Tapped (Totaled Book 2) (24 page)

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Authors: Stacey Grice

BOOK: Tapped (Totaled Book 2)
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            “Great. We’ll get to smell manure with our dinner.” He chuckled at himself and Joan shook her head with a boys-will-be-boys expression. “What are we having, anyway? It smells great!”

            “Pot roast,” I announced. It did smell good. I had been literally salivating over the smell emanating from the crockpot all afternoon. “So what brings you here? Everything okay?” I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer.

            “Man, you sure do cut to the chase. Everything’s fine. Lemme round up the man of the house and we can all talk about it over dinner.”

            He made his way quickly out the back door, on a mission, and I looked at Joan timidly, my apprehension showing.

            She consoled me with a soft pat on the back with her petite hand. “I’m sure it’s fine,” she reassured.

            Mick and Pat came up the stairs rambunctiously, joking and laughing with each other. I took a few deep breaths as they washed their hands at the kitchen sink before being seated with Joan and me. Once dinner was served up and the small talk had died down, Pat revealed why he’d shown up.

            “So, Drew, I’m here to talk some business with you.” My ears perked up and I halted my chewing. “I’ve got quite the proposition.” My eyebrows raised inquiringly and I waited for him to continue. “You’ve been offered a fight, and in my opinion, you’d be a fool to say no. But with the circumstances, the timing isn’t the greatest, so we need to all talk about it.”

            “I’ll tell you what, I’ll take my dinner into the family room and let you boys talk shop,” Joan whispered, collecting her silverware and her plate to excuse herself.

            “Please, no, Joan,” I insisted, lightly placing my hand on her forearm to stop her. “Stay and eat.” This woman had just prepared dinner and so graciously invited Pat in to eat with us all and I felt horrible about her feeling the need to leave the table.

            A thoughtful smile curved her mouth and she finished standing. “Don’t be silly. I don’t mind at all. This sounds like man talk. Y’all do your thing.”

            Pat cleared his throat and proceeded to tell me all about his promising phone call earlier in the day. “Do you know who Hayes Knox is?”

            I cut my eyes at him and stopped the motion of my fork in offense, like he’d just asked me if I’d ever heard of Santa Claus.

            He took that as a resonating yes and continued. “Well, he’s challenged you and Dana agreed to put you on as an undercard fight.”

            “When?” I asked eagerly.

            “That’s the sticky part. The fight is in three weeks,” he responded, shoving a way-too-large bite of food in his mouth once he got it out.

            I watched him chew it all up rapidly and let that sink in. Three weeks. Could I be ready in three weeks?

            “Really, two and a half weeks. We’d be traveling overseas so we would need you there four or five days before the fight to clear everything and get you used to the time change.”

            “Overseas?” I roared in surprise. I’d never been out of the country before.

            “That’s right. Abu Dhabi.” He revealed it like it was no big deal and I tried to keep my face blank. In truth, I had no idea where the hell Abu Dhabi even was. Thankfully, Mick spoke up, filling the gap.

            “Holy shit!” he exclaimed, catching himself and apologizing. “Pardon my French.”

            Embarrassingly, I had to ask, “Where exactly is that?” I ate a few bites to have something to do other than show my lack of culture.

            “It’s in the Middle East. Absolute paradise,” Pat replied in a singsong, dreamy voice. “Knox is all pissed that when you beat Purifoy, his ranking wasn’t affected. He’s looking to move up and reach for a shot at the title eventually. He wants to prove that your win was just a fluke.”

            I pictured Knox in my mind as he talked. He was smaller than me by an inch or two, if I remembered correctly, and he fought in a lighter division within the heavyweights, which meant I would have to shed about twelve pounds to make weight. I supposed we could agree to a catch weight and meet in the middle, but I didn’t think he’d agree to that when he was the one that actually had something to lose by fighting me. He was scrappy and swift and I’d be pushing it to prepare myself physically if I had any chance of beating him.

            “Are you getting this?” Pat questioned, raising his voice at my obvious distraction. I nodded and apologized for drifting off. “This is huge, ya know. If you found a way to pull this out and defeat him on an international stage, you’d be on the map for sure—potentially ranked in the top ten.”

