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I feel incredulous. “There’s more?”
“I think he got into a fight with somebody. His knuckles were torn, and there were some bruises on his back. He said somebody tried to mug him when he went out for breakfast this morning but he didn’t go to file a police report.”
“Shit, is he okay?” I jolt at the news.
“He’s fine. He wasn’t even upset. I wouldn’t have found out if I hadn’t walked in on him in the shower this morning. He was fine last night. We had another showing. And I woke up to him all bloodied and shit. He’s not bothered in the least.”
That is strange.
I hear a muffled sound coming from Mila’s room and then say in a low voice. “Do you want to come back? Do you feel unsafe with him?”
“No.” There is surprise in Ron’s voice. “It’s Mark. I don’t know what he’s up to, but I doubt it’s anything dangerous.”
“He got his ass beat up, and he’s apparently got secret callers or something. I’d be hightailing it out of there if I was you.”
Ron is adamant. “No, no. I just wanted to talk to you about it. He’ll tell me when he’s ready. I’m not going to say anything.”
“That doesn’t sound like a smart idea, Ron. Come home,” I try to change his mind.
“I love him, Eve,” Ron tells me, softly. “And I want to trust him.”
When the call disconnects later, I try not to let worry overtake me.
I have to remind myself that Ron isn’t as fragile as he appears to be. He trained himself in different kinds of martial arts. He has a trail of certifications and worked as a Judo instructor for a few years. My friend leads a diverse lifestyle, but he is not weak.
I start preparing breakfast, my lips pursed.
Ron can handle himself.
But that doesn’t mean I can’t worry about him.
After all, he is my only family now, aside from Mila.
One of the other instructors took over my classes while I was indisposed, as Lorraine was informed, but first day back, I make sure to meet up with the instructors who seem relieved to see me again.
“When Lorraine said indisposed, we thought you were off having wild sex with that gorgeous man who’s always dropping by,” one of them confides with a grin as the others watch me with gleaming eyes, wanting me to confirm their theory.
For a moment, it crosses my mind that the pictures and articles from the news didn’t reach them, till one of my employees brings it up in the break room.
“Bunch of nonsense,” she declares, waving the days-old tabloid in the air before tossing it on the ground.
“Yeah,” affirmations come from around the room.
“We’ve seen you build this place up by yourself,” Garnet, the Bollywood instructor, speaks up, her voice soft. “You’ve never looked for a handout. Can’t see you trying for one now.”
Her words loosen the tightening ball inside my chest. “Thanks.”
Pink-haired Jill, who is a student at the local university and is teaching hip-hop dance, scowls at the picture in the paper. “Bull-fucking-shit. You should track down the reporter and stuff this article up his ass.”
I grin at the mental imagery. “Thanks for your support, ladies.”
One of the instructors leans forward. “So, what is going on between you and this hunk?”
It is at this moment that my phone chooses to ring and I have to excuse myself to disappointed exclamations.
After the phone call, I have a class to teach so I make my way there.
Some of the classes switched to the evening, and it is getting dark out there when the last class ends. Knowing that Mila is with Zayn, who picked her up from school since Ron isn’t around to babysit, it feels odd to me to find myself so comfortable with the idea of just delegating these small tasks to Zayn.
