sports meshed together for the greatest effect.”
“True.” He liked it that she understood the complexities of mixed martial arts. Alongside the guys who’d joined to escape the streets, he had Olympic contenders and All-American wrestlers. He had the best of the best. “What else?”
“The boys could use some encouragement toward caring for their health by avoiding drugs, cigarettes, and alcohol. You could remind them about the benefits of keeping up with a good diet and routine exercise. And they should understand the motivation necessary to stick with something until you’re successful.”
“Not every fighter is successful.” Like any sport, only the very best got title shots or gained any real fame.
“Of course not. So you could talk about how they learn from their experiences and move on as wiser, better men. But also cover the tolerance to accept the learning curve inherent in any sport. I watched some DVDs, and a lot of those guys get the crap beat out of them, but they stand up and shake hands and later, in interviews, they say they already know what they did wrong and how they will correct it for the next fight.”
Drew realized that he enjoyed talking to her. That was rare for him. Sure, he enjoyed chatting with the women he dated, but this was different. Gillian was different. He spoke with her as he might . . . a fighter. Only this was better, because she looked a whole hell of a lot better than any dude.
Grinning at his own observation, Drew said, “Every good fighter learns as much from a loss as he does from a win.”
“There, you see? You’ll be perfect for this if you present it that way. I think you’ll be a wonderful speaker to teach them about respecting others, especially those who try to guide you and train you so that you can improve yourself.”
“Huh. I’m impressed, Gillian.” He pushed off the wall and walked over to her. “You do seem to have a handle on the finer points of mixed martial arts.”
The praise must have pleased her, given her smile. “Barely, but I’m trying to learn.”
And doing a good job of it. Drew stopped before her. “When did you want me to speak to the group?”
“When is the soonest you’ll be free?”
Together they went over his schedule and, assuming it would work with the director of the club, decided on Monday. Then, while she had her paperwork out, he looked over the other media appearances she had planned for him.
One particular group, WAVS, made him scowl. Women Against Violent Sports was composed of a bunch of uppity biddies who protested everything they didn’t understand. The group, and especially the ringleader, Audrey Porter, had become a thorn in his side. Not that long ago, he’d lost his cool in an online interview video, calling Audrey’s second in command a few choice words for misquoting him. He didn’t remember the woman’s name, only that she’d tried to malign him and the sport in the worst possible way.
Unfortunately, the video had flown around the Internet at the speed of light. Damn near everyone had seen it . . . but apparently not Gillian or she would have been on his ass about it. No doubt the unkind things he’d said to that woman would make Gillian’s hair stand on end.
Drew wasn’t particularly proud of what he’d done, but he also figured anyone who dished it could damn well take it, and the uptight broads at WAVS liked to dish it with great regularity.
He decided to say nothing to Gillian for now. When she got around to lining up a date with the annoying group, then he’d clue her in on the past history so she’d understand just how badly that meeting might go.
After giving him a copy of the schedule, filled with a dozen appearances over the next few weeks, Gillian filed away her own copy. He’d have to do a lot of shuffling within his personal agenda, but what the hell? He thrived on chaos.
When she finished up and closed away her laptop and briefcase, he drew her around to him.