by Lily Zante
I smile, because there’s not a lot I can say to that. Instead I look behind me at the gym area, and see if the boy wonder is here.
“Those are some of the regulars,” Ernesto explains, lowering his voice. “There’s Santos and Jake,” he points to two guys stepping into the ring. “They’re Eli’s sparring partners. The rest,” he gesticulates at the other guys, “are regulars. Some come with their trainers. Lou only trains and manages Eli, and he’s always busy, because he owns the gym. I try to help out, but he’s busier than ever now that Eli’s got this fight.”
“Is he ready?” I ask, because I’m not sure what to say until I’ve met the man, and then I can gauge how I’m going to get through my month here.
“I believe he will be more than ready by the time he steps into that ring.”
“What can I do for you?” I turn around. Phone guy is off the phone and fixes me with a questioning look.
“This is Harper,” says Ernesto. “She’s from the paper.”
“You’re from the paper?” This new guy isn’t repeating it, he’s asking it as if it’s a question, as if he’s shocked.
“Yes.” Suddenly I feel self-conscious, as if I’m not properly qualified for this assignment. I’m used to it, but I feel slightly out of place.
“Lou,” he says, “I’m Eli’s manager.” He eyes me as if there’s a problem. I’m relieved I had the sense to wear my dark pantsuit instead of my pencil skirt, and that I swapped out the heels for my sneakers. I wish I’d gone easy on the makeup, too. It’s probably not a good thing that I’ve come in looking all dolled up, because I feel way too overdressed for this place already.
I bet Merv knew this. It wouldn’t surprise me to learn that he was probably even cheering for it.
“I’m Harper Lindstrom.” We shake hands, and I shake harder than usual.
“She works for the Chicago Daily Herald.”
“I’m aware of who she works for, Ernie, I was the one involved in the discussions.” He gives me a smile, but still looks at me as if he doesn’t know what to make of me.
“Go get Eli, will you?” Lou asks.
“No, don’t,” I say quickly. The reception from Lou hasn’t been so great, and I’m worried about meeting Elias. I’ve read that boxers are focused, and train like crazy. “I don’t want to disturb him.”
The two men grin at each other, and I have no idea what’s so funny.
“You should meet him. It’s better you get this over and done with now,” Lou insists, and nods at Ernesto to go bring him.
“What do you know about boxing?” Lou asks as soon as Ernesto leaves. I’m beginning to think that he and Merv must have been separated at birth, because they both seem to regard me with the same level of condescension.
“Well… I don’t know much,” I say, deciding that it’s better to confess. “But this isn’t so much about the techniques of boxing, as it is about the man who’ll be fighting the current heavyweight champion of the world. This story is inspirational to say the least, especially knowing about Elias’s past and how he came from a broken home.”
“You did your research, eh?” Lou asks, walking back to his desk and sitting down. Then he turns to some paperwork which is lying on his desk and diverts his attention there. I’m left feeling as if I’m not important since he can’t even spare me a few minutes of his time. I consider that rude given that I’m going to be here for a while.
I glance at my fingernail and wonder if it was worth getting my nails painted again yesterday given where I am today. Would it really matter in this place?
Lou’s still engrossed in his paperwork and doesn’t even look up at me, but I’m not left hanging for long because the door flies open and Elias Cardoza walks in.
His face is dotted with sweat, and he’s still wearing his boxing gloves. The room seems to shrink because it feels as if this guy takes up so much space. He’s not huge. There are no bulky, football-shaped muscles on him, but there are tattoos. Beautiful tattoos all over his chest. I can’t stop staring.
He’s lean, and toned, and a sheen of sweat coats his naked torso. He’s not a beast, but his presence is overwhelming in that suddenly small office.
I forget to talk. I forget to breathe.
He ignores me, even though I’m standing directly in front of him, and instead, he stares at his manager.
“Eli, meet Harper Lindster,” says Lou.
