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“Funny.”
I cut the call. The screen goes back to my wallpaper, a picture of my mom and me. Maybe if I stare at it long enough, Mom will say something. Maybe about my career. Maybe about Ronan. After a while, I click the button and the screen goes black. Waiting for ghosts, you could waste away your life.
* * *
I push wide the double glass doors wide open later that afternoon and stride into the Raucous gym. The place is hopping compared to the mom-and-pop gyms where I secretly train with Ronan, and the difference always feels like night and day.
Still, even though I’m never excited to be here these days, the smell of sweat and gymnastic mats fill my nostrils. The mix always gets me revved. I’m happy and relieved the place is full because fewer people here means more chance of them examining me and my every move.
I notice some groupies hanging out in the stands. It’s the usual suspects, one being Dee Dee Dauterive, Ronan’s slobbering fan. I assume she’s hoping Ronan will appear at some point. I shake my head and wonder why these girls don’t have lives.
I gear up and quickly go through my warm-up session, then practice my Archimedes set-up. I miss my cues. I overstep. Hell, I even stumble once.
“Chey, what the hell is going on? You’re acting like this is your first day in the ring.”
Mac’s arms are crossed. Not a good sign.
I exhale, throw my hands on my hips, and gaze at my shoes.
“Frig, I know. My heart isn’t in it today.”
Mac turns and hollers. “Hey, Lottie, get in the ring. Help Chey out here.”
“Sure thing.”
Lottie leaves her mat and jumps up.
“Okay, Archimedes, do your best.” Lottie beats her chest as her Torrential. She’s already rocking her Amazon woman look.
I turn my head and shake the tension out of my shoulders, focus, and we go at it.
Lottie bobs. I weave and trip over my feet.
Lottie weaves, I bob and fall into the ropes.
“Stop! Stop! I can’t do this.”
Lottie, slack-jawed, looks at Mac. He just shrugs his shoulders.
I feel like a Muppet without a human stuck up my butt. I don’t tell Mac or Lottie why I’m physically beat, emotionally confused, and so elated all at the same time about Ronan and me.
“Chey, I get it. There’s not been much time to practice the footwork for this next gig, but you really have to up your game.” Mac’s face tries to look sympathetic, but the expression fails. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking I’m acting like a stupid kid who doesn’t know one gangly limb from another.
“Okay, how ‘bout we change it up? I’ll go into my Disastra character against your Torrential. Perform a few moves.”
“Bring it, girl! Let’s get this rumble on the road.”
I smile, and we go at it. I’m so engrossed in my foot work and rope tricks that I fail to notice Dee Dee and a few of her idol skulking hangers-on have moved closer to the ring to watch.
After the three practice rounds where I’m still screwing up cues I had down cold with Camie, Mac yells. “Stop! Enough. I can’t watch this trainwreck anymore. Get out of the ring. Lottie, thanks, by the way. Chey, meet me in the locker room. We need to talk. Now.”
My forehead furrows and my lips purse. I utter a few choice curses and angrily pull off my hand tape. I burst through the locker doors and wait for Mac’s berating. I know it’s coming. Today’s session was beyond embarrassing.
The door closes. “Okay, Chey, cough it up. What the hell is wrong with you? I mean, even Lottie felt sorry for you, and she loves beating your butt.”
I turn around and look down at the demon. His beady black eyes penetrate my soul, or at least that’s how his look feels.
I plunk down on the bench. My butt hits it so hard that I think the wood will split. It doesn’t.
