"Morning Sunshine." Jesse chirps. He's always ribbing me because I don't smile much. Apparently, I'm destined to grow into some grumpy old man, like the type you see in the movies sitting on their porch with a gun to keep everyone away. "Have a good weekend?"
Shrugging as he strolls past me and taps me on the back of the shoulder, I am so proud of the little fucker. He's new to the team but had his debut fight a couple of months ago and completely smoked the competition within sixty seconds of the first round starting. He's got a way to go yet but if he keeps it up, he'll definitely be on track for a title shot in the featherweight division within the next couple of years.
About six months after I lost Sam, he came to me asking for coaching. Initially I fobbed him off, but he was persistent — wouldn't take no for an answer and he's actually made me realise that coaching is something I enjoy — well it beats these fucking training camps anyway.
"Ethan, this is Mike Mansell, the boxer Sarah told you about." Jamison appears in front of me with an eager young athlete. We've got a sparring session booked this morning to help polish up my boxing technique and Sarah has brought in some up-and-coming heavyweight boxing star to put me through my paces.
"Hey." I keep things as brief as I can, I'm not in the mood for making friends, I just want to hit shit. "Are we going to stand around all day or are we actually going to train?"
The next thirty minutes are a bit of a blur, I’m frustrated because I can’t get Mia out of my damn head and I want to. I really want to. As a result, I’ve been taking it out on Mike.
“For fuck sake!” Jamison yells as he flaps his arms around frantically, “You’re training him for a championship fight not a god damn playground scrap. You’re not being paid to take it easy on him.”
The elite striking partner he and Sarah brought in for me to work with is stood with a bloody nose and a mouse starting to form just below his right eye, his line of sight directed towards the floor. Mike is supposed to be helping me to build up my defence against a heavy hitter but so far, it's been very one sided. Don’t get me wrong, getting the better of him is great for my ego — and it's certainly helping with my frustration— but it’s not going to help me beat a tough opponent like Stone.
“I was just easing him into it boss.”
“Well, he's not going to learn anything if you keep letting him beat you up, is he?” Jamison is a tough coach, and I can see the guy cowering as he yells. “He needs to know how it feels to be hit and at this rate, I’d be better off getting his fucking seven-year-old daughter in here to do your job!” It's a comical scene really because Mike is a very similar build to me, Jamison on the other hand is about 6 inches shorter and built more like a long-distance runner with his long slender limbs. Sometimes I wonder how he stays on his feet when we're hitting pads. “I’m going for a drink and hopefully by the time I come back you will have remembered how to do your fucking job!”
With that, the head coach storms out of the gym mumbling under his breath until he is out of sight while everyone else gives him a wide berth.
“Shit, what’s up with him? His period come early or something?” Mike chuckles to himself as he walks out of the double doors leading to the courtyard and sparks up a cigarette.
“I’m glad you find it funny. The last time I saw Jay this worked up, he shoved some guys head through a glass window.” Jesse explains as he follows Mike outside. “And that was just because he didn’t like the way he looked at him.”
He’s not wrong. Jamison might be a small guy, but he has one hell of a temper when he loses it. When I first met him, he’d been in care for a couple of years. His mum was in prison for killing his father after finding him with another woman and he’d pretty much bounced around from one home to another.
None of the other kids wanted to share a room with him so I ended up drawing the short straw and on my first night, he woke me up ranting about me stealing one of his t-shirts. We beat ten tons of shit out of each other and the next morning when the adults asked what happened, I covered for him. He’s been a loyal friend ever since and he’s had my back multiple times. Especially when I first found out about Sam and Lucas.
I follow him into the kitchen — I could go a chill with the guys outside until Jay comes back but I can’t stand small talk. I’d much rather focus on what I’m doing than talk about shit like the weather or the latest hot topic of my new house mate — plus, I really want to know what’s crawled up his ass today.
“Hey man, what’s up with you?” I ask cautiously as I approach, not wanted to startle him when he has his back to me. “You okay?”
He turns, his face bright pink. “Yeah, just a shit weekend. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you guys.”
“Don’t worry about it. Just pull yourself together and get back in there before Mike coughs his lungs up.”
“Will do.” His face shifts into a half smile. “How's things going with Mia?”
There are not enough hours in the day for this conversation. “Yeah, she's doing a great job.”
It's been a few weeks since she moved in, and the house has now
