Текст книги "Repentance: The Story of Kace Haywood"

Автор книги: Meghan Quinn

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Eighteen

My past…

“It’s about time,” I said to Jett as he met me at the base of the stairs nestled in the servants’ quarters at the Lafayette Club.

“I had some business to attend to,” he said, buttoning the front of his suit jacket. He gripped my shoulder and looked me in the eye. “You don’t have to do this, Kace.”

It was the conversation we had every time I wanted to do something that dealt with the loss of Marshall Duncan. Jett always gripped my shoulder and told me I didn’t have to do what I had planned, and I always countered him. I didn’t foresee the interaction changing in the near future.

“I do,” I said, leading him out the back door.

We were headed to the garage when we were stopped by a whistle from one of the girls. I turned to see the Jett Girls tanning in the backyard, topless of course, drinking margaritas and gossiping. It was their day off and they were taking advantage of it. I averted my eyes from their breasts and continued forward.

There were four Jett Girls now: Babs, Pepper, Tootse, and Francy. They’d all been found by Jett and invited to the club to change their current way of living. Tootse and Francy were a couple—annoyingly cute to see together, actually. Jett had found them at a local X-rated club, where they used to make out topless in front of a bunch of horny men. Francy was a fucking fantastic bartender and Tootse had been taking fashion classes and was a pretty good seamstress. Once Jett had found out about Tootse’s talents, he’d put her to work on some costumes for the girls. I was pretty impressed with her hidden talent.

Pepper, on the other hand, was a tough one. She had a serious dark side that rivaled mine at times. I could see it in her eyes, the damage that had been done. The only information I’d gotten from Jett about Pepper was he was able to pay off her pimp to help her come to the Lafayette Club. I didn’t want to know how much Jett had paid. All I knew was Jett had saved her from an atrocious position she hadn’t put herself in.

Surprisingly, all the girls got along. That had been one of my biggest fears when stepping into my position at the club—that there was going to be a lot of catty bullshit from the girls—but it was an unspoken rule they didn’t fight with each other. Instead, they supported one another. They all came from a rough background and with that knowledge, they formed an unbreakable bond.

On occasion they gave me sass. They most definitely pushed my buttons, but then again, I think they found pleasure in such interaction. But they knew my boundaries and never crossed the line. They didn’t ask about my personal life. They knew I had demons and they left me alone.

At first, I thought Jett’s plan to help save these girls was a little far-fetched, maybe a little disturbed, but I got it now. I saw what the club was able to provide them: a safe sanctuary from the sins that once clung to their skin every day. Now they were able to thrive, to make something of themselves. It was refreshing to see their change in demeanor, to see hope in their eyes. If only the club had had the same effect on me.

 “Where you going, boss man?” Babs called out, directing her comment to me, even though I wasn’t technically their boss, just their manager.

“None of your business,” I shot back. They knew better than to ask about my daily routine. Unless we were in the Toulouse Room practicing or in the gym working out, they didn’t talk to me. This wasn’t because I was a dick. It was because I had nothing to say to them.

The girls giggled from my short answer and made scary noises, making fun of me.

“How do you deal with his moodiness?” Francy asked Jett, who was trailing behind me.

“Bourbon,” Jett answered. “Lots of fucking bourbon.”

“Fuck you.” I chuckled.

“We’ll miss you,” Tootse said. She wiggled her fingers at us. I shook my head at the biggest blonde in the house. She could be really dense at times. Thank God she was pretty.

I slipped into Jett’s black Range Rover and settled behind the wheel. Jett quickly sat in the passenger side and shut his door, silencing the catcalls the girls were giving both of us.

I pressed my fingers to my eyebrows. “Why you thought outnumbering us with women was a good idea, I don’t know.”

“Not one of my better decisions.” Jett smirked, buckling up.

“You have no idea what it’s like to try to wrangle them together and get them to focus.”

“I do know. I watch you do it.” Jett laughed, referring to the cameras he had in the room. “I’m glad I’m not doing it.”

“Yeah, you just make me do the dirty work.”

“Isn’t that how it’s always been?” he asked. “I’m the mastermind, you do the grunt work.”

His comment was said with humor, but it was very true. Ever since I’d known Jett, he had come up with schemes for the trouble we loved getting in, and I always followed through with the deed. We were never caught. It was a small high we’d lived on when we were young. Now that we were older, our schemes were heavier in weight. Instead of covering up misadventures, we covered up sins and helped people escape them.

