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It’s a quick drive to the gym from my office, and I realize a little late that my music was blasting and probably announced my arrival long before I got here. I hop out and start walking in with my fingers crossed that maybe I won’t see Bobby.
I looked good this morning. Fresh to start my day, not a hair out of place – I know, because knowing I’d be seeing him, I made damn sure my hair went where I wanted it, but that was eight hours ago. My shirt is wrinkled now, my hair not as cute. Lipstick is gone. Jacket is gone. My skirt feels restrictive and clingy now instead of sexy.
I just want my fat girl pants. I can do the hair thing all over again tomorrow morning for drop off.
I walk past an empty reception and into the main room, to find Jimmy sparring with Jack in the ring, and Bobby outside of it, verbally coaching the pair.
The display cabinet was neater on my way past, the air smells like pine instead of sweaty ball sacks, the floor shines and the ‘watch your step’ sign is still out, so I know he worked. I know he cleaned, just like Bobby said he would, but I never expected he’d be in the ring having fun as part of his punishment.
“Hands up, Jack! Move around.” Bobby’s feet and hands move the way he wants Jack’s to. “Combos, kid! Teep, teep! Keep him away.”
If I ignore my brother in the ring, watching Bobby like this does all sorts of gooey shit to my stomach. I’ve watched him spar twice – both times lasted less than a few seconds, and both ended with him getting hit because he was paying more attention to me than he was to Jimmy’s fists.
But he swings around now, his feet practically levitating and his fists strike out into the air in front of him, and half a second after he moves, Jack follows.
I remain silent as the buzzer sounds. To watch these guys doing their thing is exhilarating. Bobby’s different when he knows I’m around, I want to see this other version of him.
The serious trainer, not the guy looking for a date.
“You’re doing really well, but you need to keep that left hand up.” He passes a water bottle to a panting Jack. “Your opponents watch, they wait for you to show weakness. I know you’re tall, but you’re not invincible. They’ll figure out that you drop your hands as soon as you kick. They’ll set you up,” he slams his hands together, “and they’ll knock you the fuck out.”
Jack hangs on Bobby’s every profanity-filled word and guzzles as much water as he can in his two-minute break. I giggle. Rookie mistake.
Three heads whip up as soon as the sound passes my lips, and turning slowly, Bobby’s trainer face transforms to lazy satisfaction.
In true Jimmy fashion, he pulls out his mouthguard and smirks. “Hey there, Kitty Cat.” He walks to the ropes and leans lazily. “You look like an angel after a long day with these assholes.”
“You were here all day? You didn’t have to work?”
He grins. “I’ve been here for an hour, but my statement remains true. You look pretty.”
Bobby rolls his eyes – as does Jack. “How long were you watching?”
I try to ignore the hair that hangs in Bobby’s eyes. Or the muscles that strain his tank. “I heardteep teep,and a really inspiring speech about getting knocked the fuck out, that’s about it.” I look to Jack. “Where’s your head gear?”
Jim scoffs. “I won’t hit him in the head… today. I got superpower control. I won’t hit him unless I mean to.”
I turn back to Bobby with a ‘he sure is confident’ smirk. “I’m not saying you guys should stop swearing or anything, but you’d be doing me a solid favor if you limit the F bombs. I’ve been working on getting him to quit – Iwasmaking progress.
Bobby scrunches his nose. “Sorry. Just slipped out.”
I laugh and step the final few feet to the ring. “It’s cool, it’s a learning curve for all of us. I stubbed my toe this morning and said fuck.” I snicker when Bobby’s eyes flash with something playful. Turning to Jack, I ask, “Are you almost ready to go? I’m starving.”
“No, pizza’s coming,” he says.
I look to Bobby’s smug face in question. He looks up at the clock, then back to me. “Pizza will be here soon. We’re watching the Hernandez fight, which starts in about forty-five minutes.”
“Jesus, I forgot all about the fight.” And here I was, ready to go home to watch a chick flick. I wave Jack down. “We need to hurry out of the way, then. Let the guys get on with their night.”
“What? No. We’re invited too. Tell her, Bobby.”
“Yeah, I mean we’reallwatching the fight.” He smiles shyly. “It’s tradition. We have a projector screen we pull down, we eat pizza, have a beer, have fun, then we roll our fat asses home to sleep and work it off tomorrow.” He steps closer with a small frown. “You’re not mad, are you? I know you have your own fight night tradition, but Jack said you had nothing planned for tonight.”
“Umm, no, not mad. I forgot it was on, to be honest. Are you sure you don’t want to just hang out with your brothers? We can leave, I don’t mind at all.”
Jack whines annoyingly, “Kit, no, I wanna stay.”
I turn to him with a lifted brow. Do I need to remind him where to put his baby voice? But before I can tell him to shut his trap, a sweaty arm drops heavily onto my shoulder and hot breath bathes my skin. “Please stay, Kitty Cat. I want to spend time with you.”
