14. Juliet
14
JULIET
M y head continues to pound from several long nights and lack of sleep, but that doesn’t stop me from hitting up Cory’s gym after I finish my final shift of the week at The Dionysus Lounge. It feels like an eternity has passed since I’ve set foot in the dingy, cement room that makes up the majority of Cory’s building. There’s no need for me to change since I swapped clothes after I got off the bus and my warm-up had been the thirty-minute walk over.
Instead of heading straight for the locker rooms like normal, I go in search of the gym’s owner, hoping to gain some insight into his relationship with Principal Long and possibly get a good spar in while I’m at it. As I move through the space, diving around big bulky men in workout gear, I frown. Normally, I avoid the gym during their busiest hours, but with school now in session and my new job, I don’t have much of a choice but to come when I can.
I’d hoped that a Friday afternoon meant this place would be nearly empty, but as I catch sight of a familiar dark head and make a beeline toward Cory, the sounds of masculine grunts and dumbbells dropping onto padded floors make me rethink that assumption. Friday afternoons, it appears, makes Cory’s gym a hopping place to be.
I keep walking, ignoring the stares I get until I reach the sparring ring towards the back of the big room. That’s where Cory comes completely into view, leaning against the wall as he watches two fighters circle each other in the ring. I don’t even spare the guys a glance, and instead, round the big roped-off section until I’m at his side.
“Hey, girl,” he greets casually. “Ain’t seen much of you ‘round here since school started.”
“Yeah.” I recline against the wall at his side. “Been busy. Got a job.”
“You did?” My lips twitch when his head swivels in my direction. I don’t blame him for being surprised. The fact that anyone would be willing to hire Silverwood’s number one pariah is shocking to me too. “Congrats.”
“Thanks.” A grunt sounds within the ring and I catch sight of one of the opponents as he stumbles into ropes across from us. His partner stands tall and firm with both feet spread apart and his back to me.
“So, funny thing,” I start again, looking back at Cory. “I got into a bit of trouble my first day and ended up meeting the principal.”
Cory chuckles. “Yeah, I ain’t all that surprised by that. You was bound to attract some bad mojo.”
“ Yeah ,” I draw out the word as I side-eye him. “That’s not what I’m getting at here.” Cory doesn’t look at me. He fixes his attention on the ring, but I keep going. “Principal Long seemed to already know a thing or two about me. Imagine my surprise when she admits that she got some of that information from you. ” I emphasize that last word. “Care to explain?”
Cory glances my way and then heaves a sigh. “Heather’s a friend,” he says. “We go way back. Thought it might do a girl like you some good to have someone not out to get you on your first day. You ain’t gotta worry ‘bout her. She’s a fair broad.”
Her fairness isn’t my point of contention. “So, you thought that meant you could tell her my business?” I ask. “Exactly how much did you tell her?”
Cory arches one brow before scrubbing a hand over his trimmed but still curly beard. “It don’t matter much,” he says. “It ain’t like everyone don’t already know your business—in a town this small? Ain’t nothing remain a secret for long.”
“It matters to me, Cory,” I tell him. “You know I can’t really trust anybody in this godforsaken town anymore.” He’s one of the few and perhaps the last.
Cory sighs and then turns to face me fully. His hands come out and land on my shoulders. I don’t push him away or brush him off. There are only a few people in my life now that I would let touch me so casually, but he’s one of them. Even if he meant good, though, by informing Principal Long of my circumstances—even if I know she likely would have learned it elsewhere—coming from him, it feels like another betrayal.
“You remember what I told you when you first came here?” he asks.
I frown but nod. “Survival is about more than fighting, it’s about learning when to fight and when to back down,” I repeat his words and his face softens.
“That’s right,” he says. “You came in here looking like the world was tearing you down.”
“It was.” It still is.
He nods. “Yeah, but that don’t erase the fact that I taught you the skills you needed to make sure it didn’t rip you to shreds. Take this as another lesson. You can’t do anything alone, girl. You might think you can, but at the end of the day, you’ll need people on your side if you want long-term survival. If you want happiness.”
