CHAPTER TWO
Gravel crunched under my feet as I walked across the stony parking lot toward the club. It was a standalone ex-warehouse, which Kal said he renovated eight years ago. The club’s name, West Warriors, was proudly displayed above the glass-fronted entrance, and also decorated the panel windows in yellow, silver, and black writing. The club’s motto “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” adorned the door.
My stomach churned as I walked up to the entrance. All the windows were one-way glass and I couldn’t see in, so I couldn’t see who or what I was walking in to. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside the spacious foyer. The smell of my old high school gym hit me, which was an oddly comforting smell, and fast-paced music pumped out of speakers attached to the walls. Kal stood with his back to me, leaning over the desk and talking with four twenty-something guys who sat opposite on leather couches. A TV screen mounted on the wall where they were sitting was showing a fight.
Kal turned as I approached, and stood up straight to greet me as I reached the desk. “Hey, Lauren.” He clapped my shoulder gently.
“Hi,” I said quietly, feeling uneasy as four sets of eyes glanced at me curiously.
“Ignore them.” He gestured with his hands in their direction. “We’ll catch up later.” He dismissed them and turned back to me. “Follow me, I’ll get you settled.”
I followed him into a room at the back of the front desk area, which housed a small kitchen, restrooms, a table with chairs, and three sets of six lockers.
“This is your locker.” He pointed to one that had my name written on a sticky label. I stowed my bag and followed him back to the front desk. The four guys were now gone, and I breathed a little sigh of relief. It was bad enough starting your first shift as a newbie, let alone doing it under the watchful eye of four complete strangers.
Kal spoke a little about his job. He owned the gym and managed his cage fighters. He had a team of coaches working for him that regularly came into the club. That side of things, I had no dealings with, luckily. He then went through what my duties were, which was not a lot actually. After that, he talked me through the basics tasks, the telephone, computer system, and also the employee policies. He reached into a lower drawer of the hardwood desk and pulled out a black T-shirt. “This is your uniform.”
I took it from him. “Thanks.”
His cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket and walked into the back room to answer it. I held the T-shirt up to inspect it more closely and discovered it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.
“Feel free to wear some tight booty shorts with that,” came a male voice from the other side of the desk. I quickly lowered the shirt and looked up in horror at where the voice had come from, finding a blond guy wearing a sly grin. He was hit hard in the chest by the person standing next to him.
“Sorry about him,” the other guy apologized. “I’m Cameron, or Cam,” he introduced himself. Cameron was good-looking. He had this whole exotic look going on. He was olive-skinned, green-eyed, and had a mop of chocolate brown hair, which offset his sharp features.
“This ass is Marc.” He jutted his thumb to the blond, who raised his hand in acknowledgment of his name. He was overly confident, and obviously didn’t care if he embarrassed me on my first day.
Marc had a round face with pale blue eyes and cheeks that formed dimples when he smiled. His floppy strawberry blond hair was parted in the middle and had a slight wave to it. He reminded me of a surfer dude. He actually looked quite endearing, but I knew from his comment he was obviously anything but. He stood in front of me wide-eyed, looking like he wanted to eat me, which made me feel uneasy again. If he dared to try anything, I would happily put him flat on his back—or at least I’d try. I wasn’t used to working in a totally male-dominated environment, but I’d be damned if I was going to be treated like a piece of meat.
Both guys looked like they worked out hard. Even through their T-shirts, I could tell their bodies were toned to perfection. Their arms were ridiculously sculpted and looked like they could crack nuts.
Kal coughed, and I swiftly turned my attention back to him. “Boys, this is Lauren,” he introduced me. I suddenly felt like an idiot. I hadn’t even had the decency to say who I was. I just gave them an embarrassed smile after our first awkward meeting. “C’mon, I’ll show you around the rest of the place,” Kal offered before directing a glance to Cam and Marc, who immediately walked away from the desk.
