Finding peace, p.16
Finding Peace, page 16
I suppress a groan.
“He’s pretty good though, for being such a novice, right?” Dad has taken to coming out and watching me whenever he can get away.
It’s irritating.
And I love it.
I’m a mess.
Harrison grunts. “He’s a natural at everything physical and always has been, but that doesn’t mean he’ll be able to evade Izzy Volkov. Once he gets his arm around your throat, you can’t break free. There’s a reason they call him the Bulldog.”
“Made any progress on monikers for our boy here?” Dad asks.
My old trainer scowls. “Just pick one of the ones I sent.”
Dad laughs just as Justin swings wide. I can’t resist taking a swipe at him, even though I know it brings me close enough for him to sneak around behind me. When my fist connects with his jaw, the risk is worth it. He takes the blow like a champ and shifts cleanly, his arm coming around me like I knew it would.
But I’m faster than him. I’ve been eating too much pie lately, but I’m still lightning fast. Barely fast enough, but barely counts.
I hate the idea of eliminating pie, but I can’t keep eating like I’m in my twenties. At least I don’t have to cut out the best thing about the past few weeks—Anica.
I may have avoided the move I saw coming, but thinking about my girlfriend in the ring is moronic. Justin slams the outside of his foot against my lower leg and knocks me sideways. I recover as well as I can, but it’s enough for him to grab my wrist and flip it around.
Putting me into an armlock.
I swear under my breath.
“How about the Corporate Chump?” Harrison asks. “Because if he stays that sloppy, he won’t last the first round against Izzy.”
I tap out, my head twisted sharply enough to the side that I can see when Dad’s nostrils flare.
“Again,” Harrison says. “And this time, pay attention, boy.”
He alternates between calling me old man and boy, but he’s always been like that. Push, pull, shove, encourage. Maybe all coaches do that with boxers. Lure, smack. Bait and punish. It’s not an ineffective preparation for life in general.
Holds suck, and I hate Izzy Volkov for supposedly being so good at them.
But I remind myself that there’s a reason they’re pairing me off against him. I need to evade his holds only long enough to take him out with a solid punch. That’s always been my strength, and now I just need to be fast enough to play to it.
After more than five minutes of exchanging small blows, which is all I’ve been tasked to do, Justin catches me again, this time in a rear naked choke hold. I really hate that one. If I’d been a split second faster it wouldn’t have happened.
To gain speed, I need to cut weight—definitely no more sweets.
My shoulders tremble and the scrape on my shoulder stings and the inside of my mouth tastes like flop sweat from being shoved to the mat when Harrison finally calls it quits for the day.
“Should he be training like this so close to a match?” Dad asks.
I stumble to my feet.
“Of course not,” Harrison says. “With any other fighter, I wouldn’t even try it.”
“Huh?” Dad opens his mouth to argue more.
“You a trainer now?” Harrison turns around and walks toward the locker room.
“I’m just trying to understand—”
“He’s a quick study, but he needs remedial work on holds,” he says. “He’s jogging on his own, and he swears he’s improving his diet.” He spits on the ground and wipes his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Normally I wouldn’t risk the injury, but we don’t got a choice.”
“Fine,” Dad says. “Fine, if you say so.”
“He’s right,” I say. “If Justin can still trick me, Izzy will roll me.”
“Truth,” Chad says from the speed bag.
But I have time. Three and a half weeks isn’t long, but it’s long enough. I hope.
The second we reach my new Bronco, Dad frowns. “Be careful in there, son.”
It’s not what I expected, but if he’s not going to say anything about my new car, I won’t either. “I will, or at least, as careful as I can be.”
“The auditors are set to arrive at the Riviera Grand in a week. Since it’s a recent acquisition for us, there aren’t as many fees to review. That’s why they want to start here.”
“The plan is simple—minimize the numbers as much as possible in case we lose the legal battle, right?”
Dad nods, his mouth working like he’s eaten something disgusting. “We’ll need to prepare a statement for our investors—they need to be made aware of the risks before the media catches wind.”
“There may not be any profits to report this year,” I say.
“For the first time in over a decade.” Not the best way to retire. It’ll almost look like he’s leaving because of a failure, instead of because he’s ready. He doesn’t say any of that out loud, because he doesn’t have to—I’d feel the same.
“We’ll beat them in court, right?”
He shrugs. “I’ve been approached by a number of other interested parties.”
“Who?” I laugh. “Let me guess. Marriott and Hilton.”
He shrugs. “Their representatives won’t say, but we’ve got additional resources if we need them. That’s good to know, even if it’s miserable luck that we’re the man on the ground taking the hits.”
He’s having way too much fun with these boxing metaphors.
“I’ve also prepped a press release for the upcoming fight. Can your girlfriend send over a quote for it?”
I practically choke.
“Are you freaking out about the word girlfriend? Or because I want a statement from her?”
I shake my head.
“Look, she’s cute, she’s funny, she’s local, and she’s an author, right, which means she’s well-spoken? And she’s connected?”
I lean against the Bronco. “Do you seriously have someone tailing me? How do you even know about Anica?”
