Reckless Retribution (West Warriors Book 1) (2 page)

“Shhhhh.” I looked nervously around the room for the professor. I couldn’t help but laugh out at her. “Calm down, you have twenty minutes left and you’ve wasted three freaking out,” I whispered. She put her head back down, and I swear I saw steam coming off her pen. She finished with literally one minute to spare. The professor announced the end of the test and our papers were collected.

“What did you write yours on?” she asked.

“Preschool Ed.”

She pursed her lips, nodding appreciatively at my subject choice. “I wrote about the effects social media has on today’s society.”

“No wonder you were writing for so long,” I joked. The bell announced it was lunchtime, and we all couldn’t get out of the room quick enough.

“Do you need a ride?” She nodded to her red VW Beetle, which she named Betsy, as we reached the parking lot. I never understood why people named their cars; it’s not like they were pets.

“No thanks. I’ll take the bus.” She offered me a ride most days after class, but I always declined. She didn’t live near me, and I hated to have her drive way out just to take me home. Besides, I didn’t mind taking the bus.

She screwed her face up in disgust that I would rather take public transportation than have her drive me. “You’re crazy.” She shook her head at me. “Well, good luck at the club, call me after your shift.” Her frown soon turned into a smile.

“I will,” I promised, and walked off to find my bus. Nerves were beginning to bubble in my stomach at the thought of my first shift.

No sooner had I opened my front door, Dad’s voice boomed, “What time do you call this?”

“I can’t control what time class finishes, Dad,” I shouted, walking toward the sitting room, where he sat in his usual chair. His feet were propped up, and he was watching sports, which was blaring on the TV. “Have you eaten?” Stupid question, really. He never lifted a finger, unless it was wrapped around a brandy glass.

“No.” He finally glanced in my direction, his gray eyes cold. He was starting to look older than his fifty years. His once clear skin was now red and bumpy from the excessive alcohol, his salt-and-pepper hair short and balding, and his once muscular frame was now thin and frail looking. His diet was mostly liquid these days unless I was home to cook for him.

“I’ll sort lunch,” I mumbled, as I walked to the fridge to see what we had. The contents didn’t surprise me; it was nearly bare. Why couldn’t he get off his lazy behind and do some shopping, instead of expecting me to do everything for him? He didn’t work, and just sat around the house all day, drinking himself to an early grave. Now I’d have to squeeze some time in to go grocery shopping.

I grabbed some pasta and a jar of sauce from the cupboards. While it cooked, I opened the mail, looking for the one letter I’d been waiting on from Texas, but there was nothing but bills. I placed them in the drawer and served up lunch. I took his food and held out the steaming bowl for him to take. He tore his gaze from the TV to look at the contents before taking it from my hands, muttering something underneath his breath. I turned my back on him and ate mine in the kitchen. I practically had to force it down, because my stomach was in knots. I ate what I could and shoved my bowl in the sink. The dishes would have to wait until later.

I quickly changed my clothes and settled on gray skinny jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. I remembered Kal saying something about having an employee T-shirt to wear, so no doubt I would change into that once I got there. Smoothing my hair into place, I walked down the stairs and shouted to Dad that I was leaving.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he blasted from the front room.

Anger coursed through me at the gall of him. How else did he think we got the money to pay for the groceries and bills? “Work, remember? Someone has to make money.” The words came out before I could stop them. I bit my lip and immediately cursed myself for saying it. I heard his bowl smash against the wall and his feet thudding across the floor. Before I had time to react, he was in front of me and I felt the back of his hand whip across my cheek, causing it to sting, and my eyes watered in response. Wincing, I pressed my hand to my face.

“Who do you think you are?” he snapped. His eyes had glazed over, and there was never a good outcome when he got like this.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” I apologized, trying to diffuse the situation. I was too scared to turn my back and walk away in case he launched a tirade on me. It wouldn’t be the first time.

