Page 9 of Rematch
Rather than going straight inside after parking my car in the lot, I took a walk down the street towards the old MMA gym. I’ve been meaning to go there and see if the owner, Tony, would be willing to put up a booth for my hospital’s fall festival, but I’ve been avoiding the task. I was trying to avoid running into Max, who used to practically live there. But, now that he’s seen me, I figured I had nothing to lose.
My brow rose as I turned a corner and caught a glimpse of the gym. The sign, once faded and worn, was gone; it was replaced by a larger, more vibrant one with bold lettering and colorful logos. I would’ve thought I was going to the wrong place if it weren’t for Tony’s last name still splashed across it.
As I walked inside, I saw the sign wasn’t the only thing that had been upgraded. Brand new equipment was organized around the room, creating spaces designated for specific workouts. An array of punching bags lay in one corner and free weights and benches were in another. Two different rings, one octagonal and the other square, sat on different sides of the room. Farther in the back, there was a huge space with padded flooring likely meant for grappling practice and classes. Another floor had been added to the facility. From my view on the lower level, I could make out more workout machines like treadmills, ellipticals, and area-specific machines.
At almost eight o’ clock, the gym was practically empty. Most of the patrons were heading towards the front door, sweaty from class or workout. I needed to hurry up and find Tony before he was out the door too.
“Hello,” a perky voice broke me out of my thoughts.
I followed the sound to a long receptionist-like desk on the left side by the door.
A woman with short-cut black hair and beautifully sharp features stood behind it. She gave me a warm smile. “Welcome to Booker’s Gym! Is there something I can help you with?”
“Yes, actually. I’m looking for Tony, the owner. My name is Audrey; I’m an old friend of his and I need to speak with him about possibly participating in a fundraiser for the hospital I work in.”
“Unfortunately, Tony’s not here, but I can direct you to our other manager if you’d like.”
“Yes, please. That’d be great. Thank you!”
She pointed across the room towards the punching bags. “He’s right over there.”
I followed her gaze and found the only familiar sight in the room: Max punching away at one of the stuffed bags. His torso was bare, giving a view of all the new muscles and tattoos he’s obtained over the years. Sweat dripped over his golden brown skin, making it glisten under the little bit of sunlight peeking through the windows.
Of coursehe’dbe the one I had to speak to.
I thanked the receptionist before reluctantly heading over to him.
He barely noticed me as I approached him. Tiny earbuds were nestled in his ears and his eyes were focused on the bag in front of him. He threw his fists in quick, calculated combinations, fine tuning the movement with every attempt.
I stood next to the bag to catch his eye.
Instantly, his gaze flicked to me and his concentration shattered. “Hey, Audrey,” he greeted me as he tapped a button on one of the earbuds and grinned. “I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon.”
“Don’t get excited,” I said, bursting his bubble. “I came to see Tony. But, since he’s not here, I have to share my pitch with you.”
I held out the stack of flyers. “I’m a doctor at the Los Angeles Children’s Hospital and they are having their annual Fall Festival fundraiser in a few weeks. I was wondering if you could hang some flyers up around the gym and hype up the event if you can. We also have spots open for companies to host a booth for games or merchandise. All we ask is that twenty percent of the profits are donated to the hospital. If you’re not interested in hosting your own booth, we’re also open to having general volunteers for set-up and assisting other booths.”
He took the papers out of my hand. His brow rose as he glanced over the information at the top of the form. “I’m sure Tony and I can pull a little something together. Do you mind sticking around a minute so I can fill it out?”
“Max, I don’t want you to do it because I’m the one asking.”
“I’m not,” he insisted. He turned on his heel and started walking towards the back of the gym. “Come on.”
I followed him into the office nestled there. Curiously, I glanced around at the trophy-filled shelves. All of them were engraved with names of contenders who’d trained in the gym - past and present. I recognized a few with Max’s name on it. Remembered the nights he’d won them.
Max took a seat behind one of the two desks in the room and started filling out the form.
“How long have you been helping Tony run this place?” I asked.
“About two years,” he replied. “He needed an extra hand after his dad retired.”
“And I assume all of the upgrades came from you?”
He nodded. “Some of those paychecks are more than I need. It made sense to put the rest into the place I credit my success to.”
“Well, it looks nice.”
He glanced up from the form to shoot me a small smile. “Thanks.”
