Spent - Part 1 (Spent, a New Adult Romance, MMA Series) (2 page)

“Ouch, Cameron.”

She circles the rim of her coffee mug with her perfectly manicured index finger, “Okay, fine. Tell me, why did you start dating Derrick?”

I don’t even think about the question, “He’s hot.”

Cameron sighs, “No silly, that’s why you decided to have sex with him. What was it about him that made you want to be with him for more than just sex?”

I rest my head against the back of my chair as I think about Cameron’s question. A heavy sigh escapes my lips. Did I ever have a reason for wanting to be with him, beyond just sex? There have been so many good times with him, but can I remember any of them? Were they really meaningful enough to justify being with him?

“He makes me laugh, I mean... he used to make me laugh. I haven’t laughed in a while,” I mutter after a long pause, avoiding eye contact with Cameron.
 

Cameron stops running her finger along the rim of her mug and stares at me intently, “And what did he do to make you laugh?”

I sigh, “I don’t really remember.”
 

“Then that isn’t the reason why you wanted to be with him. So think about it, why did you want to be more than just a fling with him?”
 

“He used to make me feel more important.”

Cameron leans forward in her chair, “Than?”

I close my eyes and let out a deep breath, “His fights.”

Cameron leans back in her seat with a slightly smug face, as if she’s won some intense battle.
 

“So, the career has become more important than the girl.”

I can feel hot tears pricking the corners of my eyes, threatening to break free, “Cameron, please,” I beg, “What should I do?”

Cameron smirks, “Go to one of his fights. You’re out of school right now, you have time. Go to a fight and show him that what he does and what he’s pursuing is important to you. Perhaps he feels like you don’t believe in him and that’s why, emotionally, he’s closing himself off from you.”

Cameron the English professor always manages to sound more like a shrink when she’s analyzing my love life. Secretly, I think about how she would have made a better psychologist than an English professor, but then again, Cameron’s got her own psychological messes to deal with, so maybe analyzing just me is enough for her.
 

“Hmm, I could do that. I haven’t thought of it that way.”
 

Cameron leans forward and pats my hand, “One way or another, he’ll show his true colors to you at his fights. Either you’ll grow to love him more, and he you, or you two will finally have some closure to your relationship.”

A tear escapes and runs down my cheek, “I really hope so, Cameron. I want to be happy.”

“I know you do, love. But if he isn’t the one for you, the right guy will show, probably when you least expect it,” she says as she takes a long drink from her now-cold coffee.
 

It’s not like Cameron to be so kind and loving, but she knows how much Derrick means to me and how scared I am of our relationship ending. I smile at her, as the salty tear runs down to the crease of my lips. I don’t want to lose him, but at the same time, I don’t want to lose every shred of myself within the shadow of his MMA career.
 

“I do have a request,” Cameron mutters after taking a long sip from her coffee.
 

“Anything,” I tilt my head back up, looking Cameron in the eyes.
 

“I want to go to at least one of Derrick’s fights with you,” she says casually.
 

My brow furrows, “You want to go to a fight? A MMA fight in which two guys beat the crap out of each other? The last time you went to a fight with me, you passed out because one of the guys had a bloody lip.”
 

Cameron’s eyes bug out in an unflattering way as her mouth gapes open slightly, “If I recall, that guy was missing teeth after your boyfriend was finished with him.”
 

“What can I say,” I shrug, “He’s well known for his right hook. But honestly, why are you wanting to go?”
 

“I’ve seen your boyfriend without a shirt on. If all those guys look like that, then I want in on some of that action,” she smirks.
 

Cameron leans back against her chair, completely calm and serene while gripping her coffee mug. Her brown eyes peer over the rims of her glasses. She totally has the naughty librarian look going for her, which I assume she’ll use to her advantage if she does try to pick up a fighter at Derrick’s next match.
 

I roll my eyes at her, “Of course you do. Fine, there’s a fight this Friday, I think, out in Philly.”

