Committed (2 page)

“The one who left the locker room
soaking wet the other night.
Either the two of you
were—”

“Okay, okay! She’s fine,
Emmi’s
fine.” It had never bothered
me
to talk about my
conquests in the past, but
Emmi
was different. She
wasn’t just some girl
I
was banging.
I
got the feeling Sam knew this and was just trying to goad
me.

“You ready to work out? Are you over your little
hissy fit about the smell, Prima Donna?”

I
didn’t dignify him with an answer to that, I just rolled my eyes again and
replied, “I’m ready, what are we doing today?”

Sam slid a rope with two handles, alternating blue
and red casings, off the ring floor and handed it to
me
.

“We’re
gonna
work on that
fancy footwork,” he told
me
.
I
grimaced; jumping rope was not my thing. Maybe because
I
wasn’t a twelve-year-old girl.

He waited for
me
to get
ready and then he pushed the button for the timer on the wall. As soon as it
beeped
I
started jumping.

I
got into a rhythm and made myself focus on something else as I listened to the
rope hit the floor. If
I
concentrated too much on
jumping my feet tended to get all tangled up.
I
thought about my favorite thing…
Emmi
. Things had been
going so well between us, finally. Although she still hadn’t talked to
me
about those three dreaded little words I blurted out.

The buzzer went off and
I
stopped jumping.

“Pretty good, been out in the park practicing with
those little girls again, huh?”
I
didn’t know what I
would do without Sam’s form of encouragement. He reached back into his little
chest of tricks and pulled out a pair of red boxing gloves. Loosening the laces
he held them out for
me
to put on. He hit the timer on
the clock again.

“All right, boy, let’s get to work.”

I
stood in front of the bag and waited for the buzzer to sound. When it did
I
took my first shot, a jab. Then
I
snapped my left hand back and brought both gloves to my face.
I
threw a right, feeling the automatic rotation in my feet
and then snapped my hand back to my face as I watched the bag start to swing.
It swung away from
me
and I stepped to the side before
it came back.
I
threw a left, a left and a right and
it swung away.
I
stepped to the other side and when it
came back I threw a left, a right and a right.

 
“Keep your
chin down!” Sam shouted.

The bag came back and
I
did
it all again, keeping my chin down. The monotony of it relaxed and empowered
me
.
I
threw a left and then a right
and Sam reminded me to get full extension.
I
loved the
sound the gloves made when they slammed into the bag. Sometimes
I
thought when I graduated and got a real job, I was really
going to miss this.

“Two minutes,” Sam said, unnecessarily since the
clock was huge and right in front of
me
. When the
timer rang again, Sam asked, “You want water?”

I
nodded.
I
couldn’t do it myself with the gloves on.
Sam grabbed the bottle and held it above
my
head. He
dipped it so it flowed out and
I
got one gulp.
I
used to try and chug it, but that led to an ugly round of
vomiting. Sam could have warned
me
about that but he
didn’t. He always said that a lesson
was better learned
from experience.

I
leaned against the side of the ring for a ten-second break before he made me go
again. When
I
did I caught a glimpse of myself in the
mirror that was nailed against the opposite wall.
I
knew some people thought I was full of myself, but I liked how powerful I
looked. The cockiness helped
me
in the ring.

When the buzzer sounded again
I
went back to the bag.
I
started with a jab, again.
I
always started with a jab.
I
went
three more minutes; had a water break, another three minutes and one more
break. Then Sam sent
me
over to the double end bag.

I
started out with a jab, as usual, and my shoulder screamed out in exhausted
disgruntlement. The bag jittered around in front of
me
.
This bag was for skill, not strength like the other one.
I
stood for a few seconds and watched it closely. If my timing
was
off I wouldn’t hit anything.
I
saw my chance and I
threw a quick right and then a hook. Boom! Boom! The bag thrashed back and
forth and
I
took a step and hit it with another right.
Three more minutes and Sam let
me
take another break
and then back at it again.

We passed about an hour and a half switching
workouts and having little rest periods in between.

When he finally told
me
I
could hit the showers he said, “But don’t leave when you’re done, there’s
someone here who wants to talk to you.”

“Who?”

“Just go clean up and then you’ll see,” he said.
Then with the grin he gets when he thinks he’s being funny he added, “We can’t
have you adding to the terrible smell of this place, now can we, Princess?”

When
I
came back out of the
showers, Sam was sitting across from some guy in a suit. When
I
walked over the guy got to his feet and held out his hand.

“Braxton, this is Scottie, the MMA promoter I was
telling you about,” Sam said.

I
shook the guy’s hand and he said, “I’m glad to finally meet you, Braxton.
I
’ve heard nothing but good things. I was also at your last
fight and I have to say, you blew me away.”

“Thanks,”
I
said, looking
questionably at Sam. Didn’t
I
already tell him I
wasn’t interested in a career in this business?

“Let’s have a seat and talk,” Scottie told
me
. We sat and he picked up a folder that was sitting next
to him. “I talked to all the people who matter about you and showed them the
videos that Sam sent me of your
fights,
we’re ready to
offer you a contract. I think you’ll find it pretty generous.”

