“How do you mean?”
“Like, I could slap on some makeup and sweet-talk money from old people, but put it to good use. Charities, shelters, helping people. I want to do something good with my ass-patting. But for now…” I shrug. “I’m still pretty new. So I’ve gotta work up to that, I suppose.”
“For now, you’re padding the pockets of the folks at Monaco.”
I nod. “None of that money is helping anyone except a Tosky. It… doesn’t feel nice, now that we lay it out like that.”
“You’re helping broke fighters,” he volunteers helpfully. He could agree that my job is bullshit. He could agree that my family is greedy and needs to stop hoarding fortunes, but instead, he makes it so I can feel a little less guilty. “That endorsement deal will line a lot of fighters’ bank accounts by Christmas.”
“You’re already wealthy. You don’t need more.”
“Not me,” he chuckles. “Most of the fighters that come to Stacked Deck are broke, Maddi. They’re on their last leg, scraping the peanut butter jar. They train hard all year, they risk everything on this tournament, then they drive across the country and pray their training was enough.”
“Evie said she announced the new purses already.”
“Uh huh. And fighters were scrambling to sign up. You know that guy from last night, Iowa?”
“Alyssa’s father?”
“Yeah, him. He was one of them. He was so broke that he and his baby had to hole up in the town’s shittiest hotel for a week each year. He barely ate, he couldn’t afford gym memberships. All he could do was provide for Lyss, then go into his yard and bust his ass to become the best.”
“He did?” I think of the smiling man from last night. So handsome, so happy as he sat and ate with his family. “He became the best?”
“He fought, he dominated, he won. And now look. He has money, his little girl is happy and safe, and they never have to worry about food or money again. You know Mac?”
I frown. “Lucy’s boyfriend. Of course.”
“Well, he’s one of them. Broke as fuck, a heart transplant recipient from when he was a teen. He was born poor, and every time he turned around, he got poorer. Life has not been fair to that guy, but he gets up every day, he trains, he does his best.”
“Did he win?” Heart transplant? “Did he finally get rich?”
Bry hesitates. “Not yet. For Iowa to win, Mac must lose. For Mac to win…”
“Lyss has to see her dad lose.”
“Yeah, well…” He seems to shake that off. “He fought the first year, but he lost to Iowa. Second year, he forfeited for personal reasons. Third year, he sat out with Lucy.”
“And this year?” My grin creeps up. “Is he fighting this year?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He sounds proud like a father. “He’s training hard, everything is lining up for him. He’s healthy, Bean’s training him again, even Iowa is training him.”
“But he’ll be fighting Iowa!”
He laughs. “All is fair in love and war. They train together in the gym, but come the night of the tournament, they’re both gunning for that purse.”
“But only one of them can win.”
“I know. They know. It’s a sport, and only one will win. They’ll both do their best, and I guess… we wait and see.”
“Will the loser be mad?” I whisper. “In my family… well…” I cough out a laugh. “In my family, this just wouldn’t happen. We wouldn’t set up one family member with certain loss. Therefore, we would never put two family members into the same competition. But say we did… the loser would not be feeling all that friendly toward the winner when it’s all over.”
I wish this was a video chat, so I could see what I’m certain is a shrug. I want to see his eyes. His smile. “It’s the name of the game. We can’t hand out participation trophies. So… you fight, you win. If you lose, you go home and work harder the next year.”
I frown. “You make it sound so easy.”
“It’s not.” His breath comes out on a soft chuckle. “Ask Mac. He’ll tell you how hard it is. But the alternative is to lay down and quit. And…” He considers. “I don’t know anyone who would do that. Wanna come to my house for dinner tonight?”
“Oh.” My eyes pop wide. “Um… what?”
He laughs. “Come back here, Maddi. I’m not done with you yet. I saw you an hour ago, and I already miss the shit out of you.”
“Can you believe we’re having this conversation?” I whisper. “On Friday, I was ready to run you down with my car. Monday arrives, and suddenly my heart races when you smile.”
And now, I know he’s smiling. “When it’s right, it’s right. You’re probably going to complain of whiplash when this is all done, but I don’t even care. I have feelings for you, and in my world, we don’t ignore that shit. In my world, once we meet someone that means something, a clock begins.”
“A clock?”
“Mmhmm. We have a finite amount of time on this planet,” he murmurs. “We only live so long, and there ain’t a damn thing any of us can do about it. Some of us die young, others live until we’re old and graceful like my grandma. But no matter what, we don’t know which straw we chose until it – whatever it is – happens. Could be cancer, could be a car accident, or it could be a broken heart.”
“Your speech is making me sad.”
He chuckles. “My point is, that clock doesn’t feel all that scary when we’re young and having fun. But when you meet someone that makes your heart race faster…”
I bring a hand up to my chest.
“Then we know the clock has begun,” he murmurs. “And once you hear it ticking, wasting time is stupid. So…” His tone lightens. “Dinner?”
My lips move toward a no, but my bobbing head says differently.
“Okay.” I frown. “Sure. Dinner.”
“Sleep in my bed?”
I laugh. “Sure.”
“Tomorrow night too?”
“Dude!”
He barks out a loud laugh. “Alright. We’ll take it day by day. I’ll call you again tomorrow and tell your assistant my name is Dick Banger. You’ll know it’s me when you get the fake names.”
“You’re an idiot.”
I’m falling in love with the smile I see in my head. And that’s about the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever thought.
“Maybe call my cell,” I continue. “Video call.”
“Touch yourself under the desk?” He pushes. Pushes. Pushes. “Show me how you touch yourself at work.”
“You’re despicable. And I have an event on Wednesday evening, so I can’t come over that night.”
“What event?” His voice turns into a verbal pout. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m telling you now!” I laugh. “And it’s an art auction.”
“Ew…” I guess I’m in love with his ‘just sucked on a lemon’ face, too. “Art? You guys are in the car business.”