I followed him to the far left of the renovated warehouse, in a spacious area where the gym equipment was, and a couple of out-of-shape, middle-aged men were there working out. The place was quite big, and I could easily get lost between all the equipment and the hexagonal pit.
“This is where the boys train.” He nodded around at all the equipment. By his term “boys,” I didn’t know if he was referring to the ones I had just met, younger guys in general, or whether he used the term to mean the whole of the male species. I guess I would soon figure it out.
I looked around at the different equipment, the usual gym machines I was familiar with, such as the elliptical, treadmills, and benches with free weights and bars. There were two large ropes stretched across the floor that someone was whipping up and down in a frenzy, and a punching bag someone was really laying into. There was another large bag on the floor, which another guy was on top of, looking like he was trying to wrestle with it. This place screamed testosterone.
We walked several feet to the center of the building. “This is the cage,” he said, pointing to the large hexagonal pit that had yellow, silver, and black striped poles on each corner. Metal wire encased it to form an enclosed space, complete with a door. Inside of it were two more guys doing what I knew was sparring.
“I train and manage the four boys. I’ve trained some of the most recognizable cage fighters in the area,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on the ones in the cage.
“Cage fighting doesn’t sound nice.” I winced. I’d seen clips of this type of sport on TV, and it was definitely not something I would pay to watch.
Kal laughed. “It’s not really unless you’re into the sport. It’s a more aggressive form of fighting.” A thud echoed around the room, and my eyes shot from Kal over to the cage, where one of the guys was flat on his back, and the other one was chuckling, standing over him. I widened my eyes in shock. “He’s okay. It’s all part of training,” Kal reassured me.
I nodded and wondered what I had gotten myself into. I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I continued watching them, and the guy on the floor stood up and took a swing at the one who had knocked him down, punching him hard in his gut. Deep chuckles and cursing came from both of them. This place was insane.
“The boys fight semi-pro and take part in a lot of local and national fights.” He beamed. “Mine are good fighters, because of their strong work ethic and determination. We’re very strict on diet and lifestyle choices, which enable them to have the stamina and focus they need to keep bringing the trophies home,” he said proudly.
I wondered what he meant by lifestyle choices. It didn’t sound like they were able to live freely like most people. It sounded kind of sad because they looked around the same age as me, but I suppose if that was what they wanted, they would do whatever it took.
He pointed to large display cabinets that ran along the back wall facing the cage and nodded in its direction, and I followed him over to it. It was full of different sized trophies, loads of them next to framed pictures of different fighters after they’d won various fights. I recognized pictures of Cam and Marc, as well as a great photo of Kal standing with them and two others. “You must be very proud.” I smiled, looking over them.
“I am. They’re like my kids. The boys, that is, not the trophies,” he joked.
After the tour, I told him I would change into my work T-shirt, and he said he’d meet me back at the front desk. I went into the bathroom and put it on, then looked at myself in the large mirror over the sink
. The black shirt had West Warriors emblazoned on it in yellow and silver. The club motto “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” followed beneath in smaller silver writing. On the back, the word STAFF was printed in white across my shoulder blades. I began to feel like I belonged a little bit. I moved in closer to the mirror to check my face where Dad had hit me. I had completely forgotten all about it. Luckily, the redness had subsided, and Kal hadn’t questioned me on it. I didn’t want him thinking I would bring trouble to the club. I walked out, and he was sitting where he promised, at the desk.
“Very nice.” He smiled at me before beckoning me over to the computer. He took me through the systems again, how to book people in and out, and how to access emails. He told me he would go through ‘the books’ with me next week, so it wasn’t too overwhelming. I was quite relieved actually, as math and finances were not my strong point, despite running a house. He also went through my shifts, which was a lot together with college, but I had no choice. My income was the only one, and we desperately needed the money.
He stood up from his chair. “I’ll show you the shake bar.”
