Risk

by Baylin Crow

  “No, I got it. Thanks for the ride, Claire Bear. See ya tonight.” Shutting her door, I tapped the roof twice and waved as she reversed out of the parking spot, her fifteen-year-old coupe making a sound of protest. She needed to spend her money replacing that thing before it finally gave up on her.

  Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to face my uncle and whatever he was going to throw at me. This was only temporary, I told myself.

  If he hired me, I’d look for a job when I wasn’t working. It wasn’t likely he was going to have any permanent full-time positions anyway. I just needed to make enough to pay for a place to stay so I could get out of Claire’s way. Her place was too far of a drive back and forth to the center anyway if it ended up working out here.

  The AC blasted me in the face when I entered the building, and I just stood there, staring, with my lips parted. The inside was absolutely nothing like the outside. In here, everything looked new, clean, and modern.

  The walls were painted blood red with shiny black and silver exercise equipment positioned along the side. Two large men were lifting weights and one on a treadmill barely cast me a look as I glanced around, trying to spot Pete.

  Farther back, I spotted a replica of the cage I’d seen on TV.

  The digital clock on the wall to my right showed five minutes until one, and I didn’t see my uncle anywhere. I glanced around at the other people and noted some were wearing similar red and black shirts. If they worked here, they might know where Pete was. But before I could ask, I heard him and followed his voice.

  The thudding sound of someone beating the hell out of a punching bag got louder as I made my way to the back of the gym. Pete stood off to the side, yelling instructions at the guy who worked the bag. When he would turn a certain way, he looked so familiar. Where had I seen him before? He was big, but not in an overly bulky way and his back was rocking a badass tattoo over his tanned skin.

  I observed quietly, not wanting to interrupt. At one on the dot, Pete glanced down at his wrist, frowned, and then swung his gaze toward the front. When he caught sight of me, he appeared a little shocked but masked it quickly.

  He said something to the guy who paused to listen, and then my uncle started in my direction.

  He was dressed casually in black gym shorts and a red T-shirt that hosted the simple gym logo. I hadn’t known what to wear but didn’t have much to choose from. In my stonewashed jeans, blue T-shirt, and scuffed black boots, I stood out like a sore thumb.

  Pete was in his early forties. What had started as a successful career as a boxer, ended when he married my aunt Maggie. Since then, he’d earned a lot of respect as a coach. He’d taken beginners and made them champions, a roster of the field’s biggest names under his belt. Over the years, he’d added new coaches for other disciplines, ultimately offering his fighters a well-rounded training center.

  With the exception of his dark brown hair, now lightly peppered with gray, I resembled him in many ways. Pale skin, nose on the smaller side, and wide mouth, he could have been my dad rather than my uncle. But it was his blue eyes, only a shade darker than my own pale ones, framed with thick black lashes that left no doubt we were related. That gaze homed in on me, and without much of a greeting, he signaled for me to follow him.

  “Let’s go talk in my office.”

  I trailed after him, hoping for the best.

  Once we reached the small room, Pete took a seat behind his desk and gestured for me to take the chair in front. “How’d you get here?” he began.

  I cleared my throat. “Claire brought me.”

  “Claire? The girl that you ran around with as kids?” He seemed surprised.

  “Yes, you remember her?”

  “Sure, that little girl and you were joined at the hip. So, is she your girlfriend now?” he questioned, and I wasn’t sure if he was in uncle or interviewer mode.

  “No, she’s just a friend. No matter how many times I try to kick her to the curb, she keeps showing back up,” I joked.

  He smiled indulgently before going on. “If I hired you on, would she be bringing you every day? You’re on the other side of the city, right?”

  I wasn’t sure how he found out where I lived, and I didn’t ask. “Yes, sir. I’m not sure about Claire bringing me. I’ll figure out transportation one way or another if you give me a job.”

  He propped his elbows up on the simple wood desk and rubbed at his shaven jaw.

