Page 10 of Fight for Forever
Jenna, her friend. Ricky, the guy who runs the self-defense classes. Anyone really. I’m still trying to figure out if I’m happy to do it or run a mile.
It took a lot for her to ask. She left believing I was going to refuse because I said I needed to figure some things out before I could commit. I feel like a prick now.
Truth is, I want to help her. I’d love nothing more than to be the person who gives her the tools she needs to protect herself from harm. There is the other side of it too, and that is the issue. Yeah, I’ll help her train, but a part of me wants to protect her from all of it, from having to learn how to fend people off, when I can be there to do it for her.
That isn’t what she asked for though. I have to remember that.
“Why are you still here running up my electric bill?”
I thought I was alone. Sam’s office is empty, all the staff are gone, and Malice left an hour ago. Sam is coming from the basement, which I wonder about because the only thing down there is old equipment he’s never got rid of.
“Thinking,” I mutter.
“Think on your own dime.” He shuts and locks the basement door and strides to the ring, glancing at my bag on the ground.
Sam isn’t a big talker, not that I want to run this by him. I know for a fact if I take on Meg’s training, we can’t do it here. I respect Sam’s rules. It is for a good reason. There are no grey areas with Sam. Men and women don’t mingle here. Period.
The few times I sparred with Jenna, the old asshole was either not here, or he caught us and gave the both of us hell. It has nothing to do with him thinking men are superior fighters. Female fighters train here too. He doesn’t want the tension and the fall out if shit goes sideways with people who get involved.
It means any training I do with Meg needs to be somewhere else.
And I have the perfect place. In my loft.
Sam studies me for a moment, then shakes his head. “Thought any more about Marris?”
“It’s been five hours since you asked.”
He harrumphs like five hours is more time than I need. The fight is three months out. I’ll need to start intensive training in two. Which gives me time to help Megan.
“Fine, but I want a good deal from the sponsors and prize money.” It’s not that I need it, I just like the idea of Marris thinking about everything he can win, then taking it from him.
Shit like that makes me just as big an asshole as Marris. It’s what Sam wants to hear. A rare smile splits his dour face.
It leaves as quickly as it came.
“Get the fuck out of my gym.”
“What are you doing in the basement?” I ask, getting to my feet.
“Flower arranging.”
“Jesus,” I mutter, pressing down on the middle rope and ducking out of the ring. “Would it kill you to open up?”
“I’m open,” Sam grouses, walking towards the wall where the light switches are. “Except now I’m closed. Get out.”
He turns off the light. I’m lucky I know my way around in the dark.
“Give it a week before you agree to those assholes,” I say.
Sam grunts, but it’s what he wants to do. He follows me out and I wait to make sure he’s locked up and headed to his car in the lot at the side of the building. He scowls and I laugh.
“My car is back here too, you know.”
He waves a hand, but I’m pretty sure his middle finger goes up too. Gotta love the grumpy old bastard.
It’s been four days since I met Megan for coffee. She left me her number, and I text her two nights ago, cos I’m a chicken shit. I should have called.
I agreed to train her and explained where we would do the training, both because of the rules at the gym, and also for her privacy, figuring that may offset the thought of being alone in my apartment with me. My suggestion was that Jenna could come along for the first session if that made her feel more comfortable.