Chapter 4
Tiernan
Arlo is at the door when I get there Friday morning.
He’s been early every day this week. It’s becoming a routine.
I refuse to admit how much I enjoy his company.
He comes in, starts the coffee, and cleans up the break room.
I turn off the security system and grab my to-do list for today.
Then we sit and drink our coffee together and eat the breakfast I’ve brought.
This is my favorite part of the day because every day I learn a little more about Arlo.
He hasn’t told me much, but I get to pry a little more out of him every morning.
I know he likes spy novels, and that Christmas was his favorite holiday when he was young.
He had a dog named Harold, after Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was his favorite book.
He takes his coffee with cream and sugar because he’s got a sweet tooth he won’t admit to.
I want to ask him how he ended up here and who hurt him, but I know we aren’t there yet.
This morning, though, I can’t resist observing him for a bit. Something isn’t right, and I can’t place it. He doesn’t look well. The dark circles under his eyes have gotten worse, not better. Not what I’d expect after making sure he’s fed and hydrated.
He’s been wearing the same two sets of clothes all week. I won’t ask him about it. He probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. They’re always clean and his hygiene is impeccable. I know because I catch the clean smell of his soap every morning when we walk in together.
I offer him another breakfast sandwich.
“Thanks, Tiernan, but I’m good. I’m actually not that hungry this morning.”
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“All good.” He tells me in that soft voice of his. But his face tells a different story. He’s paler than normal and seems a little spacey. I let it go because he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I looked you up last night. On the internet.” Arlo says.
He’s so cautious. This is the first time he’s asked me anything that wasn’t work-related.
“Oh yeah? What did you find out?”
“They said you were a famous fighter, but then you quit. Right out of the blue. Everyone was surprised.”
I grimace.
“Yeah, it was a big deal at the time. Everyone got over it. Thank God.” It’s strange how quickly I disappeared from everyone’s mind. Not that I’m in any way upset by it, because that was my plan.
“Can I ask why?” Arlo looks at me, tentative and uncertain.
For some reason I prefer not to examine, I don’t mind answering his questions.
“It all got too big, so I had to walk away.” I pause, but Arlo is silent, letting me talk at my own pace.
“I love fighting, even liked the training. Crazy, I know. And that level of competition is like nothing else. I loved the physicality of it, the competition, the adrenaline rush before a fight. All of it. Miss it still, sometimes. But the other stuff. The other stuff was harder. Always being in the spotlight, people using you for your fame, never knowing who you could trust. That I didn’t like. ”
I take a deep breath as the memories come roaring back.
“I wasn’t out then either. The press would hound me about who I was dating and wanting me to share my personal life. As if I’d tell those vultures anything.”
I huff a dry laugh.
“Then the social media push came and they wanted cameras everywhere in my life. I didn’t want any part of that. So I quit.” I pause for a moment, feelings I’d forgotten coming back in waves.
“I needed to be me. And that couldn’t happen in the spotlight, so I left. Then I took my winnings and bought a house, and a building. Then I opened a gym.”
“I get that.” Arlo’s voice is soft but full of empathy.
“I… uh I don’t like having all the attention on me either.
I guess I’ve always been like that, ya know.
The kid in the back of the classroom who never raised his hand.
I used to get so stressed anytime a teacher called on me. God, it was the worst.”
I reach out and cover his hand with mine, squeezing gently. He stills instantly, then slowly relaxes, but he doesn’t remove his hand. He just allows me to comfort him.
“I promise you can be whoever you want here, ‘Lo.” Arlo blushes at the nickname. It just sort of slipped out. I’m gonna leave it there because that is who he’s been in my mind.
It suits him. “Heck, look at Saint. That man hardly ever smiles and we’re all lucky if he says more than five words in a sentence.
Suerte always looks like he’s pissed, but that is mainly so people won’t talk to him. ”
I take a deep breath.
“My point is … you be you and it’ll still be okay.” I give his hand another squeeze because I can’t pull him into my lap and hug him. Even though I’d really like to.
***
Arlo has been stocking the supplies all week. I was really behind on my ordering, but with him here, I had the chance to get everything restocked. And if I’m lucky, I might even be able to find it in storage.
“Want me to keep working on the supplies and stuff?”
“Yeah, that would be a big help. There’s so much that needs to be done before tonight anyway.”
He refills his coffee cup and heads to the back door, where the delivery guy drops off all the packages. The pile was taller than he was at the beginning of the week. It’s almost gone now.