  “Andrew…” He sighed, and I flinched at the use of my father’s name. “If I give you a job, I have to know you’re going to be here on time for your shifts. No one will hire you if you aren’t sure how you’re going to get to work. It wouldn’t be any different here. You’re family, but if I give you a job, I expect you to do that job.”

  I didn’t expect to receive any special treatment, and I didn’t want it. Although, I wished he’d cut me a break on the ride thing because it would be something I’d have to figure out. I’d been in walking distance to the restaurant, so it hadn’t been an issue until now.

  “I don’t know what to say. I’d be here for every shift, and I’ll save enough so I can move closer as soon as possible, but right now”—I took a deep breath and exhaled—“I just don’t have the money to move and I don’t have a car.”

  He didn’t look convinced.

  “I’ll make this simple for you then. I talked to Maggie about this after you called, because I was pretty sure this would be a problem.” He had the decency to look away after insulting me with his accurate assumption. “So here’s my offer. The job you’d have is pretty much any busy work.” He didn’t apologize for calling it a thankless job, but I didn’t care. He was talking about a job offer. “Cleaning, getting things the guys need like water bottles and towels, running errands from time to time, answering the phone and, if you’re here long enough, I’ll train you on some of the paperwork. This would actually help me, because then I can focus on my guys more and give them the attention they deserve.”

  I started to accept immediately, but he cut me off before I could.

  “There are conditions though.”

  I nodded, waiting for him to finish.

  “If you take this job, you’ll come stay with me and Maggie until you find a place. There’s a guesthouse in the back you’re welcome to use. I need to know you’ll be here for your shifts and ‘I’ll figure something out’ doesn’t work for me.” He regarded me, waiting on my reaction.

  I didn’t want to live with my uncle, even in a guesthouse. But, with no real choice in the matter, I hesitantly agreed.

  “Good. Good. There’s one more thing. While you are employed here, you have to be on your best behavior.”

  I must have scowled because he hurried on.

  “I also need you to take a drug test, and before you get your panties in a bunch, it’s nothing personal. This is an athletic center. I would and do require it from everyone.”

  That stung, but I understood. It was on the tip of my tongue to defend myself, but again, I just agreed. “Yeah, okay. Got it. Live with you and behave. That it?” I asked with no heat.

  “Yes, that’s about it.” He eyed me as if searching for any reluctance to his terms.

  “Great, when can I start?” I drummed my fingers against the arm of my chair.

  “You can start now,” he said, surprising me.

  “Now? Like right now?” I asked, thinking my luck was definitely changing. I hadn’t even asked how much the job paid or how many hours I’d be working. It couldn’t be less than I was earning before.

  “Yup,” he said as he stood. “I’ll show you around and get you acquainted with the place, and then we’ll run to the lab and get the test out of the way.”

  Pete showed me to another office, one door down, which was mostly identical to the first one with the exception of several filing cabinets and an oddly placed refrigerator. The next door down the same hallway revealed the supply closet, which wasn’t much smaller than the offices and had enough room for a washe
r and dryer.

  “Everything you need will be in here. Please keep it fairly organized.”

  My inner neat freak wouldn’t allow anything else, but I didn’t bother responding other than with a simple, “Okay.”

  The showers on the other side of the center were what I’d expected: three stalls, each divided by a wall and with individual curtained entrances. The toilets didn’t look gross, which I appreciated, but I still dreaded having to clean them. I must have made a face, because Pete gave me an assessing look.

  “You sure you can handle this?”

  “I’m not going to lie and say it’s my dream job.” I smiled with a shrug. “But if it earns me a paycheck, then, yes, I can handle it.” To be honest, it probably wasn’t going to be any worse than sticking my gloved hands in a sink full of dirty dishes.

  “Good.” He motioned for me to follow him.

  Pete led the way back into the main gym where the same guy he had been working with was now in the mock cage, sparring with a guy who held up pads to take the blows. He was soaked in sweat but moving faster than he’d been when I’d first gotten there. We stepped up to the side of the cage.