“Where are we going?” Jett asked, breaking my thought.

“I don’t really know.” I shrugged. “I was thinking about going to Target.” I really had no idea where to shop.

“Target? Seriously?” Jett asked with disapproval.

“Shit, I don’t know.” I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to think. “I don’t know what to get a little girl.”

“You don’t have to get her anything,” Jett replied. “You give them money already.”

“It’s the least I can do,” I said, feeling the weight of responsibility on my shoulders.

Madeline didn’t have a father in her life because of me, so I’d taken it upon myself to make sure she was well taken care of from a distance. The checks I earned at the Lafayette Club went straight to her every month. I dropped a pile of cash in her mailbox every month with a note of sorrow and regret. It was her birthday, and I’d decided it was a day I would help celebrate, so I was out to get her a gift but had no fucking clue what a little girl wanted.

“Why am I coming?” Jett asked. “You should have brought one of the Jett Girls.”

“That would have warranted too many questions. I don’t want questions. I don’t need them.”

“I can understand that. So instead it’s going to be us shopping for a little girl?”

“Yup,” I responded, holding back a smirk. “Should be a good time.”

“Or a major clusterfuck,” Jett shot back. “We’re not going to Target though. Head to the French Market. You can at least get her something with meaning of the city she lives in.”

“Are you getting sentimental on me?” I teased.

“Do you want my help or not?”

“I do. I just didn’t expect you to get into this.”

“I’m not,” Jett said. “I’m just making sure you don’t look like an idiot.”

“She’s not going to know it’s from me,” I replied.  I turned onto St. Charles Street and headed toward the Quarter.

“Explain how that’s going to work,” Jett said.

I felt Jett’s questioning eyes on me. He always had to know every aspect of a plan he was a part of, and it drove me crazy sometimes. I just wanted to execute my plans without talking about them. But with Jett, you had to make sure you checked all your boxes and took every possible precaution. He wouldn’t be the brilliant business man he was today if he didn’t have that kind of mindset. Too bad it irked me every fucking time.

Blowing out a frustrated breath and gripping tightly on the steering wheel so I didn’t lash out, I said, “I’m just going to drop it off at her front door. Do you think I personally hand them money every month?”

Jett knew my monthly paycheck went to Madeline and Linda, and he’d never said one word about it. He was a silent partner when it came to my drunken sin, and it was an uncommunicated rule we were both in this together, that I was the one who’d killed a man but Jett had covered it up. And for that, we were both at fault. So Jett accepted the fact that my money went to Madeline; he had no qualms about the exchange.

“You’re really going to leave the present on her doorstep? You don’t think that’s creepy in any way?”

“Fuck, you know it’s creepy, me sneaking around and delivering things to them, but what other choice do I have? Show my face? You know I can’t fucking do that.”

“It might help you get past the pent-up emotions you have,” Jett suggested.

I guffawed. “Oh, okay, so I go up to them and hand her a present? A complete stranger? Or should I introduce myself as the man who ruined their lives?”

“You haven’t ruined their lives,” Jett countered.

“Bullshit—”

Jett cut me off. “They could be completely fine, and you wouldn’t know that because you sneak around, hiding and living under a cloud, hoping for your death to come along quicker. Get your fucking head on straight and go see if they are truly hurting.”

It was the same rage Jett went on every few months once he couldn’t stand seeing me hurt anymore. I knew what my sulking did to him. I knew the position I put him in, and I felt bad he had to deal with my past.

“Drop it,” I warned. He was pushing my buttons, and I was about done with it.

Shaking his head, Jett leaned back in his seat. “I don’t get you, man. Why do you keep punishing yourself?”

“Why do you keep asking?”

“I have no clue,” Jett said softly, ending our conversation.

Silence rang as I found my way through the Quarter to the open market where vendors from around the city gathered to sell their homemade souvenirs and crafts. It was a tourist destination, but also, when you looked closely, past the knock-off sunglasses and corny T-shirts, you could find real treasure.

Once I found a parking spot, I cut the engine and studied the bottom of the steering wheel as I contemplated what I wanted to say to Jett.

“I know what happened that night was my fault, and I know you’ve done everything in your power to protect me, Jett, and I appreciate that.”

“It was for selfish reasons,” Jett cut in. I knew fully well Jett had protected me because he couldn’t lose me, not after he’d lost his mom.

