Chapter 7 #3
“Self-discipline is a pillar of my coaching style,” I say, nodding. Hopefully he can’t see my hands shaking in my lap.
“But Danny isn’t just undisciplined.” Bill pushes the binder toward me. “To put it plainly, he’s a hedonist.”
The word hangs in the air as I try to make sense of it in this context.
“A hedo—like … how do you mean?”
“He chases pleasure. It’s a counter-culture movement, like the furries or polygamists.
Danny only does what feels good—drinking, having sex, smoking pot, and, apparently, pissing me off.
More recently, his hedonistic lifestyle got him cited for ‘whereabouts unknown’—fight league speak for skipping his last drug test. If it happens again, he’ll be kicked from the league.
” Bill nods at the binder in front of me.
“His other colorful behaviors are a matter of public record. I took the liberty of printing them, so you’d know what you’re up against.”
I hesitate, then perch my glasses on my nose and lean forward, reading aloud.
“December 9th, fined for sleeping on a public beach without a permit. That’s not so bad,” I murmur.
“Keep reading.”
“February 15th, detained for trespassing after breaking into a resort pool after hours.”
“They found him passed out naked on a unicorn floatie circling the lazy river.”
“June 1st …” Bill has a pained expression on his face as I read. “A flight was forced to make an emergency landing due to Daniel Kekoa smoking in the business-class lavatory with a female passenger. He was furthermore charged under Penal Code section 647a.”
“Lewd conduct in public,” Bill says. “Legal jargon for mile-high blow job.”
I glance at Danny through the glass, feeling woozy.
I’ve been in this man’s bed.
I close the binder and swallow hard. “What exactly do you need me to do?”
“I need you to chaperone him, twenty-four hours a day. Make him do all the disciplined stuff he hates. Make sure he doesn’t ditch his drug test. His title eliminator fight is in three weeks against Adrien DeLuca. The winner gets a title shot.”
“Oh, I know this one,” I say. “A title shot means he gets to challenge the champion for the belt.”
Bill nods. “Yes. But he needs to get through DeLuca first.” His eyes narrow on mine. “Watch him every second. I really can’t stress that enough. Every. Second.”
You mean live with my one-night stand who turned out to be a troubled cage fighter? Perfect.
I glance at Danny through the glass. He’s got his hood up and is roughly putting cookies onto his plate like he’s mad at them.
How is he the same guy who charmingly has dinner with his grandma each month? Who showed me I wasn’t alone in the world? Who is totally onboard with unreciprocated orgasms?
It’s all too much. I must look like I want to parachute out the window, because Bill places a gruff, ring-filled hand on mine.
“Don’t worry,” he says, his voice gentle now. “It’s not as bad as it sounds. Deep down, Danny is a good man. He just doesn’t know it yet.”
I nod, taking a shaky breath. Obviously the “Lothario of Lahaina” will be a complicated case … but if chaperoning this … hedonist is what it takes to not lose Casey, then it will all be worth it.
“Oh, and keep an eye on his sweet tooth,” Bill says under his breath. “Nothing fans hate more than a fighter not making weight.”
Danny walks back into the room with his plate of cookies. If he’s embarrassed at having his bad behavior revealed to me, he doesn’t show it. In fact, his back is rod straight, and his chiseled jaw is tilted upwards, a caricature of pride.
Don’t look at that jaw. And especially don’t remember it grazing your collarbone. Your hipbone. All the way down to your—
“It’s been a while since I’ve been nannied,” Danny says, biting a cookie. “Remind me. Do I put on my jammies now, or wait until after story time?”
“It’s not a joke, Danny. Your career shouldn’t be a joke to you,” Bill says, taking his handkerchief out of his pocket and wiping his brow. “My whole life depends on you. My kid’s college tuition, my wife’s health insurance. And you don’t give a shit.”
He rifles through his briefcase for something. Danny walks over to him and plucks a prescription vial from one of the tiny leather compartments, offering it to Bill on his open palm.
“I’m here, aren’t I?” His voice is quieter now, tinged with reconciliation.
“Yes,” Bill says, swallowing his pill dry. “But if this doesn’t work, I hate to say it, kid, but I’m out.” He shakes the prescription vial. “My blood pressure can’t take it.”
“You always threaten to quit on me.” Danny’s voice is warmed with affection for his manager. “You never mean it.”
“This time I do. Mark my words, Daniel,” Bill says, pointing at him. “If you don’t keep your nose clean until this fight, then we’re done.”
Danny looks down at his huge hands, contemplating. He decides something internally, and finally looks up to meet my eyes, resigned but furious, as if I’m somehow to blame.
“I didn’t ask for a babysitter,” he says, his jaw flexing intensely.
“Good,” I say, sitting higher in my chair, and biting my lip. “Because I’m a life coach.”