Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
ANDI
After the intensity of the morning, Luke and I settle into a more comfortable routine as we move around the gym.
He is tireless as we work on weightlifting, noting his max-out weight, before moving to the speedball and the punching bag.
After that, we move on to his cardio max, including sprints, mountain climbers, and burpees.
By early afternoon, Mack had Luke in the ring sparring with one of the other new guys.
What I told Luke was true. He has skills and will be a good fighter, but he still has a lot to learn before he can get ring time with the more experienced guys.
I know Luke has something to prove, but putting him in that situation would do more harm to his confidence than he even realizes.
If, or I should say, when he loses to someone more experienced, he won't even consider that they've had years more training than he has. He would only see failure and defeat.
Only a few people here at the gym know this, but every weekday, after managing the morning workouts, I spend my days and most evenings at a youth center I help run.
I see people every day with the same look in Luke’s eyes—hunger for his dream, yet no one to believe in his ability to achieve it.
Skill, stamina, and training are important, but so is having someone believe in you.
I see the talent in him, just as I see talent in the underprivileged teenagers at the center.
I want to help him see it, too. See it and believe it.
I’m standing back now, just watching him spar.
Mack and Tom have taken over with Luke after my initial assessment, and with nothing to do, I have way too much time to think.
This, working at the gym with the fighters, isn't my actual job.
Pop took me under his wing and started teaching me to defend myself when I was sixteen and legally emancipated from the state.
I started hanging out here with him and learned everything I could.
Now I do it because I like it and because it helps Pop.
As the sparring match nears its end, I approach Mack at the edge of the ring. “Hey, Pop, think you can get two guys in here to spar? Might be good for me to explain to Luke what I’ve been doing ringside.”
Mack smiles at me knowingly. He knows I’m choosing my words to let Luke save face with the other guys, at least in Luke’s mind.
Everyone here knows me and how long I've been with Mack, and they have no problem taking my input. Luke, however, would see it as a weakness since he doesn’t know me or any of the guys here, for that matter.
“Good idea, Andi. Come on down here, Luke. That’s enough for today. Let Andi explain her job to you.” Mack waits for Luke to remove his headgear and gloves and climb out of the ring before continuing.
“Listen, son,” Mack levels Luke with his dead-on gaze.
“Andi’s been with me for a long time. I’ve taught her everything she knows about boxing.
She’s helped every guy in here improve his skills—so don’t be shy about asking for her opinion or taking her advice.
She wouldn't steer you wrong.” A few of the guys nearby confirm Mack's praise of me, and I watch as Luke's face and shoulders relax, just a little.
Mack calls for two lightweight fighters to climb into the ring, and I explain to Luke what my role is in these matches.
I point out that one fighter always cocks his right shoulder back, even slightly, before throwing a right cross.
Even that slight movement gives away his intentions and gives the other fighter time to block and counterpunch.
Something as small as that gives the opponent the edge, and no fighter can afford that.
Then I encourage him to help me watch for other clues.
This is part of his training, even if he doesn’t realize it.
It will help him just as much to pay close attention to his opponent’s body mechanics in the ring.
It's not all about brute strength. Strategy and intellect play a significant role in determining who gets to the title fight.
I’m impressed but not surprised when Luke spots a couple of key giveaways on his own.
I smile at him and say, “Good eye. Very good eye. Try to remember to watch for this next time you’re in the ring.
Every fighter has their own quirk to some degree.
It’s hard to keep the next planned move a complete surprise.
The excellent ones keep most of their moves under wraps, but sometimes even something as simple as which way they shift their eyes will give them away. ”
Luke nods, but for a moment he has a faraway look in his eyes. He turns to look at me, and I see a new understanding in his expression. “I think I know why I almost lost my last fight now. Damn, that makes perfect sense.”
We watch the guys in the ring for a few more minutes before Luke speaks to me again. He doesn’t look at me, but he leans in slightly. I know he’s talking to me when he says, “I’d appreciate it if you’d watch me next time I spar and tell me what you see.”
