The Best I Could (11 page)

Ray laughed, the sound echoing. “I’m not sure
who’s going to be more surprised … you or the kids.”

He prattled on, sinking into a breathless
monologue about the gym, its goals, the different programs, and
what I was expected to do. I was one of three trainers working in
the troubled youth program and the only one with a record.

“First indication you’ve been drinking and
you’re out,” Ray spat out of nowhere. “These kids mean more to me
than you do.”

I stared. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

“They all say that, don’t they?” Mouse threw
in. He was punching the heavy bag again, but he’d altered his
stance and his swing.

“Just keep your nose clean,” Ray warned.

Whatever reply I would have given was drowned
out by the gym door bursting open, a group of out of breath teens
skidding in.

“What the fuck, Roger?” one of them—a tall,
lean, fair-skinned boy with bright red hair—roared.

“You talking to me, carrot?” a broad,
olive-skinned boy bellowed in return, his open hands slapping his
chest. Inviting a fight.

Five more boys followed them, their eyes
hungry for action. All of them appeared somewhere between fifteen
to seventeen-years-old.

“Leave the disputes outside the door!” Ray
hollered, his gaze swinging to mine. “Ready for this, capo?”

I froze. “Now?”

Ray grinned. “The best way to deal with lions
is to get thrown straight into the den. They’re a pretty new class,
mostly beginners. Start where you feel comfortable with that.” He
pointed at his eyes and then at me. “I’m watching you.”

By the play of dominance
spilling into the gym—the redhead having acquired two of the boys
at his back and Roger having attained three—Ray was going to be
lucky if I didn’t challenge them all. By the look of things, there
was too much anger and too little respect in those boys. Truth be
told, there was too much of
me
in them.

“You going to hit each other?” I called.

Roger looked up, his chin lifting, his black
hair catching the light. “Man, you don’t know nothing.”

I cringed.
“
Anything.
What is
it about the kids in this town and grammar? You think talking that
way makes you sound bad ass?” I nodded at the gym. “I’m Eli.
Not
dude
or
man
, and I have the
unfortunate job of getting to work with you guys. So move it.
Stretch first.”

“With you?” Roger asked. “What kind of shit
is that?”

I smiled, flashing my teeth. “The court
appointed kind.”

“You ain’t no juvenile,” Redhead said, his
eyes narrowed.

My smile grew.
“
Aren’t a
juvenile.
Trust me, bad grammar doesn’t make you look cool, it makes you look
ignorant. I’m here because I’ve got to be. That’s all you get,
boys.”

Ray walked behind me, throwing them a look.
They straightened, grumbling as they finally filed past, their
anger deflating.

“It’s bad enough we’re here. Now we get a
loser trainer on top of it,” Roger mumbled in passing.

My gaze trailed him, my grin never fading.
First the animal rescue and now this. Group therapy at the hospital
looked a lot more appealing.

Tansy

“Hey!”

We were just outside the gym door when
Jonathan Blackledge intercepted us. His cheeks were flushed, his
breath coming in pants.

He smiled. “What are you doing here?” he
asked, his eyes on me.

“She’s being a bitch,” Deena answered in my
stead, shading her eyes. “Who are you?”

Jonathan’s brows rose, his gaze dropping to
her face. Understanding dawned. “You must be the sister with the
scratchy façade.”

Silence.

Deena glared at me. “What the hell? You said
that?”

I sighed. “Deena, this is Jonathan. Eli’s
brother.” My eyes found his. “You waiting on him?”

He nodded. “I guess you could call it that.
I’ve mostly been hanging out in town all day, but Eli should be
done,” he glanced at a white gold watch on his wrist, “in the next
half hour.”

Deena laughed. “Ah, so you’re related to the
alcoholic.”

More silence, the quiet full of awkward
animosity.

“Watch it now,” Jonathan said finally,
stiffening. His gaze passed over her slowly. “I don’t know you so
I’m reserving judgement, but keep the anger to your side of the
family.”

Blinking slowly, I mumbled, “I’m sorry.” The
apology came too easy. I’d done way too much apologizing for my
family over the past few years. Placing my hand against Deena’s
back, I added, “We’ve got to go.”