He rolls his eyes. “Check out the tabloids, son.”
“I’m not tabloid fodder—they haven’t followed me for years.”
“Only because you’ve been unbelievably boring until now. But in the past few days you’ve been seen at your place of business with your arm around some girl.” He leans closer. “The reporter who contacted me said he had a source, and based on the ridiculous details he provided, I’d say the source is your assistant or someone at the Riviera.”
Probably that stupid goofy-headed waiter who overheard the setup and recognized Geo. She and Trudy are practically Atlanta royalty—friends with Paisley and James. Married to, well, almost to billionaires. “Is this absolutely necessary?”
“If you really want to take over for me, you need to consider that this will be your new life. The stockholders look to your behavior for reassurance. Like it or not, as head of the company, you’re the face of the entire brand. You’ll be watched all the time, and right now, with the audit news dropping, I’d like to have another news blitz we can release that will distract from that bad news. And if that story includes something that makes the men wish they were you and the girls think you’re a solid, family-type man. . . ”
I can’t quite hide my disgust. “So you’re pushing this fight and my new girlfriend as some kind of balanced façade to cover for the damage from the audit?”
I’m not sure why I expect him to deny it, but he doesn’t even bother. “Isn’t that what I just said?” He’s shaking his head as he walks to his car. I can barely hear his last words. “So whatever you do, or however annoying you find her, don’t dump this girl until after we’ve got this mess all worked out.”
And for the first time since meeting Anica, I almost want to dump her. I don’t like being ordered to do things, even things I want to do.
Then I think about her blush. Her laugh. Her snide remarks. Her shy vulnerability about her writing and her sister. Her genuine concern and affection for her niece and nephew. I wish Dad wouldn’t order me to do things I have every intention of doing anyway, but I won’t let that turn me stupid.
I call her on my way back to the office. “How’s your day?”
“Better now,” she says. “How’d the training go?”
“My shoulder hurts,” I say. “But I survived.”
“Back to work?”
“Unfortunately. It’s going to be a long month.”
“Will it all be over in a month?”
“Maybe,” I say. “Maybe not. It’s hard to know with legal stuff.”
“I meant the fight,” she says. “Work stuff won’t ever end, especially if you take over for your Dad.”
She’s not wrong about that, but her actual question is trickier to answer. “I’m not sure. I might lose pathetically, and then, yeah, that’s the end of my very short reboot of my fighting career, I imagine. But if I win. . . ”
“You could get another fight, and then another.”
“It’s kind of how it works,” I say. “The UFC sort of sets up the fights that people want to pay to see. We’re like Vegas performers.”
“Savage, brutally scary, and unbelievably hot Vegas performers,” she says.
“Speaking of,” I say, “Dad asked me for something strange.”
“Yeah?”
“I’d rather ask you in person, but with your two jobs and my two jobs. . . ”
“I get it. Go ahead. I’m pretty good with weird.”
“That bodes well for me,” I say, “because Dad wants to cover the negative press of the ongoing audit and the attendant impact on our Q4 earnings with the story about my fight.”
“That’s smart, actually,” she says. “Use the shiny, hot guy to distract them from the bad tax news.”
“Except he wants to balance me out—so I don’t look feckless I imagine.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Apparently someone snapped a few photos of us at the Riviera.” I’ll be talking to that stupid blonde idiot. “The news media is already asking whether I’m dating someone.”
“Oh.”
I have no idea what that ‘oh’ means. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll tell Dad to shove it. I’ll say no comment to anyone who asks.”
Her voice is soft when she says, “If what makes me uncomfortable?”
“Dad wants a quote from my girlfriend about the upcoming fight.”
She laughs. “That’s it? You had me worried.”
Worried? Did she think I was upset about the photos? “So you’ll do it?”
“Tell me what kind of quote he wants—comedic, serious, supportive, flirty—and I’ll send one over.”
“You’re amazing,” I say. “And I think we should go with comedic. The only thing better than a gorgeous babe is a smart and funny gorgeous babe.”
“Ooh, that could be a problem. You know about the triangle, right?”
“Huh?”
“You can get hot and smart. You can get smart and funny. You can get funny and hot. But you can’t get all three.”
“I’m pretty sure you mean you can get work done well and fast but it’s expensive, or fast and cheap, but it’s going to be low quality, or you can get high quality and cheap, but it’ll take forever.”
“Oh fine, you’ve heard of the real triangle.”
“I’m impressed you know about it. I thought that was a business thing.”
“Clearly you’re too smart for me. No one will believe that I’m your girlfriend.” She huffs.
“I can hardly believe it,” I say. “But if you’re not freaking out about being labeled that for the world to see. . . ”
“I’m not worried about what anyone calls us,” she says. “But I am worried.”
Uh-oh. “About what?”
“I know you’re tough and smart, and I saw you in that ring. You’re clearly good at fighting, but it’s risky. I may have watched some stuff online.” She gulps. “Please be safe.”
My heart swells in my chest. In all the years, with all the dumb things I’ve done, no one else has ever cared about the cost. No one else has ever been on the sideline, fretting. “Don’t worry about that. I’ve taken plenty of beatings before, and I’m not afraid to tap out if it comes to it. No false pride here.”
