The Only Way is Up

Part Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six

Max could feel blood in his mouth, but he didn't care. This was the best he'd felt in a long time, anger was mixing with adrenaline and making him strike out hard, accurately. Arthur McCain, his boxing trainer, called out instructions as he and the man-mountain that had come to the gym with him, circled each other in the ring. He knew his lip was bleeding, he could taste it. But, Damien, the man facing him had a black eye, despite wearing a head guard. He was Arthur's heaviest set fighter, and the old man had promised him a HARD workout, but his adrenaline, every emotion that bubbled under the surface, it was all making him feel like a warrior.

But the only defeats he'd ever had in the cage had been when he'd become over confident, so as he spotted Damien shake his head, try to clear the sweat from his eyes, he stepped back a little and tried to take things in. The big man was rolling his right wrist, as well as slightly flexing a knee, he recognised the signs of injury, whether they be old or new, and piled in.

With two well timed punches the man collapsed and Arthur whooped from the corner.

"No one in the amateur leagues has caught Damien in less than five rounds."

He'd done it in two, and his knee felt great. That made him smile. Crossing the ring, he offered a gloved hand to his opponent and helped him to his feet. Bumping gloves, they both headed to the trainer for a drink, and help out of their tightly bound gloves.

Twenty minutes later, after long discussions about where he wanted to take his training with Arthur, he walked to the reception, Tracy, the blonde regular receptionist stood there chewing gum and filing a nail.

"I'm taking a shower, if Arthur wants to arrange a session when if they're sorted before me, will you put it in the diary?"

She fluttered her eyelashes and nodded, "of course Max..."

As she smiled sweetly, sickly, he turned and rushed off. He hit the rather dank changing rooms and the shower seemed like an oasis in the desert. His body was starting to protest loudly at the onslaught it had suffered, despite dominating Damien in a display that the whole gym seemed to be watching, the man had landed a few heavy body punches, and now that the adrenaline had dropped he was sore. Despite the lack of repair in the shower block, the water was beautifully hot and invigorating, and it was as he stood there, face upturned to the deceptively powerful shower, that he the previous day finally entered his head.

The fight had been a timely distraction as he didn't want to analyse his own behaviour in all this.

He'd set out so excited to see Nicole again, then the complexity of the whole day had taken that over. He knew that on occasion when he was punching Damien, that he was imagining Vincent's face there instead. That was dangerous for his sport, but also worrying for his head, he was hot headed, impulsive, always had been, but he'd spent years within martial arts learning to hone that, to control it and use it to make him better, sharper. This was against all the rules.

But then Nicole Sparks broke every rule. She was the opposite of everything he'd told himself he needed in his life. He'd been all about temporary, about easy, about simple things, but she was a complex ball of what on times really felt like forever.

Shaking his head he knew that was dangerous thought, he'd be amazed if Nicole would even look at him, he'd turned Barbarian on her, at a time when she was at her most vulnerable.

He made a mental note to call Ernest, to see where he had got with actions against that slime ball once he'd finished his shower. Scrubbing shampoo into his too long hair, he was rinsing it when he heard a noise. Opening his eyes he glanced past the half open shower curtain to see the blonde receptionist stood jaw agape, staring at him.