            “Yeah, you’re probably right.” It felt surreal and I was definitely in disbelief.

            Pat scoffed at my lack of outward excitement, obviously frustrated. He set his fork down and clasped his hands together in front of him, resting his elbows on the table. “Drew, I need you to understand. People know
of
you now, but for Knox to challenge a newbie with no ranking is a big deal.
I
don’t even really understand it. But he has everything to lose and you, everything to gain.”

            I nodded, taking a huge gulp of my tea and finding myself chugging the entire Mason jar down in an attempt to quench my nervousness.

            “People will be pulling for an upset. You’re the underdog by a mile and if you beat him…if you win…you’ve made it.”

            I set my empty glass down and made eye contact with Pat. “I’ll need a passport. I don’t have one.”

            “So you’ll do it?” Pat snickered. “You’re in?”

            “Well, now wait a minute here…” Mick interrupted. “Drew, maybe you should think ‘bout this a little. Don’t make a split decision too soon.”

            “I don’t really have time to think about it. Gotta go with my gut on this one, Mick.”

            His lips fixed into a straight line in the center of his stern expression. He resumed eating, the sound of silverware clanking against the plate echoing in the awkward silence. After a few moments he turned his questions to Pat. “Dr. Greiner gave his blessing? I’m assuming that you’ve aw’ready spoken to him?”

            Pat shoved another bite of food into his mouth in avoidance of the question.

            “I see,” Mick jested. “Don’t ya think y’all should include his doctor in the decision?” I felt my heart swell at Mick’s concern for my well-being. “This ain’t some willy-nilly head cold you can drug up and push to the back burner. He’s got PTSD, for Christ’s sake!”

            “All right, Mick. Settle down. I’m not downplaying his condition. But this doesn’t happen every day. If he pisses away this shot, he may not get another,” Pat warned.

            “Don’t tell me to settle down, nuthin! He’s not some play toy you can take out on display whene’er ya want. He’s sick!” he barked, his face getting red with emotion.

            “I realize that. And I’m not aimin’ to treat him like any kind of toy. I care about him too. But I’m his coach and I can’t just not tell him when opportunities come his way that can make or break his career. That’s not up to me,” Pat defended.

            “But you can damn well include the appropriate people in the decision. You shipped him off to stay here, so ‘concerned’ ‘bout his health and keepin’ him away from yer daughter, but all of a sudden that don’t matter much. Gotta get that paycheck and cash in on—”

            “Could you please stop talking about me like I’m not here?”

            They both glanced up, surprised, as if they’d truly forgotten that I was still sitting there.

            “I appreciate your concern, Mick. Really, I do, and I know I should probably take a little more time off. But Pat’s right. This isn’t likely to happen again. I have to jump on it,” I declared.

            Pat looked pleased and Mick looked defeated. He had suffered from PTSD after the loss of his son and if anyone knew the battles I was facing with the condition and the nightmares, it was surely him.

            I looked to Pat and nodded. “You can talk to Dr. Greiner all you want, but I’m going to do it regardless.” I excused myself from the table, taking my plate and silverware to the sink to rinse off, making it clear to both of them that it was no longer up for discussion.

            Mick followed suit, addressing Pat and I before he left the room. “I just wanna go on record sayin’ that I think this is a mistake.”

            Pat and I were alone in the kitchen. I felt horrible that I was disappointing Mick after everything he had done for me.

            Pat filled the silence almost immediately. “I’ll need you back in Fernandina tomorrow. Stay tonight if you need to, but we start hardcore in the morning with two-a-days. We’ll arrange everything with Gibson to handle your passport, transportation, and fight contract. He should be able to draw it up to have you review by tomorrow afternoon.”

            “
We
?” I queried. “
We
will arrange everything?”

            “Bree will. I’ve already spoken to her.”

            It was a quiet admission, and it obviously pained him to mention her involvement, but hearing her name sparked a fire inside me and I wasn’t sure the fight was such a great idea anymore. I hung my head in doubt and Pat noticed.

