“What do you mean? You know you can tell me anything, right?” I said grabbing his hand. I wanted him to know that I was serious about this.
“I made a stupid bet,” he finally admitted.
“What do you mean?” I wasn’t sure what to expect. Betting could be bad, and with the way he was acting, I was starting to assume it was really bad.
“Well, I made a bet on my last fight. I bet on myself to clear all my debt so I wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore and then, I lost. So, I made a new bet with the same guy, a bet to clear the debt I now owe him. If I win my next four, well, three now, fights, then I won’t owe him a thing.”
“And if you lose?” I didn’t want to ask, but something told me I should.
He was hesitant, like he didn’t really want to tell me, and that’s what worried me the most. It had only been one week since we’d first had sex, but I cared about him so much. I cared about him before that night too, but over the last week, it had grown immensely.
“If I lose, then I owe him double, and who knows what else he will do if I can’t pay that. Which I know I can’t,” he said solemnly. “My only choice is to win and keep winning. I cannot afford to lose.”
I stood up and moved onto his lap. He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Well then, you will just have to win them all.”
I couldn’t sleep that night. I was so worried about Justin and what he told me. He might have won this fight, but he still had three more fights to go before he could put the bet behind him. I tried not to think about what would happen if he lost any of them. I worried about Margie and what might happen to her if Justin lost.
I spent the night tossing and turning. I wished there was something I could do to help him, but all my ideas seemed to not match up to anything. I sure as hell didn’t have thousands of dollars laying around to fork over to help him out. I was sure I wouldn’t be working right now if I had that kind of cash just stashed around.
Chapter Thirteen
Justin
It was Saturday, the day after my fight. I walked into the gym thirty minutes early. I wanted to show Artie that I was trustworthy despite the bet I made. I hated that look he had given me and the way he got upset with me when I told him about the new bet I made. He was my coach and a great guy, and I didn’t like to see the disappointment on his face, especially when it concerned me.
The place was empty; I figured it was because no one ever got there that early. Usually people were still recovering from their hangovers at this time on a Saturday. I guess it helped that I was a parent. I never really went out drinking much. If I did, it wasn’t bad enough to leave me with a hangover.
Artie walked out from an office area. “You’re here early,” he said.
I put my gym bag on the ground. “I know. I want you to know how serious I’m taking this.”
“You better since your butt is on the line,” he said.
I didn’t know what else to say. I knew how upset he was with me, and I was not sure I could make him feel better about things. I just wanted to get the training over with and get home to my daughter. I didn’t want to feel like a child anymore.
“You were stupid for taking that bet,” Artie said as I stepped up to a punching bag to get some warm-up punches in.
I paused before I could even start. “I know it was stupid, Artie. But I had no other choice. I don’t have the money I owe him for the first fight, and it was the only thing I could think of to clear everything up.”
“You could have found another way.”
I looked at Artie. “Oh yeah? Like what?” I crossed my arms over my chest to let him know that I was getting tired of this. I knew it probably made me look like an asshole, but I was an adult, and Artie needed to realize that. He needed to know that I didn’t need someone parenting me.
I watched as Artie thought about my question. I could see he was trying to come up with something, anything, to prove me wrong. But the longer he spent thinking, the more I knew I was right. After two or three minutes, he said, “I got nothing,” and shook his head.
I went back to what I set out to do, satisfied that he couldn’t prove me wrong. I figured that could help us get on mutual ground regarding Markie. I still shouldn’t have made the bets in the first place, and I knew it.
I started hitting the punching bag. I did one hundred hits with my right hand and one hundred with my left hand. As soon as I was finished, Artie told me to go again, only faster. I did as he asked. It did not matter how upset I was with him or how upset I knew he was with me. He was my coach, and he was a damn good one. He knew what he was doing, and he knew what he was talking about.
I was breathless when I finished the next set of hits. I went after the punching bag with all my might. I took a little break before getting back to work.
I checked my phone to make sure there were no messages from my mom about Margie. I knew I was also checking to see if I had anything from Anna. I didn’t.
I moved on to do some Brazilian jiu-jitsu moves with Artie. He was really working me this time, but I didn’t mind. I knew it was what he needed to do, and I was trying my hardest.
“You need to try to work these moves in. I haven’t seen you use them much over the last few fights. I think they can really come in handy when you are up against someone like you were last night,” Artie said as we began working on some moves.
He was right. I needed to use more of a mixture of moves. My last few fights dropped to almost the same moves over and over again. That was going to make me weak against my next opponent, especially if he studied my last few fights. I needed to be ahead of the game if I was going to win.