Part 55 (1/2)
The words come out of my mouth in a whisper. ”Right.”
”I a.s.sume you know what he does, right?”
”He's a fighter... underground.”
”As in illegal.” Tina sees how uncomfortable I'm getting, and puts a hand on my knee. ”I'm just looking out for you. If you ever need to talk, you can call me, okay?”
”Thanks,” I say.
”Now go on, get out of here. You want a lift home?”
”No, I'm going to walk.”
Tina's voice grows stern. ”Penelope.”
”Okay, I'll take the tram.”
”Good enough. See you tomorrow.”
I smile, get up and leave the shop wondering at Tina's slightly maternal behavior. As far as I know, she's single, and if I had to guess I'd say she was in her late thirties. I've never seen her with a guy, and I've never failed to notice how she dotes on the children that clients sometimes bring in.
But then my mind moves to Pierce.
It's like I can only get a few seconds of time to think about something else before my thoughts go back to him.
I wonder what he's up to.
I'm... I hate to admit it, but I'm worried.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
Three days left. Just three days until the fight.
I'm eating brown rice, broccoli and chicken b.r.e.a.s.t.s, followed by an electrolyte and mineral c.o.c.ktail I made up myself.
The worst thing that can happen to a fighter in the cage is to get a cramp. You've got to prepare your body for many days before the fight. You've got to get everything just perfect. Hydration is key, and good food is, too.
You'd never guess it, because, f.u.c.k, calories are calories, right? But there's a world of difference in the way you feel consuming one-thousand calories of junk versus one-thousand calories of good food. I eat four one-thousand calorie meals per day. It's actually really hard work.
When I was younger, I paid diet no mind. Now, with the big three-zero coming up faster than I'd like, I live by it.
There's a knock on the door. I haven't showered yet a I stink of sweat from working out a but it's probably just one of Fallon's goons come around the house again, maybe to give me the details for the fight location.
After I specifically told them not to. My blood boils. I walk angrily to the door, fling it open, ready to grab Baldilocks or whoever the f.u.c.k by the collar, hoist him up against the wall, and pummel him.
But it's not him. It's Penelope.
”Pen,” I say, unclenching my fist. Her eyes roam up and down my body. I'm wearing nothing but compression shorts. When I notice her eyes linger on the bulge in my crotch, I smirk at her. ”I knew you'd be back.”
”Oh Christ,” she says, turning around.
”Wait, wait,” I tell her. I take her hand, turn her back toward me. ”I'm sorry. It's... I don't know.”
”Just the way you are?”
”A lifetime of bad habits,” I concede. ”Come in.”
I guide her into my apartment, roll a weighted medicine ball out of her way. ”Anything to drink?”
”You got something alcoholic?” she asks. I peer at her, and she shrugs. ”Hey, I didn't want to come here.”
”Anything in mind?”
”Vodka orange?”
”Sure. I won't be joining you. I can't drink at the moment.”
”It's fine,” she says, flopping into my sofa. I watch her while I make her drink. She looks stressed out. She also looks s.e.xy as f.u.c.k. She's just dressed casually, black jeans, flats, and a white blouse, and she looks f.u.c.king fantastic in it.
She fiddles with her hair, coils a lock around a finger. I hand her the drink.
”Pierce,” she says. ”I talked with my dad this morning.”
”Oh?”
”He says that your mother and him are really serious about having the wedding down here.”
I nod. ”Is that right?”
”He says it's because both of us have no extended family to speak of. So you and I are their only family, and they want to get married with family.”
”Cool,” I say. ”When?”
”It's not cool.”
I sit down, and resume eating my dinner. ”Just say what you want to say.”
She looks frustrated, fiddles with the edge of her blouse. ”We need to decide what to... do.”
”About what?”
”About what happened between us.”
”You mean since we f.u.c.ked?”