Jonathan nodded. Unasked questions flooded
his face, but he kept them to himself.

Stepping back, he pulled the door open for
us.

I prodded Deena through it.

The boxing gym was full when we entered. Cold
air slammed us in the face, the smell of leather, sweat, and
disinfectant flooding our noses. The air conditioner whirred,
blowing through a room drowned in fluorescent lighting. Punching
bags of all shapes and sizes lined the walls. I didn’t know what
any of them were called, and I didn’t care.

Noise closed us in;
murmuring, yells, and a consistent
thump,
thump
or
thap,
thap, thap.

Deena shivered, her attitude rapidly
deflating. “This is ridiculous,” she hissed.

Maybe she was right. I’d
only spotted two women and one teenage girl inside the place. The
rest were male. Deena suddenly looked too small to be here.
I
felt too small, not
because the room was full of large people—it wasn’t—but because it
was full of too much energy.

An odd-looking man, his face covered in
wrinkles and his body wrapped in a suit, approached us. A lopsided
fedora sat on his head.

He grinned, the smile throwing webbed skin
around his eyes and lips. “Welcome, ladies. I’m Ray, the owner of
Rebels. Come to sightsee or are you interested in the sport?”

Deena’s head dropped.

I offered him my hand. “Tansy Griffin,” I
greeted. “This is my sister, Deena. I heard that you might have a
program for troubled youth.”

Ray’s curious gaze passed between us.
“Troubled, huh?” He squinted. “Which one of you am I supposed to be
interested in?”

Deena hooked her thumb at me. I ignored
her.

“What makes you eligible for something like
that?” I asked.

Ray studied my face. “We usually look at what
kind of dough you’ve got first, then we case the possible
candidate.”

I stared. “Dough? Like money?”

He winked. “That’s right. You hurting
there?”

My head shook. Our grandmother had a great
job, even if she did live a minimalistic lifestyle. Honestly, I
preferred that.

“Got a record?” he continued. “Ever been in
the joint?”

“In jail?” I asked. “Um … no?”

“Any diagnosed attention or behavioral
issues?”

“No.”

He shrugged. “Then I’m not sure—”

“This is fucked up,” Deena
interrupted. Her gaze found my face, her voice rising. “There isn’t
a reason I should be here, and you know it!
You
need the help, Tansy.”

“Deena—” I began.

“Don’t Deena me!” she cried, her cheeks
flushing. She was humiliated. I knew it because I was, too. This
had been a very bad idea.

“Hey,” a familiar voice broke in. “Roof
girl?”

My gaze rose to find Eli Lockston standing
next to the man in the black suit. A triangle of sweat marred a
gray, sleeveless shirt, his chest rising and falling with each
panting breath. My embarrassment grew.

Ray eyed him. “You know these two?”

Eli ignored him, his narrowed gaze on me.
“Hey,” he coaxed.

My eyes met his, and he inhaled. I didn’t
know what he saw in my face, but it felt like he saw too much.

I looked away.

“You come to learn to box?” Eli asked my
sister, his attention diverted.

“No,” she huffed. “I came
because
she
dragged
me here.”

“For the At-Risk Youth program,” Ray said
quietly to himself, his gaze studying Deena. “Is there an adult to
sign off on this? There’s some paperwork that would need to be
filled out. We also have a work study program for those who can’t
afford classes.”

“My grandmother,” I murmured.

“I don’t need this,” Deena
cried. “
She
does!
She’s the one who helped him. She’s the one who helped our father
kill himself!”

The gym fell into silence, Deena’s yell
echoing.

My heart plummeted to my feet. Deena was
reaching, and I didn’t blame her. I’d thrown this boxing thing on
her out of nowhere all because Eli’s words the night before had
pulled me in. Deena’s anger had prompted Hetty’s agreement. Now
that my sister knew she wasn’t getting out of it, she was in attack
mode. It would have hurt less if I didn’t agree with her.

Eli leaned toward her. “Maybe you should stop
making accusations and start working out that anger.”

Ray watched them, a curious look on his face,
before he turned, walked into an office behind the wall of punching
bags, and then returned with a sheaf of papers.

