Black Hearts Red

by Leigh, Anne

  It’d been our tradition for three years now.

  The French Alps for my birthday.

  Lucerne for Nic’s birthday.

  Patagonia for Kassius’.

  “Is that your way of saying you like being with me on my birthday?” I teased, feeling the wind thin out as the lift went higher. I loved the Alps, it was one of the few places in the world that offered great powder during this time of the year.

  “Nah.” He chuckled, “I like being away from everything right now.”

  If I didn’t know my best friend better, I’d say that there was a woman bugging him right now. Ever since he and Haley had called it quits, he hadn’t been the same. He’d become more into himself.

  A beep cut through and I knew it wasn’t coming from me.

  I’d placed my phone on vibrate.

  Nic pulled his phone out of his inner jacket pocket, his gloved hands struggling with keeping it safe so I blocked it with my left hand before it fell from his hands and out of the lift.

  “I keep it on vibrate, but Ali’s out of the country right now.” When one of his sisters was abroad, he kept his phone on all the time, just in case.

  He swiped left and he said, “Man, I can’t believe she’s out there.”

  “Who?” I’d looked away to watch the skiers below us go through their runs.

  “Ali.”

  Just the mention of her name perked my interest.

  Trying to keep my voice neutral, “Why? What’s going on with her now?”

  Nic held his phone up, and on the screen was a picture of the most beautiful woman I’d ever come to know. She had a small smile on her face, but it was the spark in her violet eyes that brought the right side of my lip up.

  I hadn’t seen that smile directed at me in so long.

  I knew I missed it, but I didn’t know how much until now.

  Her hair was up in a ponytail, a few honey blonde strands fell around her face, and she looked tan. She was wearing a white shirt and it was obvious that this picture was taken when she wasn’t looking. Because even if her eyes were visible on camera, her attention was on the children sitting in front of her.

  I wanted to grab Nic’s phone and frame the picture.

  Ali was always beautiful.

  But there was another element to the photo that made it hard for me to swallow.

  She’d really grown into a woman now.

  Her delicate features had become more mature, her face had softened, and unlike the women I’d dated throughout the years, Ali’s face was free of makeup yet she glowed.

  Nic was talking about India and how it’s changing Ali’s life and a swift pang of something unrecognizable pierced through me.

  Maybe it was longing or it could be regret.

  Maybe it was both.

  “When are they coming back?” I asked, trying not to sound excited because as much as I knew my best friend, he knew me the same way too.

  “In two weeks. They’ll be here for your mom’s birthday party.” My mom liked to celebrate her birthdays the way she’d celebrated it for over forty something years. With her friends and family close by.

  “Maybe we should take Greyson with us for Kassius’ birthday,” Nic suggested, we’d never asked Uncle Xavier’s son to go with us on trips. He was the youngest and he had his own set of friends.

  I was about to say, “No way” but I held my tongue.

  If Greyson was with us, then he wouldn’t be near Ali.

  I didn’t dwell on the reason why I didn’t like Greyson being close to her.

  I already figured out the answer a long time ago.

  I just didn’t dwell on it because at one time, she may have felt the same for me.

  But I’d pushed her away, and now it was too late.

  Matteo

  Within the dry, parched Mojave Desert, Las Vegas provided an escape to the harsh realities of the world.

  People often called it “Sin City” because nothing was off limits.

  You wanted to gamble? The 24-hour casinos were there for you.

  You wanted a woman? Or a man? Or both? There were tons of 800 numbers that you could call and in a few minutes, someone could show up at your hotel room.

  Even if prostitution was illegal in Clark County where Las Vegas was situated, there were ways to get around it and not get caught.

  I should know, I had high school buddies who took advantage of expensive pussy and they never got a lick of jail time.

  But while Vegas was a mere tourist destination to millions of people, to me it was home.

  I grew up walking the city streets with my family, before anyone got up after a night of hard partying.

