Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
But we’d hopped into the Circuit too fast in the first place. We couldn’t do the same with this offer.
“I’ll talk to the guys and call you before the next fight,” I answered.
“I’ll get the shirts ready.” He smiled like it was already a done deal and held out his hand. “Nice doing business.”
“You can keep your fucking business,” I spat and turned away from him. If I stared at his shark-like grin any longer, I was going to be arrested for battery.
His footsteps echoed and disappeared a few moments later. I ran a hand through my hair and scratched at my scalp. The pain was nothing compared to the dull ache in my temples. At this point, it might have been better to start my own damn Circuit, fit with blackjack and hookers.
The parking lot grew busy with activity not long after Scotty left. The other fights were over. Excited spectators gushed about the rest of the fights on the docket. Some kids screamed as their siblings fake-punched them like the boxers in the ring. And not one of them said our name as they climbed into their cars and left me in silence.
Smiley’s was on the fast track to being forgotten.
“Frankie, there you are.” A soft hand slipped along my shoulders. Ari peeked around, her expression worried. “Have you been out here the whole time?”
“What else was there to do?” I asked
“Watch the other two matches. Lud’s lost. We’re in eighth now.” She snorted and leaned her back against the car. “What are the odds we can get into the finals without even throwing another punch? One in a million?”
“Not a bet I’d take.”
“It could make us millionaires,” she teased.
“Then we could sponsor ourselves.” I turned to her and shook my head. “Did Scotty Green approach you?”
Her grin soured. “Ugh. Unfortunately. I said I’d talk to you before making any decisions.”
“Don’t worry, he beat you to it.”
“Really?” Ari sighed. “What do you think? Other than ‘I want to bash his face in’ or ‘He can shove that towel up his ass.’”
“Am I really that obvious, Ari?”
“To me, you are. I can read you like the back of my hand. Comes with the territory.” She set a hand on my forearm and laughed. “Bones said he’s ready for the next match. He wants to win. So do the rest of the guys.”
“And we can’t do that without a sponsor.”
“I don’t want to rush into a decision, but we have three days until the next matches in San Francisco.”
“And that’s a long-ass drive.”
“Well, think of all the extra spare parts we’d get for free if our car broke down.”
I snorted and shook my head, tucking a loose piece of hair behind Ari’s ear. She was dynamic. Smoking hot, always willing to try new things, never giving up, even on a piece of shit like me. But the thing I loved most about her was her tenacity. Her ability to laugh in the face of bullshit and find a new solution. And her knack for pulling me into her orbit and shining a little light over my darkest thoughts.
“Then we’re going with the felon?”
Ari hesitated before she nodded. “One month. That’s it. Then we can kick all of these assholes to the curb.”
“Make that a clause in our contract and I’m in.”
“Deal.” Ari smiled at me and lit up my world. “Come on, Coach, let’s make Smiley’s a winner.”
Chapter
Twenty-One
BONES
Istuffed another pair of socks into my bag when someone knocked on my door.
Lotto peeked his head inside my bedroom before opening the door fully and leaning against the frame. “All packed?”
“Almost.” I set my hand over the large bag. “Just need to pack some snacks for the road.”
Or pack another distraction. Seattle to San Francisco was an insane drive, and we were insane for doing it. But with such short notice, Scotty balked at the prices of flights for six people and said he’d “fund the next fight after this one.” So, we didn’t exactly have a choice but to hit the road bright and early in hopes of making it to California on time.
But that gave plenty of time for my thoughts to run wild.
My hand was better, and the doctor had given me approval to start fighting again. I told Ari I was ready. But was I? I hadn’t had a real match in five weeks. Frankie had been on my ass during my rehab, but I could tell he was taking it easy on me. Was I really ready to go against the big dogs standing between us and the top four?
“Think about the snacks later.” Lotto tilted his head. “You’ve got a package.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
“It’s from Mexico.”
I snapped up my head. “From Dad?”
“It’s in the kitchen. You should see for yourself.”
I sprinted out of my room, Lotto on my heels. The box sat on the kitchen table, covered in brown paper packaging and enough tape to fill a landfill. It was from Dad, all right. Sent in his name. But the address wasn’t from Mexico City. It was from another city in Northern Mexico.