Hook'd (27 page)

Cam tapped his foot restlessly, as he forced himself to hold his composure. It took his all not to reach across that stage and beat the beady eyed, rat looking motherfucker senseless.

Tonight, was the pre-fight press conference, held at the MGM Grand Hotel & Casino. With the fight just 3 days away, Cam was more than ready to attain his victory once again. Fight week was always a busy one. With press conferences, interviews, club appearances, and everything else to go along with it, the promotion for the fight had been at an all-time high. It was going to be the fight of the year. And Cam was ready to show out.

It was his first time seeing Chavez since the fight a year ago. He didn't expect to feel such pent up rage being in his presence again. But just looking at his face, brought him back to the dark moments of being in prison, as his life spiraled out of control. Just to know he had contributed to his downfall, Cam wanted nothing more than to seek vengeance.

Cam sat on stage behind the head table with Slick seated beside him, while Chavez's boxing promotor and manager sat at the other end of the stage.

As Chavez stood behind the podium, giving his speech, journalists, news reporters, and crowds of spectators and fans cheered and snapped pictures.

When Chavez finished his speech, he walked to his seat and Slick approached the podium.

"There's no need for the introduction," he announced to the crowd. "It's time for the champion to bless the stage and give his word."

Cheers echoed the room. Cam stood up and walked to the podium, giving Slick a brotherly hug, who stepped aside and cleared way for Cam's entrance. He stood before the podium, staring at the crowd, as flashing camera lights glinted throughout the room.

"The last time I was here on this stage, I said I was gonna win the title. And I did. A year later, I'm on this same stage, and I'm saying it right now. Nobody’s taking my title away from me. I’ll die before I let that happen."

The fans howled.

"March 28th is gonna be a special day. And I'm ready to do what I do best, which is win. And just so you know, this fight ain't just about business. It's a little bit more personal. And he knows why." Cam shot him a glare and Chavez head nodded him with a smile that he urged to knock off. "See you in the ring, bitch."

The crowd cheered louder, and he stepped away from the podium.

*

Smoke danced from Cam's lips with each pull from his Cuban cigar. He soaked up the atmosphere, lusting at the sultry curves of the exotic dancers on stage under the gleaming lights. Crowds of patrons hovered around the stage, entertained by the show the dancers gave in the midst of dollar bills showering the vicinity. Future's new hit,
Fuck Up Some Commas
pounded the speakers as cigarette smoke, weed, liquor, and perspiration tainted the murky air. Bobbing his head to the music, he tossed dollar bills into the air. He had a stack of 10 grand and he planned to use it.

He was celebrating the night at yet another pre-fight party. From one party to the next, Cameron didn't slow down one bit. He didn't allow himself to.

But even in the midst of it all. The women. The drugs. The music. The bright lights. It had all whirled into a blur, with nothing but the painful thoughts of Reese plaguing his brain. And it enraged him by the second.

He wanted to forget about her.

He couldn't believe he had been so stupid. His boys were right, he had been a simp, professing his "love" for some bitch that didn't want him. He was Cameron Lewis. A star. A champion. The fuck did he look like crying over a bitch?

He took more shots of Vodka and more hits of his weed, determined to enjoy himself.

Reese vomited into the toilet bowl once again. With a groan, she leaned weakly over the brim, wondering what was going on with her. Lately, she had been getting sick for no explainable reason. From headaches to nausea. She attested it to stress. Especially, since these past few days had been unbearable.

She felt horrible for what she had done. She just wished she could speak to him. To explain everything and let him know that she didn't mean for things to happen this way. And most of all, to tell him how truly sorry she was for hurting him and ruining what they had.

The ring of her phone made her roll her eyes. She didn't want to speak to anyone. She didn't even want to leave her house. Instead, she spent her days in isolation, wallowing in pity and senseless guilt. If it wasn't Cameron calling her, she didn't care one bit.

Reese forced herself up and brushed her teeth. She had no plans at all. Tonight, she would've been seated front row, cheering for Cameron on his big night. But here she was. Alone.

