“So what do I do about lunches? I mean, what am I supposed to do about those?”
“We make your lunches on your days off and get them ready for the week ahead. This is where being inventive comes into effect. You’re going to kill me and yourself if you eat bland-ass chicken breast the whole time.”
“I mean, maybe a couple days, but yeah… it can’t be fried?”
“Sometimes, but not every time, it would screw with your diet too much. No, we need to use spices, grills, hot sauces, and curries. Just about everything can be made to taste good if you know what to spice it with.”
“Okay, I think I can do that… but how expensive is this going to be? I…”
She stops talking and I can see she has shit going on that she isn’t ready to talk about yet. I want to start prying but I think right now I need her to trust me before she goes into that.
“I got us on that, I’m in training too. It’s not that much work to add you into the meal planning for food. You, Muffin and I aren’t going to be an issue. I just need to add to whatever I make for myself.”
At the sound of her name, my beautiful baby comes up to my leg and rests her head on my leg.
Looking down to her, I say, “Hey, princess. How’s my beautiful girl doing, huh?”
She gives me those big sad eyes as she sniffs with her nose. She knows how to work me, I swear.
Grabbing the steak bone off my plate, I hold it down for her to take. Grabbing it, she walks over to her kitchen mat and lies down to gnaw on it.
Turning back to focus on Christy, I see she is laughing quietly at me. “She’s got you so whipped!”
Nodding my head, I say, “Yeah, she’s my furry daughter.”
Shaking her head, she looks down at the chart we’ve been looking at. “So… I can’t pay you for this Alex… I mean, I can fork over most of my checks, but… they aren’t much.”
I wave my hand dismissively. “Fuck that shit, don’t worry about it. I don’t need the money.”
Looking at me with suspicion, she asks, “Do you expect a different kind of payment?”
I know exactly what she means and if she wasn’t so deadly serious I would probably have to crack a joke or something.
“No, I don’t. Though… if I’m not home, you have to help with Muffin. That sound good?”
“Seriously? Like what?”
“Feed her or let her outside to use the bathroom.”
Nodding her head, she looks to where Muffin is happily destroying the large steak bone I just gave her. She’s not a girly-girl, my Muffin, she’s all brute just like her daddy.
Standing up from the table, I start gathering up the dishes. “Let’s get these cleaned up and then we can get you set up for lunch tomorrow. How many hours are you working right now?”
It’s not much longer before I am kicked back in my room, watching TV. Legs kicked up on the bed, Muffin is stretched out beside me. Ruffling her ears, I faintly hear the TV from Christy’s room.
It’s odd hearing someone else in the house… but it’s also kind of comforting in a weird way. I’ve never had someone else live with me before.
Chapter Nine
Christy
It’s been a hell of a day but I’m having the hardest time falling asleep. The conversation Alex and I had over dinner keeps running through my head.
He was planning and talking about everything like he’s expecting me to stay here for the long-term. Already planning on what I’m going to eat for the next couple of weeks and everything, like he’s given it a lot of thought.
I was only planning on taking advantage of his hospitality for a couple of days…
I tried to point it out to him but he just brushed me off. He told me not to worry about it, but I can’t help but worry about it. He’s giving me so much and for what? Because that’s what fighters do? They help each other? If I was a guy, would he be doing the same for me?
I’m not so sure.
I think he’s doing it because I’m a chick and he thinks I need to be taken care of. In his eyes I’m some lost little girl, like orphan Annie or something. But I’m not a little girl, I’m a woman, dammit. I can take care of myself.
And I contemplate telling him that. My fingers wrap around the door knob and I’m so close to opening it.
I should march into his room and tell him I’m leaving tomorrow. Nicole will be back from her dad’s. She’ll text me as soon as she gets to her mom’s and gets her phone back.
But why kick a gift horse in its mouth? Because my pride is hurt? He’s practically handing me that prize purse up on a golden platter, and he’s not even asking for a cut.