“Um, I’m not sure what to say. I haven’t really been
thinking about doing this long-term.”

“How old are you, Braxton?” Scottie asked
me
.

“Twenty-one, almost twenty-two.”

“You’re at your prime for this. If you’re good
enough, and
I
think you are, you can retire for life
in five years. The endorsements alone are worth a fortune.”

I
looked up at Sam. He was nodding
like
he thought this
was a great idea. All
I
had ever thought was that I
didn’t want to be doing this when I’m an old man. But damn was he persuasive.
Retire at twenty-seven?
I
could travel and buy a
house, or two. Callie would have everything she needed, and
I
could even help
Emmi
get her photography business off
the ground.

Scottie slid the contract over to
me
and said, “Once you sign it, you start getting paid.
I
’m
telling you, I’ve been in this business for fifteen years and all I have to do
is look at you and I know the endorsements will be pouring in so fast you’ll
have to turn half of them down. They love the young studs like you.”

“I looked through it, Braxton,” Sam said. “He’s not
lying to you. They’re offering you a great deal.”

I
fanned through the pages, there were about ten of them.
I
thought about
Emmi
again, she wouldn’t be okay with
me doing this long-term even if it meant helping her start her business.
Neither would Callie for that matter. They both had already let
me
know how stupid they think fighting is.

“Can I take it with me and look it over, and think
about it for a few days?”

Scottie looked at Sam, he was clearly disappointed
but he said, “Sure, kid. Just call
me
by Wednesday and
let me know what you decide. We have a spot to fill and if it’s not going to be
with you, it’ll be someone else.”

He gave
me
his card and I
promised him I’d call in a day or two. Sam walked him out and when he came back
he said, “It’s a great deal, Braxton.”

“Worth getting the hell beat out of you on a routine
basis?”
I
asked him.

“It would be to me,” Sam said.

CHAPTER
THREE

EMMI

I
rushed into the newspaper office with my pictures for the following day’s
paper.
I
knew that in another hour Sarah would be
putting the paper to bed and I’d miss my chance.

“Hey, Sarah, I’m sorry I’m getting these to you so
late. I got some great pictures, but I had to wait for the girls to settle down
after practice so I could get names and stats and all of that to go with them.”
My
assignment had been to take photos of the girls’
soccer team during practice. One of the reporters had already gotten an
interview with them and it was supposed to run in tomorrow’s paper.

Uncharacteristically Sarah said, “You should have started
earlier.”
I
was taken aback at her tone.

“Yeah, I’m sorry. I actually did try, but they were
out of town for a tournament and today was their first practice since they got
back,”
I
said, trying not to sound defensive.

“Well, I just hope you got some good shots since we
don’t have time for any do-overs.”

I
handed the memory card to her. “I think you’ll like them. By the way,
Sarah…we’re on the same page about the photo you took of Braxton and
me
in the locker room the other night, right? You’re not going
to print it?”

Sarah shrugged. “If you’re doing him, I don’t know
why you’re so embarrassed about it.”

I
could feel my cheeks turn red, more out of anger than embarrassment.
I
wasn’t sure why Sarah was suddenly acting so cold toward
me.

“I just prefer to keep my personal business to
myself. Please don’t print it, Sarah.”

“Yeah, okay,” she said.
“Anything
else?
I have to get this paper to bed.”

“No, thanks,”
I
told her.
She dismissed me as she went back to work, I left thinking that this girl had
it
really bad
for Braxton.
I
guess if I was going to date the school stud, I should get used to it.

*********

The next morning
I
was
sitting in the campus coffee shop, waiting for Zoe to show up. We were supposed
to meet for breakfast twenty minutes ago. Just about the time
I
was thinking about texting her to make sure she was still
coming, she showed up. It was probably a good thing, because
I
realized when I’d gone to text her that I’d forgotten my phone. She was wearing
a pair of shorts with holes in the pockets and a sweatshirt. Zoe has her own
sense of style and no matter how odd what she wore was, she always looked good.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said. “It seemed like everyone
in the house had somewhere to be this morning, I had to scramble for ten
minutes in the bathroom.”

“Ugh, yeah.
Living with a bunch of women couldn’t be fun when it comes to bathroom
privileges.”

Zoe’s face turned serious and she said, “As long as
we’re talking about how women can hold grudges.”

I
laughed. “Um, I must have missed that part of the conversation,”
I
told her.

When she laid the paper she was holding down on the
table,
I
knew what she was talking about.
It was the school paper that just came out,
and it was hot
off the press with a big ass picture of me and Braxton kissing in the locker
room on the front. Yep, the very picture that Sarah agreed not to print.

“There are a few more inside too,” she said with a
frown.

“That bitch!”
I
snarled, a
little too loudly. Several people in the coffee shop turned around to look at
me
.
I
didn’t care though, she was
being a bitch. She had promised
me
…hadn’t she?