He took a step closer to me, so his face was only inches in front of mine. “Get out.” He pointed to the front door, and I walked as quickly as my legs would take me, slamming the door shut behind me. Trying to keep myself together, I rounded the corner of the street before stopping to look at my cheek in my little compact mirror. It was blazing red, great! Showing up to my first shift at work with a shiner—what an impression I was going to make. Ironically, it would probably make me fit right in. I dabbed my industrial strength concealer on the swelling. Damn him, I couldn’t wait to be free of him.

Gravel crunched under my feet as I walked across the stony parking lot toward the club. It was a standalone ex-warehouse, which Kal said he renovated eight years ago. The club’s name, West Warriors, was proudly displayed above the glass-fronted entrance, and also decorated the panel windows in yellow, silver, and black writing. The club’s motto “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” adorned the door.

My stomach churned as I walked up to the entrance. All the windows were one-way glass and I couldn’t see in, so I couldn’t see who or what I was walking in to. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open and stepped inside the spacious foyer. The smell of my old high school gym hit me, which was an oddly comforting smell, and fast-paced music pumped out of speakers attached to the walls. Kal stood with his back to me, leaning over the desk and talking with four twenty-something guys who sat opposite on leather couches. A TV screen mounted on the wall where they were sitting was showing a fight.

Kal turned as I approached, and stood up straight to greet me as I reached the desk. “Hey, Lauren.” He clapped my shoulder gently.

“Hi,” I said quietly, feeling uneasy as four sets of eyes glanced at me curiously.

“Ignore them.” He gestured with his hands in their direction. “We’ll catch up later.” He dismissed them and turned back to me. “Follow me, I’ll get you settled.”

I followed him into a room at the back of the front desk area, which housed a small kitchen, restrooms, a table with chairs, and three sets of six lockers.

“This is your locker.” He pointed to one that had my name written on a sticky label. I stowed my bag and followed him back to the front desk. The four guys were now gone, and I breathed a little sigh of relief. It was bad enough starting your first shift as a newbie, let alone doing it under the watchful eye of four complete strangers.

Kal spoke a little about his job. He owned the gym and managed his cage fighters. He had a team of coaches working for him that regularly came into the club. That side of things, I had no dealings with, luckily. He then went through what my duties were, which was not a lot actually. After that, he talked me through the basics tasks, the telephone, computer system, and also the employee policies. He reached into a lower drawer of the hardwood desk and pulled out a black T-shirt. “This is your uniform.”

I took it from him. “Thanks.”

His cell phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket and walked into the back room to answer it. I held the T-shirt up to inspect it more closely and discovered it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting.

“Feel free to wear some tight booty shorts with that,” came a male voice from the other side of the desk. I quickly lowered the shirt and looked up in horror at where the voice had come from, finding a blond guy wearing a sly grin. He was hit hard in the chest by the person standing next to him.

“Sorry about him,” the other guy apologized. “I’m Cameron, or Cam,” he introduced himself. Cameron was good-looking. He had this whole exotic look going on. He was olive-skinned, green-eyed, and had a mop of chocolate brown hair, which offset his sharp features.

“This ass is Marc.” He jutted his thumb to the blond, who raised his hand in acknowledgment of his name. He was overly confident, and obviously didn’t care if he embarrassed me on my first day.

Marc had a round face with pale blue eyes and cheeks that formed dimples when he smiled. His floppy strawberry blond hair was parted in the middle and had a slight wave to it. He reminded me of a surfer dude. He actually looked quite endearing, but I knew from his comment he was obviously anything but. He stood in front of me wide-eyed, looking like he wanted to eat me, which made me feel uneasy again. If he dared to try anything, I would happily put him flat on his back—or at least I’d try. I wasn’t used to working in a totally male-dominated environment, but I’d be damned if I was going to be treated like a piece of meat.

Both guys looked like they worked out hard. Even through their T-shirts, I could tell their bodies were toned to perfection. Their arms were ridiculously sculpted and looked like they could crack nuts.

Kal coughed, and I swiftly turned my attention back to him. “Boys, this is Lauren,” he introduced me. I suddenly felt like an idiot. I hadn’t even had the decency to say who I was. I just gave them an embarrassed smile after our first awkward meeting. “C’mon, I’ll show you around the rest of the place,” Kal offered before directing a glance to Cam and Marc, who immediately walked away from the desk.

