Page 10 of Love Punch

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it,” he grumbled.

“No, but please don’t be too antagonistic. My poor nerves can’t deal with anotherBradley Tyler Says Straight People Can Suck Itheadline.” I gestured toward the door. “C’mon, Mister. Let’s go. Don’t want Jase whooping my arse for tardiness.”

“You know it’smyarse that he’ll be whooping,” replied Bradley.

The driver waiting outside beeped loudly. I pushed Brad gently towards the door. “Shoo. Move it. Let’s get out of here.”

I sat in the shadows, away from where theDaily Mailphotographer had artfully posed Bradley in the middle of the ring, right under the hanging lights. I was there to observe—and to make sure he didn’t say anything stupid. He had a temper, and protective instincts. Once they’d stopped the photoshoot—and I’d added a hundred images of Brad draped over the ropes in seductive poses to my wank-bank—the interviewer sat down with him on some simple metal chairs in the middle of the canvas.

“So, Bradley. How does it feel to be fighting Bartosh, one of the greatest fighters of this age?” she asked. Her tone was polite, but it was just a veneer. Somewhere under it all was a publication waiting for Bradley to fail.

“I’m also one of the greatest of this time,” Bradley defended. He held up the belt that he’d won the year prior. “Two fights later and I’m holding on to this; I like my chances.”

I sighed. His charm was effortless; he hardly had to think about it.

“Bartosh hasn’t lost a fight in six years,” said the interviewer. “You’re saying that doesn’t worry you?”

Bradley pinched the bridge of his nose, reining in whatever sarcastic comment ready to fly out of his mouth.Good boy.The media training I’d put him through had been worth it, though the years ofBad Boy of British Boxinghad been entertaining at times.

“What I’m saying is that I can’t worry more about this fight than any other. I need to concentrate as much as I would against any opponent.” Bradley gestured around him. At what, I had no idea. “I want to fight, and I want to fight well. But I don’t get there through fear. I get there through sheer determination. And I haven’t lost a fight—ever.”

“There’s a first time for everything,” she muttered.

“Like getting a positive write-up from theDaily Mail?” Bradley asked.

The woman briefly looked stunned before she schooled her features. “Bartosh has spoken about his family values and how having his wife and young daughter in the crowd helps him to focus. When you have none of that, no children, no wife, how do you bring yourself to fight?”

There it was: the question we’d all been waiting for. I stepped forward, ready to bring an end to the interview right then and there. But Bradley saw me out of the corner of his eye and motioned for me to stop, then curled his fingers imperceptibly toward himself. I approached, quietly.

“I have a family, but it doesn’t look like the white picket fences you’re idolising. I have my parents, who come along to every fight they can. My cousins, who do their best to see me when they’re not busy with their own careers. My family is the men and women who come to this gym, day in and day out. It’s mytrainer, Jason, who is like a father to me. He’s worked himself to the bone every day since I was sixteen to get me to where I am today. And I have my assistant, Arthur, who I’m with round the clock and who has become one of my best friends. And I’ll remind you that I’ve been openly gay and an advocate for LGBT rights for almost all of my career, so the lack of wife should hardly be a surprise to anyone. A husband, though? I’ve hardly had the time.”

“So you’re saying the only people you consider family are those you pay to be around?” asked the interviewer. I wanted to climb over the ropes and go twelve rounds with her myself. I’d show her boxing. I’d be around Bradley whether or not he was paying me, and whether he wanted me or…okay, perhaps that was a little bit of an exaggeration. If he truly didn’t want me around, he could tell me.

“You know what, Cynthia? I think you’re right,” said Bradley. “I don’t know who my friends are. I’ve spent years winning fights and sitting on a rapidly growing bank account. And sometimes, it’s lonely as hell. I’ve had no time to make friends unless I’m sparring with them in the ring or they’re telling me I have yet another interview to do. And something has to change. So I’m retiring. I want to win this fight, then get out of the ring for good. I want to see what my life can be next.”

After finishing his Shakespeare-worthy monologue, the ring had gone so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Cynthia seemed to have no idea what to say, but then she gathered herself. “What does come next? A wife…husband? Family?”

For a second, Bradley’s eyes drifted to me, and my heart gave a little flutter. “Who knows?” he mused. “The next adventure.”

I snapped out of my reverie. With the way the news cycle worked nowadays, I had to be ahead of all of this. I took out my phone and started to type.

Chapter 5

Bradley

Because I always dehydrated and starved myself to make weight, I always felt weak before a weigh-in. But as soon as it was done, I’d be eating and drinking everything in sight to regain my strength .

“I cannot believe you’re handing out cookies when I’ve been starving myself fordays,” I groaned.

Arthur just shrugged. “Not my fault, boss.”

“It really isn’t,” Jason mumbled, mouth full of delicious, gooey, fragrant cookie. Bastards, the lot of them.

“Is he here yet?” I asked, checking my watch. We’d been sat in the green room for hours, and my opponent was late.

“You know it’s all a mind game. Bartosh is late because he thinks it’ll rattle you,” said Jason.

“Then why aren’tIlate?” I asked. Arthur simply rolled his eyes and took another cookie, I guessed to avoid giving me another quick and sassy answer.

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