“I hope that’s true—although I don’t love the sound of ‘taken plenty of beatings.’”
She has no idea. UFC may not have many rules, but it has plenty more than some of the fights I’ve faced. “So, this week you’re on lunch, but what about next—” Another call beeps through. I hold it away from my face to see who it is.
“Ethan? Are you still there?”
“Hey, that’s my sister Adriana. Do you mind if I take it?”
“Not at all. I’ll text you something your dad can use later.”
“Thanks.” I press hold and swap. “Ana?”
“Hey Ethan,” she says. “You never texted me about getting together.”
Oh man. There aren’t enough hours in the day. “Right. Well, let’s do dinner—”
“I need to do today,” she says. “Because I’ve got plans to drive out to a friend’s beach house for the weekend, a million tests and papers to grade Thursday, and tomorrow I’m already busy.”
Busy? Vague much? “Please tell me you aren’t seeing Phillip again.”
“It’s none of your business what I’m doing.”
“I’m your brother and I love you, Ana.”
“It doesn’t mean you have a right to decide who I can see.”
My blood doesn’t boil, but it’s a near miss. “Fine.”
“So are we on for dinner tonight?”
I don’t have much time, and I want to see her. I’m just sick of fighting. “It’ll have to be somewhere quick.”
“Great,” she says. “Where are you right now?”
“I’m almost back to my place,” I say.
“Perfect. I’m here too.”
“What?”
“I called you on my way over.”
“I’m all sweaty, Ana.” I pull into the driveway, pass her little yellow Lexus and click the button for my garage door. I roll my window down as I pass. “You can come inside while I shower.”
“Okay.” She looks at the Bronco. “Dad said he got you a Porsche as a welcome home present.”
I shrug. “I don’t like Porsches.”
“You’re kind of exhausting.” She smiles. “But I love you.”
“I love you too.” I park, and she walks through the single car garage door as I get out.
“There it is.” She crosses her arms and shakes her head, eyeing the Porsche sitting behind the other, closed garage door, disdainfully. “How could anyone not like that car? It’s beautiful.”
“It screams ‘pay attention to me! I’m important and you should want to be like me.’”
“Isn’t that what every man wants?” She bites her lip and slugs my shoulder.
I walk up the steps to the house. “Not me.”
“Oh fine,” she says. “I’ll take it.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh. “You have one.”
“How did you know?” Her sideways smile is sly.
“Dad told me—last Christmas. He’s obsessed with them. It would have been a miracle if you hadn’t already gotten one. The only reason he waited this long to buy me one is that I’ve been so vocal about my distaste.”
“He feels like your distaste for Porsches is really a way to express your repugnance for him. You do know that, right?”
I shrug. “I can’t be responsible for his feelings. He’s a big boy. Maybe he’ll figure out that it means I’m not him, but it doesn’t mean I don’t love him.”
“How are you so wise. . . ” She drops her purse on the counter. “And you can’t even accept the possibility that Phillip might have changed?”
I grip the corner of the counter. “Can we not talk about this, please?”
“Fine.”
I shower quickly, and she keeps her word while we grab sandwiches at a nearby deli—no bread for me.
“You’re really going to eat that?” her nose scrunches up.
I brandish my fork and knife above the slab of sandwich meat covered with a slice of cheese, a squirt of mustard, and a pile of lettuce and tomatoes. “What’s wrong with this?”
She shakes her head. “It’s wrong. You’re eating a sandwich . . . with silverware.”
I confess that I’m training. If Dad surprised me by his knowledge, Ana surprises me with her complete inability to process it. She blinks and blinks and blinks and swallows several times. “A fighter. Really? Like, you punch people and they kick you and stuff?”
“Well, they can now,” I say. “Back when I did boxing before there wasn’t any kicking and whatnot, but UFC allows most everything and that’s what I’m doing now.”
“You’re going to, like, be on TV?”
I shrug. “Local channels, probably. But if this fight goes well, maybe broader reach.”
“You’ve been doing this for a long time?” She looks up at me with big, worried eyes. “And you haven’t gotten hurt?”
“I haven’t had a sanctioned fight in more than five years,” I say. “But it’s not like I’ve forgotten how to do it. It’s mostly reflexes, muscle memory, and being able to take a punch.”
“You’re saying you’re tough? Like if a big old tough guy punches you, you won’t crumple?” She tilts her head skeptically.
I swallow and stare at her. “I learned how to withstand pain at a very early age.”
This time, she’s the one who changes the subject. “So tell me about this girl Dad says you’re seeing.”
“You two are like little magpies. What did he say?”
“He said maybe you weren’t gay after all.”
I laugh so hard my sides ache. “He thought I was gay?”
She shrugs. “The idea had occurred to me, too.”
“And you both thought I was hiding it?”
“I wasn’t sure, Ethan. You’re gorgeous, and you’re rich, and you’re kind. It was odd that you didn’t have any significant girlfriends.” She folds her napkin into a square and then unfolds it. “Ever.”
