There is a knock on the door, and Brandi sits upright. We’ve already had way more guests than we can handle; her entire dance company came out to see us about an hour ago to gawk at the baby. “It’s probably just a doctor coming to check on Ambriel,” I say just as the door opens.
“We have some flower deliveries,” a young man says.
Brandi smiles. “Awe, who sent flowers?”
Several different deliveries arrive so quickly that I don’t have time to look at them all. Brandi’s parents sent some; she says they’ll be by tomorrow to see their granddaughter, and I cringe slightly. They still hate me right now. One giant bouquet was sent by all of the female boxers at the gym –Laurel included. “How sweet,” Brandi says, and I wonder if she would still think it was sweet if she knew how close I had come to cheating on her not too long ago with Laurel. She glances over at the NICU. “How is she doing?” she asks.
“Sleeping,” I say; I feel like I’m having to watch my daughter inside a damn fish tank. I hate this. Damn it, I just want to hold her, but I can’t. Not yet. The doctors promised that by the end of the day, we should be able to, though, so I have that to look forward to.
A few hours go by and there is another knock on the door, and suddenly Marty and Amy pop in. Brandi sits upright, and she smiles brightly. Amy is dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, but her hair is still pinned up on her head and her makeup still done as it had been at the wedding earlier this evening. “Digging the look, Amy,” I tease slightly and give her and Marty both a hug for coming by.
“We hope we’re not intruding,” Marty says. “But we’re leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow morning, and we really wanted to see baby Trial before we left.”
“Glad to have you both,” Brandi says.
I smile and give Marty another hug. “Thanks, man.”
Marty and Amy look into the NICU, and Amy squeals slightly. “Oh, poor baby, she’s so tiny! Oh, but she’s precious, you two!”
“Well, she is my daughter,” Brandi jokes.
We all have a good laugh. A nurse comes in to prick Ambriel on her foot for another blood test, and the poor girl cries. I wish I could pick her up and coddle her until she stops. The nurse smiles. “So after I go and take care of this paperwork really quick, I’ll be back to show you two scrub down procedures so that you can hold your baby. I’m sure little Ambriel is ready to spend some time with her parents.”
Brandi and I both smile. That right there is something I am looking forward to. Marty and Amy leave to give us some space, and we tell them to have fun on their honeymoon. Marty makes me promise to send updates on how Ambriel is doing, and I promise I’ll shoot him a text every now and then. A few minutes at the hospital means something very different for a nurse versus a patient.
About half an hour goes by, and we get more guests: Tyler, Marianna, and Bobby all pop in for a visit. Bobby winds up sitting in the chair next to Brandi and talking her up some; the man has a heart of gold, and he charms the paranoid and hormonal woman into believing she’s the most beautiful and important thing to ever have grace his presence. For such a nerdy guy, he’s quite charming.
They are there chatting it up with us for close to an hour before the nurse finally comes back. Tyler, Marianna, and Bobby leave to give us some time to spend with Ambriel. The nurse shows us how to properly scrub down before we hold her, and she instructs us to only let a nurse help take Ambriel from the NICU instead of trying to do it ourselves. Then she puts the baby in Brandi’s arms, and I see Brandi’s face light up. I’m anxious as I wait my turn. Brandi holds her for about fifteen minutes before the nurse recommends letting me have a turn before Ambriel has to go back into NICU. I give the nurse a thankful smile, and then I hold my daughter for the first time. She’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life, and I feel myself getting choked up. Brandi’s sobbing can at least be blamed on hormones, so I try not to lose it.
I hate it that they have to put her back into her little cage. The nurse assures me I’ll have plenty of chances to hold her and bond tomorrow. Brandi falls asleep, and I pass out on the couch. We’re up several times throughout the night to help the nurses feed the baby and change her; I take every opportunity available to me to help just so I can hold her even if it’s while wearing gloves or just reaching into the NICU to change a diaper; she’s being fed through a tube a healthy dose of pumped breastmilk or whatever that stuff is called before the actual milk comes in –technical jargon I don’t tend to remember.
