Fight or Fall (35 page)

“I am. I don’t want you hurt.” She bit her lower lip and the light in her eyes went hazy with the formation of tears.

“I’ll do my best not to get hurt.” I’ve been lucky that no matter how skilled the other fighters were, I almost always came out unscathed. Unscathed in a way that the ice packs and a bunch of pain relievers helped in the aftermath of the fights. I wasn’t superman, but years of knowing and conditioning my body to be at its peak form had advantages. That and knowing what to do when your bones and muscles rebelled after being punched, kicked, and body-slammed numerous times.

“No, Milo.” Shaking her head, with her eyebrows furrowed with worry, she said, “I don’t want you hurt at all.”

“Baby, I might get hurt a little and it’s okay.” I laughed. She’d seen my fights, she knew that it could get bloody and brutal.

“When you’re inside that glass cage tomorrow night…” Taking a deep breath, she stated, “I want you to fight for them – your mom, dad, your Aunt Margie, Brynn, and all the children and families you’ve been championing throughout the years.”

“I always do.” It was the only thing that made this worthwhile for me.

With our lips mere inches away from each other, she whispered, “I want you to fight for me too.”

“For you?”

“Tomorrow night, you fight for me, Milo. For everything that my father has put me through, I want you to use all the strength you have to show him and his friends that you are walking away from this as the first ever Next Gen fighting champ.” With her eyes glowing in intense passion, one that I’ve missed these past few days, she commanded, “You’re my man. Show them what you can do. Fight like you’ve never fought before. And know that when you’re done, outside that cage, that arena, I’ll be waiting for you.”

I wrapped my hands around her head and pulled her down to kiss her.

My woman has ordered me to win a fight.

Tomorrow night, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

Ava was right, this guy was an extremely skilled fighter. He’d pinned me down twice. My back was going to pay for that in the next few days.

As soon as the announcement was made over the speakers introducing me and Hiroshi “The Japanese Samurai” Ohayashi, he had evaded my kicks and my punches were all thrown in mid-air. He was quick as lightning and if I wasn’t inside this cage with him, I’d probably appreciate the mastery and the art of his fighting skills.

Blood spewed out of my mouth when the force of his right foot met my left cheek. My knees wanted to crumple in an act of surrender, but I managed to stay upright. He struck my left shoulder with a powerful punch and I almost screamed in pain.

Fuck, this dude was relentless. If I didn’t get my act together, I would be lying as a bloody mess on the floor.

He backed away, probably giving me a moment to myself. He was an honorable fighter. He could quickly finish me up by now, but he was giving me a chance to get up and fight. Fighting might not be a sport to me. But the men inside any fighting arena, ring, or cage, determined the extent of the brutality that they would give and tolerate.

Finding my balance, I stuck my knees in place, clasped my hands together and gave a small bow. In Taekwondo, we bowed to show respect in the martial arts and what the other person stood for. I had no idea why he was here. I had no clue what he was fighting for. Or what made him a disgraced athlete in the beginning. But right now, I was giving him the respect he’s due. As a fighter.

With a serious expression on his face, he returned the bow. He was small, probably 5’10”, but the heights that his kicks could reach could probably reach way over my head.

He held his hands and feet in a wide stance, yelled a “haiyyahh”, and in a rapid blur moved to my space; this time I had gathered enough energy to counteract his next move. I ducked under and grabbed his left leg that could have easily ended my stint here. With his leg locked in my hand, I was able to bring him down to the floor. He squirmed against my hold, trying to get out. I rotated my body so I could keep him in an arm lock. I don’t know how long it had been, but I could feel that my body was getting tired of the beating it was receiving.

The temperature of the room started to dip. Having fought many times, I’ve learned that the chill could become extreme and one of the fighters I knocked down actually had his hand stuck on the floor because the room became so cold. My body was able to acclimatize to the cold temperature because in swimming, after hundreds of laps, ice became my best friend. The Japanese Samurai had the strength of ten men as he was able to slowly get out of my arm lock. Before he could completely push off from me, I used my upper body as leverage to secure a lock on his left arm, preventing him from escaping. With his left arm completely compressed into a lock, I pressed on his left shoulder, squeezing limb over a fulcrum and watched his face grimace in pain.

As I watched him kick his legs to protest the pain I was inflicting, Ava’s words permeated my exhausted brain, “
You fight for me, Milo
.”

She’s my Achilles.

I would wage war to anyone who hurt her.

Break bones of any man who touched her in the wrong way.

Bleed every last fucking drop of my blood for her.

Fight with everything I had until I could no longer stand.

Because Ava, my prissy princess, goddamned duchess of my heart has shown me the way to live again.

His eyes closed as the pain became unbearable for him. His joint might be dislocated. But it was a given in this unforgiving cage.

Men came in with all limbs attached and might come out with some severed, broken.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Slowly I found my footing. Raising my right hand for the final time, the lights inside the cage glowed in alternating colors – green, gold, and blue.

I couldn’t open my left eye. This was my souvenir, along with bruises on my cheeks and my upper body.

As the caged glass opened sideways, the medics came in to check on the other fighter. They would soon check up on me after him - it was routine.

