Chapter 10 - Mason’s Gym Opened Without Him
Monday morning, Reed Combat opened at six.
Mason wasn't there.
People came anyway.
That's what surprised me.
Kids class at seven.
Office workers at eight.
A retired firefighter who had been attending for twelve years complained that the coffee still tasted terrible.
The building did not understand scandal.
It just needed somebody to unlock it.
Assistant coach Priya Shah had temporary authority from the leaseholder and staff.
Jake taught the first class.
I arrived at nine to collect my gear.
At least that's what I told myself.
My locker contained gloves, wraps, two jackets, a mouthguard case, and six years of routine.
I put half of it in a duffel.
Then stopped.
Priya stood behind me.
“You leaving?”
“I don't know.”
“Everybody's favorite answer.”
I looked at her.
“You knew?”
“About Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“St. Louis?”
“No.”
“Mason helping opponents withdraw?”
“I knew he made deals between gyms.”
My jaw tightened.
“What kind?”
“Training exchanges. Showcase recommendations. Shared travel.”
“Did you know they affected brackets?”
“Not until Saturday.”
I believed her.
Maybe because she looked angry rather than defensive.
She sat on the bench.
“People online are calling Reed Combat fake.”
I looked away.
“Are they wrong?”
“Yes.”
Immediate.
Then she added:
“And we're going to spend a long time explaining why.”
Better.
Jake entered carrying a box of youth gloves.
He set it down.
“Morning.”
I looked at him.
“You fighting again?”
He shrugged.
“Event held my bout Saturday.”
“What?”
I hadn't known.
“After the voicemail review, they decided I was too connected to compete while questions were open.”
“How do you feel?”
“Terrible.”
“Fair?”
He thought.
“Probably.”
He sat.
“The other guy was furious too.”
Of course.
Every intervention had a cost to someone not at the center.
Priya asked:
“Where's Mason?”
Jake looked at his phone.
“Attorney meeting.”
“Coming back?”
“Not this week.”
I zipped my bag.
Then a woman entered the gym.
Kara Vaughn.
The woman who had beaten me.
I stared.
“What are you doing here?”
She smiled.
“Your neutral coach gave me the address.”
“Why?”
“Because you're apparently impossible to contact.”
I looked at my phone.
Thirty-nine unread messages.
Fair.
Kara held up a folder.
I immediately disliked it.
“Please don't tell me that's evidence.”
She laughed.
“No. Training schedule.”
“What?”
“My team leaves tonight. Dana said you might need somewhere to work this week.”
I stared.
Kara continued:
“Not charity.”
“Good.”
“You hit hard and make bad faces when annoyed.”
“Excellent scouting.”
“She said you're deciding what to do.”
I looked around Reed Combat.
Mason's photographs on the wall.
Team banners.
Phoenix championship poster.
My face printed large in the center.
I had never noticed Leah's name listed on the semifinal bracket beneath mine.
W/D.
Withdrawal.
One little abbreviation carrying three years of missing context.
Kara followed my eyes.
“You want me to take that down?”
“No.”
She frowned.
“Why?”
“Not mine.”
Priya looked at me.
I continued:
“The gym decides.”
That felt strange.
For years Mason had been the gym.
Now the sentence required more people.
Kara held out the training schedule.
I took it.
Then Jake said:
“Rachel.”
I turned.
“The sponsor froze Reed's support.”
My stomach tightened.
“How much?”
“Enough.”
Same word Dad-types everywhere loved.
Priya looked angry.
“We can make payroll this month.”
“And next?”
She didn't answer.
For one ugly second, I understood Mason.
Not forgave.
Understood.
A gym with rent.
Staff.
Kids whose parents had already paid.
Fighters planning camps.
One donor could turn a tournament result into survival.
Mason had looked at that pressure and started moving other people's choices around the board.
I looked at the Phoenix poster.
“How close were we?”
Jake knew what I meant.
“Before Phoenix?”
“Yes.”
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
Priya answered:
“Two weeks from losing this building.”
That was worse than Mason had said.
I sat down.
May you like
Suddenly his choice became easier to imagine.
Which made it more important not to excuse.