I turn my head and look up at him. Seeing me turn to him, he looks down at me.
His expression is genuine. There's no double entendre in his words. “Okay, I’d be glad to, Luke.” His smile in return is warm and appreciative.
So I continue in a semi-teasing tone. “But be warned, if you argue with what I say, I will video you and prove it to you.”
His laugh comes from deep in his chest, and he is thoroughly amused. “You’ve got a deal, Andi.” With a blatantly flirtatious wink and his beautiful blue eyes sparkling with mischief, he adds, “Whenever you want to video me, just let me know, especially if you’re my co-star.”
This man is beyond sexy. He makes me reconsider my self-imposed "no dating fighters" rule for a moment, and that thought alone terrifies me.
I tell myself it's just attraction, just harmless flirting, but the truth is, it goes deeper than that.
With his looks and flirtatious nature, I'm sure he's a complete player, but I'm not interested in the whole friends-with-benefits thing. I’ve been burned before by men who only wanted something temporary, and I promised myself I’d never do it again. I’ve also seen firsthand the atrocious acts a power-hungry man is willing to commit, and that has fed my trust issues for most of my life.
Still, I enjoy spending time with him way too much, and I feel drawn to him more than I want to admit, even to myself.
Every time he smiles at me or looks at me like I matter, the voices in my head go to war: one warning me not to trust him or let him in, the other reminding me how safe I feel just being beside him.
If I let myself fall, everything is at stake—my pride, my sense of control, and my heart, only just healed from the tragedies of my past. If I let myself hope, I might lose myself, and that might be the scariest thing of all.
After years in a gym full of testosterone-laden alpha males, there isn't much I haven't heard, so it's hard to offend me.
His retort was tame in comparison, so I just laughed and shook my head.
The clock on the wall grabs my attention, though, as I notice how late it is.
I have things to do before meeting my girlfriends at The Beta Room, our favorite watering hole, nightclub, and hangout spot.
“Hey, Pop, I’m taking off now. Need anything before I leave?” I call Mack across the room.
He turns and smiles at me. “No, darlin’, go have fun with your girls tonight. Call if you need me.”
Suddenly, my feet leave the ground, and I'm hoisted into the air by a pair of big, muscular arms that have encircled me from behind. I let out a squeal of laughter and yell, “Put me down, you lunatic!” Of course, he doesn’t.
He turns me upside down and keeps walking toward Mack, completely ignoring the not-so-affectionate names I call him.
I know exactly who it is because this is how he greets me every time he returns from one of his trips.
I met him soon after I met Pop, and he’s the guy slated to become the next light-heavyweight champion.
He’s a phenomenal fighter and an all-around great guy who’s been like a brother to me since we first met.
When my head is finally right side up and my feet are back on the ground, I quickly turn and jump into his arms for a big bear hug. "Shane! ‘Bout time you came home!"
He's been away at an individual conditioning camp in Las Vegas, owned by a friend of Mack's, for the past couple of months, and I've missed him. He’s the one person I can talk to about anything and one of the two men I trust implicitly.
As my arms wrap around his neck and my cheek brushes his, I catch a glimpse of Luke’s face over Shane’s shoulder.
He doesn’t look happy. In fact, he looks downright pissed off and possessive—like he wants to throttle Shane for touching me.
I don't know why I suddenly feel a twinge of guilt for being so excited to see Shane, but I'm not about to examine it right now.
Luke is making his way over to us, and I feel the need to defuse the situation before it gets out of hand.
LUKE
I love how Andi’s face flushes red with embarrassment when I compliment or flirt with her.
It tells me I’m getting to her as she does to me.
She wouldn’t respond this way if she didn’t feel at least some attraction to me.
She tries to play it off as if she isn’t affected when I offer to let her co-star in a video with me.
But what impresses me most is how generous she is—even though she just met me and I've been an ass to her more than I’ve been nice today.
I’m trying to make it up to her now. I was out of line, and I know it.
After Mack and a few of the other guys openly praised her for how she helps improve our skills, there’s no way I would even consider refusing her help.