Going the Distance (No Excuses Book 1) (8 page)

That was true, but Trent didn’t even want to think about finding someone. He was bored with all the girls parading in front of him like he was a goddamn king, picking out chicks for his harem. The only one he wanted was Sam, and she was off limits for so many reasons. She’d give him what he actually wanted, but it would also mean he’d stop focusing on his next fight. He had to take one look at Josh to see how crazy the guy was over Stacey. Trent didn’t need that right now in his life. Maybe later, sure, but not now. He still had a few years left in him before his team would throw in the towel on his ass, so fighting should be his priority. Not women. Or not one woman, to be precise. Lots of women were fine, but one in particular wasn’t. Because that one lone woman could make him lose his fucking mind.

On Monday morning, Sam picked up Hank and headed to Trent’s gym. Hank hadn’t been able to stop talking about meeting the fighter and how great it was to have a real-life boxer in his home, so Sam had decided to make Hank even happier by taking him to visit Trent in the gym. Hank’s face had glowed at the announcement and Adele had sent them off with her blessing and some wrapped cookies for Trent.

Sam pulled up to the gym, parked and they got out.

“Are you sure it’s alright that we’re here?” Hank asked, sounding suddenly unsure of their idea.

“Yes, it will be fine. I’m sure Trent will be happy to see you again.”

Sometimes a little white lie never hurt anyone. Not that she didn’t think Trent liked Hank, he did, she was sure of it, but showing up unannounced was a different matter. She wasn’t sure how he’d like that.

They entered the gym and let their eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

“This way,” she said, spotting Trent in the ring. Hank followed closely behind her and they walked up to the ring a moment later.

Trent hadn’t noticed them yet and was circling his opponent in deep concentration. He threw a punch, which the other guy dodged. A few seconds later, his opponent went into attack mode and Trent raised his hands to his face defensively.

“Good work, Trent,” Hank called out, much to Sam’s shock.

Trent turned to look at them just as his opponent’s glove connected with his jaw. Sam sucked in air sharply. He stumbled, but didn’t fall, then shook his head as if to clear it and spit out his mouthpiece.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hey Trent, remember me?” Hank asked, oblivious to Trent’s mood.

“Yeah, hey Hank.” Trent turned his glare on her. “Sam?”

“Sorry if we distracted you,” she said, giving him an apologetic smile, “but Hank’s been wanting to come check out your gym and I thought today was the perfect day for it.”

Trent merely continued scowling at her. The other guys who had been exercising in different parts of the gym were turning their attention to her now. She could feel their eyes on her.

“You’re looking good, Trent,” Hank said, giving him a thumbs up. “Just keep those hands up high and protect your face.”

Instead of turning his brooding look on Hank, Trent cocked his head at Sam as if to say, “Are you fucking serious?”

“Is it alright if we take a look around and watch for a few minutes?” she asked, trying to diffuse the situation. Judging from the look on his face, he wasn’t happy about it, but he nodded and turned away.

“Come on, Hank, let’s look around,” she said, leading him away from the ring.

She wasn’t happy with Trent either since he’d been avoiding her all week. She’d tried to reach him to get her interview taken care of, but it seemed like he was busy every time she called. She knew he was trying to get in shape for his next fight again, but this was ridiculous. After everything they’d done together, surely he could spare an hour to answer her questions. Shoot, it probably wouldn’t even take that long. She was writing an article for the newspaper, after all, not interviewing him for some TV special.

She looked at the pictures covering the walls and Hank was right beside her.

“Great pictures,” he mumbled, leaning forward to take a closer look.

There were photos of Trent knocking someone out, of him showing off his biceps during a weigh-in, with Emmanuel after a win, and so many more, she’d need the entire day to look at them all.

“What great memories,” she said, more to herself than to Hank.

“Yep,” Hank replied as he walked past her. “There’s more over here.”

