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“I know.”
“Were you cleaning to avoid Austin?”
The rag in my hand drops, and I hastily pick it up, throwing it into the bucket to wash later. “What are you talking about?”
She rolls her eyes, reaching up to tighten her auburn ponytail. “You did everything but look at him the whole time he was here. Like he was a black hole you were afraid you’d fall into.”
That’s… actually a good analogy.
I shrug instead of acknowledging how right she is. “I barely know him. We met last week.”
She leans against the counter, settling in. It’s forty minutes to close and we each only have one table. Monday nights are usually pretty dead. “Austin keeps to himself for the most part, although Ethan’s drawn him out some. How’d you meet Mister Boxer?”
I grab a fresh rag along with the cleaning spray and start wiping down the counter. “When did you get so chatty?” When she first started working here, it was like pulling teeth trying to get any info out of her. She’s loosened up a lot since then, though.
“I’m bored. At my last job, there was at least a TV we could watch if it wasn’t busy. This place has nothing.” And God forbid if Kate catches us on our phones. That’s a write-up for sure.
I sigh, knowing I have to say something eventually. I can’t distract myself with cleaning much longer when I’ve already cleaned practically everything in here. “He’s in a psych study I’m running on campus.”
“Oh, right. The meditation thing.” She blows a raspberry. “I’ll be glad when the six weeks is over. No offense.”
I hold up my hands, unoffended. Ethan’s in Joel’s cohort. What happens in his group is his deal. “And I found out he’s my neighbor. But we hadn’t talked before the study.”
“Small world, then.”
Tell me about it.
“So, um, he and Ethan box together?” I ask, shifting topics.
“Yeah.” She holds a hand out, examining her nails, then picks at her thumbnail. “He’s freakishly good. I think his record’s twenty-zero. In official tournaments and everything.”
“Twenty wins and no losses?” That seems impressive.
She nods. “He could go pro any time he wants, but he hasn’t yet.”
“Is going pro a big deal?”
“Yeah. You can make real money from it, then.”
“So why hasn’t he?”
She shrugs. “Beats me. But he’s been helping Ethan a lot so I’m not complaining. They usually get together Monday and Wednesday nights over there.” She points across the street.
I peer through the windows, but it’s too dark to make anything out. Who knew his boxing gym was so close to my work this whole time?
I wonder what Austin’s job is. Maybe he makes more doing that than whatever a pro boxer makes.
“So, if him and Ethan aren’t pro, what are they? You said something about tournaments?”
“They’re amateurs. It sounds bad but it really only means they don’t earn money from it. There are plenty of amateurs who are better than these guys that declare themselves pro for the hell of it.”
“Why would you want to be an amateur if you make nothing from it?”
“Some people, like Ethan, do it as a hobby but don’t intend for it to be a career. Some guys train to compete in the Olympics, though I don’t know of anyone at Marty’s gym that does that. And some want to hone their skills without it affecting their professional record. Once you go pro, you can’t go back. And the better your record, the better fights you can get.”
Wow, that’s a lot to take in. “Did Ethan teach you all this?”
She makes apfftnoise. “More like I taught him. My dad’s been boxing forever. He’s a trainer at their gym.”
