From the doorway, someone breaks into a slow clap. I cut my gaze over Q’s shoulder as he spins around. Joanie stands there with a wide smile and shimmering eyes.
“Thank God, because Gabe deserves someone who sees him for everything he is. And, Marcus, you need to get your head out of your ass and stop pretending there’s something wrong with what they’ve got. They love each other. End of story.”
Q shifts from facing his mom to me again. “I misjudged you. I owe you an apology, Scarlett.” He holds out his big hand.
“You don’t owe me anything, Q. But I’ll take a hug.” I open my arms, and he steps forward and embraces me like a real friend.
“Whoa. Whoa. What’s going on here?” Gabriel’s voice comes from the doorway behind Joanie. “Q, you better not be trying to snake my girl.”
Q releases me, and I step back toward the sink, feeling like I’ve just racked up a major victory. My gaze locks onto Gabriel’s blue eyes.
“I told Q he was an asshole, and he apologized. We’re all good now.”
The corner of Gabe’s mouth tugs upward, but before he lets it fully spread across his face, he turns to Q and asks, “You sure?”
Q turns to face him. “You did good with this one, brother. I approve.”
Gabriel shakes his head. “Didn’t ask for it, but I’m glad you’re starting to see what I do.” They hug, slapping each other’s backs. “But you better get out there and see if your dad needs CPR after the Jets fumbled that ball. I’ll help Scarlett with the dishes.”
“Oh no, you three go and watch the game. I’ll finish up in here. Scarlett, you’ve done more than enough.” Joanie waves at the drying rack full of clean dishes. “Please. I insist.”
“It was nothing. Thank you for an amazing meal.”
Gabriel holds out his hand and I walk toward him, but as I do, his phone rings.
He pulls it out of his pocket, looks down at the display, and up at me and Q. “It’s Johnson. What the fuck would he want now?”
“Maybe he’s going to apologize for leaving you high and dry while he coached Bodhi?”
Thirty-Four
Legend
I consider not answering the call, but curiosity gets the best of me.
“You got Legend,” I say in greeting.
“That’s some real low shit, Gabe. I didn’t think you’d take a shot that dirty,” Johnson says in reply. Even though I don’t have him on speaker, he speaks so loudly that everyone in the kitchen can hear him, and Q’s head jerks back.
“What the fuck are you talking about? What dirty shot?”
“Trying to take out Bodhi’s knee so he can’t fight. I never would’ve thought I’d see the day. I feel like I don’t even fucking know who you are anymore. First, shutting down Urban Legend without so much as a warning. Then pretending like you’re legit—even looking the part too, with that rich chick you’re parading around town, and now this? Yeah, I’m real fucking glad I’m not in your corner.”
My brain is running riot, latching onto each statement with confusion, because I don’t have any idea what Johnson’s talking about.
I start with the first part. “Someone went after Bodhi? Is he okay? Can he still fight?” I ask, not sure whether I’m going to get an answer out of the pissed-off coach, but I figure it’s my only shot to understand what the hell is going on.
“Don’t act like you don’t know.”
Scarlett curls herself into my side, and I wrap my arm around her waist.
“Ron, I don’t fucking know. I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about. I’m at a fucking barbecue in Jersey. Been here all afternoon. If someone came after Bodhi, it sure as shit wasn’t me. I got a whole yard full of witnesses if you want to talk to them.”
“I don’t give a damn if you’ve got a convent full of nuns vouching for your whereabouts. You could’ve paid someone easy.”
“Why the fuck would I want to take out Bodhi? I need this fight, Johnson. Think for a goddamned second.”
“I am thinking, and all I can figure is that you’re trying to pussy out of this fight. You’re afraid you’re gonna lose, so you’re trying to save face. If Bodhi can’t fight, your club still gets paid as the venue. You take part of the gate. You don’t need to risk your ass getting handed to you in the cage to cash out.”
I can see where he’s coming from, but he’s totally wrong. “I got nothing to gain by Bodhi getting hurt, and you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. I have everything to lose if he can’t fight.”
“Bullshit.”
“Let me talk to him,” Q says, holding out his hand for the phone.
“Is that your Puerto Rican sidekick? He got the same alibi as you?”
“Yeah, that’s Q. And it’s his family’s house we’re standing in right now.”
Johnson huffs. “Let me talk to the prick.”
I hand the phone over, even though I don’t really want to.
“What the fuck happened?” Q asks him after he taps the speaker icon on my screen. “And drop your accusations for a hot fucking second so we can discuss this like adults.”
“Bodhi was leaving practice. Someone came out of the alley and went after his knee with a pipe like he was Nancy fucking Kerrigan. I saw the whole thing. Big dude. Black hoodie. Face covered. Could’ve been either of you.”
Q rolls his dark eyes and takes a deep breath before he flies off the handle too soon. “It wasn’t. We were both here.”
“Then someone you paid.”
“You know damn well that isn’t like me, and it doesn’t make any sense,” I say before Q can speak. “You know I always bet on myself. That’s exactly what I’m doing here. I need this payday, Johnson. Taking Bodhi out doesn’t do shit for me. I need him in the cage where I can beat him and cash in on the odds.”
Johnson goes quiet for a few seconds. Joanie shuffles her feet beside me, and I have to wonder if she’s holding her breath.
“If it wasn’t you, then who?”
“Someone who doesn’t want the fight to happen,” I say quietly.
“Yeah, and who the fuck would that be?”
Q and I lock eyes.
“Rolo. Rolo’s got nothing to lose, and he doesn’t want this fight happening. Not legit, anyway.”
Johnson’s growl comes over the line. “If that piece-of-shit motherfucker went after my fighter because of some beef he’s got with you, then this is still on your head, Legend. You fucking fix this, or I’ll tell everyone it was you.”
Scarlett squeezes my arm.
“What do you want me to do?” I ask.
“Cover Bodhi’s expenses at the hospital. They’re letting him out soon. His knee is gonna be fine, just so you know. And we’re not letting this stop us. He’s going to beat you. You know he would’ve last time. You just got lucky.”
Hearing that out of my old coach’s mouth is like a dull knife to the back.
“We’ll cover his medical costs. But only because I’m a decent guy. This isn’t my fault. If this was Rolo, then he’ll answer for it, but I’m not taking the blame. You start that rumor, then we’re going to have some real problems, and that’s on top of the fact that you bailed on me and went straight to the enemy. I never did get a straight answer on why that was. You care to fill me in here, Johnson?”