“Philly sounds good,” her cattish eyes peer over her coffee mug at me as she takes another sip.
 

I smirk, “You know, I seriously doubt any of the guys you’ll meet there will have ever heard of Woolf or Longfellow, or any of your favorites for that matter. In fact, I doubt any of them have ever picked up a book before, unless there was a centerfold in it.”
 

“Hmm, that’s okay,” she moans after another sip, “No reading is required for what I’m wanting,” she winks.
 

“You’re incorrigible, Cameron,” I giggle.
 

“I know, that’s why you love me.”

I smile, the first real smile I’ve had in a very long time.

The drive from Baltimore to Philadelphia is long. Derrick is quiet in the driver’s seat, focused on the road ahead. Cameron is in the back seat, reading a book. Sitting with my legs curled up into the seat, I listen to the radio and think about the conversation Derrick and I had last night. I frown. It didn’t go anything like how I had expected it to...

“Can I go with you to Philly this weekend?” I muttered between sips of my wine.
 

Derrick didn’t look up from his bowl of pasta, “I guess,” his tone was not at all reassuring.
 

“Are you sure?”
 

“Mhm,” he groaned while chewing on his penne noodles.
 

I sighed, “Baby, what’s going on between us?”

Derrick looked up from his bowl of noodles with a completely dumbfounded look on his face, “Whatcha talkin’ about, Tash? I’m just tryin’ to eat my food.”

“Nothing,” I sigh as I pick at my noodles.
 

“Can Cameron come with us?” I mutter.

“Yeah, sure,” Derrick says without even looking at me.
 

Derrick bursted out in laughter at something on the television, drawing me out of my self-loathing. I swallowed the hard lump that had formed in my throat. Food no longer sounded appealing. I left the couch, placed my bowl of noodles in the fridge, and chugged the last bit of wine that was in my cup. Derrick’s obnoxious laughter filled my head as I made my way to the bedroom. I climbed into the bed, pulled the quilts up to my chin, and wept until sleep took me. When I woke up, Derrick was yelling from within the bathroom, saying that if I wanted to go with him still, I needed to get ready.
 

The car horn blaring pulls me out of my trance.
 

“Asshole!” Derrick shouts at the car in front of us.
 

“So, who’s this scuffle against?” I ask before Derrick’s road rage escalates. Cameron continues to read her book, without looking up.
 

“Luke Richards.”

I frown, “That name doesn’t sound familiar.”
 

“He hasn’t been in this area in a while. He’s been mostly competing on the west coast. He used to be pretty high up, like undefeated and everything, but he’s been losing a lot this last year. I need to beat him in order to go on to Ohio next month.”

“That’s kind of sad.”

“What is?”

“That he’s been losing so much. I wonder what happened to him.”

“I know he fired one his trainers about a year ago. Been goin’ mostly solo ever since. Richards is probably just some idiot who thought he was better than what he really is. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll put him in his place,” Derrick smirks.
 

I notice Cameron shaking her head from the visor mirror. Cameron’s never been Derrick’s biggest fan. ‘All dick and muscles, no brains,’ is how she referred to him on numerous occasions.
 

I roll my eyes at him, “Yeah, you do that. It’s such a turn on when you teach other fighters a lesson.”

Derrick turns to look at me, oblivious to my sarcasm, “Oh really? I should do it more often, then,” he winks at me. A warm feeling flows through my body, and I play along.
 

“Are you flirting with me, Mister Baptiste?”
 

“Maybe. Depends on what I get for it later,” he says, matter-of-factly.
 

Cameron sighs, “You’re selflessness is awe inspiring, Derrick,” she mutters without ever looking up from her book. The way her glasses are perched at the end of her nose makes her look like an old school marm.
 

Derrick looks at me with a confused look on his face, “Was that a compliment?”
 

“Sure, baby,” I pat his hand.
 

Derrick nods his head and grins, “Thanks, Cameron.”

“What a mook,” Cameron mutters under her breath.
 

