A victorious smile spread across Alyson’s face. “Good, then let’s get started.”
EIGHT
“I want to up the ante,” Jami said definitively as he invaded Coach’s office Tuesday morning. “What will it take to move up to the next weight class?”
“Well, good morning to you, too, sunshine,” Don returned. He was nose deep in paperwork. Likely something having to do with the gym, maybe new memberships, but Jami wasn’t concerned with any of that.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jami said as he stepped into the room and sat down across from the man, “the next fight isn’t for another couple of months, right? If I work hard at it, I should have plenty of time to put the extra weight on.”
Sitting back in his chair, Don removed his wire-rimmed reading glasses and set them aside. His steely eyes focused on Jami, assessing him. “What brought this on?”
Jami shrugged. “I don’t feel challenged. All those guys out there,” he said, extending his hand toward the door to indicate the other fighters he’d gone up against before. “I’m better than they are. I have to hold back with them just to give the audience a good show.” He sat forward, setting his impenetrable gaze on Don. “I could knock any one of them out with one strike. Shit, I could do it with one hand tied behind my back. Where’s the fun in that?”
Unsure, the coach slid his glasses back into place and took up his pen. Leaning over one of the documents he’d been working on, he started to press the pen into the paper then paused and sat back again. “Most guys would kill for an easy title. Less work, less training, and you want a challenge,” he said in disbelief. Yet Jami knew the guy understood where he was coming from. As a former challenger, the man had won his fair share of matches, but he’d never succeeded in winning a belt—one of his few regrets in life. “Convince me why it wouldn’t be a complete waste of my time to do this.”
Jami grinned, knowing he had been given the perfect opportunity to state his case. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d been thinking about this. “You know as well as I do how hard it’s been lately to keep my weight down. Hell, I barely made weight last time.” When he’d weighed in, he’d been a pound and a half over the mark. They’d given him an hour to work it off. He never wanted to have to do that again. It was a wonder he still had the energy to win the damn fight.
“For obvious reasons I can’t stop training, and if I cut back now, I’ll lose the momentum I’ve gained. But as it stands, I can’t eat the way I need to, in order to keep up with the training. Otherwise I’ll put on too much weight. My body wants it, and I want to stop struggling for something that it’s obviously craving. You have to admit, it makes sense,” he implored.
The men stared at each other. Jami could see the internal debate Don waged and knew precisely when he had reached his decision. Blowing out a long, weighted breath, Don slapped his pen on the desktop. “I’m only saying yes because the last time you whined about starving so much I thought I accidentally walked into the women’s gym.”
Pumped, Jami jumped to his feet.
“But…” Don said before he could leave. Some of Jami’s excitement deflated as he noted the seriousness in the old man’s voice, “…that doesn’t mean I like it. You think this is going to be easy, but it’s not. Putting on weight and keeping it on is going to be harder than you think. You think you pull long hours now, just wait until you’re pumping iron and pounding your fists eight hours a day, six days a week. Are you really ready to take on that kind of commitment, because once I put in the paperwork, there’s no turning back.”
Jami didn’t have to think about anything. He knew the risks, and he knew what it would take to get where he wanted to be before he ever walked into the room. All last season he had weighed the pros and cons of his decision, and this was where he’d finally settled. He wanted it, and when he set his mind to something, he got it. “I know what it’s going to take, Coach. I’m more than ready.”
Don watched him for any signs of dishonesty, and when he didn’t find any, he threw his hands up. “Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. One peep, and I mean one, about how I’m working you too hard, and you’re back to the old routine,” he warned. “Now get the hell out of here. I’ll be out in fifteen minutes, and I had better see your ass on those mats. We have too much work to do to start slacking off now.”
He didn’t bother to mention to the man that he’d just told him there would be no going back. He’d rather let him think he’d won the argument. Instead, Jami issued a sarcastic salute that earned him one of Don’s epic glares, and laughed.