            “She wouldn’t even entertain the idea until I came and spoke to you. Now that I have the green light from you, she’ll call Chris.”

            I leaned against the countertop, folding my arms in front of my chest in contemplation. “What about the gym? How do you want me to handle that—seeing her?” It was an honest question. I didn’t want to do anything to upset Pat, even though I felt like I had a little more of the upper hand now that I agreed to this fight.

            “I don’t,” he quipped. “I don’t want you to worry about it at all. You’re still not to see her. She’ll have your training schedule and she won’t be anywhere near the gym when you’re there. We have an understanding.” His expression was still and serious, determined.

            “Yes, sir,” I agreed, knowing full well that I would see her soon enough and I better figure out how I was going to handle that.

            Pat soon left, thanking Mick and Joan for their hospitality, and I closed myself in my room to make the necessary phone call. Dr. Greiner answered right away and listened attentively to me explain the whole scenario without interrupting. I felt like he was hesitant and a bit aloof about the whole thing, but I hoped that he understood that this was something I wanted to pursue. He ultimately sounded supportive, but with reluctance and caution in his tone. He stressed the importance of there being no interruption in our therapy during the weeks leading up to my departure and offered to drive to Fernandina whenever necessary, which I appreciated. I understood that I would be on my own while in the UAE but he even offered to speak to me on the phone anytime I wanted.

            It was really just up to me now, to do the work both physically and mentally. I needed to focus and buckle down. I was hell bent on this fight being a game changer.

 

Chapter Thirty

 

BREE

 

            From the moment my mother died, I’d been forced into a certain role, always just expected to take care of everyone and everything. And per usual, I’d done just that in this circumstance. The family was taken care of with a well-kept home and hot dinner on the table every night. The gym was functioning and firing on all cylinders, open and ready for business on a daily basis with everything revolving around our prize fighter’s schedule, including my own hours. I even had school under control, my assignments completed way before deadline.

            Everyone was happy. Everyone but me.

            I was expected to bend and compromise my needs based on everyone else all the time, and had always done it with very little griping. But I was growing more and more tired of no one ever asking if
I
was okay. Did
I
need anything?
It would be nice to hear “Is there anything I can do to help
you
?” for a change. No one seemed to care how all of this was affecting me or how I felt about any of it. I was expected to do what I was asked and roll with it, regardless of my opinions. It was getting old and as I sat stewing over it all, I finally heard a chime on my phone and saw Sue’s face appearing on the screen.

            “Brianne Abigail Murphy! I almost forgot what your voice sounded like,” she screamed the second I answered.

            “Likewise. I’m glad to hear you’re still alive and loud as ever.”

            “Yeah, sorry about that. Nursing school is a bitch. But I got to do chest compressions yesterday on some poor old man in CCU, so that was cool,” she proudly informed me, way too excited than she should’ve sounded about someone needing CPR.

            “Did you save him?” I inquired.

            “N-nope,” she faltered. “He’d been circling the drain for a while apparently, so there was nothing we could do.” It made me sad, but I tried to be supportive of her learning things that would hopefully be able to actually save someone in the future. “So what’s been going on with you lately? I feel like we haven’t talked in weeks.”

            It had only been about a week, but it did seem longer. I missed her and could definitely use someone to vent to. I told her everything that’d been happening…the notes between Drew and me, Alan coming to visit me and our interesting lunch conversation, and finally Drew’s upcoming fight. She listened quietly, which was very unlike her. I almost thought she wasn’t paying attention to me, until the revelation of Drew’s opportunity entered the discussion.

            “Hold up, so now that he has a chance to land a hefty paycheck and recognition for the gym, all is just magically forgiven?” she roared. “I don’t understand. Your dad is actually on board with all of this?”

            “It was
his
idea. I mean, not exactly his
idea
, but he was all for it the second the call came through,” I admitted. I noticed I was pacing throughout the conversation, the thought propelling a wave of anxiety and nerves rippling through me. “He’s back at the gym today. I’ve been banished.”

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