The next morning, I get a whole thirty minutes to myself just holding Ambriel while Brandi sleeps, and it’s the most wonderful thing I’ve ever experienced. There is a knock on the door, and another delivery guy comes in to deliver more flowers as the nurse is helping me put Ambriel back into the NICU. The noise wakes Brandi, and she rubs her eyes. “Who are the flowers from?” she asks with a loud yawn. Poor woman is exhausted.
I look at the card and cringe. “Fucking Donte.”
“Are you serious?” she asks, clearly just as annoyed as me.
“Why would that asshole send flowers?” I question.
“I have no idea,” she grunts. “Maybe he feels bad for the way we left things.”
“Sure,” I grumble and read the card.
Hope my baby girl is doing well.
“Asshole,” I say; his stepdaddy comment still bothers the hell out of me –he had told me he’d make sure my kid calls him daddy, and damn it that about made me want to kill him. I slam the entire vase of flowers and card into the trash.
“Don’t worry about him,” Brandi says.
“I can’t help it,” I say and attempt to shake it off. I smile at her. “I love you, Brandi,” the words slip out of my mouth; I’m not sure how much I mean them, but I suppose it’s hard not to feel something for a woman you just watched deliver your child.
She smiles back. “I love you too, Jonathan.”
73
Three quick jabs followed by an even quicker uppercut finally does the job. Evan Mits goes down, and my reputation in the boxing world soars in the opposite direction with that final blow. The crowd loses their minds, and I can hear the sports announcer screaming over the intercom, “And Trial does it again! Looks like he is back in the game, folks!”
Yes, this was a hell of a match, but I brought this punk down a notch. The referee holds my glove high, and I can see Caleb three rows back grinning ear to ear. He took a huge risk signing me; hell, the guy’s small management company was so broke he couldn’t even afford to pay for a trainer for me. He put a lot of faith in me, so I shoot a big grin his way. Tyler and Bobby are in the front row screaming their lungs out. Pretty sure that Tyler is drunk, but I’m not judging.
By the time I make it to the locker room, Caleb is there waiting for me with a big smile. “That’s it, man!” Caleb says and slaps me on my back. “You did it. This was the match everyone has been waiting to see whether or not to take you seriously again, and you fucking did it.”
I nod. “Thanks,” I say and hold out my gloves. He yanks them off and helps me undo my tape.
“We got to go out and celebrate,” Caleb says. “My treat.”
“Sorry,” I say. “I’m going to have to take a rain check on this one. Brandi is still at the hospital and Ambriel is still in the NICU. I’m heading straight there after this.”
“That’s right, my bad, man. Did you get the flowers I sent?” Caleb asks.
I nod. He had sent a pretty fancy bouquet along with a teddy bear for Ambriel. “Brandi loved it.”
“Good,” Caleb says with this grin plastered all over his face. This was a high for both of our careers. He was certainly going to be taken seriously as a manger now. “All right, well, whether you come or not, I’m going out tonight to celebrate even if I have to ride solo.”
I laugh. “You do that, Caleb.”
“A quick warning before I leave: that punk, Donte, is here tonight. He’s got a match in less than an hour. Try to get out of the locker room before he sho
ws, all right?” Caleb warns and heads out. I cringe and rush to get out of there as soon as possible; the last thing I need right now is to get into another fight with Donte in the damn locker room.
No such luck. The fucker is there almost as soon as I am finished changing. “What’s up?” he calls out to me, snagging a locker not too far from where I am standing. His manager shakes his head as though to tell him ‘no’ and attempts to push him along.
I turn my back and rush to throw things into my bag; I’m not in the mood to deal with his shit tonight. Donte’s opponent is here too; his locker is right next to mine, and he rolls his eyes. Pretty much everyone here knows all about mine and Donte’s drama right down to Donte sleeping with my wife right after the divorce. Glad to see Donte’s opponent for the evening thinks he’s as big of a tool as I believe him to be. The guy takes a swig of his water bottle, looks at me, looks at Donte, looks back at me, and shakes his head. “Fuck him, man. Good job tonight,” he says it softly so that Donte can’t hear. “The guy is just shaking after watching you tonight. Knows his manager wants to set up that revenge match, and he’s worried you’ll beat the shit out of him. Trust me –we’re all rooting for you.”
