“Pipe down, knuckleheads, and get back to your workouts, unless you want to be running laps from now until Judgment Day,” called the man who’d originally answered the door on the front side of the building. The one who’d called me tail.
Con spoke up. “This is Ms. Frost. If I hear any of you say anything disrespectful about her, you’ll be my cleaning bitch for a month and have zero ring time.” Groans and protestations filled the air. “Shut it down, boys, and get back to work.”
Con glanced at me. “Sorry ‘bout that. They’ve still got some rough edges, and well… they’re teenage boys. I guess that’s an explanation all in itself. And no woman has ever set foot inside here, except for Mrs. Girdeau. And she doesn’t look anything like you.”
I shrugged off his explanation. I was still stinging from the truth the one boy had yelled. Even these kids knew that Con operated on a one-night M.O., and I’d already had mine. Not that I want another, I told myself. Sternly. And don’t forget it. Mental tongue-lashing completed.
“What is this place?” I asked.
A soft smile spread over his face, and I had to harden my heart. “This is the gym. A sort of afterschool, weekend, and summer program Reggie started a while back. He lets me hang out and pretend I’m partially in charge.”
“In charge of doing what? Teaching them to fight?”
Con’s smile turned mocking. “Yeah, Van. Teaching them to fight. To box. It keeps these guys off the streets and away from the gangbangers. They learn discipline and dedication. We’ve even been able to get a few of them scholarships.”
“College scholarships? For boxing?”
Con crossed his arms, his shoulders hiking up. “That ain’t good enough for you?”
He’d completely misinterpreted my tone. I laid a hand on one bicep. It was the first time I’d voluntarily touched him in two years, and the heat beneath my palm told me it was a bad idea. But I needed to wipe the defensiveness away. I wasn’t judging him. I was… in awe. “No, that’s not what I meant. I’m… impressed. I just didn’t know there were colleges around here that gave out boxing scholarships.”
“The two guys who’ve gotten scholarships are at schools on the East Coast. They got a chance to get out of here, and they took it. We’ve got two more headed that way in the fall.”
“That’s… amazing.” I was being completely sincere. Because it was.
He shrugged, and I desperately wanted to lighten the mood. I told myself it was because a defensive, angry Con wasn’t going to help my cause… and if I lied to myself, I wouldn’t have to admit that I much preferred seeing him smile.
I decided shock was the best alternative. “So, am I your cleaning bitch today?”
My pointed question did the trick. Con’s head swiveled, and his eyes locked on mine. But then he turned it on me. “You wanna be my bitch, princess?”
A hot shot of lust hit me low in the belly, and I dropped my gaze to the floor. “I thought you weren’t going to call me that anymore.”
He flicked the end of my ponytail as he walked past me.
“Follow me, and I’ll show you what I’ve got planned for you.”
What Con had planned for me became evident when we entered a huge, gleaming kitchen. Where the outside of the warehouse looked like it was on the verge of being condemned, most of the inside was immaculate and new.
“You know how to cook?” Con asked, flipping on still more lights.
“Do you?” I asked.
“I gotta eat, so yeah, I can cook.”
I wished my relationship with food were so simple.
I ate because it was an evil necessity. It didn’t mean I enjoyed it or looked forward to it. Too many years of being the chubby girl with the pretty face and a mother who just wanted me to be thin like the other kids had screwed me up royally in that area.
Vanessa, you have to watch everything you put in your mouth. You could lose this weight if you’d just be more mindful. Vanessa, I just want you to be healthy, that’s all.
She’d been gone for years, stolen from my father and me much too soon by ovarian cancer when I was in eighth grade. The doctors had caught it too late, and she was gone within months. One of my biggest regrets: the words of hers I remembered best weren’t the ‘I loves yous’ she’d whisper tucking me in at night.
“And I’m still waiting for your answer,” Con said.
“I can handle the basics.” To myself I added, as long as you don’t expect me to eat with you. There was a very select group of people I was able to eat in front of without my stomach twisting into a Gordian knot. I knew it was a messed up problem, but if you put yourself in the shoes of a younger me, and thought about what it would be like, at a birthday party, to have a friend’s mother watch you eat a piece of pizza and say to another mother: I can’t believe she’s eating that; you’d think she’d know better by now. If Madeline were that heavy, you’d never see another piece of pizza on her plate ever again.