Shit. My gut churned. Part of me wondered if turning this guy away made my choices just as fucked up as my dad’s. “The gym is not on the market. It would just be a waste of your time and mine.”
Garret sighed and glanced down the street before turning back to me. “I know you’re in trouble with the bank.”
Heat crawled up my neck, but I kept my voice neutral despite my anger. “Yeah? And how the fuck would you know anything about my finances?”
He shrugged. “I know people.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know me, Garret. I’m not selling my gym.” I crossed my arms over my chest and spread my legs.
Garret’s gaze drifted over me. “I understand pride, Mr. Morgan. But if you’d put yours aside for a minute, you’d realize I’m doing you a favor.”
“Yeah, sure.”
His smile was thin, half amused, half pissed off. “When the bank takes this place from you, they’ll auction it off on the cheap.”
Like I didn’t know this. I had nightmares about it. They’d auction off my gym and then turn around and suddenly I’d be on stage. Behold the final death of a broke-down boxer’s pride. So, yeah, I knew about pride. Sometimes it was all you had.
“Makes me wonder why you’re bothering now, instead of waiting.”
Garret shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a nice guy.”
“Maybe.” But he wasn’t. In my experience, no one was when it came to money. No, somewhere in Garret’s head, he feared I wouldn’t fail and he wanted to snap the gym up now. It bolstered me, and I stared him down.
Finally, he nodded. “You know where I am if you change your mind.”
The tension released from my body as he walked back to his fancy SUV.
Carlos’s shoulders sagged but his chin remained stubbornly fixed. “You’re doing the right thing.”
“Am I?”
He nodded. “It’s the last resort. We’re not there yet.”
“All we got is ourselves. And the promise of Parker Brown’s connections.”
“You better hope your fake sweetheart has some generous ones.”
I didn’t know what I’d do if Fairchild failed to take the bait. But I’d figure it out when I got there. The gym door squeaked open. Dean frowned down at us. “Who was that?”
“Who?” Carlos parroted, looking around. “I don’t see anyone.”
Dean rolled his eyes. “The guy in the Land Rover. You know, the one with the chauffeur?”
My jaw clenched. “One of Parker’s friends looking for boxing lessons.”
Carlos muttered at my side—something about my lying abilities being faster than my jabs.
I headed back up the stairs. “You finished with the files?”
Dean was still peering down the road, a thoughtful look on his face. “Fuck you, Rhys.” His blue eyes, the exact color of my mother’s, met mine. “I thought you were getting me a coffee.”
“I was just about to go. You want to come?”
He got a look on his face as though he couldn’t figure out if I was still messing with him. I wasn’t. For once, I didn’t want to fight with my baby brother. I wanted to remember what it was like when we got along. I wanted to forget this fucking day.
“Naw,” he said. “I’ll just grab a Coke out of the machine.”
He slipped back inside, and I tried not to feel disappointed. Without thought, I pulled out my phone.
RhysThis: Tink, about this stripping gig. Am I going to need a sparkly thong? Or are you down for the full monty?
Parker didn’t answer. And I tried not to feel disappointed about that either.
Eight
Parker
I paced the sitting room in the apartment I shared with Zoe. My mind volleyed between giving up the ruse with Rhys and finding a new job.
Out of my periphery, I could see my roommate’s head swinging as she watched me.
“I don’t understand why those are your only options,” Zoe announced.
I halted mid-pace and stared incredulously at her. “Did you not hear what happened?”
“Yes. And I think you’re making way too big a deal out of it.” She took a sip of wine, curled up on the opposite couch, casually, and completely immune to my glare. “Honey, you hate lying. You hate lying so much, it’s a surprise you haven’t broken out into hives. Because of that, you’re making what happened today into something it’s not.”
Slumping down onto the other couch, I put my own glass of wine on the glass coffee table and rethought the events of today.
It was Thursday, almost a week since I’d texted Rhys about the strippers, and I still hadn’t seen him. There had been no