She followed him to the next section and scanned the wall. Besides pictures of Trent, there were photos of other boxers in the ring, training, celebrating, and smiling with their teams. Sam wondered what it was like to live the kind of life Trent was leading. He’d had a tragic childhood, losing both his parents, but he was a famous and popular athlete now, enjoying everything that money could buy, including women at his beck and call.

She had no idea what it felt like to have money to burn. From the moment she’d earned her first paycheck, her parents had taken her money to use either for bills or their drug habit. The moment she’d left them, she’d scraped every little bit together to support herself. That was a decade ago and she was proud of the life she was leading now. Probably just as proud as Trent was of his accomplishments.

“Come Sam, let’s see more of Trent’s moves,” Hank said, turning away and heading back to the ring.

She took one last look at the photos, then followed Hank. Trent was circling his opponent, not paying attention to anyone outside the ring. She watched the look of concentration on his face. What had happened to cause him to lose his last fight? For someone who’d been undefeated, it must have been devastating. She inhaled deeply, realizing for the first time just how much it must have affected him. When they’d first met, she’d thought he was a jerk who needed to learn some manners. His loss hadn’t meant much to her. Now that she’d gotten to know him, she understood just how much of an impact that loss must have made.

Trent threw a punch and circled his opponent. His muscles were stretching and moving, giving her an eyeful of that body that had pleased her so well. She watched his arms extend, then move back to protect his face, his biceps flexing every few seconds. His back was like a canvas of nothing but muscle, and his abs were defined as though a six-pack was airbrushed on him. His legs were long and muscular, providing the quick footwork he needed in the ring. The tattoos were equally as distracting as the rest of him, and she wondered that his opponents could keep their eyes focused and not go in for a closer look. There was an eagle, some tribal designs, words, numbers, and more things she couldn’t make out. She made a mental note to ask him about his tattoos during the interview.

“He’s looking good in there,” Hank said, leaning toward her.

She nodded, not wanting to say anything in case she’d distract Trent some more. They watched in silence for a few minutes, then Sam thought it best to go. Trent needed to focus and not have them watch over his shoulder.

“We should go, Hank.”

“Alright,” he said, taking one last look.

She nodded at Ramirez who was standing on the other side of the ring and he gave her a barely perceptible nod in return. He hadn’t said anything to her the entire time she’d been there.
Well, so much for the gentlemen in this place.
She pointed at the plate of cookies in her hand and set it on a table by the wall. He nodded again in acknowledgement.

She didn’t say bye to Trent for obvious reasons. He’d gotten punched in the head when they arrived, so she didn’t want a repeat of that.

They made their way out quietly and Sam was glad that Hank had enjoyed himself. She could see it on his face. He seemed ten years younger, smiling from ear to ear.

“That just made my week.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” she replied, laughing.

They got in the car and she pulled out of the parking lot. She wished she could say the same, but that wasn’t the case. It’d been good to see Trent, but they still had unresolved business to take care of.

***

That afternoon, Ramirez introduced Trent to Bill Potter, a sports psychologist. Trent shook the guy’s hand with hesitation and more than enough irritation. Why the fuck was Ramirez bringing in a psychologist?

“I heard you just lost your first fight,” Bill said, looking at him with interest.

Trent nodded, giving Ramirez a look that spoke volumes.

“Going through such an important event can be life-changing,” Bill continued.

No shit, Trent wanted to say. He kept quiet though, not sure if he was supposed to be replying to anything the guy said anyways.

“A lot of athletes have a hard time recovering from a loss, especially one that is so monumental. When they feel like they’ve reached a certain point in their training or their career, or when what they’re doing isn’t cutting it anymore, they come see me.”

“Is that so?” Trent crossed his arms. “And what do you do?”

“I help them work out their issues and make sure they’re mentally prepared to move forward.”

That sounded like a bunch of bullshit to Trent. A therapist? Ramirez seriously wanted to bring in this guy?

“So what do you think you can do for me?” he asked, giving Bill a once-over.

“Well, I’m not a miracle worker, but what I like to do is get your take on what’s been happening with your fights and your training, and go from there.”

“And then?”