Happiness. The mere notion of being happy again is such a faraway concept to me now. What would make me happy? Getting back my life? Reversing time? No. If I’m honest with myself, I wasn’t truly happy before my life fell to shit. I was just pretending to be. I was frustrated. Confined. Tired. The only difference now is that I no longer need to hide any of what I’m feeling to keep up the facade.
“I want to leave Silverwood,” I tell him. “I think that’d make me happy.” Starting over. A new life. A new city. That will be good for me. Maybe I’ll even delete my email so that my dad’s lawyer stops trying to get me to see him.
The edges of Cory’s lips tilt up. “I think that’s a good goal to have,” he says. “But you’ve got months ‘til you can make it a reality. In that time, you should think about making a few friends. Happiness ain’t something you gotta wait on. You can make your own happy here too, for as long as you’ll be here.”
I shake my head and carefully step out from beneath his hands. “I trust you, Cory,” I say, “and I respect you, but I don’t think making friends in Silverwood is gonna do me much good. I’m just trying to live my day-to-day. I’ll figure out ‘happy’ when this place is behind me.”
Cory parts his lips, but whatever he’s about to say is swallowed by the sharp sound of a body slamming into the hard floor. Not the padded bottom of the sparring ring, but the cold, hard linoleum tile above the concrete floor outside of it. In sync, Cory and I pivot towards the ring. I gape up at the man standing on the other side of the ropes with his arms propped and his face dripping with sweat.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prep Girl.” Gio Vargas grins down at me from where he stands in the ring, completely oblivious to the groans coming from his opponent who stumbles back to his feet. I have to crane my neck to look up at him as he sets the bottom of one bare foot on the lowest rope separating the ring from the rest of the gym and his elbows on the highest one.
“What did I say ‘bout throwing bodies out of the ring?” Cory’s voice booms out, the sound so loud it makes me jolt. Several heads turn.
Gio scrubs a hand back over his messy hair before supplying Cory with a sheepish grin. “That anyone who gets thrown out forfeits?”
Cory’s expression darkens for a split second before he sighs. “That anyone dumb enough to get thrown out deserves it,” he corrects.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t expect the prick to be able to lift me!” The opponent, a rather bulky man himself, grumbles as he rubs his back and limps to the side of the ring.
“I bench two-eighty, big boy,” Gio replies. “Think again.”
“You’re not getting back in the ring, Donner,” Cory snaps. “So, don’t even try it, old man. Get yerself back to the showers and grab a pack of ice.”
“Awww.” Gio grips the ropes between his fists and reclines back, pulling it as he tilts his head and whines. “Then who’ll play with me?” His eyes light on me. “Maybe Prep Girl wants to go for a spin?”
“Not a chance in hell,” I shoot back without hesitation. Getting in the ring with him? It’s a bad idea all around.
He arches a brow and straightens as Cory moves forward, snags Donner by the arm, and directs him away when he seems intent on climbing back into the ring despite Cory’s words. Anyone around here knows that, in the gym, Cory’s words are law.
“Go on now,” Cory says, shooing Donner away. “Get back there.”
The man grumbles but finally gives in and walks away, still limping ever so slightly. I blow out a breath as I watch him go and decide that maybe it’s not best to come to the gym on a Friday afternoon after all. This was a waste of a trip since it looks like the punching bag is already in use, and there is no room for me to even catch a treadmill to run on without someone up my ass.
“I think I’ll come back later,” I say as Cory turns back to me. “When it’s not so crowded.”
“Running away?”
I stiffen at Gio’s provoking tone. With a careful expression, I look back at him. “There’s nothing for me to run from,” I say.
“So, you’re not scared of getting your ass beat?” he asks with a laugh. “Good for you ‘cause what I hear is that it’s coming for you soon at school.”
“Vargas—” Cory’s tone is a warning.
Outside, I’m nothing but calm. Inside though? Inside, I’m fucking boiling. “You think I can’t beat you?” I ask, stepping up to the edge of the ring and tilting my head back even further.
He chuckles. “What do you weigh? I’d bet anything it’s little more than a buck fifty.”
“You just said you bench two-eighty,” I reply. “So I thought weight class didn’t matter.”
He whistles. “So I did.”
I sense Cory’s presence before I feel his hand land on my shoulder. “He’s just bored, girl,” he says. “Don’t let him rile you up.”