  “Most of the time, we have more guys in here training, but not all of them take it as seriously as this guy,” he said, gesturing to the guy bouncing from one foot to the other as he circled his trainer.

  Blue athletic shorts hugged his form, and perspiration glistened across his tanned bare back. The colorful tattoo he had on his left shoulder caught my attention again. It swirled its way up and over his shoulder, and I wonder where it stopped. I wanted to see it up close, drawn to the artful details. My eyes traced the design, although I couldn’t quite make out what it was from this distance and then wandered farther south, watching a few of the drops of sweat roll down the center of his spine.

  The fuck? I shook my head to clear the odd thought. No idea where it’d come from.

  “He usually beats me to the door in the morning,” Pete said on a chuckle, dragging my attention back to him. I could hear the pride in his voice as he spoke, and a pang of envy coursed through me. His voice rose when he called out, “Hey, Asher, come here a minute?”

  Hearing his name, the guy stopped what he was doing. When he turned, I recognized him immediately.

  Holy shit.

  While I didn’t know the sport well, Asher Ramsey was well known as the current light heavyweight champion. His buzzed short, almost-black hair and unusual gray eyes constantly graced magazine covers I couldn’t avoid thanks to Claire’s obsession with the guy. The media couldn’t get enough of him.

  First, there were rumors he was gay. That had been a big story because of his profession, but those had been squashed thanks to the hordes of women surrounding him. Well, that may be an exaggeration, but I’d seen photos of several beautiful women on his arm. If I was being honest, I’d admit to picking up Claire’s magazines a few times out of curiosity.

  I’d never given it much thought myself, but seeing him in the flesh, I didn’t mind admitting he was a good-looking guy. With a straight Roman nose with a tiny bump, maybe from being broken, and thick lips any girl would kill for, it was no wonder women went nuts over him.

  I’d had no idea my uncle was one of his trainers.

  I was staring, but couldn’t rip my gaze away. Now that he was facing me, I could see the rest of his ink that indeed came up over his shoulder to cover most of one pec. The vibrant koi fish made me itch for my sketch pad. Shades of blue, red, bright green, and black jumped off his tanned skin. Claire once told me she was surprised I didn’t have any tattoos. I didn’t intend to get any either.

  “Sure. Whatcha got, old man?” He aimed an easy smile at Pete.

  My uncle chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “Just wanted to introduce you to someone.”

  “That so?” he asked with a raised brow before finally noticing me standing next to my uncle.

  “This is my nephew, Andrew,” he said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “Drew,” I interrupted automatically. My father’s name was Andrew, and it still hurt hearing it.

  “Drew, then. He’s just been hired. Thought I should introduce you two since you’ll be seeing each other quite a bit.” Pete faced me. “Asher puts in so many hours, he practically lives here.” Though his face stayed serious, Pete’s lip twitched slightly as he looked back at Asher. “Only reason he’s this good. No natural talent to speak of.” His eyes sparkled with mirth as he landed the good-natured jab.

  Asher allowed a half smile. “Whatever you say, Pete. All right, boys, I gotta get back at it. See ya, Drew.” He waved then walked away.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DREW

  “That boy’s got more talent in his little pinky than most of my other fighters have combined. But don’t tell anyone I said that.” He laughed.

  My gaze flicked to Asher’s retreating back and I mentally rolled my eyes. He had to be nearing thirty, so boy didn’t quite fit. When Pete turned and headed toward his office, I hurried to match his stride.

  I’d read about the upcoming title fight between Ramsey and Capley. You couldn’t turn a TV or radio on without hearing about it, so I had to ask.

  “What about Capley? He’s undefeated, and Asher has to defend his title soon, right? Not worried?”

  Pete shot me an inquisitive look. “I didn’t realize you followed the sport.”

  “I don’t really. I saw it in a magazine, or something, and remembered it,” I admitted.

