Arlo is at the door when I get there Friday morning. He’s been early every day this week. It’s becoming a routine. I refuse to admit how much I enjoy his company. He comes in, starts the coffee, and cleans up the break room. I turn off the security system and grab my to-do list for today. Then we sit and drink our coffee together and eat the breakfast I’ve brought.
This is my favorite part of the day because every day I learn a little more about Arlo. He hasn’t told me much, but I get to pry a little more out of him every morning. I know he likes spy novels, and that Christmas was his favorite holiday when he was young. He had a dog named Harold, after Harold and the Purple Crayon, which was his favorite book. He takes his coffee with cream and sugar because he’s got a sweet tooth he won’t admit to. I want to ask him how he ended up here and who hurt him, but I know we aren’t there yet.
This morning, though, I can’t resist observing him for a bit. Something isn’t right, and I can’t place it. He doesn’t look well. The dark circles under his eyes have gotten worse, not better. Not what I’d expect after making sure he’s fed and hydrated.
He’s been wearing the same two sets of clothes all week. I won’t ask him about it. He probably wouldn’t tell me anyway. They’re always clean and his hygiene is impeccable. I know because I catch the clean smell of his soap every morning when we walk in together.
I offer him another breakfast sandwich.
“Thanks, Tiernan, but I’m good. I’m actually not that hungry this morning.”
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“All good.” He tells me in that soft voice of his. But his face tells a different story. He’s paler than normal and seems a little spacey. I let it go because he obviously doesn’t want to talk about it.
“I looked you up last night. On the internet.” Arlo says.
He’s so cautious. This is the first time he’s asked me anything that wasn’t work-related.
“Oh yeah? What did you find out?”
“They said you were a famous fighter, but then you quit. Right out of the blue. Everyone was surprised.”
I grimace.
“Yeah, it was a big deal at the time. Everyone got over it. Thank God.” It’s strange how quickly I disappeared from everyone’s mind. Not that I’m in any way upset by it, because that was my plan.
“Can I ask why?” Arlo looks at me, tentative and uncertain.
For some reason I prefer not to examine, I don’t mind answering his questions.
“It all got too big, so I had to walk away.” I pause, but Arlo is silent, letting me talk at my own pace. “I love fighting, even liked the training. Crazy, I know. And that level of competition is like nothing else. I loved the physicality of it, the competition, the adrenaline rush before a fight. All of it. Miss it still, sometimes. But the other stuff. The other stuff was harder. Always beingin the spotlight, people using you for your fame, never knowing who you could trust. That I didn’t like.”
I take a deep breath as the memories come roaring back.
“I wasn’t out then either. The press would hound me about who I was dating and wanting me to share my personal life. As if I’d tell those vultures anything.”
I huff a dry laugh.
“Then the social media push came and they wanted cameras everywhere in my life. I didn’t want any part of that. So I quit.” I pause for a moment, feelings I’d forgotten coming back in waves.
“I needed to be me. And that couldn’t happen in the spotlight, so I left. Then I took my winnings and bought a house, and a building. Then I opened a gym.”
“I get that.” Arlo’s voice is soft but full of empathy. “I… uh I don’t like having all the attention on me either. I guess I’ve always been like that, ya know. The kid in the back of the classroom who never raised his hand. I used to get so stressed anytime a teacher called on me. God, it was the worst.”
I reach out and cover his hand with mine, squeezing gently. He stills instantly, then slowly relaxes, but he doesn’t remove his hand. He just allows me to comfort him.
“I promise you can be whoever you want here, ‘Lo.” Arlo blushes at the nickname. It just sort of slipped out. I’m gonna leave it there because that is who he’s been in my mind. It suits him. “Heck, look at Saint. That man hardly ever smiles and we’re all lucky if he says more than five words in a sentence. Suerte always looks like he’s pissed, but that is mainly so people won’t talk to him.”
I take a deep breath.
“My point is … you be you and it’ll still be okay.” I give his hand another squeeze because I can’t pull him into my lap and hug him. Even though I’d really like to.
***
Arlo has been stocking the supplies all week. I was really behind on my ordering, but with him here, I had the chance to get everything restocked. And if I’m lucky, I might even be able to find it in storage.
“Want me to keep working on the supplies and stuff?”
