I did think about bringing her home with me, but Clark isn’t even four years old. Junkyard hasn’t shown any signs of aggression, but sometimes dangerous behavior can take a little while to show up. The initial trauma of surviving on the street and then getting thrust into a totally new situation can make it hard to judge. Jerry has a lot of experience with dogs, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to my nephew.
“Hey, do you mind if we stop here for a sec?” Instead of going straight to the rescue to pick up Junkyard, he puts on his blinker and turns into the parking lot outside South City Boxing Gym.
“No, but why?”
“Darren and I were doing Fitni-cycle but I got sick of getting up at the butt-crack of dawn to have an angry, skinny woman in overpriced leggings yell at me. I told him I’d find something fun to try and boxing feels like a totally different vibe. I’ve beenmeaning to find a gym and this was on the list. I just want to see what it’s like inside.”
“Boxing? Really?”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Why not?”
I wrinkle my nose. “Because it’s probably hot, sweaty and full of grunting men?”
“Oh no. My nightmare,” he deadpans. “But that’s just a bonus. I’ve done cardio boxing and it was fun.”
There’s a regular entrance on the front, but also big delivery doors that are wide open, letting in the warm, summer air and exposing the inside of the gym. It’s not fancy, but it looks decent enough. There are a couple of boxing rings in the center, some punching bags set up to the sides, and a weight area in the back. Music is pumping through speakers in the ceiling, and a couple of muscular men in tank tops spar in one of the rings while others watch, maybe waiting their turn. We get some stray glances as we walk in, but most of the attention stays on the fight.
Jerry looks around, taking it all in. “This might be a bittooauthentic. I feel like I just walked into an old Rocky movie.”
"Hey, are you new here? Ladies' night isn't until tomorrow." A man built like a vending machine with a muscle-tee that says "Coach" on the front comes over. “The first three sessions are free if you want to give it a shot.”
“Uh…” I look to Jerry for help but he shrugs. “I’m just here with my friend, actually.”
“Sweet, two for the price of one! Name’s Connor, but you can call me Brick like everyone else. You’re both welcome, obviously, butwe can always use more women around to balance out all the stupidity. He nods in the direction of the ring and winks.
I blink. "I'm not?—"
Jerry nudges me with his shoulder. “She’d love to. We both would. Where do we sign up?”
“Awesome!” Brick looks so genuinely happy that I find myself following along just so I don’t disappoint him.
I mouth ‘Help’ at Jerry.
“You said three free sessions?” Jerry asks.
“Yeah. I just need your name and some info, and for you to sign a release of responsibility. The usual stuff. Members can come work out whenever the gym is open, and we have classes most days, plus personal training if you want it. The beginner sessions are co-ed, so you can come together if you want, but we have Ladies' Night on Thursdays.”
“Why am I signing up for something that was your idea?” I whisper frantically at Jerry as we fill out paperwork under Brick’s enthusiastic eye.
“Because you have the upper body strength of a pool noodle,” he whispers back.
“Rude.” I punch him in the arm and he doesn’t even flinch. “Fine. I’ve been meaning to take a self-defense class anyway. This is close enough, but I can’t believe you’re getting me to do this.” I sigh dramatically for effect, place my signature at the bottom, then get Brick's attention so he can take our clipboards.
"Fantastic!" He glances at the papers then looks up at me with a broad smile. "You’ll come by tomorrow, right? Ladies night starts at seven."
"Uh, yeah. Absolutely." What the hell did I just get myself into?
7
BEAST
Standingin front of Prez’s desk always reminds me of being back in the Army. “Patrols have been quiet, but I don’t think this is going to blow over on its own.”
Zero nods. “The neutral areas aren’t being respected and it’s making people nervous. They’re looking our way to see what we’re going to do.”
Eagle-eye’s good eye tracks over the three of us, assessing. I remember the day Razor brought me in as a prospect. That strange feeling of being seen by the steel gray eye, but being judged by the milky one beside it. Like something out of an ancient myth. Four years have passed since then. I’ve seen him kill for the club, put his life on the line beside us, and hold his old lady while he drinks a beer and they watch their son play safely behind the walls of the compound he built.
He’s a man, not a king or a god, but some people become leaders because they were given a title, and others could never be anything else. Eagle-eye is the second kind.
