Chapter Five
Everyone has left for the night and most of the lights are off, except for the one over the ring I’m sitting in. I have my back against the corner bar, legs drawn up, and my hands hang between my bent knees.
I trained for two hours straight, hitting the bag, doing weight work on my legs, and getting in the ring with Malice. That asshole has known me a long time and is perceptive to my moods. I didn’t want to talk, so he spotted me, did drills and let me knock him about a little in the ring instead of talking.
We discussed the re-match fight Marris wants. He agrees, it’s a stupid idea and I do not need to prove myself, but he encouraged me to do it, because like me, he never backs down from a challenge.
It kills him he can’t fight professionally anymore, so has thrown himself into helping with my training. I’m still on the fence about accepting it.
My mind isn’t on the fight with Marris. It’s on the proposal Megan put to me at the coffee shop earlier. She wants me to train her. There are so many people she could have asked before she came to me.
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.
A full three hours after I sent it, Megan replied.
MEGAN
Thank you Joey, I appreciate you being willing to do this. I’ll be fine to come on my own. Can you send me details of when and where?
So I sent her my address, told her I’m free for the next three afternoons so she can choose. She will be here in twenty minutes. My apartment is sparkling clean. I’ve set up some equipment in my home gym, researched how to train self-defense classes, and I’ve lit some scented candles, ones that have a calming effect.
I’m not into that kind of shit, but I want to do everything I can to put her at ease.
Now I’m sitting here like a nervous teenager going on his first fucking date and I’ve started to sweat.
When the security doorbell alerts me someone is here, I go to the unit on the wall and switch over to the camera. She’s wearing a sweatshirt and some workout pants, and her hair is pulled back. Her eyes flit back and forth around her before she turns to the camera.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous. “Get it together asshole,” I growl to myself, then hit the intercom. “Hey, come on in. Take the elevator up to the third floor.”
She nods with a smile and disappears from view when the door unlocks. I head out into the hall to wait for her. It’s a quiet building in a safe neighborhood, but I want her to be as at ease as possible.
Shit, I should have waited downstairs for her. Or is that coming on too strong?
My head tilts back on a groan and I stare at the ceiling. You’re a professional, you can do this. Get your head in the game. This is what you know. Just don’t scare her.
Fuck.
The elevator doors open a few minutes later and Megan steps out. I greet her and then hold the door open for her to go through ahead of me. She falters, then straightens her back and walks into the room. Shit, did I misstep there? I try to figure out why, but get distracted by the fresh scent of her perfume.
I make small talk as I lead her to my gym. Her eyes are everywhere, looking around my living space. Just a few weeks ago, my skin felt as if it was being peeled off by having people in my place, but I don’t get that feeling with Megan.
“Wow, Joey, this is amazing,” she stands in the middle of my home gym and turns to face me.
“I have to train a lot and can’t always get to the gym, so,” I shrug, looking around at the state-of-the-art gym equipment and the huge open space I have for sparring.
“Are you training at the moment?” she asks, setting her water bottle down on a shelf by the wall units where I keep towels and spare gym clothes.
“Not right now, but I will be. Sam has organized a match for me.”
“A fight?” she clarifies.
I nod. “I prefer to call them matches,” I say. Changing the wording isn’t for her benefit. “It’s a re-match against a guy I won against.”
“Oh,” she plays with her ponytail, her eyes moving around the space again.
“So, I wasn’t sure what things you wanted to work on. I spoke with Ricky, and I got some ideas about what we can work on self-defense wise.”
“Joey,” she steps onto the mat, not too close but within touching distance. “I don’t want to learn self-defense. I learnt a lot from Ricky already. What I want to learn from you is how to fight. ”
My brows dip in confusion. Fight? I didn’t pick up on that at the coffee shop.
“In my experience,” she chews on her lip. “Self-defense is a quick fix, something to throw off an attacker. I want to know how to fight if I can’t get away.”
The statement hangs between us, both of us knowing what she means. She doesn’t want to hold someone off so she can escape. She wants to proactively protect herself. Megan looks at me earnestly, probably thinking I’m going to say this isn’t what I agreed to. Truth is, I know how to fight better than anything else. It changes what I planned for today.
“Okay,” I grin. “That makes my life easier.”
“Yeah?” she smiles back.
“But if you’re going to learn how to fight, you need to do what I tell you.”
“Of course,” she says.
“I mean, fighting techniques come after conditioning and upping your fitness.”
“What do you mean?”
“If you want to hold your ground and fight, you need strength. Even more so given you’re always going to be slighter than anyone you may come up against.” Fuck, I hope that didn’t come out wrong. Last thing I want to do is remind her of her past or make her feel inferior.
Megan’s eyes dart away, a look of concentration on her face, like she is computing what I just said.
I don’t want to put her off, but I don’t want to coddle her either. She came to me for a reason. I misread the situation, but if she’s serious, then I will be too.
“It means hard work,” I say, putting my hands on my hips. “We’re talking running, high-intensity interval training, strength and conditioning. We’ll use pads which help with defensive maneuvers and footwork, and then sparring, which simulate actual fighting techniques. You think you can handle all of that? ”
She steels her shoulders, her chin high, and she stares right at me with determination. “Yes.”
I nod. “Okay then,” I check out her sneakers. “First things first. Let’s see how fit you are.”
“Using the machines?”
“Nope,” I indicate with my head for her to follow me out of the gym. I go first so I’m not behind where she can’t see me, figuring that was the issue when she first got here. She looks confused, but does as I ask. That bodes well. The last thing I need is resistance.
“Where are we going?”
“Treadmills are fine and have their place when training for a match, but if we’re going running, I prefer to do that outside. It conditions the body as well as the lungs getting fresh air, plus it promotes motivation and endurance when you have a physical finish line.
“It’s too easy to hit the go slow or cool down on a treadmill. Especially when you’re at home and there are other temptations just outside the room. If you’ve run a few miles, then you have to run a few more to get back home.”
Her head turns to the windows. It’s a gorgeous day out, not too hot but dry. She turns back and beams a huge smile at me.
“You might not be smiling when we’re done,” I say.
Megan doesn’t lose the smile. In fact, she looks even more determined than ever. “Bring it on.”
“Okay, Rocky, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
Megan laughs and her whole face lights up. It isn’t a look I’ve ever seen from her before. She’s free, taking control of her life and for the first time, there is no weight on her back.
I’m honored to help her.