9. Chapter 6 #2
JJ loosed a breath, stood, and closed the office door.
“He wasn’t the same when he woke up—”
“But he wouldn’t be alive right now if they hadn’t put him under,” JJ interrupted, casting a pointed look Marilyn’s way.
“ Anyways …” She returned the favour. “His decline happened quickly over a few months after he woke up. In his mind, he was still ready and willing to continue fighting. But he just wasn’t the same after it took over.”
“After what took over exactly?” I asked softly, noting the tone of the room.
“The CTE,” JJ filled in after a moment of silence.
“He’d have good days and bad days. Some days he would realise what was coming for him, and some days he would do training sessions as if he was in fight camp again.
” He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and leaning back on my desk.
He solemnly looked at me, the grief written all over him.
The grief over a loved one who hadn’t passed but was no longer themselves.
“We collectively put together a retirement statement after Mari and I found him trying to do a water cut in the sauna at two-thirty in the morning. Congratulations, you’re in on the secret now.
A secret bigger than Santa Claus. Because this isn’t some magical story that makes children giddy and full of joy—this is reality here at Knock’s, man. ”
“On one of his good days, before he went away, he had his will changed. When he was no longer deemed clinically stable, Mari was to inherit the business. There was one condition—each staff member, both current and future, was to be given a letter. He called it his legacy letter; and it’s the reason why we still have so many of the staff left after a period of … financial struggle.”
My eyes shot up to Marilyn’s. “Are you guys still strapped for cash?”
A string of plans began to unfold in my mind. I would have to head into Darlington Harbour early, but skim past the old Lakehouse Brewery so no one would spot me. Then I would hit the bank branch on the outskirts and—
She chuckled softly. “No, dear. We found a way.”
She patted Gus’s rear, signalling for him to hop down from the couch. Marilyn stood up slowly, Gus carefully watching her every move.
“Come on, boys. Let’s leave him to it.” She put a hand to JJ’s shoulder and turned him towards the door. “I want to hear all about the young lady you had coffee with this morning.”
“Well …”
I could practically hear JJ’s smirk.
“There wasn’t much coffee drinking, if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down.”
Their voices faded away as I started reading my hero’s ‘legacy letter’.
“Welcome to the beating heart of my soul. Great to have you here …”
“Knock’s has always and will always be a place of healing and serenity. Ironic due to the nature of what we do to each other on those mats …”
“My beautiful daughter, Mari, is as fiercely protective of this place as I was. If you can’t see it as anything but that, then Knock’s isn’t the place for you …”
I read on and on and on.
Then I read it again.
And again.
And again.
I read it until I could practically hear Elijah Trevino’s voice in my head.
He detailed how The Elijah Trevino came to be.
How he met Al, when the coach-of-a-lifetime saved his ass in a bar fight one night, and how he might’ve wound up dead in a gutter if Al hadn’t been there.
He spoke of Leah, the love of his life, whom he dedicated every inkling of his success too.
He described her as ‘who Knock’s would be if it were a person’.
And finally, for the last page and a half, I read about his one and only daughter—Mari.
It was so fucking surreal to read about the true love a father had for his child.
Heaven knew I’d never experienced that. It felt like he was in my corner, telling me, ‘She’ll be a challenge to win over but once you do, you’ll have her for life’.
I never was one to back down from a challenge.
~
“Trevino!” I called, lowering my voice to that steely level so people knew I wasn’t fucking around. “Bag work. Five rounds. Start with 20 kicks a side.”
“Pardon?” Fury burned hot in those eyes. Their sweet honey colour turned to dark cocoa brown almost instantly.
I smirked as she stormed over.
“Who do you think you’re talking to?”
“Who do you think you’re talking to?” I countered. Gloriously amused at the look on her face, I lifted my chin and sure as shit kept my eyes on hers. “Last I checked, this is my class. Play by my rules, start pulling your goddamn punches, or get out.”
She glared at her sparring partner, a shorter, bearded fighter who was now wiping away a bloody nose. “You—” she started.
“What’s it gonna be, Sunny?” I cut her off, taking a step closer into her space.
She was puffing, panting lightly through her nose, lips tightening into an angry frown.
“You gonna hit the bag or the bricks?”
“Fuck you, Riordan,” she spat. Her face was flushed red with rage and those dark eyes blazed back at me. She tore her thick black gloves off and threw them towards her gear bag—identical to mine but with an elegant MT embroidered in white stitching on the front pocket.
I set my posture, standing tall as I turned around to find everyone milling around watching us. The timer blaringly sounded, signalling a new round, and my thoughts broke free.
“Everybody hit the ground for push-ups! Since you would all rather stand around and gossip like a bunch of schoolgirls instead of workin’!”
I could hear JJ’s mocking laughter as he lapped everyone in push-ups.
How? I had no idea. The man switched between salads and KFC every five hours.
But, I had to give it to him, it appeared to be working for him considering he was the biggest and strongest in the class.
JJ stood at six-five and filled his frame with 125 kilos of pure muscle.
He was bigger than me, sure—but he and I both knew he would never beat me.
“You want more, Jones?!” I boomed in response to JJ’s laughter.
“You know I do, Rio!”
Everyone else in the class groaned in unison.
“Push-ups through the next two bells! No rest!”