I thank the guy, and he heads out –obviously not wanting to stick around too long. Donte had a reputation for antagonizing his opponents at venues where they had to share a locker room. Donte’s manager leaves, making me free game. I rush to lace up my shoes, but I can’t finish them fast enough. “How’s Brandi?” Donte asks as his trainer’s assistant ties up his hands.
“Fuck off,” I say.
“Damn –sensitive, are we?” Donte laughs. “Okay, fine. How’s the baby doing? Seriously.”
“She’s fine,” I say, but I know I shouldn’t say a word to him.
“So listen, man, you sure that baby’s even yours? I mean, it is Brandi. You and I both know what a skank she is.”
There it is. There’s the line. I stand up and spin around, not realizing he has come right up to me, and me spinning around brings us nose to nose. I have to admit, after having my ass handed to me by this guy twice, I cringe a little. I take a deep breath. I am going to the hospital tonight to see my wife and child –not to spend it in the fucking ER. I’m not fighting this guy. Not tonight. “You tell your manager you want that revenge match,” I say. “Because if my guy can’t book it, I’m just going to assume it’s because you pussied out.”
He glares at me. “I ain’t no pussy. Did you forget I beat you ass twice?”
“So you shouldn’t be afraid to do the revenge match then, right?” I ask with a glare.
He grunts and takes a step back. “Sure, Trial. You want to go for a third round, let’s do it. I’ll tell my manager to book the fight. And I’ll put you back in the hospital again or in the ground with your buddy, Gabe.”
I clench my fists; the kid who had tied up Donte’s wrists takes two big steps back as though he expects me to go full fury on him. It takes every ounce of control I have not to. “We’ll settle this in the ring, Donte.”
“Looking forward to it,” he says and leaves the locker room; his trainer’s assistant follows close behind.
I exhale loudly. I certainly have a lot more control than I used to. As I am getting ready to leave, I see that Donte left his locker open. I go to close it, mostly out of habit and less out of respect for the guys stuff, and there it is –plain as day like the dumbass isn’t even trying to hide it. Fucking steroids.
My jaw drops. It’s like the angel of war just placed this here for me to see. Holy shit! Donte’s taking steroids! He must have gotten distracted with me being here because what idiot would just leave this out for the whole world to see? I take out my phone and snap probably fifty pictures of the bottle. Next to the steroids is a bottle of extra strength sleeping pills. What could he possibly be using those for? I glance back towards my locker; his opponent’s water bottle is still seated on the bench. No way.
I snag the bottle for evidence. This is just too fucking great. I wonder if he drugged me during our matches? I try to think back, but they were a long time ago. Did I ever leave my water or a drink unattended? Does Donte have people helping him accomplish this? This could mean that punks career! And he deserves it. He really does –throwing Gabe’s name at me like that, and the shit he says about Brandi and the shit he said about Laurel too. If I can prove that he’s taking steroids and that he’s drugging his opponents before a match then this asshole is finished.
74
My Volkswagen can’t take me to the hospital fast enough; I’ll admit if I had taken the Ferrari I probably would already be there, but there is something about this beat up Volkswagen that has become sentimental. When I pull into the parking lot, I almost forget to lock the car. I honestly can’t stand to be away from Brandi and the baby right now, especially since Ambriel is still spending most of her time in the NICU. I haven’t gotten any texts or phone calls from Brandi with the exception of a congratulations for winning the match –I’m guessing she had been watching it live from her hospital bed.
I’m rounding the hall into the maternity ward when I see her parents leaving the room. Her dad rolls his eyes, and her mother avoids eye contact. “Hey,” I say in the friendliest tone I can manage. I really did not expect to see them. They stop dead in their tracks as though they thought if they stayed still I wouldn’t see them. Unfortunately, that’s not the case. Her father straightens himself up and looks me dead in the eye.
“Trial,” her father says –clearly not having missed me at all.
“Good to see you both,” I say –though it is a total lie. I want to crawl into a hole and die right now.
Her father clears his throat. “That’s a pretty little girl you got, Jonathan. Ambriel’s beautiful; they let me hold her for a minute and the little thing hit me when I brought her to my face. She better not turn out to be a damn boxer because I ain’t watching my granddaughter do that. Get that girl in a dance class for me, all right? I watched the match with Brandi by the way –good job.”
