She snickers. “Don’t. We need you to take one for the team and let Chris pound on you for a bit. Then I’ll take him home and finish smoothing out the rough edges. Everyone’ll be happier for it.”
“I find it kinda ironic that Ipayto be here. Every single month.” Leaving her behind, I move through the next doorway and into the front training room, with two dozen hanging bags lining the walls, a regulation-size cage tucked off to the side, and a dozen kids shouting theirkiai’sin the middle, balling their fists and showing off their fight faces.
My baby sister runs her junior class with the perfect mix of authority and devilish fun. She makes things entertaining for them, but the instant they step out of line and start acting like fools, she ropes them back in with a look that promises pain.
Eliza was one of those kids for years. Now she rules them.
Chris and Troop spar in the cage, rolling on the floor and slamming against the fence—Chris is slamming Troop’s head against the fence, that is—while Tommy watches from the outside.
He’s our world champ—literally—twin brother to the cranky-Chris, and though he’s not afraid of a physical altercation with his brother, Tommy’s winnings bankroll this entire gym, the people who work within it, the members who rely on the doors staying open, and the wife and two kids he supports.
Breaking his arm to assuage Chris’s bloodlust is not what smart businessmen do.
I glance across and wait for Eliza’s bright blue eyes to lock onto mine, for her smile to curl wide, then for her sneaky middle finger to flash my way without a single kiddie gaze clocking it.
She loves me.
Finally, I turn my attention to the cage and toss my bag to the floor so itrolls and hits the brick wall, then I toe my sneakers off and peel my socks right after. Goosebumps sprint along my legs and up to my balls, because it’s so fucking cold out today. Even in here, even with the guys sweating and belting each other into a medical emergency.
“Hey.” Tommy peeks my way, tipping his chin in greeting before casting his eyes back to the sparring partners. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna make it in today. Heard about the drama at the hospital.”
“Of course you did. The grapevine is alive and well, delivering gossip to every set of ears in town.”
Chris picks Troopy straight up off the floor, WWE style, and though Troop screams like a girl, Chris throws him back down again and follows him in with a viper-fast duck and weave, scooping his opponent’s leg up and damn near choking him with it.
“Fox said he’s in a mood.”
Tommy chuckles. “He’s past the worst of it. Chris and Franky were supposed to go ice-fishing or some shit tonight after the gym, but Fox asked Franky to the movies instead.” His eyes glitter with amusement. “Franky chose Fox, and Chris got his feelings hurt.”
“Chris is married to Fox.” I rest my forehead against the cage, curling my fingers through the metal. “Dude’s jealous of his own wife.”
“And she’s not sorry for it. She didn’t want either of them sitting in the cold tonight, trying to catch a fish no one is gonna eat, and there’s a new movie on at the cinema Franky was excited for. She weighed up her options, considered the repercussions of Chris’ sulking, and with this in mind, she made her move. Saved us all from them getting sick and complaining about it in a day or two.”
“Set me up to get my arm broken.” I hiss in sympathy as Chris folds Troop in half and forces the man to choke himself. It’s not that Troop is a shit fighter, and it’s not like he’s an easy target. But Chris trains the world champ, and he’s got pockets of rage stored away for the days he’s not feeling great.
“Your dad stopped by an hour or two ago.”
“Yeah?” I look Tommy’s way. “What’d he want?”
“To gossip, mostly. I think he was hoping he’d catch you before you’re back on shift. He wanted our version of the Barbara stuff, since it’s on the news and she’s pissy about it.”
“You don’t have a version. You have nothing to do with what happened on the road last night.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, but like I said, he hoped you’d be here. Worst case, that you’dbeenhere. He wants to hear what you think about it all, figured you’d probably told us about it, and now he wants that version.”
“Jesus.” I lean heavily against the cage wall. “He’s getting worse withage, I swear. Gus Darling used to be a respectable, authoritarian type in this town. He was a cop. Formidable. Firm. Now he’s retired and spendingwaytoo much time with the old lady book club.”
“Could be a glimpse into your future,” he teases. “Don’t retire too young, and keep your hobbies physically abusive. Steer clear of academia. Those are the secrets to happiness.”
“How very Watkins of you.” I exhale a bubble of frustration much the same way Chris does, releasing the tension of a long day and too little sleep. Then, straightening out again, I wipe Troop’s splashing sweat off my chin and set my hands on my hips. “What’syourversion of the Barbara thing?”
“I heard the chick in the hospital is a scamming bitch who jumped out in front of Barbara’s car to commit insurance fraud.”
I shake my head, disappointed, as I so often am, in Plainview’s gossip mill.
“Barbara’s screeching about how perfectly she was driving, how she was paying complete attention, no radio on, not even distracting internal thoughts beyond her flawless driving, and how utterly selfless and kind she was to deliver food to a friend in need.”
“She’s always been a pillar of humility.”
