I snorted. “She’s got me fucking dancing.”
His eyebrows lifted. “What kind of dance?”
“I don’t know. Waltz or some shit. I do my best to tune out when the instructor’s talking. Twinkle Toes likes to go on and on about the history of the dance.” I waved my hand in the air with flare in the way Denis does.
“Why are you dancing?”
“She says it’s beneficial to my groundwork. Look, how tight is that contract I had you draw up for her?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s airtight. She had her own attorney look it over before signing. She’s no dummy.”
I sighed and gulped down half of my drink in one swallow, wishing it were something stronger. My no drinking while training rule started to become a pain in my ass.
“Do you trust her?” Lenny asked.
Cocking my head to the side, I stared him in the eye. “Why would you ask me some bullshit like that?”
His question brought to mind the memory of holding her in my arms as we spun around that small ass dance studio that morning. If I thought too long, I could still capture the exact scent of the perfume she wore.
I cracked my knuckles and gritted my teeth at the memory. The uncomfortable burning in my gut, that appeared every morning we practiced together, started again.
“Isn’t trust important between a trainer and trainee? You trusted Banks with your life,” Lenny said, pulling me from thinking about Syd and that damn lesson.
“Don’t mention Banks.” I jutted my finger at him before grabbing my glass and finishing off my damn Coke. I definitely needed something stronger.
Waving the bartender over again, I ordered another Coke with lemon and a third beer.
“I haven’t finished the first two,” Lenny said.
I shrugged. “What’s your point?”
He huffed and gave me confused and frustrated look before narrowing his eyes. “What are you doing?”
I grinned and shook my head. “Nothing. Anyway, never mind my new trainer. Aren’t we here to discuss my contract for the Rodriguez fight?”
Len nodded. “About that.” He paused and pulled out some papers from the black briefcase sitting on the bar in front of him.
At that same moment the patrons at the bar erupted in applause. Lifting my gaze, I watched one of the mounted screens over the bar as it replayed a hockey player making a goal. The annoying woman a few stools down from me laughed and cheered in that high-pitched voice, stomping all over my nerves again.
I lifted my finger and nodded at the bartender to order another beer.
“So far, we’re still negotiating with Rodriguez’s team and the higher ups at the NFA, but they won’t budge on you doing at least one press conference.”
I cracked my neck. “Why can’t you get me out of it? Isn’t that what I pay you for? To advocate on my behalf?”
Lenny pushed his glasses up his nose and glared at me. “You know how these things work, Luke. You’re lucky I can get them down to just one press conference.”
“They know I don’t play nice at those damn things.”
“Which is why they want it. Your attitude makes for good TV.”
I sighed. “Make sure I get paid well for this.”
“Let me do my job,” he countered.
I chuckled. “Look who’s grown a pair of balls.” I waved at the bartender for another beer, unmindful of the previous three still sitting in front of Lenny, unfinished.
He frowned. “Here, take a few days to read these over and we’ll discuss it next week before finalizing the terms.”
