by Meg Maguire
“Yes, b—”
“Great.” Tina leaned back in her chair. “That is a big load off. We should be fine, as long as the place is closed by the time you’re really up and running.”
“I’m planning to close the gym if it’s unprofitable,” Jenna clarified. And over her dead body. “What would it mean for my franchise if it stayed open?”
“Well, I’ll be honest with you. It’s Spark’s profits you really ought to be worried about, Jenna. And having that around—” she poked a finger in the gym’s direction “—will not be doing you any favors. Our clients are sharp, discerning, educated people. You can bet they’ll be looking into the service they’re trusting with their love lives. I’m all for local color, but this is an upscale business. We’re already taking a chance on the neighborhood.”
Jenna had to bite back a retort. Tina had told her Chinatown was fine not even two weeks earlier.
“And you can bet unhappy clients will be quick to dock you a few stars in online reviews if they find the gym a turnoff. I know it’s your late father’s name on the place, but it’s your name as well. Your client base is going to spike once the mixer happens. Now’s the time to have a good long think about appearances.”
Jenna’s body had gone cold and numb, heated only by a wad of anger burning in her gut. “I’m sure we could come up with some creative ways to mitigate...”
Tina’s sad, patronizing smile killed the thought. “I’ll give it to you point-blank, Jenna. If the gym doesn’t close by the New Year, I can’t in good conscience sign off on this space.”
“But it was approved months ago.”
“And I’m not reneging. There’s a perfectly simple solution to this issue, and it’s one you seemed only eager to implement when we first spoke. The gym closes, and all our problems are solved.”
Jenna blinked at the papers on her desk, choked by the lump lodged in her throat. “Sorry, I just need a second....”
Tina frowned. “I take it your feelings about your father’s business have changed since we last spoke about this.”
My feelings about my father and, more to the point, the man I’m falling in love with. “They have. Quite a bit.”
“That must make this inevitability hard to swallow,” Tina said.
More anger flashed. Jenna felt sure the souring in her stomach was the same Mercer had felt when Jenna had shown up, hell-bent on this very same course of action.
“But you need to focus on your own investment,” Tina went on, “and I’m the first to tell you, I see big things for Spark: Boston. This space will be great, once the decoration’s done. And the rent situation’s ideal, obviously. But not with that gym down there. We both know that’s not going to fly, right?”
Jenna didn’t reply, too worried her anger would be obvious.
“I mean, you wouldn’t open a library next to a gun range. Our clients want reassurance, and to feel relaxed. It won’t be easy for them to feel at ease with those sorts of people wandering by.”
Those sorts of people? Jenna frowned, insulted. But hadn’t she thought the exact same thing when she arrived?
“The women will feel intimidated. The men, too. It’s just a bad marriage, Jenna. And if there’s anything Spark doesn’t stand for, it’s a bad marriage, right?”
Jenna didn’t crack a smile, and Tina dropped the perky approach, speaking frankly.
“Like I said, I like the space. Not the gym. If the gym goes, Spark is still on board. Just a formality.”
A formality? Kicking a few dozen guys out of their second home, yanking the jobs from underneath Mercer and the other trainers? How was that a formality? How was that anything but a disaster?
“I’ll have to talk to the gym’s manager,” she said, before Tina could pin her down on agreeing that the gym was closing. But short of a miracle...
“Let me know on Monday,” Tina said, getting to her feet. “I know you’ll make the right choice.”
Jenna’s chest hurt as she escorted Tina to the exit. As she went back inside her office, she rubbed at her heart, willing it not to ache so much. She shut the door behind her, on the verge of tears.
There had to be a solution. Create a rear entrance for the gym to keep the businesses segregated. Something. Anything.
Anything except closing Wilinski’s Fight Academy. That just wasn’t an option. Not anymore.
10
MERCER PULLED UP to the curb at Delante’s house in Mattapan in the late afternoon. He’d talked a trainer acquaintance from a gym in Allston into letting Delante spar with his strongest heavyweight, and the kid had wiped the floor with the guy. Well, figuratively. Mercer wasn’t taking any chances with real injuries, not with the tournament so close.
“Good work, kid.”
“Thanks.”
“Go get some rest. Don’t eat any crap.”
Delante exited and grabbed his bag from the backseat. “Later, Merce.”
“My best to your mom.”
Making a U-turn back toward Boston, Mercer couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this excited.
Probably when he’d gotten his first paid fight, still a dumb twentysomething, convinced he had what it took to be the next big thing. But he knew better at thirty-four. He’d never been half the fighter Delante was. And he’d never felt this...this pride in somebody before. This must’ve been what Monty felt, driving back from a successful match with him or Rich or any of the other kids from Wilinski’s.
If Delante or Rich did indeed hit it big, win their upcoming matches and score major contracts with one of the MMA organizations, it wouldn’t fix everything overnight. The gym would have a reputable name or two as alumni, always great for attracting new members and maybe even some sponsorship. That might get their monthly balances out of the red, but it wouldn’t fund any of Mercer’s big plans for the place, not for ages. But he had Jenna on board, and for the first time since she’d turned his world upside down, he felt positive again.
