Untamed (A Bad Boy Secret Baby Romance)(162)
She frowns. “There are points in boxing?”
“Oh, yeah, for sure. It’s a technical sport. You get rewarded for good technique, and you can win off points, even if you’re outclassed physically.”
“But in your illegal cage fighting, no points?”
“That’s right,” I say.
“Why didn’t you go into boxing?”
“Uncle James trained me, starting from when I was ten. Mom kind of checked-out after Dad died.”
Penny’s beautiful features turn cautious, awkward. “How, um did—”
“Car accident. He was hit by someone.”
The atmosphere grows somber quickly. It’s like grey clouds have collected above us.
“Sorry, Pierce.”
I smile at her. “It was a long time ago. Anyway, so Uncle James took care of me, raised me, and eventually sent me to boarding school out here.”
“Why Australia?”
“He was moving here because he got offered a training gig. Anyway, I was good at boxing, but I wanted to try more styles. He was a traditionalist, didn’t believe in all the new fighting approaches, especially with the emergence of MMA. We had a bit of a falling out. He died of a heart attack when we weren’t talking. It was my own damn fault, anyway. I pushed him away.”
“Color me unsurprised.”
“So I stopped boxing.”
“But you could have gone pro?”
“Maybe, maybe not. I’m not as good at boxing as I am in the cage. There are a lot of rules, a lot of technicalities. It feels stiff to me. But I mean, it’s not stiff at all. Watch Ali, and there you see a fluidity that’s just amazing. Even Tyson was a really fluid athlete, and he had all that power.”
“You like fighting,” she says, thanking the waitress politely as she sets down our drinks.
“I do. Now it’s your turn. Why a tattoo artist?”
She relents. “Fine. My story is nothing so dramatic. I just saw a tattoo one day – one of my high school classmates got one – and I started researching it. I was always good at drawing, but I liked the idea of drawing on skin. It all just sort of continued to grow out of there.
“Before I realized it, I was obsessed, reading magazines, talking to owners of tattoo shops around the city, making new friends in the industry. I found Tina’s work online, and loved her style. She makes such great use out of lines. Like, she’s got this style that’s hard and soft at the same time, you know? It reminds me of a strong woman.”
“What do you mean?”
“Hard and soft,” she says. “We can be all sharp lines, or we can be smooth curves. You know, flexibility. Unburdened by ego? We can fulfill multiple roles where men typically are singular. Anyway, I’ve never seen someone draw so well on skin before. I mean, her proportions are just perfect.”
“Technically perfect? Like, if you measured them they would add up mathematically?”
“See, that’s just the kind of thing I was talking about with regard to men and women. It’s not about technical perfection all the time. Anyway, I followed everything about her, started planning how to meet her.”
“And it all just fell into place?”
“Yeah,” she says, and she laughs softly. “I’m a little amazed, to be honest.”
“Your dad just let you go?”
“No, I had to push him a bit, but eventually he did.”
“Do you miss him?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Even though it’s been so little time. We’ve been like a team, you know? After mom left, it was just me and him. I looked after him. He never cooks well on his own. He eats unhealthily.”
“You’d think a fifty year-old man would know how to manage his diet.”
“He’s busy,” she says. “He works really hard.”
“So does everybody,” I say. “Not eating well is a conscious choice.”
“Not everybody lives in the gym like I assume you do. Not everybody wants to be an athlete.”
“I’m not talking about being physically fit. I’m talking about eating right. With all the information out there about healthy eating, anybody who doesn’t is making the choice not to. Frankly, if it’s not idiotic, it’s lazy.”
“Don’t talk about my dad like that. And don’t be so judgmental. Like you never had a fucking pizza.”
I look at her, and she at me. We both turn to our neighboring table, and see a family tucking into a big pizza. Our spinach and mushroom one is on the way. We are, after all, in a pizza restaurant.
“You know what I mean,” she says.
“I’m just calling it like it is.”