“Valid point.” June agrees. “I can get a few names in other firms. Discreetly, of course.” She arches a brow, and I nod.
“I have given it some consideration this week. It can’t hurt to talk to someone. To explore all options.”
“I can give you the number of the woman I spoke to during my divorce. She was helpful.”
“Thanks, Vi.”
“You should start documenting everything and recording your interactions with him,” June suggests. “Build an arsenal of ammunition. You never know when you might need it.”
“That’s good advice, but right now, I’m doing all I can to avoid him outside of putting on a front with the kids.”
“Whatever you decide, just know we’re here for you.” June reaches across to squeeze my hand.
“We will support you every step of the way,” Viola agrees.
A devilish glint appears in June’s eyes. “Hell, I’m even down for murder. We can chop him up together. Whatever it is you need, it’s yours.”
12
VANDER
“Who pissed in your cornflakes?” Crusher asks, holding the pads while I throw vicious jabs in rapid-fire succession. “You have been in a shitty mood all week.”
“I’ve got a lot on my mind,” I grunt, keeping my fists raised and pummeling the pads.
“Anything I can help with?” my buddy asks, and it’s timely.
“Actually, there is one thing. Want to head to TJ’s later?”
“Sure thing.” He slaps me with the pad. “You’re open. Fists up.”
I go another few rounds with Crusher before calling time on my pad work and heading to the other side of the boxing club, where the equipment and mats are located, to begin my strength training. It’s late Friday night, and most of the guys have finished their sessions and left already, so the place is virtually deserted.
I complete a few sets of push-ups, pull-ups, squats, and dips before doing three rounds with the sway bag, and then I call it a night. I want to talk to Jimmy before he closes up.
Mopping my brow with a towel, I drape it around my neck and head toward the small office Jimmy uses to handle business. I chug half a bottle of water down my parched throat before stepping up to the door. It’s ajar, so I poke my head in. “You got time to talk?”
He looks up from the papers spread all over his desk with an instant smile. “For you, kid, always. Come in and shut the door.” He sets his pen down and claws a hand through his thick gunmetal-gray hair.
I sit on the worn brown leather couch pushed up against the side wall and swallow. I need to talk to someone before I drive myself crazy, and Jimmy is the only man for the job. I can’t talk to West or any of my buddies, for obvious reasons. Jimmy has looked out for me since I joined the club a few months after moving to Colorado Springs, and he’s always been like a father figure to me. He takes an active interest where my old man doesn’t give a shit. Dad doesn’t object to me coming here—boxing is a manly sport, so he approves even if he can no longer beat me because I beat back harder—but he doesn’t champion it either.
“What’s up, son?” Jimmy removes his black-framed glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. Placing the glasses on the desk, he rests his hands in front of him and gives me his undivided attention. “You look troubled, and I’ve noticed you’ve been putting in extra time all week. What’s on your mind?”
I clear my throat and sit forward, leaning my elbows on my knees. “I need some advice.”
“Then you’ve come to the right place.” Jimmy retrieves a bottle of whiskey and a glass from his desk drawer. “I assume you don’t want one,” he says, arching a brow as he pours a generous measure.
I shake my head. “I’m driving tonight.” Sometimes I jog to and from the gym, if I have missed my daily five-a.m. run. I’m conscious of my family background, and while I like a drink as much as the next guy, I don’t usually overdo it. I’m constantly watching in case it becomes a crutch. When I first moved to town, I was abusing alcohol and drugs. Using them to numb my pain until I found West and boxing. They set me on the straight and narrow. Kendall helped too. She suggested I needed a physical outlet to vent my frustration and stress. She even found this place for me.
“Spit it out, son.” Jimmy leans back in his chair, lifting the glass to his weathered lips.
“There’s this girl, well, woman and…”
A wry chuckle rips from his lips. “I thought it might be girl trouble, but it’s not like you to seek advice with the ladies. From what I’ve heard, you do just fine.”
I roll my eyes. “I swear the guys are worse gossips than high-school girls.”
“True that.” His warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners as he chuckles again. “Go on.”