“I know,” I responded. “When it comes to my life, you can protect me from the law, but you can’t protect me from my state of mind. The day my fist connected with Marshall Duncan, my life was taken from me, and it’s about time you accept that. The man you once knew no longer exists.”

With that, I got out of the car and headed toward the market, not turning to see if Jett was following me because I knew he would be. He never left my side.

The market buzzed with midday excitement, but there was nothing exciting about the task at hand. All it did was open me up to another kind of darkness that I welcomed with open arms.

***

“This is stupid,” I said, judging the present I tried to wrap. “It looks like a kindergartner wrapped this.”

“Then maybe she will think it’s from a friend.” Jett chuckled next to me.

“Why did you make me wrap it?” I asked, looking at the birthday candle-covered wrapping paper that was crunched together and held down by a long piece of tape.

“Because it was too comical to pass up,” he answered.

“You’re a dick,” I replied, fumbling with the wrapping paper. “If it was in the shape of a box, it would have been easier.”

“It’s a flat handbag,” Jett pointed out. “You just had to tuck the corners in nicely.”

“What are you, the fucking wrapping police?” I asked, trying to smooth out a wrinkle in the paper.

“No. I also don’t have time to sit around in the dark with you while you wait to drop off the present. Just do it already. I’m ready to eat dinner.”

“Missing a meal won’t kill you. You’re starting to look pudgy.”

It was the furthest thing from the truth. Jett was as toned as I was, thanks to our sparring sessions in the gym and the rigorous workouts I put him through.

“Pushing your luck, Haywood,” Jett grunted, answering emails on his phone.

I looked at the gift again, nervous. Was I doing the right thing? I thought of it as an act of kindness, the least I could do for Madeline, but how would she take it? How about her mother?

Jett and I had wandered the market for hours, examining every table until we found a gift we thought she would enjoy. I’d purchased a handmade bag that was pink and purple and made out of a fun printed fabric. It was very juvenile looking but perfect for a little girl. I didn’t know what she would do with a handbag, but I thought it would be a nice, bright gesture. Before I’d wrapped it, I slipped a note in the bag, a note of encouragement.

Love is unyielding, loss is undeniable, and love will help you move forward, which will show your true courage in life. Keep moving forward, Madeline. 

Words of wisdom I should have followed myself. I was too far gone to recover. I’d accepted my sentence, but Madeline still had a bright future ahead of her.

“Drop it off, Kace. I’m not going to let you skip out on this part.”

He knew me too well.

With reluctance, I opened the car door and got out, not letting the slam of a door echo through the silent night. I waited until the streets of the city emptied to drop off my gift.

I’d parked around the corner to go unseen. Silently, I made my way to the front of their house, stopping behind a tree to see if their lights were out. The streetlamp was ready to go out. I made a mental note to tell Jett about it so he could get someone from the city to replace the bulb. Jett had connections and could make things happen quickly, even if it was as simple as changing a light bulb.

The house Madeline and Linda lived in was small and quaint with green shutters and peach walls. Potted plants hung in front of the windows, and a cobblestone walkway let me to the front door.

Silently, with very little breath, I eased toward the door and placed the present on the welcome mat. Before I retreated, I observed the bright white door with wrought iron fixtures. The cottage-type house was a classic in New Orleans, warm and inviting.

I started to walk away but felt a pair of eyes on me. I stopped and looked around to see if anyone was eyeing me from their windows. All the houses were dark with curtains closed over the windows, blocking the view of any onlookers. It was dark enough I knew no one would be able to see who I was, but the feeling of eyes on me still felt eerie. I headed back to the idling car.

Once I got in, Jett said, “Did you drop it off?”

I nodded and buckled up. I took one last look at the neighborhood and inhaled a deep breath of relief. One birthday down, an eternity left to go.

Chapter Nineteen

My present…

Pound after pound, pain shot through my head, making my eye twitch and my brain seize. My stomach rolled with each step, but the pain was welcome. After a week of an alcohol-induced coma, I was feeling the effects.

I brought a water bottle to my mouth and relished the cool water that slipped past my dry lips and down my scratchy throat. Jett forced me to eat something, but I was regretting my intake of food as nausea once again embraced me.

I hated that I’d scared Goldie, that she’d feared for me. Jett knew my limits and knew I could slip into a much darker hole than where he found me, but Goldie hadn’t seen that side of me before. She tried to be tough most of the time, but I’d seen fear in her eyes when she’d looked at me today, an expression I never again wanted to see on her pretty face.

