24. Ronan

Training is the one activity that can take me away from my troubles. To practice my footwork. To ricochet from rope to rope. To see in my mind's eye my opponent. In the ring, the foe is clear. Outside the ring, not so much.

My head is down, gauging my marks. I don't hear others working out in the gym or coming in through the front door. That's a usual occurrence for me. But this time, my lack of awareness sets me right up for the ambush that comes next.

"Bronson! Yeah, over here, kid. When you take over, you really take over. Well, I'm here to set you straight. There are limits, and you're about to get schooled."

Out of my right ear, I hear yelling, but it takes a moment to figure out that it's aimed at me. I look up and across the gym. It's Chey's father, Joseph. By his red face and menacing stare, I know this is no friendly chat that he's come to have.

My body and mind break out of training mode. I grab a towel from the corner stool to soak up the sweat and give myself time to gauge his intentions.

"Good to see you, Mr. O'Malley. What's on your mind?"

Joseph wastes no time. He marches right up to the ropes, climbs into the ring, and gets into my personal space. I slowly back away in deference to the old man. After all, he's Chey's father and hopefully my future boss. I want no beef with this man.

"Don't you play innocent with me. I was a fool to think I could trust you. But now I know what you've been doing with my Cheyanne. The game is manipulative and disgusting, and it's going to stop here and now."

I wipe away more sweat beads purling down my furrowed brow, trying to eke out a few more moments to figure out what the hell this guy is talking about.

Manipulative? Disgusting? What the hell is this guy on about?

My mind races through the possibilities and comes up with nothing. I drop the towel on the stool and pick up my water bottle. Whatever is going on, Joseph's confrontation is making me parched.

"Game, sir? I assure you. I'm playing no game. Not with your Cheyanne. Not with anyone."

Joseph crosses his arms high on his chest and pushes further into my personal space. I have no more room to back up.

"Oh, so bedding my daughter isn't a game then? What do you call it when a guy offers to train a trusting female wrestler, but he ends up in her bed? You don't count that as vile? I sure as hell do."

I slide to the right to get out from under his cornering me. I stand in the center ring and carefully look Joeseph over. The old man's confrontation finally makes sense, only I know he's got the wrong end of the stick concerning Chey and me.

Of all the complications I thought would come out of Cheyanne and I turning up the romance, this is one I really hadn't prepared for. I mean, I know I'm not using her for sex, and I never once stopped to think about her father's reaction. I worried about what it would do to our working relationship, sure, but this? Never in a million years did I stop to think about pissing off Joseph.

I rub the back of my neck and slowly pace around the ring. This is a pacing conversation if there ever was one.

"Look, sir, you have this all wrong. What Chey and I –"

Joseph whips around, stomps in my direction, and looms over me like a death specter.

"What do you mean, Chey and you? There is no Chey and you. Don't you dare pretend to give a shit about being reverential to me or to my daughter. If you're about to sing some song and dance about caring for our family and loving my daughter…"

"My feelings for Chey, sir. Believe me when I say there is no game. Our relationship –"

"Relationship? That's what you call it? Having sex with her? Manipulating Chey's feelings? Exploiting her respect for you as a wrestler in a ruse to augment her career? That's one for the con job books, that is. Of all the wrestlers in Briarwood, I would have thought you'd be the last to use and abuse another. Add shock to my disgust."

"I don't know how you found out about us or who gave you the impression I am using her. But it's not nefarious on anyone's part. I can assure you. Ignore the gossip out there. Talk to Chey. She'll back me up on this."

I stare straight into the old man's eyes while gathering my thoughts. The last thing I want to do is hurt Joseph or Chey. They are the two people left in Briarwood I know I can trust. My thoughts center on the tattler, whoever he or she is. I'd like to take that weasel out back.

Revengeful thoughts won't help me now. I need to settle Joseph's worries and assure him this is all a misunderstanding. I clear my throat and try again.