  My sister and I were the first ones to ride the world’s tallest coaster atop the Alliance Hotel. The skyscraper was built when Reece was barely two. It marked the 7th year of my parents’ marriage. Some couples went on an extended vacation for their anniversaries. My mom and dad built the tallest and the most modern building along the strip, after demolishing Magna Carta, my grandfather’s favorite hotel out of all the hotels he’d owned.

  I knew my way around the city.

  And I can’t tell you how often I indulged in the opulent lifestyle, but there was one thing that was a hard pass for me, paying for pussy was a giant NO in my book. Actually there was one that would be a harder pass, forcing someone to have sex with me – that would be a mortal sin in my book.

  I grew up not wanting for any material things, but my parents had drilled in me the value of respect.

  Respect to myself. No excessive alcohol, no drugs.

  Respect to others. Know my boundaries and always ask a woman if something was okay with her, make sure that she’s sober when you ask.

  My dad had given me the man-to-man talk when I was ten. I didn’t remember a lot of shit because Dad pretty much told me to wrap it up if and when I started having sex, but he did emphasize at least four times to never force my partner into anything. If I did, he’d personally send me to jail and keep me in there.

  He didn’t have to threaten me because I learned respect for women from my father.

  He was a badass, he could make grown men bend to their knees when he worked inside the cage, but he never lifted a hand to mom and he was overprotective of my sister.

  There was no better model on how to be a man than my father.

  To the world he was Milo Tanner, bearer of Olympic medals, hero of children’s charities, and co-owner of T & T Inc. The first T was for my mom’s maiden name, Troudeau and the latter T was for my dad’s last name, Tanner. T & T Inc was emblazoned in thirty-five percent of the hotels in Vegas, and since Mom and Dad opened their doors to adding hotels around the world, the same eagle emblem could be recognized in luxury hotels in Asia, Europe, and Africa.

  I grew up hanging out in swimming venues and board rooms.

  And while my dad was the best role model on how to be a man, he was being a total pain in the ass right now.

  “Matteo, what did I say about not pissing off your mother on her birthday?” Dad’s eyes were directed at me and even when he was trying to scold me, I had a feeling he was actually reveling in what I’d told Mom, before she stormed off with Aunt Nalee to be glammed up for tonight’s celebrations.

  “It’s an exhibition, Dad. It’s not like I’m fighting to the death,” I reasoned, aligning my body with the surface of the water as I started to float. Heather, Mom’s party organizer, had called my mom about the schedule for tonight. As soon as my mom heard Heather talk about an exhibition match, Mom started yelling from the living room.

  Overdramatic much?

  “Niro and Jack were already lined up for tonight. Why did you have to change it?” Dad questioned as he lowered his sunglasses. I loved summer, but the heat in Vegas was atrocious. July was barely leaving the calendar, but the sun’s rays pierced my skin like it was the middle of September.

  Every so often, mom allowed more than a hundred people at her party.

  Mom and Dad were involv
ed in so many charities that when it came to Mom’s birthday, they all wanted to celebrate her.

  My mother deserved all of it. Growing up I knew the difference between genuine concern for others and the fake givers who signed the checks for show. Mom brought Reece and I to hospitals around the country, to meet kids who were burdened by their diseases. Dad brought us to homeless shelters so our eyes could be opened to the poverty around us.

  My sister brought toys to kids who didn’t know what toys were, who had parents who could barely afford three meals a day.

  I swallowed water as I turned my head to the side.

  It’d been years, but the pain stung like it was yesterday.

  “I just want to make her birthday special. It’s my gift to her. I know she doesn’t like to see me fight, but it’s an exhibition and I know that it’ll be fun,” I explained. When I was younger, my mother was in the cheering section of every sport I played in. When I’d garnered trophies in Judo and Kenpo, she was there to take pictures of me. As I got older, I found fighting to be an escape and I wanted more. Dad had been there for me to help out. He allowed me to grow as a fighter. He was the one to ice my cheeks when I got hit and the one to defend me when things got out of hand. I didn’t have any hopes of becoming an MMA fighter, I didn’t have it as a lofty goal or a dream. I liked to fight behind the lights, so my dad let me train with the best ones.