“Lindstrom,” I correct.
“That’s right,” says Lou, making no effort to get my name right. “Harper, meet Eli, the next heavyweight champion of the world.”
With this glowing break-the-tension introduction, I expect Elias’s face to soften, but the guy throws me a look of pure loathing. I hold my breath because I’m not relaxed enough to breathe. It takes me a few seconds before I inch forward. “Nice to meet you,” I say, but I stop myself from lifting my hand. Even if he wasn’t wearing those boxing gloves, something tells me this guy wouldn’t want to shake my hand.
He observes me with suspicion. If he’s surprised that I’m a woman, I can’t tell. In fact, I don’t think that face of his is capable of expressing surprise. He’s hard, and impassive, and he looks pissed even though, as far as I’m aware, I haven’t said or done anything offensive.
“Don’t worry, I don’t intend to get in your way,” I say, to fill the awkward silence that slithers around me. I feel uneasy and I can’t tell if it’s because my body is on high-alert due to his blatant dislike of me being here, or if it’s because I’m reacting to this man’s overt sexuality.
I have to admit, he has an aura about him, something physical, and sexual, that rolls easily off his bare skin. I don’t think he’s aware of it, because he’s not looking at me as an object of any remote interest whatsoever.
He’s looking at me as if I just messed up his day.
“Remember what we talked about, Eli?” Lou says. Ernesto coughs lightly. The moment stretches out painfully.
“Yeah,” Eli says. How he manages to make that word sound offensive is beyond me.
I try to smile, then look at Lou for instruction. Actually, I look at Lou because I can’t look at Elias. I don’t have these types of reactions to people. Not even when I’ve had a few drinks. I’m always in control of my emotions. I always keep it together, no matter what, but I don’t understand why my heartrate just sped up.
“Harper will be here for a month, Eli. Be nice.”
“You already told me.”
Elias’s voice is richer than I would expect for someone so young; he’s twenty-four, if I remember correctly. His voice, coupled with his bare-chested torso, turns my brain to pulp.
“She’s not going to be in your way,” Lou tells him.
I take the cue. “I’m not,” I tell him in a rushed voice that I barely recognize as my own. “I’ll be so discreet that I’ll be invisible,” I say, and volunteer a smile. But he scowls at me. Nothing moves on his face. No upturn of lips, or the blink of an eye, and yet he’s scowling at me. I can feel it.
“Good,” he growls, then exits the room.
Ernesto gives a laugh, and the tension in the room breaks. “Don’t mind him,” says Ernesto, tapping me on the shoulder from behind. He’s been standing near the door the entire time. “He’s not the friendliest of guys.”
“You can say that again.” Friendly isn’t a word I’d put within a ten-mile radius of Elias Cardoza.
“You’ll get used to it,” Lou adds. “Just give him his space.”
I want to ask them both how they expect me to find out about him, and his motivations, and his routine, how they expect me to get information about his fighting methods and his mindset if the guy doesn’t want me anywhere near him?
“You need anything?” Lou asks, clearly eager for me to leave so that he can carry on with his work.
Even if I did, I wouldn’t be asking him. “No,” I reply.
“Come on,” says Ernesto. “Lou’s another one that doesn’t like people much.” He raises his eyebrow at
the man. “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
As we leave the office, I notice that Eli has stepped into the ring with a guy.
“Let’s find you a place to sit, and get you settled in,” offers Ernesto, and I feel a sense of relief.
Chapter Four
ELI
* * *
A woman? You have to be kidding me. What the hell was Lou thinking? I hated this stupid idea before, and now I hate it a million times over.
She looks as if she belongs behind the perfume counter at one of those fancy department stores.
I don’t want her here, and I sure as hell don’t want her following me around for a month.
After my sparring session with Santos, I climb out of the ring and see that she’s got a desk over by the wall.
That’s all I need.