And for the first time since he’d passed, Mercer felt as though maybe Monty hadn’t made a mistake, leaving him in charge.
The sun was dropping below the buildings when he pulled into his parking spot in the alley behind the gym. He wondered if Jenna had eaten yet. Maybe she’d like to grab something with him. His day had already been a success, work-wise. Add to that a date and another taste of that crazy chemistry they had...?
After he locked his car, Mercer had to fight off an urge to sprint for the door. He wanted to see her. This was more than chemistry, more than a fling. It was way too soon to say it was anything bigger than a crush, but it was bigger than just the sex. It made him feel too many other things aside from lust. Made him feel excited and protective, possessive at the thought of her flirting with some other man, some button-up business guy or trendy designer-type, whatever sorts of men would be sitting down in that office to meet with her.
His pulse thumped harder as he pushed in the door to the foyer. He’d never registered such an urge to win, as if he’d stepped into the ring with his worst enemy, but the competition was romantic. No wonder people did such stupid shit for love, if this was how it made them feel.
The office was locked and dark, so after a quick trip downstairs to make sure Rich was all set with the evening session, Mercer headed up to the apartment.
He unlocked the door, a grin already overtaking his lips, but it died the instant he walked into Jenna’s room and found her doubled over at the edge of the bed.
She glanced up just long enough to acknowledge him, and for her tear-streaked, pink face to break his heart. He took a seat beside her and rubbed her back.
“What’s wrong?” Who can I hit to make you feel better? his inner caveman demanded to know. Just tell me and I’ll find him.
She raised her head with an undignified sniffle and wiped a
t her cheeks.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
After a few deep breaths, she managed to say, “The Spark standards overseer came by today. She won’t approve the space as it is.”
He frowned. Did that mean Jenna would be leaving? Something twisted in his chest, different than the pleasant knot he’d just been feeling there. “How come? The area?”
She wiped her eyes, finally seeming to get a proper breath. “No. The gym.”
Mercer’s heart dropped to his gut. “Because it’ll look bad to clients?”
“That’s the gist. Because of its history. Because it’s supposedly got one of Boston’s most infamous criminals’ name plastered right over the door.”
Mercer’s temper flared, but he tamped it down.
“I spent the whole afternoon tracking down the property manager,” Jenna said, “to find out if a separate entrance could be put in, so we wouldn’t have to share the same one. Like I could even afford it without a huge loan. But the building got historic status a few years back—cosmetic improvements only. I can’t do anything to the infrastructure. It was the only half-decent idea I had.”
A week ago Mercer’s hackles would have shot up to hear someone denigrate the gym, but the thought passed through his head without stirring a thing. All he cared about was that this woman was crying.
He registered what this meant, of course. The gym was officially dead, as of January first.
He stroked her hair, feeling heavy and exhausted and the thing he hated most—powerless. “That sucks.”
She nodded. “Yeah. It does.”
“You’ve been dealing with this all afternoon? I wish you’d called me.”
“I wanted to wait until I knew for sure that I couldn’t fix it.”
The gym, gone. For real. All chances up in smoke.
Come the tournament at the end of the month, Delante and Rich would likely be gone, too, off to pursue better prospects. Mercer would’ve been stuck here, keeping the gym’s heart beating until it all came to an unceremonious, inevitable end, until he shut the lights off for the final time in four months or four years—whenever the money had finally run dry. That wasn’t the way this place was meant to go out. Maybe this was all for the best. Mercer felt a sting in his eyes and squeezed them shut until it passed.
“You had dinner yet?” he asked.
“No.”
He left her to grab a Chinese take-out menu from the kitchen, and jotted down Jenna’s request.
“I’ll be back in twenty.”
The restaurant was half a block away, and Mercer placed their order then walked to the liquor store for a bottle of wine.
Jenna was still on her bed when he got back, but she joined him at the dining room table, where they ate in near silence, neither acknowledging what her news signaled. He poured her a glass of wine and they turned on the TV, still not speaking. At long last, he couldn’t stand it any more—not the elephant in the room, or letting her suffer this way.
“Don’t feel guilty,” he said quietly.
She met his eyes with her teary ones. “How can I not?”
“It’s better to know now, instead of throwing more money at the leaks when the gym’s doomed to go under, sooner or later. Sooner’s better. Sooner’s a mercy.”
“It doesn’t feel that way. Not anymore. And not since I found those letters.... I don’t know what to think of my father anymore. Or the gym.”
“I’m sure.”
“I know he wasn’t the best guy. But I had him so wrong in so many respects.”
Mercer felt queasy, remembering that letter he’d been working so hard to put out of his head this past week.
“And I mean, you must feel awful. I don’t know how you can even stand to sit next to me right now.”
It wasn’t easy, that was true. But not because he resented her. His being here only seemed to make her feel worse.
They watched TV for a little while, then Jenna sighed, rubbing her face.
“You okay?”
“Calmer, I guess. But I feel so awful. I think I need to read a few more of my dad’s letters.” She was calling Monty “dad” now, Mercer realized.
