Chapter 173

“He’s different,” I told my friends the next night, when we met at our typical wine bar. “I can’t really explain it, but he’s… distant. More closed off. And shorter with me than he’s been in a long time… Maybe since the beginning.”

Maria, Megan, and Rachel listened to my retelling of the previous night’s events with attention and patience. Now that it was done, they looked at each other.

They were still pissed at Logan for the ply to improve production fiasco, especially Maria, so their sympathy for him was limited. Even so, they each held looks of varying levels of concern.

Rachel spoke first. “He wants to… box?”

I nodded gravely. Maria and Megan looked at each other.

“Is it like, some kind of league for high society members or something?” Rachel asked. “He wouldn’t actually go up against, like, guys who do physical labor or something, right?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “He didn’t say the name of the league.”

“Some of those fights are really brutal,” Megan chimed in. “Rachel and I have gone before. It’s not always a pretty sight. Even when the fight is balanced, the guys walk away bruised and bloody.”

“I dated one of the boxers,” Rachel said.

“I remember that,” Maria added. “It was only for a month or so…”

“I couldn’t stand it,” Rachel said. “I would go to his matches and just be miserable the whole time. Every punch he took, I felt like I was taking it myself. Trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart. My guy would say he was fine, but more than once we had to get him to a hospital to have him checked out.”

“Concussion protocol,” Megan added.

Fear sparked within me and began to grow. Surely Logan wouldn’t put himself in that kind of danger…

I couldn’t think that with any measure of certainty anymore. Logan had been acting so erratic lately. God, I hoped he didn’t want to get hurt on purpose.

“I shouldn’t have left him,” I said, frowning down at my empty wine glass. “I should have stayed and tried to talk it through.”

During work that day, Logan had acted like nothing had happened. He was professional but friendly, but even then, Hazel had seen some cracks under his surface-level veneer. He was going through something, fighting some kind of demons.

“You can’t make him talk,” Maria said. “If he doesn’t want to share what’s happening, you can’t exactly force it out of him.”

“If I stayed, maybe he would have opened up,” I said, guilt nearly overwhelming me.

Rachel sighed as Megan rolled her eyes.

“There’s no guarantee of that,” Megan said with a huff. “If he wasn’t such a dick to start with, none of this would have happened. You don’t have to stay in situations where he’s being a jerk to you, especially for no reason.”

Megan was right. Logan had been a jerk so I purposely exited that situation. But…

“I’m worried,” I admitted.

Rachel pulled out her phone. Maria grabbed the bottle of red wine and refilled my glass.

“Listen, how about this,” Maria began. “We talk this through tonight and make a plan on how to confront him.”

“Less confronting,” Megan corrected, “More… convincing.”

That sounded good. “Okay.”

“I also think it might help if you actually saw a fight,” Rachel said. “Once you see how brutal it can be, you yourself will be more passionate about stopping him. That passion will definitely make you more convincing.”

“You want to go see a fight?” Megan asked. “Tonight?”

“Is there even anything happening tonight?” Maria asked. “It’s a weekday.”

“There’s always something going on if you know where to look. A-ha!” Rachel turned the phone around so we could all see the screen. On it was a social media advertisement for an amateur boxing league event happening tonight.

I glanced at the time. The event started in five minutes.

“We’ll be late,” I said, half-hoping everyone will want to back out. I didn’t really want to watch men beat each other into pulp, especially if I had to imagine Logan as one of them.

On the other hand, maybe Rachel was right. If this could make me more passionate in my arguments against Logan, then it was for the best for me to see it through, no matter how painful it would be to watch.

“There are a lot of fights, it could go on for hours,” Rachel said.

Megan lifted her arm at once and called for our waiter. “Check, please!”

The event location was in an older gym down by the docks. This wasn’t the best part of town, but Rachel and Megan both said they had been there before. So long as the four of us stuck together, we should be fine. With that confidence, we stepped out of our taxi and onto the sidewalk outside the event gym.

Inside, we immediately saw the boxing ring in the center of a large bare-bones room. The floor beneath the ring was concrete, the walls bare brick. Several metal stands were set up around the ring. They were mostly full. Other people stood around the ring as well, watching and shouting. Many were taking bets.

A man behind the counter to our left was watching the counter with interest. His handlebar mustache seemed to droop into a frown as he noticed us standing there, ready to buy tickets.

“Russell isn’t fighting tonight,” the mustached man said to Rachel.

Rachel blushed slightly. Megan gave her a sharp look.

“Didn’t you break up?” Maria asked.

Rachel waved her hand, indicating a sign of off and on. A situationship, then. Much like Mike and Maria. Why was it so hard to find an actual relationship these days?

Even my marriage was unconventional. Oftentimes I felt as push-pulled as my friends in their own relationships.

“I’m not here for him tonight,” Rachel said. “My friends just want to see a fight.”

“Good night for it,” the man said. He told us the amount we owed and I paid up. We’d already collectively decided that it would be best for only one of us to actually flash cash.

After accepting the money, the man waved us through. “Stick together,” he called. “Some men here aren’t used to seeing women by themselves.”

We took his warning seriously and inched closer to each other.

As we reached the edge of the crowd, several men did in fact turn to look at us. One whistled with appreciation. Another, a gambler, with betting tickets sticking out of his pockets, walked right up to me and leaned into my space. He stank of cigarettes and cheap beer.

“She’s not interested,” Maria told him.

He flashed a yellow-toothed grin at her. “Wait your turn, honey. There’s enough of me to go around.”

Every inch of my body recoiled away from this vile man. Despite my clear disinterested body language, he leaned in farther.

“What’s your name, gorgeous?” He pitched his voice lower. “I’ve always wanted to bed a blonde.”

Bile rose up my throat. It was all I could do to keep myself from being ill all over his shirt.

Suddenly, a hand fell on the man’s shoulder and yanked him back with enough force to make him stumble.

“The lady isn’t interested, Burt.”

Wait. I knew that voice.

Dylan shoved the man away from me and my friends.

“Fuck off, Dylan,” the vile man – Burt, I guess – spat in Dylan’s direction.

“No means no,” Dylan said and held himself ready, arms tense at his side. He looked like the men in the ring, ready to start throwing punches.

Burt immediately backed down. “Whatever.” He slunk to the other side of the ring.

When the danger had passed, most of the men returned their attention to the action in the ring.

Dylan looked at me. “Hazel, what in the hell are you doing in a place like this?”