Page 31 of Bad Boy
“And you know Sterling?”
“Know what?”
He chuckles. “Coach De Luca, my brother.”
“Oh yeah, I guess. Enough to know he’s a nosey prick and a know-it-all.”
His eyebrows shoot up his forehead, just like his brother, but his grin also starts to widen, so I don’t hold back.
“Not a fan of your brother, to be honest. Hope you’re not an asshole like him,” I rib, testing Otto to see if he can handle a little roasting. If he can’t, this isn’t the place for me.
“Oh, trust me, kid. I know. He’s the biggest prick of them all, but I’ll also tell you this. He has the biggest heart I’ve ever known, too. And if he wants to help you, I suggest you think long and hard about it and take him up on whatever his offer is.”
“He didn’t offer me shit, except the accidental recommendation of your gym. So, are you accepting new members or what? I need to start training again.”
“Take a seat.” He nods to the black leather chair in front of his desk. I walk over and plop down, sinking into the plush cushion.
He rubs his chin, making a noise like sandpaper as he scratches at the stubble there. “I can see your fire—your drive. But I also see volatility and aggression. And that instability, kid, will get you hurt.”
“Look, Otto. I appreciate the warning, but I’ve been fighting for a while now. I don’t need the safetyorthe mental health lectures. I just need your answer. Can you train me or what?”
He stares at me for a minute, and I hold eye contact, not looking away or even blinking.
I must pass some kind of silent test.
“Alright, kid. I have a spot for you. What’s your name?”
“Remington Michaels. But I go by Remi.” I lean back further in my seat and wait. If his brother knows my family, chances are he does, too.
He has a good poker face, I’ll give him that. He doesn’t even flinch.
“Raina’s son. . .” he trails off, sounding kind of strange.
“My mom?” I question, the surprise in my voice evident. Why is he bringing her up instead of my grandfather? She was only sixteen when she left and never looked back. But I guess Otto is just as young.
“Yes. Your mother and I were in the same grade at Blue Ridge Prep.” He smiles sadly, fucking reminiscing or some shit. “We were friends. I was just the scholarship kid, but she was always kind to me. Always stood up for me. Sterling is ten years older. He looked up to your grandfather, and now they’re good friends.”
He clears his throat, realizing he just took an unintentional trip down memory lane.
“How’s she doing?” Otto inquires.
“Fine.” I fold my arms across my chest, suddenly feeling defensive of my mom, and I think Otto can tell.
“Okay, kid. Tell her I asked about her?”
“Yeah, sure,” I lie. I won’t be telling her shit. She’d know I was training again and maybe fighting again, too. I can’t have that.
Once I settle in here, I’ll find the underground fight scene. Most cities have one. I’m sure Asheville is no different. I definitely don’t tell Otto this, though. He doesn’t seem like he’d go along with the idea, especially if he’s possibly still pining after my fucking mom. And I’ll be damned if I ever let another man control me. My asshole father is gone, and I won’t be told what to do anymore. If I want to fight, I’ll fucking fight.
“Let me show you around the gym before you sign the membership papers.” Otto stands from behind his desk, and I follow suit. He’s a good four inches taller and looks like he could bench-press me, too. He’s wearing an employee tank like everyone else and tight black joggers that hug his muscled thighs.
We leave his office and enter the main part of the gym, where Otto shows me around and introduces me to some of the guys. A couple of them eye me up and down, mean-mugging me like my preppy-ass uniform personally offends them.
It’s all good, though. They’ll see what I can do soon enough. I always surprise people the first time they watch me fight. I didn’t earn the nicknameRuthless Remiat my first fight for nothing. I knocked Beau Godfrey out in the first round and then continued to punch his fucking face in until Hydro pulled me off.
Beau made an inappropriate MILF joke that week at school, so I had to send an important message. I delivered it with a broken nose and a concussion. Hydro and the entire crowd chanted “Ruthless” over and over while Beau was laid out, his face a shiny vermilion.
I may have been a little reckless, a little out of control, but I was only seventeen. And I made three hundred bucks that first night. It gave me a taste of the money I could win, and that, combined with the adrenaline rush of the fight and the high of everyone jocking me, I couldn’t stop. By the time I got arrested nearly a year later, each win was worth over three times the initial amount. Minimum. Too bad I never got to enjoy much of that money since Dad couldn’t hold a job down and left everything up to Mom and me.
