Luck of The Irish (Getting Lucky)

"Erin!" Liam shouted. The sound of his voice pulled me from my trance and I smiled as I saw my younger brother running toward me in one piece. But then I remembered how angry I was.

"What the fuck, Liam? What is going on?" I gritted out through a smile. First I’d try to charm our way out of this situation, but I wasn’t past bribery if that’s what was warranted. I was irate with this kid, so much so that the baby hairs on my arms stood on end. But when Liam ran to me and crashed into my arms, I forgave all of his blunders, he was, after all, my baby brother. I put a hand on his shoulder which were slumped forward in shame. He was in one piece, thank fuck, but there was a look of fear in his eyes that told me he’d been scared half to death.

"How about we go back to my office to talk about all this?" Mr. Hot stuff said, gesturing toward a dark corridor.

Hell to the no, we’re not following this hulk of man into an even more secluded area. But Liam followed like an obedient dog and I realized I didn’t want to be alone in the gym without my brother or even Mr. HottStuff. I was right at their heels, mentally calculating what we had in the savings account that I could pay Liam’s debt off with.

As we paraded down the corridor, I couldn't help noticing all the photographs of famous boxers plastered on the walls of the hallway, dozens, at least. We marched by a trophy case that housed what looked like decades of wins. Judging by some of the photos, this guy had more clout than just that of a humble gym owner. It looked like he trained stars, like he had been a star himself.

My curiosity piqued when we passed a picture of a younger Mr. HotStuff himself, benched in the corner of the ring. Hands wrapped, face bruised and bloodied, lips swollen from the mouthguard, as if he’d just sat down and was still heaving for breaths. Beads of sweat covered him and blood ran down his face, his cornerman toweled his shoulders, frantic excitement written all over his face.

But the expression on the young Aiden made me really stop and stare. Determination. Grit. Courage in spades. This man was a force to be reckoned with. A true fighter. A legend in his day.

Chapter 3

Aiden

The lad's sister was hot, the kind of body that became burnt into a man's mind so you could conjure it up from time to time. Beauty like hers existed, sure, but it was the kind of beauty you come into contact with maybe once or twice in your lifetime if you’re lucky. She wasn't even done up at all. Her beauty was natural and it blossomed out of her in warm waves. Her hair was slicked back into a ponytail, and she wore a pair of jeans with holes in them, an untucked white t-shirt, and running shoes. Her V neck looked like a man’s t-shirt and it was just transparent enough to make out the outline of a black lace bra underneath.

"Oh my gosh, Mr. um Aiden? Thank you very much for looking after him until I got here," she said. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. Her voice was so soft and sweet that it gave me a toothache.

"It was no bother."

"Aiden offered me a job here," Liam said. He shed his forlorn look and his eyes brightened.

"You did?" she asked. She crooked an eyebrow looking skeptical and her brown eyes staring into mine seemed to pierce through me, the resounding heat traveling right down to my groin.

"As long as he keeps his nose clean," I said.

"Liam, how the heck did you end up here in the first place?" she said asked, turning to her brother.

"I say a flyer for a job. When I went to the address to check it out, there were already a ton of kids there, and one tried to rob me. He pulled a gun on me and I didn’t know what to do, so I ran, and one of them chased me." Liam glanced at me, and I nodded my head, encouraging him to go on. "We ended up here, and Aiden helped run him off."

"The head of a gang in town. He tries to recruit kids with flyers around town," I said.

The woman changed her posture, her hands finding her hips. She looked maternal and pissed off, transforming into full mama bear energy right in front of me.

"A gang. What. the. fuck. Liam? You can't use your fuckin' brain?"

She was holding her brother's stare, not budging. I noticed some sort of golden charm that looked like the sun on a delicate chain around her neck. He clavicle became more defined the angrier she got and she reddened by the second, blotchiness climbing her elegant neck and blossoming onto her cheeks. I couldn’t help but imagine what else made her bloom in color so passionately. It was apparent that she was a level-headed sibling, maybe a bit too uptight, probably after years of acting a mother figure toward him.