***
“It’s called lemon drop and you will like it,” Alyson said, demanding Olivia’s submission. Tugging her hand into her lap, she unscrewed the cap off the bright yellow nail polish and began painting.
“You’d better hope that doesn’t wash me out. I stopped tanning over a month ago, so I am pasty as hell right now.”
“Boo hoo, you big baby. That’s what they make nail polish remover for. Now shush it, this is the best part.”
Alyson split her attention between her task and the movie playing on television. She and Olivia were having their monthly girl’s night in, and this time, they had decided to go with an eighties theme. Their first movie of choice was The Breakfast Club, which would be followed up by Sixteen Candles. Olivia had brought with her an array of nail polishes, along with a make-up bag packed full of frosty eye shadows and lip liners that they would use later for one of their infamous make-over sessions.
Face masks were in place. Their hair was in curlers. Once their nails were dry, it was on.
As she paused to reach for some popcorn, Olivia’s phone buzzed across the table. Pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping, Alyson occupied herself with what was happening on screen. From the corner of her eye, she could see Olivia’s mile-wide grin, and by the giddy laughter that rang out often, she assumed it must be a guy on the other end.
For that, she had no interest. Listening with only half an ear, Alyson focused on Jud Nelson as he crawled through the rafters of the high school. She’d never found the man particularly appealing, but in this one movie, she lusted after him like a high school harlot. It was shameful, she knew, but she didn’t care. Give her a bad boy any day of the week…
She didn’t know what made her begin focusing back in, but it was just in time to catch the string of worrisome words.
“…two lefts then a right. It’s the one with the garden gnomes and the pink flamingo,” she heard her friend say. A hysterical laugh escaped her. “They’re not mine! The old woman in one oh four puts those out.”
“Who are you talking to?” she hissed at her. “Did you just invite some guy over?” She sure hoped not. With their busy schedules and most of her free time being spent with Jami lately, this was the first time she’d had a chance to hang out and catch up with her friend. She didn’t like the idea that she might have to share her.
Olivia put her hand up to push Alyson away as she reached for the phone. “Okay, see you soon,” she said sweetly, then followed it up with some kissing noises before hanging up. To Alyson she commanded, “Down, girl, down!”
“Who the hell was that?” Alyson demanded to know.
Standing, Olivia began scooping up stray pieces of popcorn from the floor. “That, dear friend, was Spencer. He wants to see me, so I told him to come over.”
Stunned, Alyson sat back and watched as she hurried to straighten the place. “I didn’t know you guys were talking.”
“Hmmhmm. Ever since the party,” she said proudly. “I guess I left an impression.”
Alyson laughed, guessing at what the impression most likely was. “I have to say, I am fairly disappointed that you would let some guy interrupt our girl’s night.”
Dropping back on the couch beside her, Olivia passed her a pensive look. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think. I can totally call him back and tell him to forget it.” Her mouth said she would do it, but her eyes were begging Alyson to tell her it was okay.
Did she want to share her? No. But she could see that this was important to Olivia, and what kind of friend would that make her if she denied her this?
Deciding to have mercy on her, Alyson patted the fleece sheep dotting Olivia’s thigh. “No, it’s fine. You play with your boy toy, and I will go to my room and read a little before bed.”
“About that,” Olivia said, grimacing.
Alyson narrowed her eyes as anxiety began to take root in her gut. “About what?” she asked, wanting to shake her friend.
“Spencer isn’t alone.” Alyson’s eyebrows shot into her hairline. She had an incredible ability to read between lines, and right now, she didn’t like what she was seeing. “He asked if it was okay if he brought his friend Jamison, the fighter dude, with him, and I told him it was fine. Do you hate me?”
Dropping her head in her hands, Alyson tugged at her hair, growling. “Yes, I hate you so much right now.” Lifting her head to look at her, she glared. “I want to strangle you with my bare hands.”
