Page 20 of Regards, Mia

I’ve taken donations from sponsors and done fundraisers with car washes and lotteries, but if I don’t figure something out to make some money for the program, all my dreams will be flushed down the toilet.

I lean my elbows on the desk and rest my head in my hands. I’ve got to think of something big, something to keep the sinking ship afloat.

My mind works better when I move, so I push back from my desk and head down to the gym. Even though it’s past ten o’clock,it’s never too late for a workout. And I like the gym at night. It’s quiet and peaceful.

I flip on the overhead lights and survey the space with a satisfied sweep of my gaze.

Out of the Box is my place.

Plenty of blood, sweat, and tears have gone into making this place what it is. But there’s no denying it’s all mine.

As I walk the floor, an idea forms in my head.

The gym where I first started training to fight used to hold fight nights featuring amateur and professional boxers.

Every first Friday of the month, the gym had been crowded with spectators and fighters. There had been music and food and so many people, some had to be turned away.

If I could find a fighter worthy of a main event, I could plan the entire event around him—or her. A few promising candidates pop into my mind immediately, and I know I’m onto a good idea.

In North Carolina it doesn’t take a lot to go pro. Pass a health screening, be under a certain age, pay the fee, and welcome to professional boxing.

If I can get a few athletes on board, and a few of the older teens from Champion’s Corner, I’ll have myself an event. I even know the perfect public relations person to promote for me.

Cassandra Darling is not only fabulous at her job, she’s also gorgeous with a banging body. I’ve done some private security jobs for her clients in the past, and we’ve hooked up a few times. Just casual. Friends with benefits. Cassandra is the perfect remedy for my little Mia James obsession.

The best thing about my idea is it can happen quickly. If we move fast, we can have something set up for the first weekend of the month.

My footsteps echo in the gym's silence, and then I hear another noise. Something that doesn’t belong. I’m used to the faint groan of the HVAC system and the rumble of the ice machine.

This is different.

My ears perk up as I stealth-walk toward the locker rooms. I hear hushed voices, then a thump. A chill runs down my spine as I creep closer.

If someone is breaking in, they aren’t very good at it. Besides a few jump ropes or some hand weights, there isn’t much a thief can walk off with in my gym. I don’t keep cash around, and it’s not like they are walking off with a punching bag or a treadmill.

I hear more hushed conversation, the click of a door, and then the unmistakable sound of female laughter. A muffled crash comes from the sauna.

I approach the door and listen. Moans and muffled grunts come from the other side of the door.

Sex noises.

Someone snuck into my gym to have sex in the sauna. Anger flares in my chest as I grab the door and yank it open.

On the wooden floor are two teenagers locked in an embrace. Their clothes are half off, and their hands are full of each other. They are so busy making out; they don’t even notice me.

I clear my throat loudly, and finally they look up. The girl I’ve never seen before, but the boy is a regular at Champion’s Corner. George, called Turbo in the ring because of his lightning speed, is one of the scholarship kids. He can’t afford to pay the fees, but thanks to our sliding scale tuition, he has a spot.

George is a good kid. He gets along well with others, trains with focus, and never bitches about doing chores. I’ve never met his parents, but I get the feeling they aren’t super involved in his life.

“Shit,” says George, struggling to wrangle his jeans into place.

Since the underage girl’s chest is on full display, I turn around. “My office, George. Now.”

I don’t wait for him to argue as I turn and march straight to my office. My temper flares as I wait by the door. Every second that ticks by fuels my anger. When George finally slinks down the halltoward me, avoiding eye contact, I’m simmering and ready to boil over.

He doesn’t say a word as he brushes by me and enters my small office.

“Where’s the girl?” I glance toward the locker rooms.

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