Page 71 of The Third Baseman

“Yep.” She held the door open and I peered in. It was filled with heaving, sweaty bodies. I counted eight boxing rings, each with two people sparring. Along the brick wall on the far side stretched twenty punching bags, evenly spaced and hanging from the ceiling. “This place is supposed to be the best. Classic, old-school boxing.”

It really didn’t look like the sort of polished, elite gym I’d have expected Beulah to frequent. I could already smell the sweat, and… was that blood?

“I understand why you didn’t want to come by yourself.”

“Ladies, you gonna stand there or you gonna wrap up?”

I startled and my eyes shot up to find an older man who could only be described as a retired boxer with a partially toothless smile, and a nose that looked like it was missing all its cartilage, waiting expectantly for an answer behind a counter.

“This is awesome,” Beulah whispered, then walked over and handed him forty dollars. “Two for the eleven a.m. class please.”

He looked slightly amused. “Have you boxed before?”

I shook my head, as Beulah said, “Not for a long time.”

“Okay.” He placed two sets of gloves and four bandage rolls on the desk. “Drop your bags in the lockers. Barney will show you how to wrap, and then go warm up on the wall.”

He pointed to a tall guy facing a small group of people. He was wearing a tank top and a pair of long shorts, showing off a well sculpted body. My brow furrowed; it was clear he was in good shape, impressive even. But that’s where the appreciation stopped. My heart rate didn’t rise, butterflies didn’t flap their wings. His perfectly chiseled body did nothing for me, nor his clean shaven jaw and smooth cheeks.

It was beyond irritating. I should be feeling all of those things, all the throbbing and heart racing and… I was so zoned into trying to get my pulse to rise at the guy’s very tight ass – the way it did with Jupiter’s – that I didn’t notice him turn around.

“If it isn’t Ms. I-don’t-know-how-to-order-coffee.”

I tried to cover my embarrassment with a shock of loud laughter. “I can order it just fine.”

“That’s still up for debate,” he grinned, while Beulah nudged me. “You need help with those?”

I held up the bandages. “Yes please, we both do.”

“I’m good,” Beulah the traitor, replied. “I can remember how to do them.”

Barney took mine, unraveling one until it pooled on the floor, then took hold of my hand. Slowly, he wrapped my wrist and fingers; he was so close I didn’t know where to look, especially as I knew he was staring at me.

“You work here?” I spluttered as he began on my other hand. “How did you get here before us?"

I tried not to frown as he winked.

“I know a shortcut. And yes, though only on Saturdays. I’m third year at Columbia, but I’ve been coming since I was a freshman. John lets me train for free in exchange,” he nodded toward the guy at the desk.

“Oh, cool.” I stepped closer to Beulah, who seemed to be trying to leave me alone.

Barney picked my gloves off the floor and eased them over my wrapped hands. “There you go.”

“Thank you.” I smiled as the trainer in the closest ring hollered. “Buddy up!”

Barney leaned in closer, a smirk on his face. “I’d say let’s be buddies, but I need someone tough enough to handle a proper drink.”

“You’re assuming you’d have had the option,” I shot back. The way he was looking at me had me squirming with unease. “I’ve already got a buddy, thanks.”

Beulah was grinning as she lifted up the rope and we stepped into the ring to join everyone else.

“Shut up,” I hissed, which made the grinning worse.

“Okay, class! Let’s get warm.”

A sweaty hour later and every single muscle I had, plus many I didn’t realize I had, were screaming in pain as I guzzled down a bottle of water. It felt incredible.

I felt alive and invincible, like I could do anything.

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