“Well, you can do that later,” Olivia said earnestly, “but right now, you probably want to go wash that stuff off your face.”
Alyson’s eyes widened as she realized that she could pass for Swamp Thing, when she heard the thump of car doors outside.
NINE
Jami looked out the window at the dark expanse of apartment buildings and cringed. It reminded him too much of a time when he was on his own in the world that he would rather forget. The difference was that this complex appeared clean. It wasn’t much to look at, but the freshly cut and trimmed grounds, the lack of trash and loud thumping music indicated that it was better than those he was familiar with.
Tension began to build a knot in his shoulders as he climbed out of the truck and followed Spencer up the long path leading inside. The moment they stepped inside, a dozen different scents of residents’ dinners combined with cigarette smoke created an unwelcome medley that smelled like something he might find in an alley somewhere, forcing him to draw short, shallow breaths as they climbed the open staircase to the third floor.
The air buzzed with energy, which was the norm whenever Spence was nearby, but for the first time, Jami was beginning to feel some of its effects. Despite his best efforts not to be, Jami was glad Spence had suggested crashing the girls’ little party. He was looking forward to seeing Alyson tonight.
It certainly beat sitting at home alone with a beer and watching recordings of past matches, so he could study what moves he needed to improve on.
Locating the door labeled with the number Liv had given Spence over the phone, Jami hung back, letting him take the lead. He rapped twice on the door. They didn’t have long to wait before it swung open and a green-faced Liv appeared.
“That was fast,” she said, excitement filling her words.
Spence, who was all smiles and big teeth, snatched her up and into his arms. “Baby, it wasn’t nearly fast enough. Jami over here drives like an old man.”
Shaking his head, Jami looked past the couple. From what he could make out of it, the apartment was clean and tidy, which he figured was typical. Women tended to be the cleaner of the species.
“Think we can move this happy reunion inside,” he suggested to the couple who were now inhaling each other’s faces, heedless of the green goop.
That’s just sick. Without breaking their lip lock, Spencer began walking Liv backward into the apartment. The enthusiasm with which Spencer kissed this woman was surprising. In the years that they’d known each other, Jami had never seen the man get this worked up over anyone, much less a woman. It had always been a ‘wham bam thank you ma’am’ deal with the guy, but on the drive over, he had been surprised to learn that this wasn’t the first time the two had hung out together.
According to Spencer, he and Liv had seen each other a few times since meeting at the hotel. At first, Jami had laughed it off as a fluke that Spence had gotten dazzled by a particularly good pussy, but Spence had insisted that wasn’t the case. He admitted to sleeping with her, once, but confessed that their connection ran far deeper than a good lay. They talked and shared histories, goals for the future. It reminded him of the relationship he had with Alyson.
Could Liv be the woman to bring his friend to heel?
Apparently, Spence’s smile was contagious. As they entered the apartment, Jami couldn’t keep the smile off his face, and when he saw Alyson standing just inside the door, looking wide-eyed and desperate for an escape, it only grew wider.
“Don’t look at me,” she cried, holding her hands up to shield her face. “I’m hideous.”
Unable to help the laugh that escaped him, Jami pushed past the wall of Spencer and Liv, closing the door as he approached her. Her hair was half up and half down in big pink curlers and she wore the same green mask that covered her friend’s face, but she looked damn cute. Still, he couldn’t resist the urge to tease her. He ran a finger across the dried mud caking her cheek. “It’s alright, Broom-Hilda. I still think you’re beautiful.”
She punched him in the chest. “You’re such an ass.” A smile born of embarrassment flickered across her face, splintering her mask like a riverbed during a drought. “Let me go wash this crap off my face.”
Jami stepped out of her way and planted himself in the center of her brown suede couch. Spence and her friend had managed to tear themselves away from each other long enough for both girls to wash the crud from their faces, and upon returning spread out across the matching loveseat.