Too late for that. “I’m already riled.”
Playboy looks far too happy at my words and he rips himself away from the ropes, bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet as he holds one palm out towards me, face up, and curls his fingers. “Come on then,” he says. “Let’s do this.”
“Got any extra pads?” I ask Cory without looking at him.
His low sigh is my only answer, but a few minutes later, I’m strapped up and ducking under the ropes to take my place on the fighting mat in the middle of the ring. I crack my neck one way and then another, hating how tight the headgear is on me, but then again, it’s meant more for kids since none of the men’s headgear would fit me.
“I want a clean sparring match,” Cory says, directing his voice out over the gym as he stands back and crosses his arms.
“I won’t go too hard on her, Cory,” Gio replies.
I grin.
Cory sighs again. “I wasn’t saying that just to you.”
Gio frowns, but it’s too late. The bell rings. The match begins. I dive forward and perform a quick series of jabs—relying on muscle memory to pound them out. For the last few months, while everyone else had been having a great old last summer before senior year, I’d been training for my fucking life. So, I know … no one actually expects me to do well. Least of all a cocky asshole from Silverwood Public.
My first hit lands, but Gio’s training kicks in for my second and he proves that he’s no slouch either. He manages to dodge the following jabs and even make a few himself. I rear back and the two of us circle one another. Sweat coats my skin beneath my t-shirt, but I remain focused. My breaths come fast and hard, rocketing up my throat as we bob and weave across the mat.
Now that he’s learned I’m not a slacker, Gio’s face turns serious. Cory’s eyes linger on me, his brow creased with concern, but I’m not going to let that bother me now. Playboy here was the one who wanted this fight and who am I to turn down a gift punching bag? It’s better to get my anger out here and now than explode in school and risk another suspension.
“I gotta say, Pipsqueak,” Gio calls. “Even if you need some more power behind your punches, you got speed on your side.”
“I thought I was Prep Girl?” I snap. “Do you give everyone you meet a hundred different nicknames?”
He laughs. “Just trying to find the right one,” he replies. “I’ll let you know when it hits.”
“Don’t bother—fuck!” I shoot out of the way as he makes a dive for me and just when I think I’m clear, his hands wrap around my waist and lift me up.
I brace for impact, but all of the air in my lungs rushes out the moment my spine connects with the mat and his body moves over mine. “Maybe I should call you”—he pants—“Distracted Girl.”
Bringing both my forearms up to cover my face, I wait for blows to land, but there’s nothing. Uncertain, I peek out to see him grinning down at me. “What the fuck are you waiting for?” I snap, bucking against him.
His body lifts up slightly and then he readjusts and pins me back to the mat, coming back down harder than before. “Don’t be so quick to anger,” he says. “It'll do you no good in a fight.”
“I can handle myself!” I bow against him, and unfortunately, despite my words, I’m proving myself wrong by being unable to break his hold.
“You telegraph your moves, you know,” he comments lightly.
“Yeah, I been telling her to watch for that,” Cory pipes in.
Gio turns his head towards him before flipping back to me. “Is it ‘cause you don’t have a sparring partner ‘sides from Cory?”
“None of your freaking business!” I clench my hands into fists and punch at his side.
“Oof!” Gio grabs ahold of my arms and then suddenly, they, too, are pinned down—this time, beneath his legs. I freeze as his groin connects with mine. My eyes widen and I jerk my head down.
“You need to learn how to play nice with others,” Gio says with a slow smile.
I realize one thing that makes my stomach twist and my rage grow. His dick is hard.
“Are you fucking with me right now?” I seethe, struggling against the hold he has on me. I wait for Cory to call the sparring match since it’s obvious as shit that I lost, but surprisingly he doesn’t and I’ll be damned before I ask for an end to the fight.
Gio leans down further and puts his mouth as close to my ear as both of our headgear can manage. “You need a bit more practice before you take on the big boys, sweetheart.”
“Why don’t you let me up and I’ll take you on again?” I suggest. The second his legs aren’t pinning mine and my arms down, I’ll fucking slam my fist into his cock hard enough to break it. The damn snake in his pants rubs against me again. Just how fucking big is it?