I walk over to one of the benches and start taking off my headgear and gloves. I see Ernesto coming towards me, and instinctively I can tell he’s not amused.
“That wasn’t nice.”
I put my gloves down and say nothing.
“Can’t you try to be civil?” he asks, leaning against the wall with his hands behind his back. I glance over to the side. Princess is tapping away on her laptop.
“She doesn’t belong here.”
“It’s publicity for you.”
I grunt. “I don’t need her to get me publicity.”
“Garrison’s got the media and the people on his side. Who have you got?”
My head jerks towards him and I’m too taken aback to give him an answer. Ernesto never has anything bad to say. “I don’t even know who the fuck this Harper Lindshit is.”
“Lindstrom.”
“She’s a woman. What does she know about boxing?”
“That’s her problem, not yours, Eli.”
“She’s my problem.”
“How? I don’t see her doing anything to you,” Ernesto answers so easily that I’m starting to question his loyalty.
Then I remember his two teenage granddaughters, and I reckon Ernesto is getting all protective over the princess because she reminds him of them. He brought them to the gym once because they wanted a picture with me, and autographs, and a million selfies. Come to think of it, the eighteen year-old wanted my number, when Grandpa wasn’t looking, but I lied and told her my girlfriend wouldn’t be too happy about that.
“Try to be civil, that’s all Lou’s asking. He’s not expecting you to take her out on a date. Who knows, she might have something nice to say about you.” He walks away before I get the chance to make a comment.
Just then she looks up and catches me staring, I turn my back since it wasn’t her I was specifically looking at.
I need to take a shower before I go to Frankie’s Kitchen, a diner a few blocks from here, to have lunch. But before I head over to the locker room, I knock on Lou’s door and walk in. I have things I need to say.
“You never said it was going to be a woman.”
“I’m as surprised as you, kid.”
“Are you sure she’s in the right place?”
He laughs. “She’s going to be a real test of your mettle.”
“She’s not supposed to be anything,” I spit back. “She’s only going to be a pain in my butt. A distraction. Can’t you see that?”
“It’s exposure for the gym. It will help us attract more talent to this place.”
“You need more new blood?”
“A gym always needs new blood.”
Unbelievable. I’ve given this guy more exposure than he’s ever had, and now that I have the biggest fight of my life before me, he’s going to get the biggest exposure yet. He should be grateful for me, instead of trying to find more fighters.
I sulk silently because it’s better than exploding with all the anger that’s been building inside me ever since he introduced me to her.
“She’s good for business, Eli.”
“She looks out of place.”
“Then don’t look at her,” Lou growls.
I can block her out, because that’s how I survived. I blocked out the stuff that didn’t matter, and held onto the stuff that did.
But even so, the idea of Harper watching my every move for an entire month makes my blood boil.
Chapter Five
HARPER
* * *
It’s the end of my first week here. I’ve only been here for four days but it feels like two weeks. And I haven’t managed to speak to Eli yet.
I’ve tried. Meaning I’ve tried to get his attention. Each time I’ve tried to catch his eye, he avoids looking at me. It’s plain to see that he hates me being around, and I’m giving him time to get used to me. I haven’t yet been able to summon up the courage to walk over to him and talk to him, but I can’t leave it too long. I don’t even want to begin to imagine what Merv and Gerry would make of this situation.
“You don’t look too happy.” It’s not that Ernesto is a master of observation, it’s just that I don’t hide my feelings or wear my mask well.
“I’m not getting anywhere,” I confess. “I’m supposed to be writing an information piece on Elias Cardoza, Chicago’s New Hope, and I have nothing.”
“Mind if I sit down?” Ernesto asks, his hands resting on the wooden slat of the empty chair opposite me.
“Please,” I say, grateful for the company. He’s been good to me, so I can’t complain. After all, he’s the one who got me this small table from his own office. I didn’t even know Ernesto had his own office. I suppose office is too fancy a word for this small room with a tiny window. It’s next to the utility room. He’s given me his desk because he claims he hardly ever uses it. He says he’s got no time to sit down and do nothing because the gym is falling to pieces and there’s something to fix every day.