“Miss me?” Alyson asked her tone chipper as she plopped down beside him. Jami watched her as she curled her feet under her and settled in. Now that he could actually see her face, she was glowing. Her skin was fresh and clean, rejuvenated by whatever beauty treatments she and her friend had been performing on one another before he’d arrived. And she was dressed in a pair of loose fitting gray sweats rolled down at the waist to hold them up, and a skimpy, nearly translucent white tank top that threatened to blow his mind... among other things.
“Always, babe,” he said before he could catch himself.
Alyson gave him one of her looks. The one where her green eyes peered up at him through thick, dark lashes, and she drew that plump bottom lip between her teeth. It had always been something that caught and held his attention, but now it was driving him crazy. She was driving him crazy. Did she even realize how sexy she was?
Draping his arm over the back of the sofa, he jerked his head in a ‘come here’ motion, satisfied when she filled the empty space without question. When she laid her head against his chest and fitted her arm around his stomach to hold him tight, he almost groaned in pleasure. It had been so long since a woman had held him without expectation. “What are we watching?” he asked to distract himself.
“Sixteen Candles,” Ally and Liv said in unison.
Jami scrunched his nose up. “A chick flick?”
“It’s a classic,” Ally assured him, tilting her head back to smile up at him.
As if he could resist that face. Desire filled him and without thinking, Jami cupped her jaw and lowered his head. Ally’s pale green eyes stared into his, holding him captive. He could feel the rapid beat of her heart against his side, the heat pouring off her as he closed in.
His lips were inches from hers when he realized what he was about to do. Veering onto a different path, he kissed her forehead instead. When he pulled away, she blinked at him in confusion and, assuming he wasn’t imagining things, disappointment. “Let’s do this,” he grunted, turning away to watch the seriously outdated, crap teen movie that the girls seemed to eat up with a spoon. He didn’t get it. Didn’t even pretend to. If the girls enjoyed it, then he would tolerate it.
They’d crashed their little party, after all.
“I’m still hurt that you didn’t invite me to your girls’ night,” he whispered in her ear as Molly Ringwald gave away her panties onscreen.
Keeping her eyes glued to the movie, Ally remarked, “That’s because it’s a girls’ night. No boys al
lowed.”
“Then why did you ask me to come over?”
She gaped up at him, and he gave her his most playful smile. “I’m sorry. That was inconsiderate of me,” she whispered apologetically. “Did you want a face mask, too? Maybe your nails painted?”
Jami pretended to consider it. “I’d better not. The guys at the gym will be jealous.”
“Hey, you two,” Spence called out. “We’re trying to watch a movie over here. If you’re going to feel each other up, get a room.”
Jami’s lip peeled back in mock warning. “Look who’s calling the kettle black. Ally and I are just friends.”
Spence appraised them and Jami could just imagine what he was seeing. He and Ally nestled up on the couch together, her arm around his middle, his around her shoulders, their heads pressed together as they whispered. It was quite the intimate scene, he was certain.
Still…
Spencer must have been thinking the same thing. “Uh huh. You just keep telling yourself that.”
As the night wore on, they popped more popcorn and ordered a couple of pizzas for dinner. Jami knew that he was supposed to be adhering to a strict diet, but this was one night he wasn’t going to get back. So he shoveled it in and enjoyed every last bite.
Ally surprised him when she produced a collection of cold beers, maintaining her appeal that she was not the fruity drink girl most seemed to be. It was an absolute fucking pleasure to be in her presence.
By the time they started their third movie—another John Hughes—they were all buzzed and relaxed. Along the way, Jami urged Ally to lie down, and he slid in along her side. Now, as she lay on her back, they traded amused looks. On the other couch, their friends were in their own little world, shoving their tongues down one another’s throats while their limbs tangled together.
Ally’s eyes rolled back in her head, and she sighed dramatically, mimicking her friend. Jami laughed silently and did his own Spencer-like performance. Alyson twisted into him, bursting with silent laughter that she buried her face against his chest.