Goldie still affected me. From the moment I’d first met her, I’d known she was someone who would be a part of my life. There was no denying it.

The ache I’d had for her died though. The urge to claim her as mine, to tear her away from my best friend, was gone, and a true friendship was developing.

She had latched on to me, and now I had to deal with her worrying about what was going to happen with Lyla and me.

The minute she’d noticed I was coherent, she’d made it her mission to find out what had happened between me and Lyla. I’d spared her the details and said things hadn’t worked out. According to Goldie, that wasn’t a good enough explanation.

The badgering I’d received was the reason for my second wave of nausea and headaches. The little honey-haired girl was relentless when it came to her best friend. It wasn’t until Jett saw I’d suffered enough that he took Goldie away and shoved more food in my direction.

Feeling half human, I sat on the hood of Jett’s black Porsche Cayenne, nursing my water and waiting for Pepper to meet me in front of the hotel. I had one foot propped on the bumper of the SUV and the other on the ground, testing my half-drunken balance. The sun beat down on my back, and the Louisiana humidity made the alcohol seep from every pore in my body. Detoxing was a real bitch.

“God, could you look any sexier?” Pepper asked as she walked up to me, snapping gum in her mouth and sporting a pair of short denim shorts and a low-cut tank top. The girl was looking damn fine. She stood next to me and ruffled my hair. “You really nail that whole brooding man look.” She scanned my easy outfit of worn jeans and a white T-shirt. “Why is it so simple for a man?”

I took off my sunglasses and eyed Pepper up and down. “Why is it so simple for a woman?” I asked in return.

Pepper and I had had our on and off moments, especially after Jett and Goldie had finally started a relationship. We both had demons to fight off, and we found losing ourselves in each other’s bodies was an easy way to forget. It wasn’t until Lyla walked into my life that I had stopped all interaction with Pepper. It had been abrupt, but she’d known going into the arrangement it was just sex, nothing else.

Still, by the way she was eye-fucking me, I knew she wanted to go back to our old agreement. A part of me had thought about it during my drunken stupor. I’d thought about calling her, but I was too twisted to even lift my phone to text her, let alone fuck her senseless. Plus, in the back of my mind, I knew I would be hurting Lyla, and I didn’t want to do that.

Lyla and Pepper got along, but there had always been an underlying tension between the two girls when they were both working at the Lafayette Club. It was noticeable when they were in a room together. It made dealing with both of them that much harder.

“Where we off to?” Pepper asked, blowing a bubble with her gum.

“I need your help picking out a present,” I said, standing and catching my balance. I still felt like I had sea legs. “Want to drive?” I asked, unsure how sober I really was.

“Fuck yes.” She fist-pumped the air.

Instantly I regretted my decision to let Pepper drive. If she drove anything like Goldie, I would be needing a barf bag. According to Jett, Goldie was by far the scariest driver he’d ever been in a car with. Apparently she liked riding on the sidewalks, treating pedestrians like bumper cars, and defying any and all speed limits. With Pepper’s “fuck off” way of life and her free spirit, I could imagine what I was in for.

“Where to?” she asked after we got in, and she started the engine. She gripped the steering wheel tightly and pumped the gas a few times while we were still in park.

Jesus.

“Easy there, Mario Andretti. We’re just driving to the French Market.”

“Let’s see how fast we can get there,” she said, pulling into traffic and slamming on the gas. I flew back into my seat and my hand instinctively went to the “oh shit” handle above the door.

“Unless you want me puking in your lap, slow the fuck down, Pepper.”

Pepper laughed and dropped to the speed limit. “Jett was right. This is going to be fun.”

I should have known Jett had spoken with Pepper. He’d probably told all the girls about my drinking binge and asked them to be extra annoying around me. I wouldn’t put it past him. It would be his way of teaching me a lesson.

“Just fucking drive,” I replied, relaxing into my seat and pressing my throbbing head against the propped up hand that rested on the window.

“What kind of present are we getting?”

The girls didn’t know about Madeline. Only Jett knew, but he wasn’t able to come with me this year, so he’d sent the next best thing. She would understand my need not to talk about it, unlike Goldie, who would be asking a million questions. Babs was pre-occupied with helping out at Justice, and Francy and Tootse were no use because they were either too occupied with each other or Francy was trying to explain everything to little blonde Tootse. I would rather take Goldie over Tootse and Francy, and that was saying a lot.