Having Arlo around has been a huge time-saver for me. I’m finally able to handle my backlog of paperwork and the bookkeeping. I’m saving that for last because I absolutely hate it. People need to get paid today, though, so I’m making myself handle it first.
Walking out of my office a few hours later, I’m hit with the clamor that is Friday afternoons. Everyone is pumped for tonight—the laughter, the trash talk—it’s much louder than usual.
I do my afternoon loop, chat with all my fighters, acknowledging the gym regulars, and stopping to check in with the trainers about injuries.
Not everyone who uses my gym is a fighter.
Some guys just like the tough workout, or the proximity to real fighters.
If they pay their gym fees and follow the rules, it doesn’t bother me.
They take one step out of line, though, and they’re gone.
That kind of bullshit isn’t happening in my space.
This gym is a safe place for queer fighters, I’ve made sure of that.
“Hey T. Got a sec?” Diesel flags me down on my way to the break room.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I checked the cut kits. We need to do some restocking before tonight.”
“Thanks, D. I’ll handle it.”
I make a list of what’s needed and take it with me to storage, fully prepared to spend the next hour trying to find everything.
When I walk in, however, I’m more than pleasantly surprised.
Holy crap! It’s been entirely reorganized.
I can actually move around without tripping on something.
I examine the medical supply shelf closely.
Are those … labels? I inspect each one, and sure enough, everything is sorted into categories and labeled.
Hell, I didn’t even know I owned a label maker.
Arlo. It has to be. I knew he’d been spending a lot of time back here, but I figured it was just because this place was a disaster. Turns out I was right, but he was doing much more than unloading boxes.
I load up the supplies I need, careful not to disturb his impressive display of order. It hits me. He’s got these medical supplies arranged by expiration date. Jesus, he’s good.
Carrying the supplies back out to the gym, I do a quick scan for my newest employee. He’s next to the back door, breaking down boxes and stacking them for recycling.
He stops for a minute to take a drink from his water bottle, his face flushed and shiny with sweat.
The door is open, sunlight streaming in, blond highlights brightening his mahogany hair.
It’s messy and disheveled as if he’d just gotten out of bed.
That thought zings through me with unexpected heat.
He looks my way, eyes wide at my scrutiny, before he schools his features into a look of indifference. I wave him over. I want him to learn to stock the cut kits. He’s clearly got a talent for organization.
It’s definitely not because I want to be close to him.
“What do ya need, boss?”
“Saw the storage area.”
He tenses up, shoulders tightening as his jaw clenches. I hate it. He’s already prepared for something bad to happen. It makes me want to go all out on the heavy bag.
“Yeah?” His voice is muted.
“Smart.” I meet his eyes with mine, steady with approval. “Gonna make things a hell of a lot easier.”
My breath catches at the smile that lights up his face, emphasizing his disturbingly cute dimple.
I have an overwhelming urge to keep making him smile like that, because I’m seeing the person underneath all the emotional weight he’s carrying.
I realize I want more than anything to be someone who doesn’t make him shrink.
But I’m his boss, so I can’t, but my hand reaches out before I can stop it, gripping his shoulder.
His skin is hot against my palm, but so soft. His breath quickens.
“Good job.” Is all I can get out, even though there is so much more I wish I could say.
His face flushes. He’s all pink cheeks and bright eyes.
I clear my throat and pull myself together.
“Why don’t you leave those boxes for now and I’ll show you the cut kits. Think you can handle keeping them stocked from now on?”
His smile fades, but he doesn’t look like he wants to disappear anymore. That’s a win in my book.
“Yup, I got you, boss.”
We spend the afternoon prepping for tonight, getting everything set up and stocked. Arlo is a fast learner, and by the time we’re done, we’ve got two hours to spare. That never happens.
“Better get yourself some of Diesel’s enchiladas before Anvil eats ’em all. Grab a shower and put on one of these. We’ve got about two hours ’til go time.” I tell him as I hand him the shirts I ordered.
They’re just some black t-shirts, but I had the logo added to the front and back. Now it’s a business expense, and he’s got a couple of extra shirts.
He tenses up, shoots me an annoyed look until he notices the logo. Then I get his almost-smile. He opens his backpack, pulling everything out to make room for the shirts. The outfit he wore yesterday, his toothbrush, and a bottle of body wash. Looks like his whole life is in that thing.
I say nothing. I just head to my office, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the thought of Arlo wearing something I bought for him.