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alitheamateur · 5 years

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The Grind-Chapter 5

Warnings: Language. Mentions of nudity.

A/N: First of all, I’d like to extend a bear hug to the ones who are showing any love at all to this piece!!!! I can't begin to express my gratitude. And secondly, I know to some, the plot may be bit slow right now, but HOLD ON! I can assure you, there is LOADS TO COME, so buckle up, buttercups.

The Grind-Chapter 5

I had to make a visit to Danny Mendez’s training spot for article research that morning, per Ryan’s demands. Colton had playfully teased me, suggesting I run his opponent over with the car, or slip him something to ensure he’d fail the pre-fight drug test, to give him the guaranteed upper hand on Danny. I had originally intended for the piece to be strictly centered around the life, and journey of Pittsburgh’s silent underdog, Colton. However, my nagging objections hadn’t convinced Ryan, and he’d instructed me that the piece would be better received by the public if I covered both competitors. Although I had never worked directly with Mendez, word around the office from coworkers who had sat down with him in the past, was that he was quite the bombastic pig. Oh, lovely. As if having to appear completely unbiased wasn’t already going to be enough struggle, now I’d have to spend my entire morning penning notes as he stroked his own roaring ego.

I checked the given address Danny’s trainer had emailed me, taken aback with surprise when I wheeled into the parking lot. It was a far cry from the gritty, seedy vibe at Mac’s gym. I glided through the automatic doors of the tawdry, two level complex and was greeted by a clearly well-trained receptionist.

“Hi, uh… I’m Liv Elliot with the Pitt Pilot. I have a meeting this morning with Danny Mendez.”

She escorted into the glass box of the elevator, where I kept any further communication with her to the bare minimum. The entire drive over I stewed and fretted over the dread of having to even look Mendez in the eyes. My chest puffing with quite the prejudiced attitude, and a newly protective girlfriend instinct kicking in. I withheld an airy squeak at the thought “girlfriend.” Until this instant, I prided myself in the stern, professional ethic I displayed in all aspects of my work life. But now, I was struggling to sort through, and control all the newfound feelings that Colton had provoked in me as of late. The ding of arrival sounded when we had reached the second floor, opening to reveal a painfully illuminated gym facility. Treadmills, and weight benches, and therapy bikes, oh my.

“Mr. Mendez is right over there, Miss Elliott. He’s expecting you.” She pointed her manicured finger to the left toward a huddle of men.

I readied the recorder on my cell, and boldly marched in their direction, the subtle clack of my black pumps announcing my approach. He was waylaying into a battered speedbag, but turned his smug face to me without ceasing his blows, obviously in shameless effort to impress me. Danny had countless tattoos much like Colton, but his height towered over me at least double the distance his challenger did. He was a very large man, however not quite as amply defined.

“Afternoon, Olivia. Come to get the word from the real champ for your story?”

He indeed impressed me alright. With only a handful of words he had already tempted me with lacing his open water bottle with a certain substance that could easily disqualify him from stepping into the ring with Colton.

“Actually, it’s just Liv, Mr. Mendez. How are you?”

One of his pathetic goons promptly handed him a towel to wipe the sweat from his slick, hairless head, and I tagged along on his heels to find a seat next to the empty caged octagon.

“Is this where you train for every fight, Danny? I know most fighters tend to find one gym they favor and stick to it.”

“it is, yes. I own the place, in fact. None of the shit hole facilities in the city had the right feel for me. So, I took it upon myself to build this one. I’m a firm believer in doing something yourself if you want it done right, Miss Elliott.”

My eyes may have rolled instinctively in obvious hatred for the guy. I wanted to get what I needed as soon as possible and bid riddance to this prick.

“I was just about to hop in the cage with my grappling partner, you mind? You can pass the word to that amateur asshole Ritter about what he’s got comin’ to him next weekend, huh?”

To say I wanted to rattle the stupid, snide smile right off his bearded face would be an amplified understatement.

“Please! Don’t let me stop you. I’m here to see what a day in the life of the champ is like, right?”

He chuckled at my statement, dumbly oblivious that it was intended as 100% sarcasm.

