Page 32 of Bad Boy
We continue our brief tour, and by the time we’re done, I’m itching to get back in the ring again. Even if it is just working out and training to start with.
As we’re heading back toward the employee hallway, my phone vibrates twice in my pocket, and I pause to check my notifications.
Two texts from an unknown number.
I know where you went.
And I know you have money.
My eyes snap up, darting around the gym—searching, scanning, cataloging everything and everyone. Looking for the threat.
It could be anyone. Someone from Detroit, no doubt, but it could be someone who lost money betting against me, whose ass I kicked, or maybe even whose girl I fucked.
Yeah, I’ve hooked up with a few chicks in the past, not always knowing whether they were single or if they just really wanted to fuck the champion.
Or maybe it’s my fucking dad, and he finally went home to the apartment to find us gone.
“Something wrong, kid?” Otto asks, and I realize I look sketchy as hell right now, and it’s probably not the best first impression to be making for my new boxing coach.
“Um. Just thought I saw someone I know,” I lie once again. He eyes me suspiciously but doesn’t comment.
We continue to the breakroom, where there’s a small kitchen with a few tables and chairs and a decent-sized area with two comfortable-looking sofas. Some college basketball game plays on the seventy-inch TV, unwatched.
We sit at one of the tables, and Otto hands me a new member packet. I set my phone down and start to read the papers, although my mind is reeling from the texts. I’m having trouble concentrating on the words.
“Here’s my business card. It has my personal cell and my direct office line on it.” I glance up, distracted, and take it from his outstretched hand.
“Thanks,” I mumble automatically before attempting to focus back on the contract in front of me.
My phone vibrates on the table, buzzing loudly, and I blanch at the next text.
I’m coming.
I snatch it up from the tabletop and stand abruptly, the metal chair screeching against the ugly vinyl floor.
Otto shoots to his feet, looking just as alarmed as me. “You running from someone, kid?”
“What? No. Nothing like that. Just realized I need to be somewhere, and I’m late for an appointment,” I lie for the millionth fucking time.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’ll be surprised if I don’t get a voicemail later declining my gym membership. Nothing usually spooks me, but this is an outright threat.
I lean down and quickly scribble my name on the paper before stuffing his business card in my front pocket. “I’ll be here tomorrow night for your class,” I say with a reassuring smile, or at least what I hope is one. Judging by his frown and the deep creases between his thick brows, I’m not sure I nailed it.
“Remi, hold on—”
I cut him off instead. “Gotta go, but I’ll see ya, Otto!” I hold my hand up in a silent goodbye and don’t look back as I rush out of the room toward the double-glass doors. I wave to Sasha before pushing through the exit and jogging to my car. My eyes dart around wildly, and my body is tense in anticipation of someone trying to jump me.
Who the fuck is coming?
* * *
The drive home was a manic shitstorm. Any car that followed me for longer than two miles, I took an unnecessary turn and looped back around, just to make sure I lost them. I may be paranoid, but I’m not an idiot. If anyone from my old neighborhood knew I came from money—big money—it wouldn’t have gone well for me.
As soon as I get inside and take a piss, I make a beeline to the kitchen—starving, jittery, and completely on edge. Opening the massive fridge hidden in the wooden cabinetry, I grab a cold beer, popping the top off against the marble countertop and guzzling it down. I grab another and chug that as well, leaving them lined up on the counter as I reach for my third. I need to calm these nerves before I do something reckless, like text this fucker back and tell them to come and fucking get me.
I pace back and forth, sipping my beer slowly this time. I slip my loose tie over my head and toss it on the counter before unbuttoning my dress shirt and doing the same.