He decided to leave the two of them alone. He had a ton to process, too, and that was done best with gloves on his hands. Just after ten, he excused himself to head down to the gym. Members were spraying bags and gloves with disinfectant, mopping sweat off the mats and swiping their membership cards at the desk as they headed home. Mercer clapped them on their shoulders as they said good-night, and found Rich gathering equipment near the rings.
“Hey.”
Rich turned. “Oh, now you show up, once all the work’s done.”
“You wanna train?”
Rich grinned. “Always.”
They finished up the nightly chores, then Mercer shrugged into a chest guard and pulled on headgear, strapped thick target pads on his hands as he met Rich in the octagonal ring. They circled each other, Rich tossing out a few lazy warm-up combinations and roundhouse kicks.
“Five minutes,” Mercer said, checking the clock.
“Easy.”
Mercer raised the pads to shoulder height and flicked one forward. Rich caught it with a nasty hook.
Jesus, he could hit. Mercer had been eighteen when Rich had showed up. Twelve years old, ninety sinewy pounds of seething anger straight out of Lynn, Massachusetts, with a gigantic chip on his shoulder and the cuss-riddled vocabulary of a middle-aged townie. Sixteen years of boxing and later MMA had draped his frame in pure muscle and turned his temper into drive, but Mercer caught old glimmers now and then—that pissed-off kid from the rough end of the North Shore. He’d be seeing more than glimmers in a minute when he told Rich the news. He’d feel it in every punch the guy threw.
“Don’t burn it all up front,” Mercer said. “Four more rounds.”
“Make it ten.”
“I need to tell you something.”
Whap. “Shoot.”
“The gym’s gonna close. In January.” They’d had this talk a couple weeks ago, but that had been back when Mercer was still determined, and Jenna had the power to decide.
Rich dropped his hands. “What?”
Mercer kept the pads up. “It can’t be justified, not the way it’s bleeding money every month.”
“Bullshit.” Whap, whap whap whap. “It’s not your call, anyhow. It’s Jenna’s now, and you said she was on our side.”
“It’s not her call, not anymore—it’s some stipulation her bosses at the matchmaking company are laying down. She just found out.”
“Oh. Oh.” Whap. A hard one, heavy enough to drive Mercer back a step.
“Watch it.”
A dirty hook nearly ripped the pad off Mercer’s hand. He kept his guard up. “It would’ve happened anyway, sooner or later.”
Rich’s smile was a joyless, ugly thing. “I don’t even know who the hell I’m talking to right now. The gym’s got to close and you’re just, what? Rolling over and letting it happen?”
“I don’t have any choice.”
“The hell you don’t.” Rich kept his fists to himself, dancing on the balls on his bare feet. “Monty may have made you the GM, but I’m invested in this place, same as you. I’ll fight for this place, same as you should. But you’re not even going to try, just because you’re suddenly getting some—” Rich stopped himself, but Mercer knew which word would’ve come next. He was half a heartbeat from yanking the pad off his hand and giving Rich a fresh black eye to match the first.
“She’s his daughter,” Mercer said. “You think it’s easy for me to even know how to feel about her?”
“You’re his kid.” He threw a punch that knocked Mercer off balance. “She’s just some girl who ignored him for two decades. Now she shows up when
she’s got something coming to her.”
“Watch it,” Mercer warned again.
Without fair warning, Rich knocked him back a pace with a kick to his padded ribs.
“What do you even care?” Mercer asked. “You’ll be off in a couple months, with a manager. And Delante. The rest of us—” Another mean kick, and Mercer swore. “There’s other gyms,” he finished.
“There’s other chicks.” Whap. “You’ve known her for, what, two weeks? You just let her disassemble the place that’s been your home for half your life?”
“This place was done already. Maybe we’d have hung on for another year or two, but we were going under, either way. Maybe it’s—”
“It’s not better this way.” Whap. “We had a chance. We got our name on a decent tournament, and for what?”
“It’s her business, not ours.”
“Not ours? Not ours, when we’re the ones who’ve been here sweating our guts out for how long?”
“He left it to her. Not us.”
“And if she was any other person in the world, you’d be fighting this, tooth and nail.”
“Exactly what legal right do you think I have to stop her?”
Rich shook his head and spoke through panting breaths. “Sit back and let this place close... In six months there’ll be some fancy health club down here. A goddamn yoga studio. On the off-chance you and her are still into each other then...you think you can walk in that door and see some other business here? And not hate her? Just a little bit?”
On the off-chance. Mercer winced. On the off-chance she didn’t meet someone else, or break things off out of guilt. “I’m not going to try to mess with her plans. I’m standing down. I know you hate it, but that’s my call.”
“Yeah,” Rich panted, finally tiring. “I didn’t drive him to dialysis every damned day for a year. So yeah, maybe it’s your call. But don’t make the wrong one, just ’cause some girl’s got you thinking with your dick.”
Or my heart. “She’s his daughter,” he said again.
Rich dropped his hands and Mercer lowered his guard. For a long moment they glared at each other, breathing heavily in the eerie quiet of the gym.