I wasn’t at all pleasantly surprised at what happened in the half hour I had spent there. He was indeed the middleweight champion, and I learned very quickly why. He, in my opinion, wasn’t what I would call more talented than Colton on any level, but he definitely wasn’t the scrub I ignorantly assumed he would be either. Unlike the utter animalistic indignation Colton displayed in the cage, Danny was so poised and light on his feet. His expression was focused, yet calm. I noticed instantly he was the type of fighter who paced himself for the duration of rounds, making sure he kept his breaths as even as possible, analyzing every move he made, and why. I wouldn’t say that I left the gym with doubts that Colton could come out on top. However, I feared the victory wouldn’t come served to him on a silver platter as I’d hoped. Mendez unquestionably proved every bit of gossip that insinuated he was a dreadful human being. Unfortunately though, he wasn’t the slouch I needed him to be on the mat.

I went back to my quaint cubical at the Pilot to compile the very limited, nearly useless comments Danny had given me for the spread, but my protesting mind had other plans. Colton had yet to reach out on the report he had gotten from the doctor, and there was no chance of me focusing on anything aside from him. I promised to him I wouldn’t pry, so texting him was a no-go. But, he did tell me that anything going on with him, was indeed my business as well? My over-worked, over analytical brain had nearly reached over-heating, when a gentle buzz rattled my tiny metal desk.

Message from: Colton

How soon can you make it over to Mac’s?

It was almost as if I had willed the text into existence. I raised the rose gold watch on my wrist into view, 1:57 p.m. Getting an early start this morning with the commute to Danny’s gym, meant I would be able to add drive time onto my hours for the day. Sure, I’d still be shy roughly an hour shy from a full days work, but Ryan would understand if I explained that one of the competitors from the match I was covering may be facing a detrimental injury, and he would shoo me to catch the happenings. I hoisted my black, alligator skinned satchel over my shoulder, laptop in tow, and trudged impatiently downstairs to the parking garage.

The short drive to the gym, I couldn’t seem to still my tapping fingers on the peeling steering wheel of my silver SUV. I tried to occupy myself with the radio in attempt to build a blockade from the piling thoughts racking my mind, but it was entirely useless. He knew I was working, why had he needed me at Mac’s? Was the hand injury worse than both of us imagined? Had the doctor advised him to bow out gracefully from the fight against Mendez? My tripping mind, and the fussing over a doomed lost of hypothesis nearly teleported me to Mac’s before I even knew where I was.

I pushed through the double doors of the building, and slowed to a more casual pace giving off the illusion that I wasn’t an eager, panicky mess. Colton was easing his half naked body into a scuffed silver tub resembling that of a horse troth like Mrs. Bishop, the widow down the street from my childhood home in Westfield, had transformed into a flower bed. There was a vicious wince spread wide on his lips as he lowered to be seated, and my eyebrows upturned in evident concern.

“Hey doc, mind comin’ over for a second?” He motioned the salty-haired man over to where I now stood at his side, petting back his combed over hair.

When I had gotten a closer look, I realized the painful twitches of his face where thankfully caused by the rigid ice bath he sat in, the cold therapy submersion aided in the healing of his exhausted muscles.

“Dr. Cooper, this is Liv. The pain in my ass who insisted I let ya’ take a good look at my hand here. Would you please tell her what we talked about earlier? I know she’s too hard-headed to believe it outta my mouth.” The smart-elic tone of his voice generally would’ve set me off, but the way he intertwined his fingers through mine when he spoke to the doctor was his saving grace for the moment.

“Pleasure to meet you, Miss. As Colton said, I did take a good look at the hand earlier this morning. I took an x-ray, revealing no broken bones, which is obvious good news. And after observing him in the ring a bit, it seems Mr. Ritter does have some severe inflammation going on. However, with a series of cortisone shots, I don’t see any reason why he shouldn’t proceed with the fight.”

My eyes met Colton’s with a nod of relief, happy for the weight of worry to be finally lifted from my chest. “Thank you so much for the explanation, Doctor. And thanks for taking such good care of this one.”

Dr. Cooper returned to the conversation he was previously having with one of the other fighters Mac was working with, leaving Colton and I to ourselves. I retrieved the large towel he’d laid to the floor in close proximity to his bath, handing it to him, but yanking it back swiftly before he could pry it completely from my hands, “Well, well. Looks like now that we know your hand is fine, you’ll have to come up with another excuse when you lose to Mendez.”