  He nodded in understanding. “Capley is good. I’ll give him that. But he’s a cocky little shit and difficult to work with, or so I hear. I’m not going to lie and say he doesn’t stand a chance though. It would be stupid, and possibly detrimental to Asher’s career, for me not to acknowledge it. Asher is aware of this kid’s abilities, and that’s what he’s currently training for. He’s focused, and I believe he’ll defend his title.” Pete sounded pretty confident.

  Back in his office, he snatched a set of keys off the desk and turned to me. “You ready to go?”

  “Sure.” Pete led me through the building and out into the parking lot. After climbing in the passenger seat of his white sedan and buckling in, we were on our way.

  Less than ten minutes later, we were entering the lab. He hadn’t been lying. Some part of me must have doubted him when he’d said it was nothing personal, because my shoulders relaxed when the staff recognized him as soon as he walked in. I hadn’t even realized I was tense. The testing was fast and we were done and back at the gym within an hour.

  Once we entered Pete’s office, he indicated I should take a seat.

  “You may as well get comfortable.” He slapped a pile of paperwork down. “Basic hire paperwork. When you get done, just leave it on the desk. Since I know the test will be fine”—he gave me time to interrupt, but when I didn’t, he nodded—“go ahead and get familiar with your new office.” He meant the supply closet. He laughed at his own joke. “Well, I’ve got to get back in there and yell at him some more.” He smiled, amused. “Just come find me if you need anything.”

  Without another word, he left me there to get started. I didn’t have my new home’s address memorized, so I skipped over that part and continued with the time-consuming task. When I was finally done, I made my way to the supply closet to get started. Most of the cleaners were in industrial-sized jugs, brands I wasn’t familiar with. I began by organizing them better to make the job easier.

  Before I forgot, I shot Claire a quick text. “He had me go ahead and start working today but I have no idea when I’ll be off. I’ll find my way home.”

  Claire’s reply came in almost immediately. “You got the job! What is it?”

  “I’ll tell you later when you get home.”

  “K”

  In my hurry to accept Pete’s offer, I hadn’t even asked how much I was going to be paid or how often. I made a mental note to bring it up with him before leaving for the night. The work that day had been easy, not that I expected anything
else. I’d cleaned the offices top to bottom, taken out trash, dusted every surface, wiped down used equipment, handed out water bottles when needed, and then cleaned the dreaded bathroom. It was mindless work, but it kept me busy and paid, so I couldn’t complain.

  I was just putting away the last of the laundered towels when my uncle stepped into the supply room. “Okay, son, time to close up. You did good today.”

  The compliment rubbed me the wrong way. Though both irritated and grateful, I wished he had more confidence in me.

  “What time is it?” I asked, surprised. The day had flown by as I kept busy, so I hadn’t realized it could be near closing.

  “It’s five after nine. We close shop at nine Monday through Friday, seven on Saturday, and are closed on Sunday. We open the doors at ten in the morning. Unless, of course, there are special circumstances, but those are the usual hours. We never talked about your hours and pay,” he said as he led me back to his office. I was glad he brought it up without me having to. “I wanted to see how today went.” He peered over his shoulder at me. When I said nothing, he continued. “You’ll start working from one to close, five days a week, one hour lunch breaks. You’ll be off on Saturday and Sunday.”

  Off on weekends was like music to my ears, and a full-time schedule was way more hours than I’d anticipated. Hope stirred. The almost-forgotten sensation came roaring back with dizzying effect, leaving me excited and scared at the same time.

  He went on to tell me the rest while gathering his things from his office. The hourly wage wasn’t great, but it was income I currently didn’t have and more than I’d made at the restaurant. I breathed a sigh of relief, but he must have misinterpreted it.

  Once he was ready to go, he stopped in front of me. “It’s a start, Drew. Not forever.”

  “I’m grateful for the job,” I said and meant it. He studied my face, and with a decisive nod, reached onto a black metal shelf holding more of the same shirts I’d seen on the other employees and dug around.

  “Here,” he said, handing me three matching shirts. “You’ll wear these to work each day. They should fit.”