I glare at her from the visor mirror. She waves at me with a stupid smile on her face. I roll my eyes at her, silently chuckling to myself. Derrick can be dense at times. He usually makes up for it in the bedroom, but that’s been lacking more and more as of late.
 

The parking lot is packed when we arrive at the stadium. The match isn’t for another three hours, but people are already lining up to watch the action. It must be a fairly important fight, I determine, after I see camera and news crews setting up in the parking lot.
 

Derrick pulls into the parking area designated for fighters and trainers. He parks as close to one of the camera crews as he can. I look at Cameron through the visor mirror. One of her eyebrows is arched, her expression reading that of disapproval. I shrug my shoulders, trying to pretend like I have no clue what he’s doing, even though I know exactly why he’s parking by them.
 

Even though Derrick is a fairly low-ranking MMA fighter, he is well on his way to being near the top. He’s aggressive, in the best shape of his life, and he brawls as if he doesn’t have anything to lose. The few times I have been to his fights that have had news coverage, he’s always tried to get them to do an interview with him. He’s young, impulsive, and mutilates his competition, all of which are qualities that the media loves to cover. Derrick’s trainer has always referred to his insistence with getting news coverage as ‘marketing’, but I can tell from the look on Cameron’s face that, to the general population, Derrick just comes across as a snob.
 

I glance around at the reporters. They’re the main reason behind why I stopped going to Derrick’s events in the first place. The trouble they go through to make your life miserable while just trying to build up a professional career has always been off putting for me. Then again, I remind myself, this is a fairly hypocritical train of thought coming from someone who works for a newspaper. But in the years that I have worked for the sports section of the university paper, I have always managed to avoid degradation and defamation; qualities that many of the reporters here tend to lack.
 

“Hey baby, Cameron and I will head on in and meet up with you when you’re done talking to the reporters.”

“Yeah, cool,” Derrick mutters while surveying the area, likely trying to figure out which person with a camera to try to schmooze first.
 

Cameron and I wait for a little while inside the car after Derrick has walked out, making certain that none of the reporters realize that we’re associated with him. There isn’t anything a good news writer loves more than to interview a rising athletes fuck partners. I’m not at all keen on the idea of having my name plastered on MMA sites, detailing how I’m Derrick Baptiste’s baby mama or one night stand that turned out to be a man.
 

Sneaking out of my SUV, Cameron and I make a break for the auditorium back doors that are reserved for the competitors and their trainers. I’ve gotten to know quite a few of the trainers and other fighters over the course of the year that Derrick and I have been together, so I’ve never had a problem getting in through the back entrance.
 

Big Mike is standing guard at the entrance of the back door. His hulking body puts many of the heavyweight MMA guys here to shame. Many find him menacing, but I know him for what he really is, a complete softy.
 

“Tasha!” He cries out when he sees me, his deep raspy voice vibrates along the walls of the building. Massive arms wrap around me tightly, “Where you been, girl?”

“Hey Mikey! I’ve been busy with school. How’re things goin’ for you?”
 

“Great, everything's been great. Cresha graduated from med school this year,” Mike beams, his face always brightens when he talks about his oldest daughter, “We’ve finally got a doctor in the family.”

“Awesome! I bet you’re so proud. Tell her I said congratulations and that I wish her all the best,” I smile warmly at him, wishing that I could have had a father like him.
 

“Will do, Tash, will do. Anyway, I assume you and your friend here are wanting to see your man’s fight today? I gotta tell ya, they’ve been cracking down on who I let come in through the back.”

“Oh?”
Crap, I don’t want to have to pay an entrance fee to go through the front.
 

“Yeah, they’ve been saying only close family and trainers. But you’re basically like family to a bunch of the people here, so I’ll just tell them that you’re Baptiste’s fiancé and that your friend is his sister. Will that do for ya?”

“Hah!” Cameron guffaws, “I would have already died from boredom if that big oaf was my brother.”

A deep chortle slips past Big Mike’s mouth, but he quickly purses his lips, trying to stifle the noise.