  He and Mom didn’t argue a lot, but when they did it was because I showed up with black and blue bruises on my arms, legs, and sometimes my face. Mom only reneged because Dad convinced her that I wouldn’t be truly hurt. There were times when my opponent kicked me in the liver and I felt that I was going to pass out, but I never told Dad. If I did, I knew he’d pull me out. I made sure I stood straight when I left the mat, and got tons of rest before I faced Mom for dinner.

  “You’ll be fighting Niro then?” Dad was now tapping on his cell phone. He was getting inundated by today’s festivities, but he had a perma-grin on his face. He hated planning parties which was why Heather was a lifesaver, but his love for Mom overthrew his hate for parties. He’d been busy since breakfast, arranging for the times when his friends and their families were arriving. Uncle Xavier was running late and so was Uncle Leif. Usually he didn’t sit by his phone, but today was an exception. One day a year he made an exception to answer all of his calls and texts.

  “Yeah. I’ve sparred with him a couple of times. His overhand is killer, but nothing that would keep me off my feet,” I said, feeling the cool water lather against my back.

  “You’re telling me that he’s getting soft?” One of dad’s brows rose, he was intuitive, and it was the same intuition that made Supreme World Fighting the standard of MMA organizations in the country. He hadn’t done it overnight. He’d established it after he’d retired from swimming and found himself bored to tears inside the walls of his office. Unlike Uncle Kieran, Dad’s love for swimming wasn’t the end all, be all. Rather his love for the sport was equaled with his love for martial arts.

  And I equaled him in that regard.

  I played all sorts of sports. Lacrosse and baseball were my top two, but martial arts was interspersed somewhere in the middle.

  “He’s not getting soft. I’m just getting better,” I smirked and splashed a bucketful of water with my hands towards my dad’s direction.

  “Fuck!” He yelled, “I just showered with your mom – “

  Okay, I really didn’t need to hear those words.

  “Dad! Come on,” I said, my parents had always been touchy-feely throughout the years, and while I knew that they had a healthy relationship, I didn’t need to know the details.

  “How do you think you came to be, you little shit,” my dad returned, and he was already taking his shirt off.

  “I was born directly from the tree of life,” I smarted and started kicking the water with more power this time around, trying to gain momentum so that –

  “Matteo! What the fuck?” My dad screamed as his mouth filled with pool water. I’d timed it just right. His face was red by the time I was done. Dad didn’t like drinking pool water, I didn’t either. Chlorine and chemicals wasn’t on my favorite mixed drinks’ list.

  “I’m gonna kick your ass,” he sputtered as he lowered his body under the water, getting used to the temperature.

  “Yeah yeah,” I smirked, knowing full well that he was going to try and beat me this time.

  His butterfly stroke was on NBC’s Olympic highlight reel for decades. So was his breaststroke. Only Uncle Kieran could beat him in those two.

  But when he and I swam, we made it a level playing field.

  We raced without regard to the swimming stroke.

  It was a battle of who swam the fastest and who kicked the dirtiest.

  Dad pulled to the side of the pool and I swam beside him.

  “You think you can beat me this time around?” I egged, my father was a competitor. His blood ran through my own veins so I knew what it was like. The hunt for a win. To live life chasing victory.

  I wasn’t the best swimmer. Kassius could swim circles around me, but if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was to beat my father.

  Dad’s eyes darkened as he uttered, “Last time you kicked me in my right ankle, that’s why you won.”

  “You elbowed me while I was underwater. How fatherly of you.” We did whatever we could to stall each other. He’d pull my leg and I’d kick his shoulder. He’d elbow me and I splashed him with water until his eyes stung. We played every dirty trick in the book so we could claim a win.

