A Life Worth Fighting (2 page)

“Thank you.”

“Do you want me to help out until Bethany comes in?” Jo asks.

“No, Jo, thank you. She’ll be here any minute now.”

“Call me if you need me,” she says as she gathers her purse and car keys.

“I’ll be okay.” I walk Jo to the door and hug her goodbye.

A few more customers come in before I ring up the purchase for the woman and the child. I am happy when they buy the cinnamon rolls, drinks, and a few books. One book is
The Animal Family
by Randall Jarrell with illustrations by Maurice Sendak. One of its themes is that you don’t need to be biologically related to be family; you can make your own family out of the people — and animals, and in the book, a mermaid — around you.
I watch as they make their way over to the overstuffed couch to eat and read. The little girl looks over her shoulder and waves and smiles at me before she sits down.

The bell over the door rings again, and I’m happy when I see Bethany walking in. “Looks like you’ve been busy,” she says as she places her purse underneath the counter.

“A little. I didn’t expect such an early rush.”

Bethany immediately starts wiping down the coffee station and straightening the pillows in the seating area.

A delivery comes in of supplies and books so I attend to that in the back while Bethany attends the shop. The day goes by quickly and before I know it, Robert is walking through the front door. I watch him as he struts to the counter. He is wearing a tight gray tee shirt, ripped jeans, and boots. His hair is still damp and curly. He smiles and says, “Hi, Bethany.”

“Hey, Bobby,” she replies.

“How was your day, Sweets?” he says as he leans over the counter to kiss me.

“Busy, how was yours?” I say, and then I kiss him back.

“Also busy,” he says. “I fought a punching bag all morning.”

“Who won?” I joke.

“Have you no faith in me?
I almost always win.” He smiles and walks over to the counter and pours himself a cup of coffee. “Did your books and supplies come in?”

“They did; they’re still in the boxes in the back.”

“Leah, if you get tired of standing around, come back and help me.” He gives me his dimpled smile, and before I can argue, he’s gone.

Bethany laughs, and I have to laugh, too. “Since I’m not doing anything, after I ring up this customer I’ll go in the back and help Robert with the supplies and books.”

Once the books are restocked on the shelves, Robert puts the supplies away while Bethany and I clean up and restock for the next day. Robert brings in the bistro tables and chairs from the sidewalk and asks, “Ready, Sweets?”

“Almost,” I say.

Bethany reaches for her purse from under the counter, and I get the cinnamon buns that Jo put aside for Robert. “Are those what I think they are?” Robert asks, smiling.

“They are,” I say, holding the box up to my nose to inhale the smell of the cinnamon buns.

“Man, I love Jo.”

“Obviously she loves you, too,” Bethany says as she walks towards the door. “She didn’t put any back for me,” she says over her shoulder. “If that’s not on your diet, I’ll gladly take those off your hands for you,” she says, laughing.

I say, “These aren’t on your diet either, Bethany.”

“I’ve been on a diet for the last six years and don’t remind me. Now I’m hungry.”

Robert looks over at me as if he is trying to decide if she is kidding or not. I just smile. If he were a girl, he would know that’s probably the truth.
Some women have been hungry for twenty or more years. Other women are fat and happy and made of sugar and spice, aka cinnamon buns.

Robert is not a woman, and so he chows down.

“I’m surprised you are stuffing your face with Jo’s famous cinnamon buns.” I say, and I can see him trying to hide his grin.

“I know. I just can’t resist those things.”

“Try harder, will ya? I may have to nickname you Doughboy before long.”

“Doughboy?” He laughs. “That’s it, I’m done with those things.”

“Until tomorrow morning.”

We lock up the shop and leave together. Robert and I stop by the store to get a few things, and he pretends to be shopping for something else while I buy my personal items. I buy a few pregnancy tests, just in case. I have never tried the ovulation kits before, so I’m not certain how well they work. We should know in a few months if they worked or not.

On the drive home, Robert is more quiet than usual. “What’s on your mind? You’re uncharacteristically quiet this evening.”

“I’m just thinking about the fight: Friday at 8:00 p.m. in Chicago,” he says without looking over at me. “We’re flying out Friday morning at 8:00 and I plan to return home first thing Saturday morning. If I win this fight, I move up the food chain.”

“I know Gus is going, but is your dad going, too?” They always go with Robert and sometimes my dad will go with them. Robert’s mom, my mom, and I stay home and attempt to watch the fight together. The fight is always on, but sometimes I can’t watch it. Boxing is brutal, and I don’t like watching my Robert fight. If the fight is brutal, and most are, I spend most of my time waiting in the bathroom for it to be over. The only fights I can bear to watch all the way through are the rare ones that quickly end with a knockout.

“Yes, they both are going. Don’t worry, Leah. I’ll be okay.”

“You don’t know that.” My bottom lip begins to quiver, and I bite it to make it stop.

“Leah, I do know that. You’ll see.”

Robert leaves before me in the morning for his run. He always wakes me and kisses me before leaving. He has been training hard for the last several months. I know he is in great shape, but I know his
opponent will also be in great shape. I call his mom before I leave for work and speak briefly to her about the fight on Friday. As always, we make plans to be together to watch it. I’m thankful I have her to help me get through it.

Bethany picks me up for work since I left my car there last night when I rode home with Robert. I go to work, and I feel like I am surrounded by friends, although the customers are mostly strangers. The shop is a great place to be, even if I am there working. I like being surrounded by like-minded people who share my love for books and for reading. Bethany and Jo have proven to be great assets to me and to the shop. Jo leaves, and Bethany and I work steadily and clean up as we go.

The bell rings over the door. I’m pleasantly surprised to see Brooke walking in the shop. She walks in, takes a big whiff, and says, “Please, tell me you have something sweet left.”