This I liked the sound of. I followed him to the bar, which was a couple of yards to the left of the desk. It had a wooden countertop, with cupboards below and shelving on the wall behind it. On the shelves were different sized white tubs and a stack of large beaker cups with spouted lids. In a pile on the countertop were diet sheets and what looked like a menu with different the types of shakes offered.
“These are creatine, protein….” He named them all. I had no clue what they were or what they did, but I nodded anyway, thinking I wasn’t possibly going to remember any of them. I was thinking more along the lines of traditional milkshakes—vanilla, chocolate, strawberry, etcetera.
“The boys can help themselves to what they want, but the customers are charged depending on what they want.”
“Do I have to make them for the customers?” I asked curiously.
“Yeah, and for the boys when they need it. It’s just a scoop or two, and they fill their cup with water and shake it up.” He pointed to the water cooler against the wall next to the bar. I had visions of me shaking them a la Tom Cruise style in Cocktail, which was an amusing thought. It all seemed relatively simple to do; I just had to get used to the different names. Although it was a lot to take in and learn, I was pretty confident I could do what was asked of me.
Kal suddenly startled me by whistling loudly toward the gym, and minutes later, four guys began to make their way over to him. As I watched them walk toward us, my mind briefly turned to Taylor. She would be in seventh heaven right now and would be working out which one to devour first. I, on the other hand, was beginning to feel intimidated, knowing how brutal this lot could probably be. They could crush me in one hand. I began to knot my hands nervously.
Marc and Cam both smiled at me as they came over, and the other two I hadn’t officially met came walking out of the cage behind them. One of them had short, brown, buzz cut hair with a nice golden tan, and again, like the others, his body was ripped. He lifted the bottom of his T-shirt, and my eyes lowered to the exposed skin as he showed off his toned lower abs and wiped his face with the material. I couldn’t help but watch curiously. When he lifted his head back up; his brown eyes met mine, and he seemed to give me a stern once-over before turning his gaze to Kal.
The other fighter, now standing beside him, had short light brown hair that looked a bit ruffled, blue eyes, and a smile that would please any dentist. He seemed quite friendly. Looking at them all standing together, they were all roughly the same height, Cam having the advantage of an inch or so. They were really muscular, and their biceps flexed impressively as they folded their arms, a stance they all took standing before Kal. They didn’t look like the cage fighters I saw on TV, big burly men with mashed up ears, bent noses, and missing teeth. These looked like typical college guys that had been hitting it hard at the gym every day.
“Lauren, this is Jamie.” Kal pointed to buzz cut, whose facial expression remained guarded. He didn’t respond to the introduction, so neither did I. “And Leon.” He pointed to megawatt smile, who nodded and smiled friendly. I returned his smile.
“Boys, this is Lauren.”
I smiled politely again and tried to stand as confidently as I could, but in reality, I just wanted to hide behind Kal’s back. I hoped I didn’t have any more people to meet and names to learn because this was enough for one day.
“Right. Go home and rest. I’ll see you later,” Kal said to them. I looked to him, surprised. They looked like they had been in here all morning, and he was telling them he would see them again later? Their training seemed relentless. They walked out of the gym and took off in various cars and trucks. Kal left to sort out a problem with one of the treadmills, so I made my way back to the desk and sat down in front of the computer.
When the telephone rang, I panicked. What was I supposed to say? He didn’t tell me that. Tentatively, I lifted the receiver and placed it to my ear. “West Warriors, Lauren speaking.” I cringed, hoping I didn’t sound too pathetic. The customer on the line asked me what time the club was open until, and I had no idea. I frantically began searching the desk, moving things side-to-side and looking under pieces of paper to look for a pamphlet or anything with the opening times on it, but there was nothing. I looked up to find Kal, but I couldn’t see him anywhere, and then I clocked the front door, where I knew the times were. “One moment please.” I put the receiver down and walked as quickly as I could to the door. Opening it, I shielded my eyes from the sun’s glare reflecting off the glass. With the information I needed, I ran back in, and Kal stood watching me, confusion etched on his face. “Hi, sir. Sorry about your wait. We’re open until 10 p.m,” I replied into the receiver, hoping the customer was still there. He was. I was swiftly thanked and clicked off the line, and dramatically, I collapsed back into my chair. Goddamn, that was stressful.