“Bring these back, and we’ll see what we can
do,” he told me.

My face burned, any words I might have said
shamed out of me.

Deena smirked. “Do I get to hit you?” she
asked Eli.

“You’ll get the chance,” he hedged. “At some
point.”

Deena glanced at the gym, at the punching
bags, the ring, and the ceiling-mounted televisions. Her gaze fell
on a woman working a blue bag, her forehead creased, sweat dripping
down her brow.

“Whatever,” she muttered, her face
falling.

Shoving past me, she bumped into my side,
pulled the gym door open, and stormed outside.

“She’s interested,” Ray said, grinning.

Surprised, I glanced at him, Deena’s words
digging a hole in my heart. “How can you tell?”

He peered at me. “Because they all come in
like that. All spit and fire and fight. Feigning disinterest when,
truthfully, you never would have gotten her in here if she wasn’t a
little fascinated.”

I gripped the papers he’d given me. “Thank
you.”

Lifting his fedora, he winked and walked
away.

Eli stared down at me. “What about you?” he
asked. He gestured at the room. “Think you might be
interested?”

“In boxing?” I shook my head. “This isn’t my
kind of thing.”

“You know that how?”

“Because it isn’t,” I said, my tone
final.

“Hm,” he whispered. “How do you know you’re
going to hate something when you haven’t given yourself a chance to
like it?” My stomach knotted. “You’ve got a lot going on behind
those eyes of yours, roof girl.”

I dropped my gaze. “Who doesn’t? Stay out of
my head, okay?”

He bent, his eyes trying to capture mine.
“Things always look different in the light, don’t they?”

Without thinking, shock impelling me, I
stepped in closer to him. “What’s up with you? Why are you being so
persistent?”

“Because you’re not crying,” he answered.

I gaped at him. “What?”

“You should be crying. If not from grief,
then from humiliation. After what your sister said and all.”

Anger unfurled within me,
growing like a cancer, his words gutting me. “You asshole,” I
hissed, being careful to keep my voice low. “Do you do this to all
girls? Because you hate women so much? Is that it? Are you
trying
to make me
cry?”

We were too close, but I didn’t step
away.

Eli drew back. “Maybe I’m curious,” he said,
surprising us both. “I’ve seen women cry over less. Hell, I’ve seen
my mother cry over a broken nail, and I can’t help but wonder …”
His words trailed off.

“Your mother?” I whispered. “Are you
comparing me to her? Do you compare all women to her?”

He snorted. “I’ve been with a fair share of
women.”

“Not the right ones obviously.”

His brows rose, and he leaned forward
again.

The gym door opened.

We straightened. Too quickly. Warm air
fluffed my hair.

“Hey,” Jonathan stepped into the gym, his
eyes finding Eli’s face before dropping to me. “Everything okay?”
He gestured at the door. “I just saw your sister storm by and
wanted to make sure nothing bad happened.”

“Yeah,” I answered. “Everything’s fine. I’m
finished here anyway.”

Jonathan glanced at his brother again, and
then opened the door for me.

I froze, my gaze finding Eli’s. “What
couldn’t you help but wonder?”

Avoiding his brother’s inquisitive stare, Eli
stepped forward, gripped my elbow, and leaned over so that his lips
rested next to my ear.

Fire shot down my body, the flame lit by his
sudden touch.

“What would it take to make you cry?” he
whispered, his breath stirring the hairs at the nape of my
neck.

He released me.

I shivered, threw one more startled glare in
his direction, and left.

The brothers didn’t follow me.

I waited until I was at the van, my sister
slumped moodily in the passenger seat, before I let myself exhale,
the sound unsteady.

“Happy now?” Deena asked when I pulled open
the door. “What was this, Tansy? You looking to help me, or you
looking to talk to that Eli guy?”

Climbing in, I glanced at her, and decided to
be honest. “I don’t know. A little of both I think.”

Silence.

“Deena?” I asked quietly, swallowing hard
past the lump forming in my throat. “Do you really think I helped
Dad kill himself?”

She stared at me, something akin to guilt
crowding her eyes. “Honestly?”