I followed him to the far left of the renovated warehouse, in a spacious area where the gym equipment was, and a couple of out-of-shape, middle-aged men were there working out. The place was quite big, and I could easily get lost between all the equipment and the hexagonal pit.

“This is where the boys train.” He nodded around at all the equipment. By his term “boys,” I didn’t know if he was referring to the ones I had just met, younger guys in general, or whether he used the term to mean the whole of the male species. I guess I would soon figure it out.

I looked around at the different equipment, the usual gym machines I was familiar with, such as the elliptical, treadmills, and benches with free weights and bars. There were two large ropes stretched across the floor that someone was whipping up and down in a frenzy, and a punching bag someone was really laying into. There was another large bag on the floor, which another guy was on top of, looking like he was trying to wrestle with it. This place screamed testosterone.

We walked several feet to the center of the building. “This is the cage,” he said, pointing to the large hexagonal pit that had yellow, silver, and black striped poles on each corner. Metal wire encased it to form an enclosed space, complete with a door. Inside of it were two more guys doing what I knew was sparring.

“I train and manage the four boys. I’ve trained some of the most recognizable cage fighters in the area,” he said, keeping his eyes focused on the ones in the cage.

“Cage fighting doesn’t sound nice.” I winced. I’d seen clips of this type of sport on TV, and it was definitely not something I would pay to watch.

Kal laughed. “It’s not really unless you’re into the sport. It’s a more aggressive form of fighting.” A thud echoed around the room, and my eyes shot from Kal over to the cage, where one of the guys was flat on his back, and the other one was chuckling, standing over him. I widened my eyes in shock. “He’s okay. It’s all part of training,” Kal reassured me.

I nodded and wondered what I had gotten myself into. I was starting to feel overwhelmed. I continued watching them, and the guy on the floor stood up and took a swing at the one who had knocked him down, punching him hard in his gut. Deep chuckles and cursing came from both of them. This place was insane.

“The boys fight semi-pro and take part in a lot of local and national fights.” He beamed. “Mine are good fighters, because of their strong work ethic and determination. We’re very strict on diet and lifestyle choices, which enable them to have the stamina and focus they need to keep bringing the trophies home,” he said proudly.

I wondered what he meant by lifestyle choices. It didn’t sound like they were able to live freely like most people. It sounded kind of sad because they looked around the same age as me, but I suppose if that was what they wanted, they would do whatever it took.

He pointed to large display cabinets that ran along the back wall facing the cage and nodded in its direction, and I followed him over to it. It was full of different sized trophies, loads of them next to framed pictures of different fighters after they’d won various fights. I recognized pictures of Cam and Marc, as well as a great photo of Kal standing with them and two others. “You must be very proud.” I smiled, looking over them.

“I am. They’re like my kids. The boys, that is, not the trophies,” he joked.

After the tour, I told him I would change into my work T-shirt, and he said he’d meet me back at the front desk. I went into the bathroom and put it on, then looked at myself in the large mirror over the sink. The black shirt had
West Warriors
emblazoned on it in yellow and silver. The club motto “Pain is temporary, pride is forever” followed beneath in smaller silver writing. On the back, the word
STAFF
was printed in white across my shoulder blades. I began to feel like I belonged a little bit. I moved in closer to the mirror to check my face where Dad had hit me. I had completely forgotten all about it. Luckily, the redness had subsided, and Kal hadn’t questioned me on it. I didn’t want him thinking I would bring trouble to the club. I walked out, and he was sitting where he promised, at the desk.

“Very nice.” He smiled at me before beckoning me over to the computer. He took me through the systems again, how to book people in and out, and how to access emails. He told me he would go through ‘the books’ with me next week, so it wasn’t too overwhelming. I was quite relieved actually, as math and finances were not my strong point, despite running a house. He also went through my shifts, which was a lot together with college, but I had no choice. My income was the only one, and we desperately needed the money.