Chapter 8
I couldn’t stop thinking about Rey last night. I tossed and turned in my car’s driver’s seat, refusing to go to the shelter. I tried to forget how he looked at me but couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, all I could see was his vicious stare taking a piece of me or the way he hit the punching bag like he was exercising a demon.
I grab the stack of unopened bills, toss the ones Javier already marked as trash, and pause when I see Rey’s name. It’s from a medical practice downtown. I turned it over and saw that it had already been opened. I look through the small window to see if Rey or Javier are still here from running errands, but it’s just the three guys who were already here when I showed up and came in.
It’s not my business to know his personal issues. It’s wrong and most likely illegal to read them, but it’s not like they were unopened. I know pro fighters can have concussions and get hurt like in any other sport, but Rey’s different. He is a mystery. Very few people know him, and from what I’ve read on social media, there isn’t much about his personal life.
I bite my bottom lip when I unfold the paper. It’s a copy of a bill for three thousand dollars to a psychiatrist, psychotherapist, and specialist. The type of specialist is not listed.
“Hey. ”
I drop the paper with an envelope, and it floats away like a leaf in the breeze under the desk. I clear my throat as Javier walks in and takes a seat.
“Hey,” I say with a nervous smile.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh, you didn’t. I didn’t realize you guys were back. I was lost in going through the mail.”
“Yeah, Rey has an appointment, and I had to pick up some stuff before they closed for the day.”
He glances at the stack I was going through. I didn’t move to pick up Rey’s medical bill because he would have seen that I opened it instead of placing it in their personal bin.
“Is everything alright?” I ask, hoping he will share something about his brother.
“Everything is good.” But I don’t miss the way his eyes dim a bit. “Did you guys eat?”
On my second day, they are training and doing drills with the new members who signed up and ask me to order them food from a health café.
“No time,” he says, looking through the mail I placed in his bin.
My stomach growls. He pauses and looks up. “Hungry?” I shrink in my seat in embarrassment.
If I plan to get an apartment, I can only afford to eat one solid meal a day. In the morning, it’s anything under three bucks. I eat again after I leave here for the day. If I’m lucky, I make it to the shelter and get a free meal, which helps me save on the cost of food.
“I’ll eat later.”
“How come you didn’t get to eat?” he asks, concern etched in his voice.
“I had a test today,” I lie. “I got out pretty late and came straight here.”
“That sucks. What class was it? ”
“Organization behavior.”
“Sounds fancy.”
“I guess.”
“Want me to order you something?” He offers.
I shake my head. “That’s okay. I can wait. I wouldn’t want to get greasy marks on your mail.”
He grins. “It’s cool. I’m sure you’re not the type to smear grease everywhere.”
“I’m fine, really,” I assure him when I see him pull out his phone.
“I can’t have you passing out. What will it be? Let’s see…” He scrolls through his phone. “All the places I can’t eat. I want to live dangerously through you.”
“Javier…”
“Pizza, Chinese, burgers,” he says. "Oh…wait…Spanish.” He rolls his eyes in ecstasy like he can taste the food. “I would kill for some rice and beans.”
“It can wait. I swear.”
I can’t have him order me food when I don’t have the money to pay for it. It would look bad when the delivery guy shows up expecting me to pay when all I have is one hundred and fifty bucks to my name. I need the money to wash clothes at the laundromat, buy food, and gas.
“Hm… I got it.” He looks up like he didn’t hear me with a mischievous look in his eyes, like he cracked the code to the vault. “Philly cheesesteak.”
“Javier…”
He dials the number and places his phone to his ear. “Onion or no?”
“I don’t…no…”
“No onions,” he says through the phone.
Shit. I don’t want to be rude and tell him not to order me food, but I can’t. The last thing I want is to be at odds with Javier when I need this job. It’s bad enough that his brother hates that he hired me. I mentally calculate how much I have in my wallet, hoping it will be enough for a tip.
It would be cheaper to go and pick it up, but right when that thought crosses my mind, he hangs up and says, “It will be here in twenty minutes. Now that I know you have food, I gotta go condition with a couple of the guys.”
After about twenty five minutes, I hear a knock on the door. A guy with a plastic back containing my food stands in the doorway. “Delivery for…Ari.”
“Yes,” I say, dreading spending the money I don’t have for the food I desperately want to eat.
“Eighteen oh three,” he says.
I rummage through my bag for the twenty-dollar bill, wishing I had more to give him for a tip.
“Oh, thanks,” the delivery guy says in surprise. Confused, I look up and shift uncomfortably in my seat.
Rey towers over him, grabbing my food after handing the delivery guy a fifty-dollar bill. The guy digs in his pocket to give him change, but Rey dismisses him and turns around to face me. I swallow because he is shirtless. Sweat coats his beautiful skin from working out. His eyes drop to the money in my hand.
“Thank you.” I reach out my hand to give him the money. “Here, for the food.”
He doesn’t take it. He doesn’t say anything and places the food bag on my desk.
“Here is your change,” the delivery guy says behind him. I forgot he was there. Rey shakes his head when the guy steps forward, trying to hand it to him, but his eyes are on me, watching me put the money away. “Thanks for the tip,” the delivery guy says with a smile and walks out.
“You didn’t have to pay for my lunch,” I rush out even though I’m relieved he did because I need it. Every penny counts .
He finally looks away and moves to where I placed the membership forms for everyone who has signed up for the gym in a separate pile from the ones who have made it to his camp.
He picks up the stack while I take the food. The smell fills my nose when I open it, and I almost groan at how delicious it smells, but I don’t want him to know that I’m starving—literally.
“Is there anything you want me to do?” I ask him, but like always, he ignores me and continues to look through the pile with a determined expression.
After a few seconds, he pulls out two membership forms. It’s the tenth of the month, the day I collect payment for memberships for the current month. I’m surprised when he places them in the cancellation bin and walks out, shutting the door.
I don’t move. I’m confused that he went out of his way to pay for my food, and even more so when I pick up the forms and see the two members he wants me to cancel.
I read the stipulation on the form that states the owners and management have the right to cancel without cause at any given time. Hector Ramirez and David Rothstein.