“Because I don’t want to just be able to pretend to fight onscreen without using a body double. I don’t want it to be fake. I want it to be real. I’m putting in the work either way, and I want to get skills out of the deal.”
“Why me?”
Bohannon wraps an arm around the heavy bag and nods. “I saw you fight a couple years ago in person. It was harder to see your moves than on your YouTube videos, but I could feel the energy in the crowd. It was fucking electric, all because of you. That’s the feeling I want to give people forking over their hard-earned money to watch my movie. I want them to have the best.”
“And you want to be able to kick someone’s ass for real if you need it,” I add, because I’m pretty damn sure that’s his other motive.
“Wouldn’t you?”
I nod and undo my glove, then pull out my hand to offer him. “Gabriel Legend.”
He does the same. “Silas Bohannon. You can call me Bo.”
We shake hands, and I drop his wrapped fingers to hit him with the rest of the truth.
“I haven’t worked out enough these last couple months. I’m not in the best shape right now.”
“I’ll take what I can get,” Bo says.
“I can’t offer more than once a week, at best—and I live in Jersey.”
Bo winces, and I almost laugh at him. A lot of die-hard Manhattanites don’t like going over the bridge. I’m not one of them, because I know there’s a great big world outside the city.
“Fair enough. You got a phone?” he asks.
I head to my bag next to Roux and drop my gloves inside, then fish out my phone. Before Bo rattles off his number, he squats down beside my dog and pauses.
“May I?” he asks with his hand out, like he wants to pet her.
I’m glad he asked first, or I’d tell him to go fuck off about the sparring. No one should touch another man’s dog without permission. Unless it’s a kid, because they just don’t fucking know better and can’t resist not stroking the fur.
“She probably won’t eat your hand. Knock yourself out.”
Bo lets Roux sniff his palm and then scratches her under the chin. The man knows how to approach a dog. That’s a point in his favor.
Roux licks his hand and uses her snout to lift it up to pet the top of her head.Bossy bitch.
“Beautiful dog.”
“Her name’s Roux. If she didn’t like you, I wouldn’t be trading numbers,” I tell him.
“Fair enough,” he says. “I have two of my own, and they’re too big of assholes to behave this well in public. Probably spoiled them too much.”
We trade numbers, and Bo sends me a text to confirm.
“I can’t promise I’ll have time,” I remind him. “I’m not fighting these days.”
“I heard. You opened a club?”
Of course he’s heard. Everyone has.
“Yeah.” I stay deliberately vague because I don’t want to get into the details that I know are coming next. Doesn’t matter, though.
“You had some trouble there too, right?”
I nod again, keeping my mouth shut.
Bo isn’t stupid and gets my drift. With one last scratch of Roux’s ears, he rises, and I do the same.