Page 89 of Hard Corps (Selected Sinners MC 7)

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Summer 2015, Austin, Texas, USA

Austin had won his first three fights, proving not only that he was a great boxer, but that I was capable of teaching him. The pride I felt in his abilities was probably similar to what a child’s father felt when his son accomplished a difficult goal.

Shane paid to have a new gym built, and we were all enjoying the size, new equipment, and additional boxing rings. Waiting in line to be able to spar was a thing of the past, and although the old gym was still available, it was becoming more of a museum than anything.

My life, entirely, was as in order as it had ever been. In the grand scheme of things, I exhaled, paused, and inhaled a long slow breath of appreciation.

“You’re just going to have to get used to it. You’re a father now, and being a father is about makin’ sacrifices,” Mr. Ripton said.

He had Jessie balanced on his knee, holding her in place with one hand and was eating a hamburger with the other.

Ripp crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Since when do we not have chicken?”

“Since now,” his father responded.

Ripp turned his head to face his mother and sighed. “Seriously, we’re not going to have any chicken?”

“Meal’s been served, Mike. Look around you,” his father said sternly. “Everyone’s about done eatin’. You been bitchin’ about it for fifteen minutes.”

“The burgers are really good,” Kace said as she held her half-eaten burger in the air.

I shifted my eyes toward Mrs. Ripton. She glanced up from her plate and nodded her head toward Kace. “Thank you, Kace.”

“Burgers are really good,” Ripp repeated sarcastically as his eyes darted around the table for something satisfactory to eat.

Ripp’s eating habits were similar to that of a teenage girl. He refused to eat hamburger, claiming it would make him fat. Although I wasn’t as big as Ripp, I was certainly in better physical condition, and I ate beef on a regular basis. Despite Shane’s and my attempts to convince him otherwise, he wouldn’t eat a hamburger if we tried to force him.

It was now apparent even his parents couldn’t convince him to.

“I say we go the next year and eat Sunday Burgers. I’d like to watch you wither away. You don’t fight anymore anyway,” his father said as he reached for another burger.

Ripp furrowed his brow and glared at his father. “I still fight. I fought last weekend.”

“Fightin’ in Rundberg doesn’t count, Mike. Bare knuckles fights are for kids and thugs. You need to grow up,” he said.

Katie choked on her food and began to laugh. I pursed my lips and shifted my eyes toward Ripp, fully knowing he would respond with some type of smart-assed remark.

“Grow up?” Ripp howled as he waved his arm toward his father. “I’ve got a house, a kid, and a wife. How much more can I grow up?”

“Shane bought you that house, you ain’t got a wife ‘cause you ain’t actually married, you’re still fightin’ bare knuckles matches in Rundberg for cash, and I’m holding your baby. I’d say you could stand to grow up plenty,” he responded.

“Gimme the baby,” Ripp demanded.

“Eat a burger,” his father said as he nodded his head toward the platter of hamburgers.

“I ain’t eatin’ a burger,” Ripp said. “Gimme the baby.”

Mr. Ripton shifted his eyes from Ripp toward me. “What do you weigh, Alec?”

“Hundred ninety-five, Sir,” I responded.

“You get on that machine at the gym? The one where they test your fat?” he asked.

“Body fat percentage? Yes, Sir, I do,” I responded.

He took a bite of his burger, shifted his eyes to Ripp, and glared at him as he chewed. After swallowing, he placed the remainder onto his plate and began to bounce the Jessie on his knee, but never moved his eyes away from Ripp.