by Lily Harlem
They just had to put things in order, then get marketing, and promoting, and sort out the health and safety requirements for a bigger crowd. The list was growing—Jenny’s head was starting to spin with it all. It was a full time job on top of an already full time job.
As she headed down the escalator, she stared at the adverts for West End shows and new movies and books. Several caught her interest. She was a sucker for a good West End show. About a year ago, she’d left work early, told Billy she had a hair appointment and gone to see Wicked. She’d been mesmerized by the performance, the songs, the daring high lifts and the captivating story of the Witches of Oz.
She’d enjoyed it all the more because it was her secret and she had very few of those. Billy liked to know everything about her life. Luckily a quick wash and blow dry before she’d seen him that evening at the club and he’d been none the wiser. Seemed he didn’t look too closely at her roots.
She headed for the Circle Line eastbound. A familiar route. Standing room only at this time of evening. She gripped the handrail, her shoulders hunched, knowing she should work on her posture but too dog-tired to care.
An Asian youth stood next to her, his head bobbing in time to the loud music thumping from his headphones. Someone nearby smelled of beer. The malty scent made her wrinkle her nose. Jenny’s father had always had that same flavor coming off of him. He’d started and ended the day with a beer for the last few years of his life.
She turned and closed her eyes, wishing the evening was over.
She arrived at her station and walked out into the evening light. The faint drizzle in the air dampened her cheeks. She hurried along, keen to get on with her work at the club. The sooner she got started, the sooner it would be over.
As she walked toward the gym she spotted a familiar orange van. The hazard lights were on and the driver’s seat empty. The van had D. M. Miller Construction written on the side in bold black letters along with a website address. It belonged to Dale, one of the regulars at the club. She liked him. He always had an easy smile and a few minutes to chat. She often wondered if he had a girlfriend. She was sure he must have. He was gorgeous—tall and blond, with golden skin and unusual green eyes. A few times, when he’d been in the gym’s office chatting, she’d had the chance to admire them.
She was some distance away, but could make out a person sitting in the passenger seat. Whoever it was, was equally broad as Dale, dark-haired and wearing shades—not a girlfriend.
A pedestrian crossing flicked to red and the traffic moved directly in front of her. Pausing with several other people, she waited patiently for the little green man to flash up again, her attention still on Dale’s van. She knew he lived in Camden and wondered why he’d come in the opposite direction from the gym. He usually said he was knackered and claimed to head home for nothing more exciting than a takeout.
The door to a Chinese restaurant pulled open. Dale stepped out carrying a bulging white bag and walked quickly up to his van, his long strides covering the ground fast.
Ah, that’s why. Food.
Jenny went to call out, shout hi, but realized she was too far away to bother. Plus the lights had changed and the small crowd around her was moving. Carried in the swell of people, she crossed the road. Dale got into his vehicle and as she drew closer Jenny realized it was Jackson O’Brian, the club’s top boxer sitting in the passenger seat. Well he was only just top, so Michael said, because Dale was a hot contender for the spot.
Dale climbed into the van and slammed the door.
The sound of traffic picked up, the lights having changed again. She was nearer now. Perhaps she should say hello.
But as she approached, Dale passed the bag to Jackson, then leaned close, smiled, and appeared to tuck a strand of Jackson’s hair behind his ear. It was a small gesture, hardly anything, and Jackson didn’t even react.
Perhaps it was that lack of reaction that caused Jenny’s heart to stutter. A sense of knowing came over her. The action had been so intimate, so familiar, it could only mean one thing—these guys were more than sparring partners, more than mates…they were lovers.
And jeez, no wonder they didn’t shout about it. Billy would have a fit. The boxing community hardly embraced gay fighters. Homophobia was alive and well in the gym.
A sudden pang of sadness for the two men gripped her. How awful it must be for them to have to hide their relationship, and their feelings for each other.
Dale pulled out into the traffic, less than ten yards from where she walked.
Jackson looked out of the window, spotted her. He smiled, then a flash of something she couldn’t decipher crossed his eyes and he pressed his lips together in that way he did.
Had the look on her face given the game away that she knew? That she’d seen how familiar they were and guessed their secret? She hoped not. And more than that she hoped he didn’t think she’d been judgmental. That was the last thing she was. It was good they’d found each other. Happiness was something to grab hold of and not let go.
The van pulled away. The gruff sound of its diesel engine grating up the gears became lost in the growl of traffic. The sweet scents from the restaurant mixed with the fumes and a few spots of rain landed on her cheeks. “Damn it,” she muttered, speeding up. The last thing she needed was to get soaked through, and on top of the strange feeling the brief encounter with the two star fighters had left her with, she was now even more reluctant to go to the club and help Billy.
But Jenny was a woman of her word. Maybe she’d tell Billy she couldn’t make it tomorrow, that she needed to go home, to her small flat, and put her feet up. She couldn’t remember when she’d last caught up on the soaps.