“Then we bring you to your mental peak. I analyze your mental state, check your self-esteem, anxiety levels, attention, imagination, motivation, stress management abilities, and goal setting.”

Trent’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you fucking serious?” He glared at Ramirez. “My mental state? Like I’m some kind of a nut job?”

Ramirez held his hands up as if to calm him down. “Just hear the guy out, Trent. He’s here to help and has helped lots of other guys.”

“So you think I need help now? Like I can’t do this shit on my own?”

“Sometimes it’s hard to step back and see the bigger picture,” Bill said in his cool and collected manner. Trent wanted to punch the calmness out of him.

“I don’t need a fucking shrink,” he told Ramirez.

“It’s not like that, Trent. You’re not gonna talk about your fucking feelings on who knows what. He’s here to make sure you can visualize the fight. Get your head back in the ring again.”

“That’s right,” Bill added. “The first thing I do with the fighters I work with is set goals that can be measured and actually achieved. Then we set time frames so we can check the results. So, for example, if you want to increase your speed, we’ll come up with a plan to achieve that. I’ll work with you on visualizing that goal every day so that your brain gets used to being in that state of mind.”

“How does this visualizing work?” Trent asked, curious despite still being pissed for even having to talk to this guy.

“I’ll give you guidelines and tapes to help you with the process. We’ll work on making sure that during the visualizations, you feel the moment with your senses. For example, if you’re thinking about walking into the ring, you should hear the crowd in your head, feel the warmth of the lights, smell the leather of your gloves, and feel your feet hitting the ground with each step.”

Trent shook his head, not falling for it one bit. “How’s that supposed to make me a better fighter?”

“If you can control your mind, your body will follow. Whatever you set your mind to do, your body can’t help but do it too. It’s like the soldier following the general.”

“Just give it a shot,” Ramirez said, nodding to everything Bill was saying. “You got nothing to lose, man. In case you haven’t noticed, your boxing’s all over the place right now. You gotta straighten this shit out.”

Trent had been thinking the same thing, but he hadn’t gone so far as to consider seeing a shrink. That sounded extreme.

“Look, you don’t have to make a decision today,” Bill said, taking out a couple of business cards from his folder and handing them to Trent and Ramirez. “Take your time, think it over and let me know how you decide in a few days.”

Trent looked at the plain white card with Bill’s name and phone number etched in black. No fuss, just the basic info.

“If it makes a difference, you won’t be lying on my leather couch talking about your childhood,” Bill said, smiling. “I’d come to the gym every day and work with you on perfecting your mind and body in your own environment, where you feel comfortable. My only goal is to get you ready for the next fight.”

That, at least, sounded promising. Trent still wasn’t about to sign up for therapy sessions or whatever they were supposed to be simply to please Ramirez though.

“I’ll think about it,” he said, starting to turn away.

“You better think about it real hard,” Ramirez said, getting his attention again. “You had no problem seeing that goddamn reporter who’s showing up day and night. The least you can do is let Bill help you out.”

Trent fixed him with narrowed eyes. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“Bullshit. She’s got everything to do with this. You can’t see the fucking fight in front of your face anymore, Trent. She’s got you so messed up, the rookies are looking better out there than you.”

Trent’s hands balled into fists. Bill zipped up his folder.

“Call me if you wanna talk,” he said, nodding at both of them, then turning to leave.

“Is your skull so thick that you can’t see when something good comes your way?” Ramirez addressed Trent.

The funny thing was, Trent had been thinking that something good had come his way, but that something wasn’t named Bill. It also didn’t have a cock, but a sweet-ass pussy that he wanted now more than ever, despite her unannounced visit earlier in the day, which had pissed him off more than he’d let on. That was beside the point now, however, and he had to deal with Ramirez who was getting on his last nerve.

“That something good is your guy who’s supposed to hold my hand until I get another win?”

Ramirez snorted disgusted. “Fine, do what the fuck you want, man. I can’t wait to see what you got up your sleeves to turn your training around.” He walked away without another word.

Trent threw back his head and exhaled loudly. Could this day get any worse?