  “Two laps?” Dad asked, his eyes already gauging the 50 meters he was going to scale. Our pool was designed by my dad and Uncle Kieran. Everything here was built with the intent of training for the Olympics. My mom had videos of me watching Uncle Kieran and my dad train in this pool. Beating each other’s time while I played on the side with beach toys.

  “Fine,” I agreed. Dad was extremely fit for his age, but years of swimming, training, and competing had made his body prone to shoulder and knee injuries. I saw how Mom massaged his legs in the evenings when I was actually home from college and now work, and I could tell from Dad’s face that they bothered him.

  He was a badass, but he was also human.

  And most of all, he was my dad.

  We both pushed ourselves out of the water and stepped on the starting block.

  Yep, like I said, our pool was equipped for training the best swimmers in the world.

  My dad had the electronic beep replaced three years ago. Before, we had to press a button and it gave us five seconds before we could start.

  Now all we had to do was shout start and the beep would sound off a second later.

  “You go, Dad,” I motioned with my hand as I stepped onto the block. I liked to grab the front edge of the block and feel it underneath my fingers.

  “Alright,” he responded, nodding his head as he positioned himself the same way I did.

  I heard his voice say, “Start” and exactly a second later, a loud beep hung in the air.

  I closed my eyes and pushed off with my hands and legs simultaneously. I looked up slightly as I pushed off, forcing my body to follow the direction of my head.

  I kept my body streamlined as I hit the water and as I blasted off, I started swimming as fast as I could.

  My father may have aged, but his age didn’t mean shit when he was underwater.

  Over the years, I’d replayed videos of his Olympic competitions on my phone when I wanted to divert my attention away from class assignments, work, and life. I loved seeing how stoked he was when he got in the water and how jubilant he was when he won.

  I allowed myself to take a peek on where he was at.

  Damn it, he was a half a meter ahead of me.

  I lowered my head back in the water and mustered my legs to kick powerfully. I’d been asked if I wanted to swim competitively. I had the genes for it. I also had the physique and speed for it.

  But what I didn’t hav
e was the drive for swimming.

  And to me, that spoke volumes.

  I’d practiced with Kassius at times, but every time my cousin was in the water, his eyes glowed and his mind already played the many different ways he could win.

  I didn’t have that feeling.

  I felt an arm pulling my leg, shit, I was gaining ground on him and he was pulling me back.

  I kicked my right leg and managed to disengage from his hold.

  As I pushed myself up to catch a breath, my dad’s hand was already waiting for me and he pushed my head back down.

  Dirty bastard.

  If Mom could see this now, she’d no doubt flip out.

  After all, I was her golden boy, and it looked like my dad was trying to drown me, again.

  I pushed his arm away and grabbed it so he couldn’t move.

  I heard him sputter.

  Take that dad.

  I turned my body around and kicked on my back before rolling on my stomach and swimming freestyle for the last 20 meters.

  Kassius said that this style was illegal in IM’s, but illegal was the way I usually won against my father.

  I touched the wall and the ear-splitting sound was a symphony to my ears.

  My dad touched the wall and we both looked up at the big screen towards the west side of the pool.

  Four seconds.

  I’d beaten him by four seconds.

  Last time, I beat him by eight seconds.

  His physical therapy was doing wonders for him, and I smiled as I felt my father’s arms around me.

  “Good race, son.” He lifted his goggles off of his face, and gave me a hearty pat on my back.

  I pulled off the goggles I’d put on a few minutes before we started. You couldn’t do this type of race without goggles. I hugged him back and on an exhale, as my lungs felt like I’d ran ten miles in under two minutes, I exclaimed, “Good race, Dad.”

  “Don’t worry about your mom. She’ll be the first one standing when you enter the cage tonight,” he said in between breaths, his hand removing the plugs from his nose.