“What were you doing?” Kal chuckled.
“The customer wanted to know what time we were open until, so I had to go and check the door because I couldn’t find anything.” I shook my head and gestured to the amount of papers scattered on the desk. With an amused smile on his face, he walked over to a corkboard hung on the wall directly behind me and stabbed his finger at a printed out timetable that indicated the times. “Oh,” I sighed, embarrassed.
His smile changed to a sympathetic one. “One day at a time.” He patted my shoulder for reassurance. I hoped I wasn’t going to be useless at this whole thing. Kal suggested I take my break; I think he thought I needed it, which to be honest, I did.
I used my thirty minutes to do a quick food shop at the supermarket across the road from the club and quickly took the stuff home. Dad was fast asleep in his chair when I walked in laden with bags. Setting them down, I closed the living room door so I didn’t disturb him while I quickly put them away. I left the house with five minutes to spare. A red truck honked on the road next to me, and I narrowed my eyes in its direction, unsure of who would be honking at me.
“Need a ride back?” yelled an unfamiliar voice. Through the open window, I recognized it was Cameron. He slowly pulled up to the curb, annoying the driver behind him by not signaling, and I had to stifle a laugh.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said gratefully. I think I would have been a bit late otherwise, and that certainly wouldn’t look great on my first day. I walked around his truck and climbed in, and he drove toward the club.
“How you liking it so far?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s good. Different, but good.”
He nodded, seemingly understanding where I was coming from.
“Obviously, I’m not used to being around the whole fight club scene,” I added.
“Well soon, you’ll become an expert.” He winked.
The thought of me becoming an expert on cage fighting was an absolutely ridiculous notion. I wasn’t into fighting of any kind. I wasn’t a fighter, and never had been. I had a smart mouth and
a short temper, but I had never been aggressive. Being from an abusive home, I’d developed certain traits from my parents, but I always drew the line at being physical. I knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of kicks and punches. I was still subjected to them now.
I’d once raised my hand back to Dad when I was sixteen, and he hurt me so badly I ended up hospitalized. He told them I had been jumped by some local youths. I suffered two black eyes, fractured ribs where he’d kicked me, and I broke my right arm trying to protect myself. I was too scared to admit the truth, so I went along with it. The hospital contacted the police, but the case obviously ran cold with no leads. Clearly there were no attackers, except the one who sat next to me holding my hand. That could have been my one chance to get away from him, but I chose to stay with him, because he was the only family I had, and I was all he had.
“You okay?” Cam was looking at me, frowning.
“Yeah.” I shrugged it off, smiling at him. “Thanks for the lift, Camer—”
“Cam!” he interjected.
“Cam.” I smiled.
“Anytime. Now I know where you live.” He winked.
To anybody else, those words wouldn’t have bothered them. They would have just been harmless words of flirtation. But to me, they made a cold shiver run down my spine. The last thing I needed was him coming to the house to drive me to work and Dad seeing him. He would go ballistic. He wasn’t too keen on Taylor coming over, so I couldn’t imagine how he would react if a guy came over. No guys came to my house. Ever. I also didn’t want Cam to see the mess that Dad had become. He didn’t take care of himself. He was often unshaved, unwashed, and wearing dirty ratty clothes, despite my constant laundering. I often tried to usher him into the bathroom to clean himself up, but all I would get was a torrent of verbal abuse and him accusing me of trying to get him out of the way. He’d given up on himself a long time ago, and no one would ever change him.
Reckless Retribution (West Warriors Book 1) Page 2