He set me up with this tiny working space not long after I arrived here. My desk is next to a power socket, so that I can recharge my phone or plug in my laptop when the battery’s about to die.
Ernesto sighs heavily. “So, Eli’s not giving you anything, huh?” It so happens that Eli saunters past us at that very moment. He’s in jeans and a sweatshirt, and he’s late today, I notice. I usually get here first thing in the morning and then pop back to my office during the day if I need to, and then I pop back here in the late afternoon.
“Not even a ‘hello’,” I complain. Still, I’m up to speed on this guy’s training regimen and his diet, but I got none of that from him. I got it by talking to everyone around him; Lou, Ernesto, Santos and Jake, who are part of his training team. I also discover more information online.
None of this is from the man himself. And he still avoids looking my way or acknowledging my presence. “He doesn’t open up.”
“He doesn’t talk much,” agrees Ernesto. His eyes are soft, and brown, and offer me a glimpse of kindness that I’m not used to here. Lou hides away in his office, and Eli still looks at me as if he wants to gouge my eyes out. I might have been a novelty the first week I was here, but now the rest of the boxers are used to me, and I’m as good as being part of the furniture. I’ve even dressed so that I fit in. Jeans, shirts, and sneakers.
“What’s he hiding?” I ask, then smile to add a touch of softness.
“You’ll have to ask him.”
The way he says it puts me on high alert. “He won’t give me an inch. I can’t reach him.”
Ernesto tilts his head, as if agreeing. “It’s a boxer’s instinct.”
“I’m a journalist. I’m here for a reason. He’s the interest and he’s not giving me anything.” I think back to a few days ago when I tried to make conversation with him, and he ignored me completely. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone so rude before.
“Tell me about you,” Ernesto asks, and because I know since I’ve worked around enough creeps, I can see his request is genuine. He’s being polite, making me feel at home, or trying to, at least.
He wants to know about my job, and how long I’ve been here, and about college and
whether I liked it. He tells me he has two granddaughters and that’s why he’s asking, on their behalf. I can tell he dotes on them by the way his face lights up when he talks about them. So I tell him, and he asks me if I enjoy my work.
“I’m never bored,” I reply, and I truly mean that. I can’t see myself sitting in an office doing admin work, or crunching numbers, but doing investigative work is exciting. At least I think it is, in this early stage of my career.
“This must be strange for you?” Ernesto throws a glance around the room. “Maybe you’d prefer to cover more glamorous stories?”
“Elias Cardoza’s story is interesting,” I say, because it is. It could never be glamorous, in the way most celebrity stories are, but it is definitely interesting. “He’s Chicago’s New Hope, after all.”
“He’s going places, that’s for sure,” Ernesto replies, his voice full of conviction. “And he’s really not so bad, once you get to know him.”
“He’s not giving me a chance.” I glance over at the punching bag that Eli is hammering hard right now.
“Give him time.”
“We’ll be into the second week soon.” At this rate I won’t have much to do, and my being here, in order to have access to Eli, seems pointless.
“Gimme a minute,” he says, then gets up and strides over to Eli. He has his back to us and it’s wet. Sweat rolls off it. He hits the punching bag so hard that I can hear the sound even though I’m at the other end of the room.
He stops when Ernesto says something to him. I’m so glad that Eli’s back is to me. If he could see me now, he’d give me a withering look even from where he is, and I’d feel the hate in it.
But then Eli turns around. I want to sink into my chair, and become part of the ugly, uncomfortable plastic. I instinctively sink lower, my shoulders slumping as I pretend to stare at my laptop screen. My phone beeps, signaling an incoming text and I check. It’s Gerry and he’s asking if I want to meet up with him for lunch one day next week.
Yes. I text back.
