Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 262(@300wpm)
And it was time Scotty Green learned not to mess with the Smiley’s family.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
BONES
The referee threw up my hand. The crowd went wild.
Another fight. Another win.
And it still wasn’t enough.
Smiley’s was on a hot streak, but so was every other damn team in the top four. St. Luka’s won their last three matches 3-0 to solidify them as third. The first-place team was those pricks at Base One Gym, who’d bulldozed their way to the top.
In a close second was Neurosport, a team from San Diego who kept sliding down the rankings but still were a good handful of matches ahead of us.
Fourth place was our best—and only—bet.
Right now, it was Fitspiration, a gym from Sacramento with a powerhouse for a third. He was second in the individual rankings behind River. But they had a Pinstripe-sized problem of their own and exchanged spots with St. Luka’s a few times over this week.
We were three wins behind them with only two weeks to go.
Our window to make the top four was closing.
So was our window to tell Scotty Green to fuck off.
Ari had been stalling the best she could. Telling him she couldn’t find a buyer. Throwing out some of the product and saying River and I were taking it. We didn’t include Teo in the discussion—he had enough baby mama problems to deal with. He didn’t need a fake drug charge under his belt and fuck up his custody.
But Scotty was growing impatient. Just before this match, I saw him talking with a few other teams, Base One Gym included. Terrence was already a brick house, but somehow, he looked even beefier. Mitchell and Brock were stacked, too. Thank fuck our matches against them were over.
Unless we made the top four.
No, not unless—when.
’Cause I was determined to get us there, even if I had to fuck up my hand again to do it.
Ari and Frankie welcomed me to the side of the ring with huge hugs. My body ached from a full five-round fight, but Ari’s smile gave me energy. Gorgeous as ever. She looked even more lively since our fuckfest in the office. I was right there with her. Things were on the up.
The only problem?
The douchebag glaring at us from the other side of the ring.
I tried to ignore Scotty’s stare, but it pressed on me like a hot iron. Ari shook her head.
“Don’t bother. He’s been looking at me like that since he showed up.”
“I wish he’d stop showing up,” Frankie said. “At least this is our last Seattle match.”
“I have a feeling he’s going to show up to the rest of them, unfortunately. He’s bugging me a lot more lately.”
“Do you need more to deal with him?” I asked.
Ari shook her head. “I can handle this. Only two more weeks. He’s giving me plenty of evidence.”
“Still doesn’t feel like enough,” Frankie said.
“It will be, but if he asks, puff out your chest a little, will you? Make it seem real.” Ari laughed and smacked my chest. “But you don’t need help in that department.”
“Sure don’t. Frankie’s working me like a warden.”
“Get used to it. The Base One Gym guys are looking like goddamn fire trucks.”
“You don’t think…” Ari began before shaking her head. “Forget it. Hit the showers, Bones. And let’s go home and celebrate.”
I hurried to freshen up, a hop in my step that had been sorely missing the past few weeks. Scotty be damned, this was our moment. I wasn’t going to waste it.
Even though the match was over, excitement still buzzed in my veins the entire drive home. Lotto and I headed back to the house to change into something more suited for a night out.
But as soon as I stepped out of the car, my excitement vanished.
Sitting on the porch was another package.
This one longer, taller, and with black marker scribbled on the tops and sides.
FRAGILE
HANDLE WITH CARE
IMPORTANT DOCUMENTS INSIDE
I couldn’t move. Lotto squeezed my shoulder and helped me walk forward. The address was the same as the last one. Dad’s name was right there on top, but this one was different. I knew it before Lotto picked it up.
This wasn’t Dad getting ready to say goodbye.
This was Dad’s goodbye.
We took seats at the table and stared at the box for five long, draining minutes. I gripped the arms of the kitchen table chair so hard I couldn’t feel my fingers. Lotto’s eyes were red-rimmed and his lips so thinned, I couldn’t see them.
He cleared his throat, his words lined with tears.
“Do you want me to open it like last time?”
“No. Let’s open it together.” I reached out to take his hand. “Let’s do this together.”
Lotto nodded and grabbed a knife. I held my breath as he cut the tape and opened the flaps.
At the top was a thin manila envelope. Nestled beneath it was a golden vase with boxing gloves engraved on the lid. Lotto pulled it out of the box. Taped to the side was a folded letter. When I peeled it off, Dad’s name was engraved on the side of the urn.