She entered her bedroom only to grimace at the bright glare of the sun. She closed her blinds, dimming the room

The sound of her phone signified that she had received a text message. Praying it was Cameron, she hurried to her nightstand and picked it up. Her mood dampened at Yasmine's name. She read the message.

Yas

3/28/15, 9:32am

U doing okay??

She typed a simple reply.

Reese

3/28/15, 9:32am

Yeah.

Yas

3/28/15, 9:33am

U sure? Don't let me catch a flight straight back to NY.

And she really would, too. Since the break up, Yasmine had been constantly checking up on her to see if she was doing okay. And although, she wasn't, she didn't want to ruin her trip in Vegas. As Cameron's publicist, she had an important job to do. The last thing she needed was a distraction on the biggest event of the year. So Reese kept her issues to herself.

Reese

3/28/15, 9:40am

I'm fine really. Have fun in Vegas.

Yas

3/28/15, 9:41am

Alright keep ya head up boo. Love ya xoxo

Reese

3/28/15, 9:41am

Love you too. And thanks I will.

With a sigh, Reese put her phone down and plopped herself on the bed. She threw her covers over her, forcing herself to sleep. She just wanted to forget this whole nightmare. But she couldn't. Her thoughts raced. Cameron's words haunting her by the second.

We all got something we're scared of. All of us.  But we shouldn't let that stop us from achieving what we really want...even if that means risking our hearts in the process.

Tears fell down her face. She blew it. She let fear stop her from what her heart truly desired. If she wanted Cameron, she should've fought for him, the way he always did for her. She had come this far and had been through so much, just to give up on her happiness. And she couldn’t allow that to happen. She had to take that chance. Even if that meant putting her whole life and reputation at risk.

Reese hopped out of bed.

It was time to go to Vegas.

Cam bobbed his head to 50 Cent's,
Ready For War
as it pounded through his headphones. His adrenaline pumped to the up tempo beat, while he sat in the chair, glaring at the carpeted floor.

Everything around him had drifted into oblivion. He barely focused on his trainer whom was busy wrapping his hands intricately under the Boxing Commissioner’s piercing gaze. Neither did he focus on the TV cameras, nor the chattering noises of his entourage and TV journalists that crowded the dressing room. Instead, he envisioned himself in the ring. Beating Chavez till he screamed for mercy.

He was ready for war.

After his trainer laced up his gloves, Cameron clenched his fists, basking in the feeling of it on his hands.

Slick placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ready to kill em out there?"

Cam nodded, glaring ahead.

He patted his back. "That's what I'm talking about. It's your time, baby."

"Ladies and gentlemen, now entering the ring...the undefeated, heavyweight champion of the worrrrldddd...Cameron Lewis!!!"

The place erupted with excitement, as Biggie's song,
Victory
pounded through the arena. Escorted by security, Cameron made his entrance, his demeanor edged with confidence. He strolled toward the ring, his heart pumping at the roaring noises of the crowd. It gave him a high. Something only an athlete of his caliber could understand.

He lived for this.

Cameron entered the ring. The referee and the announcers stood at the center, while his opponent, Chavez, stood at the corner crowded by his own entourage. Cam climbed the ropes and peered over the massive crowd beaming with bright camera lights and he nodded, basking in the sounds of his chanting name.

He stepped down. His trainer removed his robe, baring him in his black trunks, the waistband stitched with the gold lettering, 'C. Lewis.’

"Ladies and Gentlemen, it's time for the main event...the moment you've all been waiting for!" The grey haired announcer spoke, as everyone else in the ring cleared way for the two fighters.

Cameron glared at Chavez, his insides bursting to attack like a Pitbull on its leash.

"Let's get readyyyy to rumbleeee!"

The referee recounted the rules between them.

Both fighters touched gloves. The bell went off.

It was show time.

*

"Ugh! Can’t you go any faster?" Reese complained to the cab driver.

"Wah, you want me fi run thru the red light? Eh?” He snapped in his Caribbean accent.

"Well, how much time do we have till we get there?"

"One hour."

She scoffed. "An hour?"

"Yes."

Great.

Just fucking great.

