Page 88 of Whatever It Takes

I bouncedon the rubber mat beneath my feet, my glove covered fist landing punch after punch to the heavy bag in front of me. I clenched my jaw and ignored the pain of my burning knuckles as I pounded away. I was covered in sweat and so fucking irritated I couldn’t stop.

“Woah,” Marco said, coming up to my side but keeping a safe distance. “I think I know whose face you’re picturing right now.”

I wrapped my arms around the bag to get it to stop moving. I shook out my body and tore out my AirPods. “What’s up?” I asked, grabbing my water bottle off the floor. I tried to breathe through the rage and focus on anything other than smashing Grant Anderson’s face in.

“I wanted to see how you’re doing.” He eyed my red, swollen hands as I yanked my gloves off.

“Slow day at the office.”

He rolled his eyes. “I figured having public enemy number one locked up where he belongs would have you in a better mood.”

He had a point. I should have been elated, but I was far from it. Was I relieved? Hell, yes. Did it change my current situation with Charlotte? No. Therefore, I was in a shitty mood.

“You really need to get laid and stop focusing on my personal life.”

He chuckled. “Trust me, I have no issues getting laid.”

Oh, didn’t I know. Marco loved to bang and brag. If he got laid, the story got more coverage than Donald Trump’s daily tweets.

“I’m really not in the mood for a heart-to-heart right now.”

“You’re obviously pissed off and I’m going to go out on a limb here. Maybe you’re not the one getting laid?” I gritted my teeth and glared at him. “If this shit with Grant is causing problems between you and Charlotte, do something about it instead of being a fucking asshole to everyone.”

The thing with being friends with Marco was that he was brutally honest. He didn’t mince his words and he sure as hell didn’t sugarcoat his thoughts. He had no trouble laying it all on the line for me and calling me out on my shit.

“She asked for space,” I snapped and threw my hands out at my side. “I’m doing what she asked me to do.”

He angled his head and stepped closer. “Yeah, I see that, but since when does Quinn Walker back down from a challenge?”

“I’m not backing down from anything. She made her wishes crystal fucking clear. I’m just trying to respect them.”

He shook his head. “Then you’re an idiot. If I were you, I would move heaven and earth to make my intentions known to that woman.”

“What the hell do you think I’ve been doing?”

Was Marco stoned or just stupid? I’ve done everything I could think of to show her how important she was to me. I faced the mistakes of my past head-on. I’ve denied her nothing. I’ve opened my heart up to her daughter. I’ve stood by and watched her grieve over a marriage that never should have happened to begin with. I’ve comforted her when she was scared and took a step back when she needed space. What more on this God given earth could I do to make her see that I was here to stay? That the future we always wanted was still waiting for us and all we had to do was take it.

A few boisterous laughs echoed in the room interrupting my thoughts. A group of guys walked in, ready to start their workout.

Marco pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. “I gotta run. Let me know if you want to grab a beer later.” As he walked past me, his hand landed on my sweaty shoulder. “And to answer your question on what I think you should do? Well, my mama always said that actions speak louder than words.”

I narrowed my eyes at his retreating back. Marco and his fucking riddles. No wonder the idiot was still single.

After I got dressed, I slammed my locker door shut, spun the combo lock and powered my way out to the parking lot. I had one destination in mind, shitfaced island.

As I exited the off-ramp, I spotted a familiar bar that I passed by every night on my way home. I’d never been inside before, but the red neon sign in the window advertised “Warm Beer and Lousy Food.” Judging from the three shitty cars parked out front, it looked like the perfect place to drink away my troubles.

I walked up toward the bar as AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long” blared through the jukebox in the back of the room. I ordered a Jameson neat and asked the bartender to leave the bottle. I enjoyed the burn from my first sip of whiskey as I waited for the effects to numb my body and erase all the shit going on in my head.

“You got a name, boy?” My head popped up and my eyebrows pulled together. The old Italian man behind the bar kept his eyes trained on me as he wiped the beer glasses off with a white towel.

When the hell was the last time someone called me “boy”? I wanted to correct him and tell him that I was in fact a man, not a boy, but there was something about his approach that had me sitting back in my stool.

“Name is Quinn.”

He tilted his body to the side, resting his hips against the bar so he could watch the old married couple in the back bickering over a game of pool. He shook his head and threw his white dish towel over his shoulder. “All right, Quinn. You look like you have something on your mind. I’m a good listener. So, if you’re ready to get it off your chest, I’m listening.”

A laugh rumbled out of me. “I’m sorry, your name is?”

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