Answering Pepper, I said, “A present for a little girl.”

“Um, that’s an odd thing for you to be getting. Care to explain?”

“Nope,” I replied, resting my head against my window.

And that was that. We sat in silence as Pepper drove to the French Market. We could have easily walked from the hotel, but I wanted to go straight to Madeline’s house afterward, and with the bitch of a hangover I was nursing, walking up and down the vendors row at the Market was going to be hard enough.

Since it was a Saturday, the Market was full when we pulled up, but we were lucky enough to find parking on a side street. With my sunglasses covering my bloodshot eyes, we walked through the Market, dodging tourists and avoiding the cheesy souvenir stands. I was looking for something handcrafted and original to New Orleans. Ever since the first time I’d bought Madeline a gift, it had been a tradition of mine.

I had no clue if she actually liked what I got her, or if she even opened the box. Her mom could have flagged the boxes as something from a psychotic and not even given them to her. If that was the case, I would continue to bring her presents on her birthday and Christmas because she deserved them, even though they might not be given to her.

“What about a voodoo doll?” Pepper suggested, grabbing a creepy-looking one off a table.

“Probably not the most appropriate gift,” I replied, trying to avoid eye contact with the doll’s wandering eyes.

“I had them when I was young. They never worked though. I asked for my teacher’s hair to burn every day, and every day she walked in with a full head of hair. Damn thing was a hoax.”

“That is so disturbing on so many levels, I’m not even going to ask.”

“Best you don’t.” Pepper smiled at me and continued to walk down the aisles of vendors.

We passed a vendor selling knock-off sunglasses and looked at each pair, examining the color and size.

“You know we’re not shopping for you, right?” I placed my hand on her back and leaned close so she could hear me over the bustling crowd.

“Can’t stop a girl from shopping.” She smiled back at me. “Hey, what about a necklace?”

Pepper led me over to one of many jewelers in the Market, but there was something about this vendor that was a little different. Her necklaces had more of a French feel to them rather than the typical beading. Silver pendants, dangling on delicate strands, were displayed on black velvet stands, catching my eye.

“These are kind of nice,” I said, looking at a circular pendant with a purple gem stone in the center. “But are they too old for a little girl?”

“Maybe,” Pepper said, eyeing a chunky turquoise necklace. I didn’t like it, but who was I kidding. I knew nothing about jewelry, so who was I to judge?

“Fancy meeting you two here.”

I froze and my hand instantly retreated from Pepper’s back as if she’d burned me. Not taking my aviators off, I looked up to see Lyla standing in front of us with a fake smile on her face. Even though I told myself not to check her out, my eyes betrayed me as I took in white shorts that showcased her gorgeous legs and a mint green T-shirt that dipped too fucking low in the front. She wore a pair of brown sandals that matched the belt she was wearing. Her hair was up in a ponytail, exposing her neck, her silky, caramel-colored neck, which enticed the fuck out of me.

She was breathtaking.

“Hey, Lyla,” Pepper said with a little too much cheer in her voice. She gave Lyla a hug. While Lyla wrapped her arms around Pepper, she maintained eye contact with me, searing me with her green eyes. From the way her jaw twitched and the hard set of her brow, I saw she was not happy. I didn’t blame her.

“Hey, Pepper,” Lyla practically whispered. “What are you two doing here?”

“Shopping,” Pepper answered innocently, not knowing the history between Lyle and me. “What are you up to, girl? We haven’t seen you in a while. Are you not working out with us anymore?”

Interesting. Lyla had stopped working out with the other girls, even though she still had access to all the amenities. Was that because of me?

Of course it was because of me. She was best friends with Goldie. The only reason Lyla wouldn’t be working out was because she was worried I would be in the vicinity.

Lyla shrugged. “I like to do my own thing.”

As Lyla and Pepper continued their small talk, I left their conversation and considered Lyla’s pink glossed lips glistening in the sun. Images of them sliding over my cock, over my rock hard body, over my own lips, ran through my mind. Yearning took up a place inside the pit of my stomach, and I itched to reach out to her. I not only wanted this woman, but I needed her.

Standing a few feet away from her, I felt the pull of our souls, the heady urge to claim her as mine. It was undeniable. Lyla was my other half. I’d known it from the moment I met her. I’d known she was supposed to challenge me, understand me, and give me everything I ever wanted. That was why I couldn’t love her, why I couldn’t be with her. There was no place on this earth for my happiness.