I caught the figure of a woman dressed in a black miniskirt running towards me, stopping short of an inch away, she took stock of my battered body and wiped the blood dripping from my face with her own hands.

Her gray eyes glassy with tears, her makeup was a mess, yet her smile reached her eyes. “Let’s go home, baby.”

For her, I would fall.

For her, I would fight.

For her, I would live.

“Alright, thanks, Dia.” I hung up the phone as Dia confirmed to me that the three million was deposited in the account.

It had been five days since the big fight. Four days ago I had fulfilled my obligations with Next Gen, took a bunch of pictures with Maxwell, was congratulated by his friends, and I announced it to all of them that I wasn’t defending my title next year. They had postponed the after-party to the next day because I wasn’t cleared by the medics right away. I had a broken jaw, and until today I could barely crunch on the left side of my mouth.

Ava had stayed at Daria’s side the whole time. It was only when I asked her for a kiss that she came to my side. I had a feeling she was letting me bask in the glory, but I’d rather have her by my side when I mingled with her crowd. The longer I talked to them, the shorter my tolerance for them became.

Yesterday Ava revealed to me that she had quit her appointed job as her father’s spokesperson. She had plans of starting a PR firm with Daria’s help. I had no doubt that they’d be successful at it. When I’d asked about how her father took to her being with me, she’d merely replied with, “Our ties are severed. I no longer work for him.”

As much as I was happy about that, I knew something else was happening behind the scenes. I’d catch her on a phone call with Naomi, Ava would be crying, and I let her soak my shirt with her tears. Her father had recently moved her mother to France. It was probably her father’s way of showing displeasure at me being with Ava, but what my woman didn’t know was that I bought us some tickets to visit her mom in France. I had no clue where their chateau was, but I figured all roads led to Paris, so we could start from there. It seemed like everything was okay with Ava seeing her mom, so maybe Maxwell finally realized the errors of his way. Aside from bringing Ava’s mom to France, I didn’t hear Ava mention anything about her not being able to see her mom. A visit to the country where Ava was born would be a great thing and would also be a great excuse for a vacation.

“Ava! Where are you?” Either she was in our room, yes my room had become our room, reading about those Greek dudes or she was in the gym running on the treadmill. I barely used the treadmill. I liked to run outdoors instead.

I couldn’t find her in our room, so I walked upstairs.

“I have something for you…” My voice echoed in the hallway.

Aside from the trip to Paris, Ava would be happy to know that Dia had turned in her month’s notice. Dia has decided to take the offer at a giant financial consulting firm. She’s given me enough time to look for a replacement and I was already pondering on offering it to one of the part-time employees who recently graduated from college with an accounting degree. Ava never liked Dia. It didn’t matter how many times I’d reassured her that I harbored no feelings towards my ex, the fact that she was my ex made Ava’s face sour. Lately, I was actually thinking of asking Dia to look for another job because I just wanted to clear the air between her and me and give Ava the peace she wasn’t even asking for but Dia beat me to it.

Her car was parked inside the garage so she was definitely within the premises.

I decided to go back to my room to change before I went back to looking for her. Maybe she just wanted peace and quiet. Sometimes she’d go into a corner of the house, her imagination carrying her to those Greek mythologies, and I’d find her dozing off with headphones on her ears.

The light in my bathroom was on. Now I knew where she was.

“You should’ve texted me you were in the shower.” I peeled myself out of my shirt and jeans, “and I would be happy to join you.” Anytime my woman was naked, I was more than happy to be within close distance.

I grabbed the dark blue shower curtain and pulled it to the side.

What greeted me was a sight that caused my head to spin, my chest to constrict, and the veins to pop out of my skin.

The water from the shower was steaming hot. Ava didn’t take extremely hot showers. I knew this because I adjusted the temperature to her liking whenever we took showers together, which was often.

With her head tucked between her legs, Ava’s body was rocking back and forth, the skin exposed by the blouse she was wearing looked beet red.

I turned the shower off right away and carried her from the tub to the bed, covering her with a green towel I had grabbed from the rack. She didn’t protest as I undressed her and all that was left was her light green bra and panties.

Her body shook as I dried her off with the towel, careful not to press on her skin too much because it looked like she had sustained minor burns on her arms.

“What happened?” I questioned, covering her face with my hands as she stayed sitting up on the bed.

She looked at me and all I got in return was a spaced-out stare.

“Ava, it’s me,” I lightly pressed on her cheek. “What happened? Why were you crying in the shower?”

Holding her face up with my left hand, I said, “Baby, it’s me. I’m here now. Tell me what happened.”

Her gaze slightly clearing, her head shaking, and her eyes brimming with tears, she uttered softly, “She’s gone, Milo.”

“Who?”

“My mom, she’s gone.” Her voice scratchy, raw, bleeding with pain. “Demarchelier, our butler in France, called me. Her wheelchair toppled over and she fell from the front porch steps and she hit her head on the concrete railing. By the time help arrived, she was unresponsive and she didn’t even make it to the hospital.”

I sat on the bed and lifted her body to sit in my lap and I hugged her, cradling her chin on top of my left shoulder. I felt the racking sobs as her body shook with the hurt she was feeling. I massaged her back, not saying a word, because at that time, the only thing she needed from me was me. Not my platitude. Not my words. Just me.