He grunts. “Where are you going?”
“I’ve got to face Stanley at some point. Figured I’d do it when the gym has some witnesses.”
My best friend doesn’t know about the mess I made–or the shit currently stuck to the bottom of my shoes. Figuratively, I mean. I didn’t have the heart to tell him.
He claps his hand to my shoulder. “You rebounded so well after that loss. He’s not gonna be mad.”
“Yeah, well, I lost my head.” I stand and point toward where Scarlett and Sawyer are now disappearing into the science building. “She’s got a class on the fourth floor. Get moving.”
“Jesus, you owe me one—or five.”
“Listen, just don’t let her out of your sight, and it’ll be fine.”
Tyler shakes his head. “Can you just tell me why you’re so worried about it? Abouther? For months, I listened to you bitch and moan about her and her dad.”
I can feel the tension raising my shoulders. I’ve managed to keep Tyler in the dark about my deal with the devils. And honestly, it’s probably safer that he stays there. And then there’s the whole issue of paying off Dickwad McGee. Who knows if that’s going to stick?
I had a nightmare last night that he came back around, asking for more money.
“This doesn’t feel like a protective-big-brother thing,” he continues. “Are we trying to intimidate her?”
“Um…no.” I cock my head. “Well, you’re not. I’ll do the intimidating.”
“You’re just worried she’s gonna run away or something,” he finishes. “Or start some nasty rumor about you to get back at you.”
I snort. “We’re not restricting who she can talk to. But the guy I beat at the fight was looking at her and making comments. You never know what those assholes are gonna do.”
“Right.” He doesn’t quite buy it, but whatever.
“Fourth floor,” I urge. “Go on.”
He sighs and hunches his shoulders, heading toward the admin building. He disappears into the gloom, but I wait another long moment in silence.
I should really examine why Scarlett Wallace makes me such a headcase, but that’s a problem for another day.
Instead, I head back to my car and drive the short trek over to the gym. Mid-morning, it’s fairly quiet. Stanley is at one of the bags with another younger fighter, but he pauses when I arrive. He says something to the kid and motions for me to follow him upstairs.
“Stanley–”
“Just hold your horses,” he snaps under his breath. His pace up the steps is quick, and he holds the door open for me at the top of the stairs. When I enter, he closes it behind me. “Sit.”
I do. I’d rather pace, but following his directions seems like a better way to make amends.
“The fact of the matter is, son, you’re in more trouble than you think.” Stanley stares me down. “It’s not just the upfrontmoney they want back. They’ve invested more into you that they’ve now lost.”
My stomach knots. “Like what?”
“Listen, I’m just the messenger. Don’t get testy with me.” He slides a paper across his desk. “The message is this: you come up with fifty thousand dollars, or they’ll start going through those closest to you and extracting repayment that way.”
Fifty thousand dollars?
Twenty seemed impossible to come up with, with Nicholas whoever-the-fuck walking around that much richer. Butfifty? That’s more than double.
My palms are sweating, but I pick up the paper.
It’s a printed photo…of Scarlett and me. At the coffee shop the other day. She was so angry–you can see it in her face as she looks at the back of my head. The way her lips turn down, her cute little scowl.
Ah, fuck, her scowl isnot cute.