Reese fidgeted with impatience. Cameron should be fighting any minute now, and here she was, stuck in traffic.

It was a miracle she had even been able to catch a flight to Vegas last minute. The prices had been through the roof. And damn near every flight had been booked...except for one. It was a late one. But, she was here so that was all that mattered. She didn't even care that she had nowhere to stay. Every hotel in town had been booked. And on top of that, she didn't even have a ticket for the fight.

This was a stupid idea. And she knew it. To travel all the way across the country with no back up plan was completely irrational.

But she didn't care.

She needed to see Cameron and make things right. All she needed was a miracle.

*

Cameron stumbled when the punch struck his face. Before he could strike back, a sudden hit to the nose hindered his steps and he planted the ropes with force. Chavez swung at him. Each punch thrashing him senseless. Cameron lifted his arms with attempts to shield himself.

The bell rang. End of round 11.

Cameron sat at the corner, gasping for breaths. Sweat drenched his skin, as his muscles ached with pain. His vision blurring, he squinted with a groan, forcing himself to see through his swollen eyelid. As his assistant, Bug, fed him water and dried the blood off his face, the 'cutman', Eddie, who aided his injuries after each round, iced his swollen eye. He growled in pain as Eddie pressed the steel iron against his wounded eye, smoothing out the swelling as best he could.

"The hell are you doing out there?!?" his trainer, Leo, got in his face. "You got this cat out there making you look like a chump!"

Cameron gasped out breaths.

"Stop actin' like you don't know this son of a bitch's moves! You know him, you beat him! C'mon!" Leo tapped his chin, glaring at him. "You with me?"

He nodded. "I'm witchu."

"Naw, you're not. That killer I know, ain't there. I don't see it."

"I'm witchu," He assured him.

"Well, act like it damnit! If not, you gon' make this muthafucka take that belt! Is that what you want? Huh?"

He quickly shook his head.

"Then let's go. Get ya head in the game!" He clapped his hands. "C'mon!"

The bell rang. Last round.

Cam stood up and walked to the center, as Chavez did the same. Cam paced around the ring with his hands up, glaring at his opponent.

He threw a jab, but Chavez blocked the hit. He threw another, only to miss.

He growled with frustration. All night, he had missing hits. He didn't understand why he couldn't get him. He had studied all of his moves. He fucking beat him!

The hell was going on?

Chavez flashed a devious smile. "That's all you got,
puta
?"

Cam threw another punch, but Chavez blocked it then danced around.

“C’mon!” Chavez pounded his gloves. "Hit me, you bitch!"

In rage, Cam swung at him but Chavez ducked each time. Roars erupted from the crowd. Chavez struck with a left hook to the nose, catching him off guard. He punched his eye and Cam stumbled back in dire pain. Chavez kept going. He swung and swung. Cam wrapped his arms around him to stop his momentum. The ref demanded them to break it up. He gasped out in heavy breaths. His energy giving out.

"What happened,
ese
?" Chavez taunted in his ear. "The prison turned you into a lil' bitch?"

With a growl, Cam grabbed him into a headlock. The referee broke them up and they stepped away from each other. Cam glared at him through his blurred vision. Swallowing the metallic taste of blood. He couldn't give up. No matter how much his body ached. No matter how much he yearned to give out. He had to keep going.

He had to beat this mutherfucker.

He tried to keep focus, but Reese flashed in his mind. He shook his head, forcing her away. But the memory of her haunted him. The crushing pain rendering him weak.

A sudden punch to the jaw sent him straight to the floor.

The crowd roared louder.

The referee counted.

"1...2...3..."

Cameron's vision blurred. The world around him spinning.

"C'mon, Cam! Get up!"

"Get the fuck up, man!"

The faint voices echoed the air.  But his muscles ached with unbearable pain. His energy gone. His heart screamed for him to stand up. He couldn't give up. Not like this.

He forced himself up.

"That's it, get up!" they yelled.

"4...5...6...7..."

His muscles trembled as struggled to stand up. His knees wobbling. He collapsed to the floor.

"8...9...10... K.O.!"

The bell rang.

Fight over.