Page 4 of A Fighter’s Love

Jenny glanced at the office clock. It was time to go. But unlike most staff this didn’t fill her with relief.

Billy expected her at the club by seven, to do the books. She’d spent all day juggling figures, and her eyes had blurred from staring at spreadsheets charting Wainwright and Bramon’s sales. The last thing she needed was to sit in front of a computer for another couple of hours.

But he’d asked her to. Or rather, made her promise to.

So she’d agreed, despite knowing she wouldn’t really be up for it because, well, Billy was her boyfriend. And he needed her. He couldn’t sort out the tax returns for the boxing club he ran. Poor bloke was dyslexic. Seemed he couldn’t add up either.

“Night, Stella,” Jenny called to the CEO’s new personal assistant. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yes, have a nice evening.”Stella looked up from her laptop and smiled.

Jenny liked Stella, even though they hadn’t known each other long. Stella had an easy way about her, a quick smile and boy, did the woman have class.She looked like she’d walked off some glamorous 1950s movie set. She worked her curves to perfection and oozed sex appeal. She even wore those stockings with seams at the back and the line was always perfectly straight. It was no wonder some of the guys in the office had a crush on her, including, Jenny suspected, one of the top dogs, Andre Bramon.

It seemed Stella was a workaholic, though, and only had time for sorting out her bosses’ lives. Perhaps that would change as she got to grips with their busy schedules. Maybe then she’d become part of the team.

Jenny shrugged into a light jacket and scooped up her handbag. Not thatshewas part of the team, not really. Oh, in office hours, sure. But when it was clocking off time and the gang went to the local pub, she always said no. Not because she didn’t want to, but because there was always something to go and help Billy with.

She headed for the elevator and hit the down button. Not that she minded helping really. The club was thriving, making money. And that was great for the future—for Jenny and Billy’s future. Perhaps when things settled, so would his short temper.

Her feet ached as she headed for the Tube station. Despite having sensible flat shoes, the walk to and from work and trotting around all day made her heels ache. Thoughts of a soak in the bath with a glass of wine sprang to mind. That would be bliss. To come to the end of a working day and it be over.

Her mobile rang just before she got to the station. Hanging back, she tucked up against the wall of a newsagents’ store so she didn’t trip anyone up. It was Billy. “Hello.”

“Where are you?”

“I’ve just left the office.”

“I thought you’d be here by now.”

“I got caught up. There’s lots going on.”

“Lots going on here, too,” he snapped.

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“So how long?”

“I don’t know, about twenty minutes.” She glanced up at the sky. The clouds were gathering. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain. “As soon as I can.”

“Okay. Be quick. I’m waiting.”

The line went dead.

Sighing, she tucked the phone away. Billy was a pain in the ass when he was stressed. But that was nothing new, he always had been. They’d been an item since they were fourteen and that was nearly a decade ago. So they knew each other inside out and back to front. They’d been through thick and thin, ups and downs. Admittedly more downs, but that was all about to change, so he’d said. They had several big, lucrative fights coming up. He’d even done a deal with a sports channel, so he said, to televise one of them next year. If so it could be the start of something really big. A money making machine.

They just had to put things in order, then get marketing, and promoting, and sort out the health and safety requirements for a bigger crowd. The list was growing—Jenny’s head was starting to spin with it all. It was a full time job on top of an already full time job.

As she headed down the escalator, she stared at the adverts for West End shows and new movies and books. Several caught her interest. She was a sucker for a good West End show. About a year ago, she’d left work early, told Billy she had a hair appointment and gone to seeWicked. She’d been mesmerized by the performance, the songs, the daring high lifts and the captivating story of the Witches of Oz.

She’d enjoyed it all the more because it was her secret and she had very few of those. Billy liked to know everything about her life. Luckily a quick wash and blow dry before she’d seen him that evening at the club and he’d been none the wiser. Seemed he didn’t look too closely at her roots.

She headed for the Circle Line eastbound. A familiar route. Standing room only at this time of evening. She gripped the handrail, her shoulders hunched, knowing she should work on her posture but too dog-tired to care.

An Asian youth stood next to her, his head bobbing in time to the loud music thumping from his headphones. Someone nearby smelled of beer. The malty scent made her wrinkle her nose. Jenny’s father had always had that same flavor coming off of him. He’d started and ended the day with a beer for the last few years of his life.

She turned and closed her eyes, wishing the evening was over.

She arrived at her station and walked out into the evening light. The faint drizzle in the air dampened her cheeks. She hurried along, keen to get on with her work at the club. The sooner she got started, the sooner it would be over.

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