“How are you, Kace,” Lyla asked, taking me out of my thoughts.

“Fine,” I responded, not elaborating.

“Doing some shopping?”

“Looking for a present,” I answered.

She nodded. “Well, I guess I will leave you two to your date.”

Date? Oh hell.

“Not a date,” Pepper and I said at the same time.

Lyla smiled. “Could have fooled me.”

And then she walked away. I watched her retreat, her short shorts dancing dangerously with her ass cheeks. I wanted to rip her out of the crowd and block her from view of all the other men in the vicinity. I hated that she flaunted her body for the whole world to see. I hated that she worked at a fucking strip club, where men could see what belonged to me.

Fuck, what should belong to me. A tidal wave of torment attacked me as I tried to steady my beating heart.

“Hey, you okay?” Pepper asked, gripping my hand.

“No,” I replied, looking after Lyla.

Before I could stop myself, I moved forward until I stood right behind Lyla. “Lyla….”

She turned slowly, gripping her purse with one hand and putting the other in her pocket, striking a casual pose even though the tension between us was palpable.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

Fuck, what did I want to say? Many thoughts ran through my mind.

Forgive me. 

Be with me. 

Fucking save me. 

But I couldn’t speak any of those truths.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said, not giving me much time to gather my thoughts. Before she could entirely shut me out, I grasped her arm and made her face me. I slid my hand down her arm until our fingers linked together.

Her shoulders visibly deflated and the strong façade she’d erected around her heart came tumbling down with one squeeze from my hand.

“I’m sorry, Lyla.”

“For what?” she asked, searing me with her green eyes. “For treating me like a whore the other night, taking what you wanted, exposing me, and then leaving? Or are you sorry for not being man enough to be with me?”

My heart twisted in my chest. The last thing I wanted was to hurt Lyla. I needed more than anything to hold her in my arms, brand her as mine, live in her beauty. I’d never wanted to cause her pain, but that’s exactly what I’d done. I’d let her into my world temporarily and wound up hurting her because I wasn’t strong enough to say no.

“I didn’t mean to treat you like that,” I stated. “You’re the furthest thing from a whore, Lyla, so don’t ever call yourself that.”

“I’m just telling you how you made me feel, Kace. Did you think I would be okay with how you treated me? Do you think I enjoyed telling you my secrets and having you be repulsed?”

A lone tear ran down her cheek, but she pulled her hand out of my grasp and quickly wiped it away.

I gripped the back of my neck, a nervous tick of mine, as I tried to figure out how to fix this. No easy solution struck me, and that made me nervous. Even though I knew I couldn’t give her what she wanted, I still didn’t want to lose her.

There’d been a time in my life when I would have taken a woman like Lyla and never let her go. I would have instantly claimed her as mine and made sure every fucking penis in the locality knew it. It was a time in my life I would do anything to go back to. To just have a moment in time where I wasn’t wearing the weight of the world on my shoulders, where I could be the Kace I once was, the Kace who knew what it was like to live, to enjoy life.

I wasn’t that man anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I gave a little piece of my heart to her. “I wasn’t repulsed by you, Lyla. I was repulsed by myself.”

“Because you had sex with me?” she asked, getting in my face and ignoring the passing crowd.

I was about to answer when someone bumped my shoulder, sending my weight into Lyla. We both stumbled backward for a second before I was able to right our balance. I turned to see who’d bumped us and was greeted by an apologetic-looking man.

“Dude, sorry about that. This ‘gator jerky line is out of control.”

“No problem,” I said gruffly.

 “Hey, you’re Kace Haywood.”

I prayed he would just move on, forget he’d ever seen me. I didn’t need this right now.

“Dude, you were the shit. You had the sickest uppercuts I’ve ever seen.” The man threw a couple of fake punches my way. Little did he know, I had an uppercut that could end a life.

“Thanks,” I said, trying to give the guy a hint that I wasn’t interested in talking about my boxing career.

“Did you hear the trainer you were using—Jono—was nailed for slipping his athletes supplements? You should look into that because honestly, I didn’t think you would ever do steroids. This just proves that.”

“Yup, I’ll check into that. Thanks, man.” I shook the guy’s hand and pulled Lyla behind a pillar so we could have an ounce of privacy.

“That was kind of rude,” Lyla said. “That guy was being nice to you.”