His low, reverberating chuckle moves from his chest against mine. “You know, I bet I know someone who’d very much like to take you up on your body’s offer, Prep Girl.”
“There’s no fucking offer,” I insist. “Other than the one that lets me kick your ass.”
“Is that so?” Gio doesn’t seem particularly bothered as I move again, shifting my body to the side as I try to break his hold and wiggle out. My face is hot and I feel flushed with both humiliation and exertion. What the fuck is Cory thinking letting this continue?
I try to seek him out but I don’t get the chance. Gio grips my chin and tilts my face back to his. Dark brown eyes meet mine. “You think not?” His expression turns serious. “Tell me something, Juliet. If I slipped my hand into your panties right now, would you still say the same?”
“ Yes ,” I hiss back.
“Even if I found you wet and wanting?”
I stop moving and close my eyes. One. Breathe. Two. Nothing is going to happen here. Three. He won’t do it. Four. Even if he did, Cory would kick his ass out. Five. But not before I had my revenge in the way of either my fist or my knee in his crotch.
“You’re assuming,” I begin, reopening my eyes and staring up into his face, “that I want you. I hate to break your heart, Playboy ,” I snarl my own nickname back at him, “but I don’t.”
A clapping sound breaks the tension and Gio finally pulls back and releases my face. “Alright, that’s enough. Time to give someone else a chance in the ring, you two,” Cory calls.
I debate punching Gio in the dick again when I get to my feet and he casts me a smug grin before adjusting his basketball shorts. If he’s concerned about sporting such a massive boner in a gym full of mostly older smelly men, he doesn’t show it. Unfortunately, I know that if I hit him after Cory’s called an end to the match, I’d have to find myself a new gym.
I’m grateful enough to Cory not to make him regret letting me use the place—especially when no other fucking gym in town would even consider my application. Small towns and even smaller businesses are shit when it comes to business, always letting community politics guide their decisions. Not Cory though. If it weren’t for him, I’d have nothing but a few childhood karate classes to support my self-preservation for the next year.
“Good spar, Prep Girl,” Gio says, holding his hand out.
I stare at it for a moment. Instead of taking it, I flip him off and grab the ropes, practically diving out of the ring as I rip the headgear off and begin to unwrap my knuckles.
“I take it you’re gonna head home?” Cory asks as I shove the gear at him.
“Yup. Thanks for the referee.” Fat lot of good it did me. I still lost.
Grabbing my tennis shoes and socks, I pull them back on and tighten the laces before heading for the door. I raise a hand in goodbye. “See ya later, Cory.”
“Be safe, girl!” he calls back.
Thirty seconds after I exit the old gym building, the glass door swings open behind me and the sound of footsteps trails out, crunching over the gravel parking lot. The footsteps at my back linger past the lot, however, and I glance back with a scowl to find Giovanni fucking Vargas with a phone to his ear as he trails me.
“Yeah, thanks, man. See ya soon.” He hangs up.
I stop and turn in a new direction. Guess it’s the long way home today. Behind me, Gio’s footsteps follow. I break into a jog, but five minutes later, I still fucking hear him.
Rounding an old bowling alley with a few cars stationed in the parking lot, I race for the chain link fence that lines the train tracks that run alongside the building. My legs burn as I pick up the pace, pushing more power into them.
“Shit.” Gio’s curse makes me grin.
I launch myself at the chain link fence and manage to get halfway up before a firm hand grabs ahold of the back of my shirt and yanks me down. My fingers peel away from the metal and I shriek as I fall backwards.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” Gio demands as I land hard on my back on the concrete.
A low groan rumbles up from my chest. “Actually, the opposite,” I cough back a reply. I get to my feet and wince when I feel a particularly sore spot right over one of my kidneys at my lower back. A quick look down to the ground reveals a rather large rock as the culprit. My luck just doesn’t stop. With a sigh, I dust off my hands on my pants and face him. “Why are you following me?”
Gio, though, isn’t listening. His phone is back out and against his ear for a second time. “We’re behind the bowling alley,” he says. “Can you—already? Great. We’ll wait for you here.”
Since there’s no one else but me and him, I assume that his ‘we’ includes me, which can only mean one thing. I’ve got to make a run for it.