Holy hell –compliments. “Thank you, sir,” I say. I smile at the thought that Ambriel gave the guy a little punch in the face.
Her mother just nods along as though she’s too afraid or embarrassed to speak. I think of all the times she answered Brandi’s phone for her to let me know that I needed to fuck off, and I cringe slightly. I’m guessing they didn’t think I’d be back so soon; they probably were hoping to avoid me by waiting until my match to come visit. “She really is a pretty little thing,” her father says. “Looks just like her mother.”
“I was hoping she would,” I say. I smile at them both and do my best to try to make amends. “Come by the house anytime you want to see her. With me working two jobs, I’m sure Brandi would love the extra help.”
“That’s right. You’re working at that ladies only gym,” he says with a slight laugh. He’s acting really fake towards me. I know the guy wants to punch me in the face –I did hurt Brandi once –not intentionally, but I knocked her down pretty damn hard. He probably knows all about what Donte did –that had been intentional. I wonder if he’s just relieved she’s not with that jerk anymore.
“Yeah. It’s a good gig. My old trainer got me the job,” I say, feeling like we’re just making small talk now.
“Listen, Trial,” he says and puts his hand out like he wants me to shake. I grab his hand, and he says, “if you get that revenge match, I want you to tear the shit out of Donte for me.”
I laugh. “Believe me, I’m going to do my best.”
“I’m serious,” he says and let’s go of my hand. “Kill the bastard.”
A thought suddenly strikes me. “You still work at that pharmaceutical lab on Main Street?”
“Yeah. Planning to retire in the next year or two, actually,” he says.
“Could you… test something for me?” I ask and pull the water bottle out of my bag.
He stares at me cautiously. “Why?”
“Let’s just say it’s in both
of our interests to prove exactly what was put into this water,” I say.
The man frowns, but he takes the water bottle from me. “All right, whatever you say, Trial. You haven’t gotten yourself in the middle of something, have you?”
“Probably not,” I say. “But let’s hope I have.”
He doesn’t appreciate the mysterious thing, but he nods. They say their farewells, and they leave. I’m glad. He may have been willing to help me out, but he still can’t stand me. I hurry into Brandi’s room, and I smile to see her holding Ambriel. She smiles. “Saw that match! Way to go!” she smiles and gives Ambriel a tight snuggle. “Doctor says she’s doing great, but she’ll have to stay here another four weeks. Ugh! I can’t believe we have to wait that long to take her home.”
I smile. “It’ll be worth it.”
“I know, but I’m getting discharged this afternoon, so I won’t be able to share a room with her anymore. I’ll have to go visit her in the NICU area.” Brandi frowns. She does not look pleased at all. I’m not thrilled either. She changes the subject. “I think my dad is starting to come around, by the way. He stayed here and watched your match with me.”
“So I heard. I ran into your folks in the hall,” I say. “So listen, I have something to tell you." I grin as I sit down beside her bed. “Ran into Donte in the locker rooms after the match-”
“Oh, God, what happened?” she asks.
“He was just being a tool, but don’t worry –I kept my cool. Anyways, the guy left his locker open. The asshole is on steroids.”
Brandi looks slightly pale. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah. And that’s not all. I think he might be slipping sleeping pills to his competition,” I say with a smile. “That’s how he was able to take me down so easily. If I can prove it, he’s going down.”
“Wow,” she says, in awe of it all. “What a creep.”
“I know, and it’s kind of bitter sweet. I won’t be fighting the guy if it turns out to be true. I would have loved to knock the shit out of him, but his career is going to be over once this comes out,” I say it with a smile. I brush it aside, though. I take Ambriel from her and hold the little one close to my chest. She’s beautiful, and she coos slightly. I think about how Donte had hit Brandi when she was pregnant. He could have hurt this little baby too, and it really pisses me off. I almost want to not go forward with an investigation just so I can throw fists with the guy, but ruining his career would be way better revenge than a few good punches. Besides, it would be hard to go up against a guy who is pumping himself full of steroids. No wonder he laid me out so bad at our first match.
Filthy Desires: A Romantic Suspense Collection Page 153