The club came into view. It didn’t look much from the outside. A set of double red doors and a sign over it saying Billy’s Boxing Establishment. Several poster boxes lined the wall. They had old fight announcements in them which would soon be changed for the Jackson v Grinder match.
“There you are,” Billy said, opening the door and giving the impression he’d been hanging around waiting for her. “About time, too.”
“I’m here now.” She rushed past him. “And just as well, it’s starting to rain.”
He laughed. “Yeah, life’s a bitch and then you marry one.”
“What does that mean?” She scowled at him and let her bag slip from her shoulder.
He shrugged, still with a stupid grin on his face. “Just, you know. Life ain’t fair. Come on, there’s lots for you to be getting on with.”
“I can do a couple of hours tonight, but not tomorrow.” She held her breath, waiting for his complaint.
“What? Jenny, you have to.” He widened his big brown eyes. “Don’t do this to me, for fuck’s sake. Not with the big fight coming up.”
“It’s not for another few weeks, Billy, and I’m tired. I need a night off.”
“But what am I supposed to do without you?” He held out his palms and shook his head.
For a big guy, Jenny marveled at how pathetic Billy managed to project himself.
Stay strong.
“It’s one night, Billy.” She turned and headed to the office. The gym smelled of sweat mixed with the disinfectant the cleaner had just used to mop the floor.
“But the work will build up,” he said, trailing her. “Might mean you have to come in at the weekend and do some. Both days.”
She turned with her hands on her hips. Billy often irritated her, but right now, being tired on top, he was really grating on her nerves. “I thought you said we were going to have a day out on Sunday. Lunch and a walk by the river.”
“Are you kidding me?”
She knew he’d promised that, several days ago when she’d complained they never did boyfriend and girlfriend things any more.
He stepped closer and took her hand. “Just give me a few weeks, till this fight is over and I’ve got some backup cash in the bank.” He lowered his voice. “It’s all for you, Jenny. And our future, our villa in Spain, you
know.”
“Yeah, I know.” She glanced away, and for the first time realized the villa in Spain was never going to happen. The thought hit her like a thump to the chest. How many times had they talked about it? Too many to count. And how many of these conversations had Billy been using the promise of sun, sangria and sexy siestas as a way to persuade her to do something for him?
Jenny didn’t want the answer to that.
She sat at the desk and scowled at the files in front of her and the ancient computer. “Leave me to get on with it,” she said, not bothering to hide her irritation.
“You’re a star,” he said, dropping a hard kiss to the top of her head then striding from the room.
She stared at his retreating figure. This was breaking point. She was exhausted, overworked, and worst of all she was being used by a man she no longer loved.
I don’t love him anymore.
She dragged in a breath as a wave of nausea went over her. For so long it had been Jenny and Billy. They were a couple, a team, they had a future together.
Except they didn’t.
Not anymore.
Their relationship was over. Now all she had to do was untangle herself from him.
Which wouldn’t be easy. There was no way Billy would let her walk away into the sunset. Even if he didn’t love her, which she strongly suspected was the case, he needed her. And Billy letting go of something he needed wasn’t going to happen without a fight.
Chapter Two
Jenny worked in the office until after ten p.m. then stretched her aching back, grabbed her bag and called goodbye to Billy.
He barely looked up from a boxing match he was watching on the TV in the corner of the gym.
She was glad he hadn’t. She wanted to lie low while she figured out what to say to him, and how to make him see she was deadly serious about their relationship being over.
As she headed into the damp London night, she thought back with relief to a couple of years ago when he’d suggested he move into her place—to avoid paying his rent when it had gone up. She’d stayed strong and insisted the place was too small for the both of them. He had a collection of speakers he liked to listen to heavy metal music on, and it was true, her apartment was compact, bijou. It wouldn’t have worked.
At the time she’d been relieved her home would stay pretty and girly, a place of sanctuary from the world. Now she realized what a good decision it had been. They had no ties together domestically or financially. They weren’t engaged despite Billy’s many hints that he might pop the question each time Valentine’s Day and Christmas came round. There was no reason she couldn’t make a clean break.
Except for her conscience, that was.
Jenny, you just don’t think of others her father used to say. Why is it you’re so selfish? The memory of his angry words rattled around her brain. No matter what she’d done to help him after her mother had died, she’d never got it right. She’d tried. She’d tried so hard. Cleaning the house after school, collecting groceries with her lunch money and making an evening meal for him—if she didn’t he wouldn’t eat, just drink. She’d been missed by social services at sixteen. Billy had been her only friend. Back then he’d been softer around the edges, his tongue less sharp. But then her father had died, Billy had lost an eye that put an end to his boxing career, and everything had changed.
“Time for another change,” she murmured, hopping onto a bus that was going her way.
“Pardon, love?” the driver asked with a frown.
“Nothing. I mean, thank you.” She quickly paid, found a seat at the front and stared out at the dark night. Raindrops peppered the window and the bus headlights shone a buttery glow onto the tarmac.
For nearly eight years she’d believed Billy to be all she had in the world, but now…maybe she was finally finding the courage to stand on her own two feet.
