Fight or Fall (29 page)

The first few nights I slept without her in my bed I didn’t sleep at all.

The mind is a beautiful thing, but it can also box in ugly, messy, fucking crazy thoughts.

What hold did her father have on her?

Was I not enough?

Was I too forceful? Too rough?

She’s a gold digger. She’s with Emmett because of the money. No, that can’t be true. She had way more money than that prick.

She wanted fame. No, she had that too. Even before we became involved, Ava’s face was recognizable, a brand of its own. She didn’t need that blonde asshat for that.

Was it all a lie?

I was her dream and now that she got to fuck me, she just wanted to forget me.

A week of tossing, turning, and hours spent in the gym, outside the house, flipping tires, jogging, running – I’ve grown ten sets of biceps and tripled my triceps, but the aching, gaping emptiness that her presence filled could not be ignored, replaced.

I hadn’t been called out to fight. It was ironic because these were the times when I’d wanted to slam someone so badly against the wall, feel overwhelming physical pain so that I could maybe knock myself out at night. My knuckles were now purplish black, and I’d started wearing gloves again after the second time I poured a cocktail of whiskey and bourbon over my hands. I half-emptied the bottles first, pouring them down my throat before making my own brand of disinfectant. That shit burned like a motherfucker. Yet it was still nothing compared to the burn, the hollow, shadowed look in her eyes when she said she couldn’t choose me.

Times like these, I wished I could get lost in the arms of other women. Maybe guys who got lost in mindless pussies were geniuses. Einstein had nothing on them. You fuck one then another one and another one, without caring, without second thoughts until all of them became unidentifiable from the one before and the one after.

Leif, Bee, and Jeff had tried to reach me. I ended the calls the second the ringer went off. I didn’t want them to worry or to come to my rescue so I just texted them, “I’m fine; I’m okay; I’ll talk to you later.” Not one of them bought my lame texts but for some reason, they respected my need to be alone. So I did. Spent my time alone. Working out from sun up to sun down. The only thing I felt sorry for were the punching bags and the bench presses at my gym. They’ve never been worked harder than now. In the evenings, I went to the closest liquor store, got my tickets to oblivion – whisky and a six-pack.

Every night as I chugged down the bottle of Jack, I toasted my pathetic sorrow to women. Women who messed with your head and fucked you up so bad that you don’t even know what was good anymore. Women…a woman…whose eyes glinted in silver mischief, whose lips tasted like tomorrow’s promises come to life, and whose scent enveloped every friggin’ pillow in my bedroom.

I tore up the sheets and loaded them in the washer so her scent wouldn’t linger, but each time I sat on the couch, each time I went to the bathroom and the kitchen I saw little pieces of her, reminders, mementos that she was once real, not a passing illusion. Her red toothbrush, her blow dryer, her pajama sets, her tiny thongs and bikini panties that only she could wear with justice. By the time I chased down the hard liquor with the last bottle of the six-pack, I was barely lucid and in those few hours, I found myself in a limbo between the living and the dead. I’d wake up in different areas of the house.

Yesterday was by the foot of the stairs. I think I was trying to go upstairs to occupy one of the guest rooms – a room she hadn’t slept in – until my legs gave up from trying to reach the top. I managed to get on the first step before I slipped and fell on my back. The marbled floor made for a good pillow and bed, but the kinks in my neck proved that my body didn’t appreciate it.

Whether or not I had a hangover, I punched in gym time, tons of it, because the next time I was called in that cage that her father built, I was going to make him pay. That asshole wanted a good fight? I was going to give him one. I’d KO all the motherfuckers he put on the ring in less than a minute. Why would I want to give him the pleasure of a longer fight, to make drama, to give the viewers, his millionaire buddies, the satisfaction of enjoying the fight? My life now revolved around gym, my buddies Jack and Coors, sometimes Budweiser, one time Heineken. My muscles and my kidneys were working overtime. Workouts and alcohol don’t mix. Neither does saying goodbye to the woman who jumpstarted some semblance of happiness in my life.

As the days passed, I found myself relying less on the booze and feeding the anger I felt towards her and her father. She was a big, fat liar. She’d let me in her pussy, but she wouldn’t let me in her life. Her life was reserved for country club owners like Emmett Fucking Powers. And I would just be her dirty little secret. What a waste of time. I shouldn’t have messed with her in the first place. There was a reason I never acted on my attraction for her for many years. Why I even crossed that line was a stupidity I couldn’t take back.

I’m moving on. To a life without her.

It’s going be fine.

I’m going to be alright.

Then why does it feel like I’m telling myself the biggest, fattest lie?

After paying the entrance fee, I’d been circling the lot trying to find parking. Every kid within a ten mile radius must have wanted to be at Lake Mead today. That or they were offering discounted school field trips because of the high number of yellow school buses littered around the parking lot.

She’d said 11:30.

It’s almost 11:45.

Up until around eight, I was still 70-30. Seventy percent not coming at all. Thirty, maybe. One hundred percent wanting to throw everything in my line of sight.

Her text came in late last night. 10:55 PM.

Please meet me tomorrow.

I should have blocked her number. That would have taught her a lesson. But then I wouldn’t know she called or texted. Fuck, I was a sorry ass. Wimp. Jell-O backbone. When it came to her.

Instead I’d responded:
Where?

Not why but where.

Dumb fucker.

Lake Mead, 11:30.

I didn’t text back right away.

My phone beeped with, Please.

Please? To hell with you. You can’t even stand up for us and now you’re saying please.

Before thinking more about it, I sent a reply back,
Fine
, and shut my phone off for the rest of the night.

