Page 111 of On the Ropes
Dean
Rowan swung his office chair around and sat in it backward. “Did you get a migraine last night?”
I rubbed my temples. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“The looking-like-shit-warmed-over part. Do you still have it?”
He was already standing up and walking to the kitchen. I took the brief moment to scan his office, filled with food donations. But then he appeared next to me with an ice pack in his hand.
“Thank you.” I placed it on the back of my neck. “I went for a hard run just now. Gave myself a tension headache.” At Rowan’s arched eyebrow I said, “I know it was a mistake. One of many today.”
He placed a glass of ice water and a bottle of Tylenol next to it. I swallowed two and finished the glass.
“Easy, big guy,” he said. “The only perfect person in this room is me, so you don’t gotta go all hard on yourself.”
I flipped him a middle finger, which made him laugh. He swung his leg back over the chair. “Seriously though. What the hell is going on? Is Eddie okay?”
“Eddie’s good,” I said. “I talked to him about the food boxes, and he wants to sign up. But only if he can give half to the neighbors.”
A real smile flew across Rowan’s face. “You did it.”
I lifted one shoulder. “It was no big deal. Think he just had to feel comfortable.” I glanced back around at the boxes, the pictures of kids and families on the wall. I listened to the sounds of people working late, someone playing the radio softly. I was feigning being casual about Eddie. Talking to him about what he needed help with had felt important. Knowing this place could help, even a little bit, had warmed my chest. Made me proud. Throughout the meeting with Rex and Harry, they’d kept emphasizing the lifestyle I’d have out there—makeup, lights, being on camera, always having a hot take on some boxer’s skill or lack of.
I’d felt only a hollow, shallow interest that became a spiky panic by the time I’d shaken Rex’s hand and said, “Yeah. I’ll do it.” Maybe it was the greed in Harry’s eyes. Or the fact that it was clear Rex did not, at all, care about the health and well-being of any athlete unless it was giving Game Time bad press.
On Rowan’s computer, he’d stuck a Post-it note that said Every day is your chance to make this city better.
“I fucked up,” I said.
His eyebrows knit together. “With Tabitha?”
I hesitated. “Yes, with Tabitha. But not only that. I took her to family dinner last night. It meant a lot to me, seeing her with my parents like that. Seeing the way they light up around her. When I got the migraine, she stayed and took care of me, and we talked all morning. Like it wasn’t temporary at all. Like Tabitha and I were two people in love, sharing a life together.”
Those eyebrows shot up to his hairline. I knew why.
“But then…” I dropped the ice pack onto the desk, right knee shaking. “Then an investor showed up. Oswald.”
“Fucking asshole,” Rowan muttered.
“He wants to buy Annie’s lot. And it was a mess. And I could feel Tabitha pulling away from me, getting ready to leave. I got angry and overwhelmed. I’d forgotten the meeting Harry had set up with the Game Time producer, but by the time I walked in there I was pissed and powerless, and when he talked about tons of money and having this giant comeback I…”
“Retreated,” Rowan said.
“I was going to go with was a total bastard. I said yes and didn’t tell you. Even though…”
Rowan let me trail off and collect my jumbled thoughts. I rubbed my forehead, rubbed my eyes. When I finally looked up, I couldn’t avoid what I wanted.
“Dean,” he said. “It doesn’t matter what I want or what some slimy producer wants. I’ll miss you like hell, but I’m not gonna be mad if you want that job.” He paused. “Do you want it?”
I pushed the empty water glass away with one finger. “Harry’s been blowing a bunch of smoke up my ass, telling me the network had a plan in addressing head injuries during matches. I was skeptical. The only way to prevent those injuries is for boxers to stop taking hits above their chest. It would mean no blood. No broken teeth. No knockouts.”
“No drama,” Rowan said grimly.
“It wouldn’t be boxing,” I said. “I threw this out to Rex while we were meeting. He gave me a spiel so full of bullshit you could see it from space. Said they’d do more to honor boxers who had passed away from their injuries, make some donations to research institutions. Small donations. I could tell he thought I’d be impressed. That my interest in this was surface level—because he gave me a bunch of surface-level solutions.”
“Did you sign a contract or anything?”
I shook my head. “No, and thank God. Two hours after I left them I knew I’d made a mistake. But I knew Tabitha was leaving and the park wasn’t going to work out, so I don’t know. I thought it was my best option, going back to an identity that doesn’t fit the same anymore.” I glanced back over at the food boxes. “I’m not Dean the Machine, and I don’t want to be.”