I laugh and say, “I think we have some cherry tarts left.”

“Perfect, I’ll take one and a coffee.”

I ring her order up, and she asks, “Do you have a minute to talk?”

Bethany tells me she’ll manage the register. “Sure, let’s sit down.” I wave my hand in the direction of the over-stuffed couches.

She tells me that she has self-published a cliffhanger romance trilogy and asks me if I would sell her paperback books in the store. She tells me her books are available only at on-line bookstores, but it would mean a lot to her if I would sell them here. I use Google to search her name on my phone and see her books have great reviews. I also take notice that most of the bad reviews are from people who claim to not like cliffhangers
.

“You’re ranking very high,” I admit.

“Thank you. My books are selling very well.”

“One of your reviews says, ‘Pfft.....I enjoyed this read until I got to the end but there was no ending, it was like jumping off of a cliff. BE Alert this is a to be continued book. For this reason, I will not be reading other books by this author. However, it was easy to fabricate an ending which I did. What does this tell you?’ That’s a little harsh and unfair,” I say sadly.

“That’s nothing, there’s more just like that. Read another one, they are quite amusing,” Brooke insists.

“Oh, here’s one, ‘Very abrupt ending...cliffhanger. I don’t appreciate that! I didn’t enjoy the author’s writing style enough to justify purchasing the next book.’” We both laugh and I say, “She enjoyed it enough to finish it.”

“Let’s read a good review. ‘Loved the writing of this book and I really loved the story. Great book. Can’t wait to read the next one.’ Aww, this is sweet.”

“I learned that I can’t please everyone,” Brooke admits. “Some hate them while others love them. My books are about this alpha male named Dante, who falls in love with Amber. He’s a boxer, and she was a school teacher who was beaten and raped by a student on school property.”

“Oh, my God,” I gasp, holding my hand to my heart.

“The book focuses on Amber’s strengths and it also shows that even an alpha male can love tenderly and sweetly.”

“Aww, I love it.” I read the synopsis on the back and say, “This sounds like a really good book.”

“Thank you. It was tough at first. I put the first e-book up for sale for $2.99 and I sold only four copies in two months, then I took it off because I was so embarrassed. I decided to change the ending to a cliffhanger, I gave it away free, and I wrote two more books to make a trilogy.”

“And the other two books are selling?”

“Yes, go figure,” she laughs.
“I do spend two hours a night self-promoting my free book. Each book I give away can possibly result in two sales — more, if I write additional books.”

“I would be honored to have your books for sale here.”

“Really?” she asks in disbelief.

“Yes, I’ll set up a nice display and promote you as a local author.”

“Oh, Leah. Thank you.”

“How many books do you have with you right now?”

“I think I have 10 sets of the trilogy in the car.”

“If you supply me the books, do you think 40% is fair for my share? You provide the books.”

“I thought your share would be more. Is that enough, Leah?”

“It’s plenty. Go get the books; I have the perfect spot for them.”

While Brooke runs out to get the books, I clear off a small white linen-draped table and place three bookstands on it. She comes in with a large tote of books. I arrange the books on the table and step back to take a look.

Brooke says, “I have some bookmarks if you want to give them away with the books. I use them instead of business cards.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” I take them from her and scatter them on the small table. The bookmarks are glossy, 2x5
inch with each book cover of her trilogy printed on it. Her name and webpage are located on the back. “Perfect and very cute. People love free stuff even if they have to purchase something to get it.”

“Thank you so much, Leah.”

“No problem, call me in a few days to see how they are selling.”

“I will, thanks again,” she says as she leaves.

Bethany leaves to get us food for lunch. We try hard to not eat the sweets that Jo makes. They are delicious but are not on our diet.

Like clockwork, Robert shows up precisely at 6:00. He restocks the shelves of books and the other supplies while Bethany and I clean up and vacuum. Since we own the shop, we do the cleaning and restocking ourselves. We bring in the bistro tables and chairs from the sidewalk before heading home.

“Do you want to eat out tonight?” Robert asks before I get into my SUV.

“You don’t want to eat at home?”

“I just thought we could eat out.”

“Okay, lead the way and I’ll follow you.” Robert kisses me before shutting my car door. I buckle up and wait for him to pull out in front of me.

Robert

Last night while Leah slept, I watched the videos of John ‘Stone’ Bailey, on YouTube and Break.com. I watched and re-watched them until I got his boxing moves memorized. I have watched these videos many times in the past couple of months. He’s good, but he’s repetitive. That’s the number one mistake in boxing: repetition. In the morning, I kiss a sleeping Leah goodbye and run the 15 miles to meet Gus at Upper Cut Boxing for training. When I say I’m in the best shape of my life, I mean it.

Gus asks, “Are you ready?”

I reply, “Let’s dance.”

My dad walks in a few minutes later and gives me some pointers. I’m not surprised to see him here. I knew Gus would let him know where we would be. My dad wraps my hands before he gloves me up. I meet my sparring opponent, who is already in the ring waiting for me. The guy is good, and he is here for training as well. We often go at it in ring for training purposes. After 12 rounds and we are both still standing, I know it was a good fight, for him and for me. Gus and Dad go over my moves and strategies with me for the fight Friday night. I listen and put what they tell me to memory.

“We’ll leave for the airport at 5:30 Friday morning,” Gus says. “Be ready, I’ll get your dad and then we’ll swing by and get you.”

“Sounds good. I want to be on an
early morning flight home, Saturday.”

Gus says, “I figured you would; it’s already taken care of. We fly back home at 9:00 a.m. Saturday.
Rest up tonight and I’ll see you back here tomorrow morning.”