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“Sisco, you ready?” I asked as I watched him practice his punches on a punching bag.
“Hell yeah,” he growled. “Where is this chump?”
I looked around and saw Bobby and his friend Al talking and laughing near the door to the gym. It looked like we were still waiting on whoever wanted their ass beat by Sisco.
“Take it easy, Big Guy, save some punches for the ring.”
Sisco nodded and turned to one of his buddies for some water. I started making my way to Bobby, hoping to find out if the fight was going to happen or if I spent most of the morning hyping Sisco up for no reason.
I was ten yards away when the front doors to the gym opened and the sun beamed in around a tall, muscular figure. Bobby and Al brightened up and shook hands with the guy I assumed was there to spar. Behind him was another guy, almost the same stature, but with the sun gleaming around them, all I could make out were their silhouettes.
Then the door closed, pushing the sun back out into the streets, leaving my eyes in a haste to adjust again. But once they did, I wished I could go back to being oblivious. I wished I never saw who was standing in the front talking to Bobby.
Levi Peyton.
I watched the Jets’ game on TV the day before and they lost pretty badly during their away game. Coach Peyton was frustrated and kept taking off his headset to run a hand through his hair. He would stand there as the camera zeroed in on him, his hands on his hips and his face a mask of anger.
How was he that same, happy guy I met in New York?
The present version of him seemed to be fueled with rage. Or maybe that was just the way he was during football season.
I did take note of the announcer’s discussion though, and how much they were trying to find fault in his every move. Being Levi Peyton didn't seem like a fun job at that moment in time, so I tried to shake off some of his anger toward me. I was just simply another level of stress for him.
Which I understood because in return, leveled up the stress for me as well.
“Charleigh!” Bobby yelled and motioned for me to join them.
I hesitated for a fraction of a second but decided that avoiding them would only make things worse.
Levi looked up at me, his eyes widening again, much like they did on the field when he first noticed who I was. He wiped his hand down his face and shook his head as he took two steps backward to the door.
He wanted to run; I could see it written all over him. But to his credit, he stayed put.
“Hi,” I smiled, unsure which version of Levi I was getting.
“Charleigh, this is Brett. He and Sisco are gonna go five rounds.”
I raised up an eyebrow at him and tilted my head, finding it a little funny that Coach Peyton showed up at Bobby’s Gym as “Brett.” It also sent a little exhilaration running through me, because it was “Brett” that I had been missing. Brett was funny, hot, demanding, dirty, and sexy. Brett said things in my ear no man had ever dared to say before. Brett held my hand as we made our way to his room. Brett pushed me against a wall and fucked me so hard I almost blacked out. Then, Brett did it again. And again.
I had never and will probably never again be fucked the way Brett fucked me.
My face started to give my thoughts away, so I turned around and looked back over my shoulder. “This way,Brett.”
I walked off, hoping he followed me, so I didn't have to look back again. Motioning toward the locker room, I waved him in and told him Sisco was ready to rumble.
He didn't say anything to me, not even a thank you. As I left him and his friend to go into the locker room, I started making my way back to Sisco.
“Charleigh?” Al stopped me and I smiled. I put my hand out to shake his and gave him my best welcome.
“Yes sir, nice to meet you.”
He looked worried and hesitant, but after he shook my hand and gazed around the room really quick, he leaned in closer to me. “You know who he is, don't you?”
My jaw dropped, because he was clearly talking about Coach Peyton and I really didn’t want to talk about him at all. But I couldn't deny it, Al obviously saw my face morphing a million different ways earlier.
“Yes,” I whispered. It seemed important to Al that we stayed quiet.
“Look, I told him the backward hat wasn't going to fool anyone,” Al started, looking off at the ring that sat in the center of the room while he spoke. “But can we keep who he is, and the fact that he is here, between us? The guy works out at my gym and has been going through some things. He just needs to spar. Helps settle him down.”
