Among the Echoes (Wrecked and Ruined #2.5)(5)

I bark out a laugh. "I think I make us all enough money without whoring myself out."

This is the exact same song and dance Mitch and I go through after every fight. Even before I was making millions, I still did my own thing after fights. I work my ass off for months in preparation. I don't think it's too much to ask for a little time to unwind afterwards.

I lie facedown on the table for Chris to rub down my back. "Go. Party your ass off, but I'm out of here."

"Slate, you are the heavyweight champion of the world. Act like it. Go out and mingle with the people. Maybe find a woman and break your vow of celibacy."

"I'm not celibate, you ass. Since when are you worried about my cock? Last I checked, it doesn't make you a damn penny."

"Not yet. But if you give me enough time, I'm sure I could get you a Magnum condom sponsorship," he halfway jokes.

"Oh for the love of God. I turned down Nike. You think I'd do a Trojan ad?" I groan at his ludicrous idea.

"Money isn't the devil, Slate."

"Maybe not, but you still make enough to be an evil bastard all the same." I roll my shoulders, signaling Chris to work on them.

"All right, all right," he relents. "Go on your little vacation. Can you at least take your phone this time?"

"Nope. You know the drill. You need me, send an email. Don't be a vague prick this time either. I'm not falling for that shit again. A rematch announcement does not constitute an emergency."

"It does when I need a contract signed ASAP."

"It could have waited two weeks." I push up from the table to catch his eye. "I'm serious. New rule. You don't contact me unless Jimmy deems it an emergency. Got it?" I glance over at Jimmy, who is looking down, suddenly enthralled with his shoes.

"Fuck that. This arena could burn down with us inside and he wouldn't consider it an emergency."

"Exactly," I say, pushing to my feet.

"Whatever, Slate. It’s your career. You can f*ck it up all you want."

"Well I've been f*cking it up for over fifteen years now, all the while lining your pockets. I think my career will survive another month." I stand and head to the shower without another word spoken.





"Riley!" my boss calls, catching me off guard.

I cartoon-style throw all my papers in the air then scramble to the floor after them.

"Jeez, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you." He bends down to help me collect them.

"It's okay. No big deal," I say breathlessly, more to myself than to him.

"It's just that we are taking a final head count for the Christmas party. I know you're new and I just wanted to make sure you got invited. I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so jumpy."

"Yeah. I am pretty jumpy," I say softly. "I won't be able to make the party. I'm sorry." I stand, straightening the papers just so I don’t have to meet his eyes.

"Are you sure? It's not for another week. You can bring your boyfriend if you would like." He smiles. I'm sure it’s genuine, but all I can think about is what he’s hiding behind that grin. He's never looked at me in a suggestive manner, but I'm sure he's thought about it.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I can't make it." I shake my head as I quickly exit the file room.

I walk back to my corner of the cubicle I share with both of the other file clerks and snag my purse, ready to escape for the day. I pick up my phone and text out a quick message before grabbing my jacket and lunch bag and heading to clock out.

I hate this job, but it pays the bills. At least that's the way I'm supposed to think.

Dale, Derrick, Don—whatever his name is—pulls up outside in a small, older-model, silver sedan, and I all but dive into the car.

"What's your name?" I ask as soon as I shut the door.

"Fuck, Riley."

"I'm sorry. I can't remember. I'll get it, I promise. Just give it to me one more time."

"Dave," he answers shortly.

"I'm sorry," I whisper.

He shakes his head but reaches down to reassuringly squeeze my leg. "How was your first day?" he asks with a quick smile.

"Can’t Buy Me Love," I answer, staring blankly head.

"Really?"

I nod and quickly ask, "You?"

"Grease," he responds.

"Oh! Well that's not bad." I answer, finally looking over at him.

"Two," he finishes, and my eyes widen in shock.

"No f*cking way."

"Way. I'm a car audio installation specialist!"

"Damn. That's really bad. And here I thought a file clerk sucked."

He chuckles. "Someone out there really likes you. You've had an office job three moves in a row."

"Right. I'm so glad I spent all those years in medical school now. What would I ever do without them now that I spend forty hours a week filing auto insurance claims."

"Riley, you don't always have to be strong." He guides me into our run-down two-bedroom apartment.

"Neither do you," I snap.

I walk inside, head straight for the closet, and slip out of my heels. Suddenly, I feel him behind me. His hand starts at my collarbone and slides up my neck, forcing my head back to look up at him.