"Whatever you've heard, you've got it wrong. I'm not using Chey or anyone else. The two of us have been working together. That's true. And we have become close. Also, true. But the personal relationship came way after the professional one and was never premeditated. I mean, we got along, really got along. Chey and I have the same outlook on the business and on life. We clicked."

"So, you're not denying the sexual part?" Joseph stands over me with inches to spare and no personal space left. Not a good sign.

I throttle back my growing anger. This is no time for an orc-type over-reaction. The man is hurt. I realize that. I have to treat Joseph and his hurt with kid gloves. I still want to strangle whoever blabbed about Chey and me.

Joseph leans down, grabs me by my shirt, and forces me up. I barely get to my feet and the old wrestler throws punches! At me. A wrestler half his age and twice his size. It's like watching a gnat go after a wasp.

I throw up my hands. "Whoa. I want nothing to do with whatever this is."

Joseph keeps throwing right crosses and gut punches. His face reddens with rage.

I dance around the ring, trying to duck and weave. The last thing I want to do is throw back. Joseph's fists land, and I'm impressed with his strength. The old wrestler is still inside Joseph, and I'm reminded that he was truly a force in his day.

"C'mon, big shot. Don't just stand there. Fight!" Joseph yells.

The people in the gym stop what they're doing and watch. Now we have an audience, too. This moment has gone from bad to worse.

I let him rough me up a bit. I take a few hits. It'll make the old man feel good and maybe, in some way, I deserve the hits.

"Punch me, goddammit! Or are you a chicken?"

I inhale, hold my breath, and punch him one time. A light one to the right shoulder. The old man goes down. Seeing Joseph lying there, prostrate, shame washes over me and I feel like a heel.

Joseph lies there, out of breath. I stand motionless in the ring, shocked about what has transpired. Joseph's punches sting my skin but more so hurt my soul.

From this moment on, I know I can say goodbye to ever working for Fool's Gold.

Joseph scrambles to his feet, stares coldly at me, and leaves the ring.

Camie comes up. "Would you mind signing this, sir? I'm such a big fan. From way back." Joseph forces a smile and calmly autographs her water bottle.

"Thank you, Mr. O'Malley! Thank you! You're my hero."

The girl gushes over the old wrestler like he's still in his twenties. Everyone in the gym holds back snickers or slaps hands over their smiling lips. Trust Camie to neutralize a disaster. I look down on the pitiful sight, thinking I should thank her.

When all I want to do is replay these minutes and have none of this happen at all.

I watch Joseph hit the front door and stomp out into the night.

If it took roughing me up to avenge his daughter and restore family dignity, then so be it.

I grab my gear and leave the ring. The wrestlers around me try not to stare. I want to grab them and tell them I didn't want that. It wasn't me, coming for a venerated past wrestler.

Instead, I hold my tongue and hit the locker room.

I bang through the doors and punch every locker in sight. I kick the benches. I whip the pile of towels to the floor. I wreck the place and I fire off orc howls that haven't left my mouth in ages.

Every punch and kick, none of them are aimed at Joseph. They are aimed at Raucous, the dog-eat-dog industry, the manipulators, and the big mouth who let it slip about Chey and me.

Not a thing is left in place once I hit the shower. I destroyed everything around me. The hot water soothes my muscles and stings my bloodied hands but does nothing for my broken heart.

A future with Chey, a career with Fool's Gold. It was all in the cards until today. But when Chey finds out about my time in the ring with her father, what we had will explode, too. That coming battle bothers me more than the loss of a future career with Fool's Gold. If I'm honest, it's not even comparable.

I stand in the falling hot water and feel nothing but cold and alone.

I hiss under my breath. "I won't forget this, whoever you are who outed Chey and me. There's some payback coming your way."

My voice sounds confident. My mind is less so. I keep the latter to myself.

I stomp through the gym and bash open the doors, enraged at the world.