bait. I nod before quickly spinning and crouching as I kick my leg out, knocking Ollie off his feet.

He catches himself, grabbing hold of the bag with one arm while his other goes to grab me, which I'm guessing is because he thinks I fell, but I stand and grab his arm, yanking him toward me, before elbowing him in the ribs. He grunts before I pull his arm, crouch, and twist, sending him flying over my back and onto the ring floor.

The boy looks up at me in shock while I plant my hand on my hip, and pretend to inspect the nails on my other.

"You were saying, Ollie?" my dad asks with amusement.

I grin and offer a hand, which the boy, Ollie, accepts, and I state, "Don't look too shocked; you didn't stand a chance. My dad's the owner; he’s trained me since before I could even walk."