A wide, wicked smirk danced over his handsome face, and with one instantaneous motion, I was plunged into the subzero pool of ice. The fitted material of my wool pencil skirt now clung tighter to my figure, and the collar of my blouse now heavy from saturation.

“Oh God, I didn’t mean to pull you so hard. Guess I don’t know my own strength, baby. Sorry...” His shoulders shrugged mimicking innocence in the matter of my now trembling appendages, as he patted dry his own wet chest.

“I probably had that one comin’, huh.” I reasoned.

He guided me to the locker room, offering up a change of some spare sweats that obviously swallowed me from his cubby, and he wrapped his arm over my shoulders as we shivered into the nighttime streets back to my place.

I was dangerously teetering on what I swore was frost bite after travelling the 11 blocks to my place, so my now extremely apologetic boyfriend had taken it upon himself to run me a scalding bath. I stripped off the damp cotton leaving a trail of articles from the living room to the bathroom plopping onto the floor, in urgent effort to dive into the water as quickly as possible. Sadly, the bathtub in my miniscule home wasn’t nearly large enough to fit the both of us, so Colt had dropped his clothes in the dryer then situated himself in the floor near the tub, propping his back against the wall to keep me company while I attempted to regain feeling in my toes.

“How’d it go with Mendez today?” Colton asked pulling off the unraveling toboggan from his head.

“Oh, he’s just a modern day, prince charming, that one. Let me tell ya’.” He widened his eyes in agreement, no words needed to express his agreeance.

He’d given me the run down from everything else with Dr. Cooper this morning, and reenacted the “crunch time” sermon Mac religiously gave him when the closeness of fight night approached.

“So, your parents… Will they be coming next Saturday?”

We had limited conversations about our families up until this point, but one thing he had told me, were his parents, Michael and Beth, were his biggest supporters. Granted, his mother had definitely resisted the idea when she discovered he had taken such a violent career interest, making him promise to “use his head, and hang it up” if things ever got too rough for him on the mat.

“Yeah, they’ll be here on Thursday dad said. I wanted to talk to you about that…” I boosted up out of the now cooling water, my full attention on him. “I’m supposed to meet ‘em for dinner, and uh, I’d like you t’ come. Unless you think it’s too soon, then I totally understand.” The antsy man kept his eyes on the sage colored shag of a rug he was seated on, pulling nervously on some strands of the soft material.

I reflected back on a remark he’d made about his mom in a talk we had regarding her bout with cancer, and now 6th year in remission, where he’d said he wished he was half the warrior she was. And then, informed me that he had never actually taken any girl home previously because there were none he considered worthy of his mother’s company. The sudden realization that apparently, I was deemed “worthy” had me buzzing with pleasure, my head swimming with overwhelming delight. Was this what the blindsiding smack of love felt like?

“If you want me there, then I’d love to. But I don’t want you to feel like you have to invite me, Colt.”

He leaned his arm into the tub to clutch my bubble covered hand. “Liv, do I seem like the type of guy who feels like he has to do anything? Let’s be real here, girl. You ‘n I both know, I only do things I want to do, that’s just the type ‘a guy I am.”

Boy, did I know that. He hadn’t been shy about his bull-headed tendencies in the passing months we’d spent getting to know each other, and who was I to belittle him for the very same attribute I carried myself. Cupping his check in sheer admiration, I accepted. “Name the time & place, mister! I’ll be there.”

Lifting me from the bath, he tucked my now very toasty skin into bed, insisting that if he stayed over, there’s no way he’d let me get any sleep so he should head home. A lingering peck to my lips, followed by the same to my nose then forehead, topped off with a playful “noogie” to the crown of my head, Colton Ritter had smothered the urge to say, that no matter the resistance he had tried to muster up, he was in fact unequivocally falling in love with me. Rather than unveiling those very sentiments, he secured the door to my now dark apartment, doubling back to check to lock, spatting murmurs of regret as he walked to his tired old Chevy truck, wishing he wasn’t going home to a bed without me in it.

TAGLIST: @torialeysha @eap1935

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