A sign for Camden came into view and she thought of Dale and Jackson again. Would they ever come out as being gay? It wasn’t exactly unusual in London anymore.
She clicked her tongue on the roof of her mouth. She was jumping to conclusions. There was probably nothing to the brief touch Dale had given Jackson. Likely he had an injury, a bruise there from training and Dale was commenting on it.
Hugging her bag a little closer, something deep inside told her that wasn’t the case. She knew Dale and Jackson well, and what she’d seen was most definitely out of the ordinary. But why did that thrill her? What was it about the thought of Dale and Jackson together that was so damn sexy?
She didn’t know, but as she rested her head back and closed her eyes, an image of them naked, hot, sweaty and full of passion besieged her. Two honed and toned men, hard and ready for action, not holding back as they released their lust. It was something she’d be happy to watch any day of the week.
A small giggle burst upward and she pressed her fingers to her lips, opened her eyes and checked no one was staring at her. They weren’t. How dirty were her thoughts? Deliciously so. Hardly surprising, it had been months since she’d had any action. Romantic interludes with Billy had become easy to dodge and she’d gone from trying to orchestrate them to avoiding them.
Right now, the thought of being in bed with him was enough to put her off the microwave-meal-for-one she had waiting at home in the refrigerator.
Jenny stuck to her guns about having the next evening off, despite Billy pestering her three times while she was in the office. He whined and begged on the phone for so long, Stella asked if she was okay.
Jenny rolled her eyes and nodded before quickly ending the call.
“Trouble?” Stella asked.
“”Not exactly, just trying to ease up on the amount I do at Billy’s club.”
“Ah, I see.”
“It’s too much, and with a big match coming up, it’s more than I can do in a few hours each evening.”
“Each evening?” Stella looked shocked.
“Yes.” Jenny was embarrassed to admit it. “Well, not tonight. Tonight I’m going straight home for a soak in the bath, a glass of wine and a movie.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“Stella, can I have you in here for a moment?”
Andre Bramon stood in his office door. He wore a crisp new light blue suit and his hair was freshly cut. He really was an exceptionally good-looking man.
“Sure.” Stella smiled at him, then reached out and put her hand over Jenny’s. “If there’s ever anything I can do, just let me know.”
Jenny’s heart swelled with gratitude. It had been a long time since she’d had a friend like Stella. “Okay, I will…thank you.”
Stella nodded then walked in the direction of Andre’s office. When she reached it Tristan Wainwright came out of his adjacent office. His strides were purposeful and long, and his face set in its usual serious expression. He also entered Andre’s office then shut the door, blocking the three of them from sight. Jenny wasn’t sure, but she thought she heard the lock flick, sealing them inside together.
She tipped her head. Why would they do that? The two attractive partners and their pretty personal assistant all closed in? She could understand if Andre wanted some time alone with Stella, Jenny had had suspicions for a while that he had the hots for his secretary, and once had caught them standing close, definitely invading each other’s personal space. But Tristan too?
It didn’t make sense.
Or did it?
Were the three of them an item?
Running her fingers through her hair, Jenny sighed. What was it with her imagination lately? She was seeing things and adding them up into nonsense situations. Chances were she was all wrong about Dale and Jackson too.
The day came to an end, and after flicking her cell off, so she couldn’t be disturbed, Jenny headed home.
The evening was bright and she flung open the windows in her apartment and let the scents and sounds of spring float in. With a glass of chardonnay poured, she ran the bath and added a generous amount of bubbles. Her feet
didn’t ache as badly as they usually did, but her limbs were tired, an accumulation of long, hectic days.
“Perfect,” she said, sinking into the hot water and closing her eyes. “Absolutely perfect.”
****
“This is wrong, all bloody wrong.” Billy stood before her, his cheeks red and his mouth a harsh line.
“Why is it?” Jenny reached for the piece of paper he was shaking between them.
“It’s the order for the Jackson v Grinder posters, to go in the boxes outside the club. They’ve arrived and they’re the wrong dimensions.”
“Are they?” She studied the figures. “But these are the sizes you told me.”
“I didn’t tell you that.” He jabbed his finger at it. “Why would I tell you wrong?”
“I don’t know but—”
“It’s going to be too late to bother putting them up at this rate. They’ll take another two fucking weeks to get reprinted.” He pressed his knuckles on the desk and leaned over so his face was nearer to hers. “Two fucking weeks.”
“I’m sure if I give them a call and—”
“When, when will you give them a call? You’re never here.”
“Billy.” She stood. The flash of anger in his eyes was unnerving her. She’d seen it in the past, usually just before he threw something at a wall.
“That bloody office in the city. You’re always there doing unpaid overtime.”
“I work the hours I’m contracted and then do what I can here.”
“I need you here more.”
“I’m doing it for free, Billy. Remember that.” She clenched her fists and took a step back. A memory of her father being equally hard to reason with crossed her mind. She had to stay strong. She was in the right.