On my way there, I had the urge to stop by one of the 24-hour casinos, pick up a few women, and bring them with me as reinforcements. Reinforcements? Seriously I’m messed up. Since when did I need reinforcements to meet up with my girlfriend? Okay ex-girlfriend. A secret ex-girlfriend.

Once parked, I jumped out of the car, uncaring if I had parked between the lines.

“Shit,” I mumbled, reaching for the sunglasses in time before they to the ground as I grappled with my phone and car keys. My phone beeped with a text letting me know where she was at and I hurried my steps as I navigated my way to find her.

Walking through the crowd of kids who were enjoying a tour of the gardens, I stopped in my tracks the minute I caught a glimpse of her back facing the quiet cool view of the lake that spanned the area.

She was wearing one of those pairs of skinny jeans and a yellow blouse that did nothing to hide the unapologetic curves of her body. Her arms were tucked to her sides. She flexed her neck and raised an arm to massage the back of her neck. A neck that I’d kissed one too many times. I’d grown quite familiar with how soft her skin felt, how her ears flushed pink when I kissed the line from her shoulder to her clavicle to her earlobe, and how the light goose bumps formed along her neck when I murmured something dirty to her. Her rigid posture indicated that she was nervous, hesitant, unsure.

Still facing the peaceful view of the gentle water cascading in the lake which was quite contrary to the conflicting thoughts going through my mind, I closed out the distance between us.

“I’m here.” It came out abrupt, harsh, the past two week’s hurt pouring out in every syllable.

How I wanted to hurt her. Throw every load of bullshit that her father had concocted about precious Emmett that made her choose him, at her face, and make her lick my spit.

Her soft hands gripped on the edge of her blouse forming tight fists as she slowly turned to face me.

Every damning word, every accusation, every single insult I thought of hurling at her dissipated into the wind the second I saw her eyes. Those beautiful, soulful, silver gray orbs that lit up the instant she saw me and in a few seconds the light diminished as soon as she glimpsed at my grim countenance.

I could never hurt her.

I would never hurt her.

“Milo.” Her left hand instinctively reached up to my scruffy face. I hadn’t bothered to shave in more than a week; I was pretty sure that in a few more days, a grizzly would come looking for his ‘stache on my face.

I shrugged my shoulders, trying my damnedest to look unaffected. “Why did you want to see me? I thought we were done.” Shaking my left shoulder where some yellow leaves had landed, I continued, “I gotta be somewhere in two hours.”

“I…I miss you.” The crack in her voice barely reached my ears because of the birds chirping in the surrounding trees.

I bit my tongue. Otherwise she’d get a mouthful of every damned expletive there was in the English dictionary
and
Italian.

“Why am I here?” I sounded off, tapping my right foot, scanning her face, looking for any evidence that she was suffering as much as I was.
No
. She looked the same. Gorgeous. Beautiful. Not a hair out of place.

Her hand rolled down to my shoulder and as much as I wanted to shake it off, my body was like a friggin’ hopeless magnet to her touch. Yeah, I’m officially a
P
ussy-
A
ss-
W
imp. As soon as I get out of here I’m heading to the
P-A-W
headquarters for their 12-step recovery program. Or just to the gym to pound the sand, nylon, and canvas out of the punching bags.

My hands itched to grab her, pull her in my arms, and get lost in her body. I left my hands in my pockets or the next thing I’d be doing is stripping her of her yellow top that skimmed her body like a second skin. But that would be public display of Ava’s goods. And Ava’s goods weren’t for the public’s consumption. Actually, they weren’t for mine either. Not anymore. Fuck. The thought of Emmett holding her, touching her, kissing her makes me want to put that blonde asswipe as replacement for the punching bags I’d ruined and break every limb in his miserable body.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she expressed, the sun hit her face and what I failed to see before was clear to me now – her eyes were heavy-lidded with bags, the strain on her face was something that her carefully applied makeup couldn’t hide. Maybe that’s why she was wearing extra makeup today. Usually Ava wore minimal makeup, she called it light foundation or something like that. Ava didn’t need much or any makeup at all. Her freshly scrubbed face in the morning was her sexiest look. It’s when her cheeks are naturally pink, supple, her eyes clear-gray, and her lips were dewy and always kissable.

“Ava, why did you ask me to be here?” If she was asking for an illicit encounter, she wasn’t getting it from me. No matter how much I’d want to. I’m tired of secrets. Secrets were like molds…they grew in the dark, thrived on dishonesty, and have a way of being revealed at the lousiest of times. In a way, I had agreed for us to be together away from her father’s eyes, because there was a time limit to it. As soon as the last bell rang in the arena for me, I’d be marching into her father’s office and announcing to him that Ava and I were together. Not to ask for his permission because we were both grown-ass adults, but just out of respect for the man who was her family. Again, not anymore.

I sighed heavily. “I gotta be out of here in a few. Traffic might be heavy going back. You should have just called me.” Maybe I would have answered. Maybe I wouldn’t have. Depending on what state I was in. If I was in my Ava-ranting state, there was a high probability that I wouldn’t have answered her call.

She lowered her lashes, her lips shook, and she tucked a stray hair behind her right ear, exposing the small diamond earrings she’d never taken out. “It will only be a few minutes.” She hesitated for a second, then said, “I’d like you to meet someone.”

I nodded my head, trying to absorb what was going on. We came out all this way for this? Meet someone? Who?

Her hand moved away from my face and clasped on my left hand. I felt the icy tremor in her hold. She was anxious. Extremely anxious. She’s never been this way with me.

Before her sandaled feet could take another step, I tightened my hold on her hand, letting her know, communicating with her that I’m here. She might have stomped on my ass and for some fucked-up unknown reason, chosen to be with Emmett, but she was so vulnerable right now. Hurting her would not settle any scores between us. The only thing that would make everything right is if she comes out of here
in my arms.