by N. Alleman
The instant I hear the signal that the fight has begun, my glove connect with his flesh.
After that it’s just one punch after another.
My knuckles bleed even through the tape and gloves, that’s how hard I am hitting.
I dodge as he tries to hit me back then jab, jab, jab before he can land a cross. I lose myself in the battle, paying attention to strategy even though I just really want to fucking hurt someone.
All my pent up frustration comes barreling out of my fists. Sweat pours down my body from the exertion, and the fans start to cheer for me now.
The bout ends when I knock down my opponent, and the ref and a few corner men have to pull me off him at the end of round three.
I push them away, raise my arms in victory, and stand angrily waiting for the audience to erupt. They stand and cheer as I rip my gloves from my hands and toss them into the crowd.
They reach for them, desperate to be the person to catch the gloves Axel Reign just won with.
And none of it fulfills me. I’m too tired for any of it.
Not that anyone in the crowd notices, or cares. I wave to the crowd and try to let their adoration sink in. I need something to sustain me.
Next thing I need is booze, and maybe a woman. The bad boy is back, and I’m ready to lose myself in a haze of drunken bad behavior. It sounds good in theory, but in reality, I merely feel exhausted.
It’s how I got over Olive in the past, but I’m not so sure it will work for me now.
23
Olive
The apartment is different from the last time I was here, and I can’t tell if that’s a good thing. The absence of Jason is an improvement. But it also feels like it’s missing something. I’m not used to being in this apartment without a man here, and Axel would fit perfectly, splayed out across the sofa and smirking as he gets up to get some food, to grab me, or to just tease Lark. To bond with us.
I’m barely in the door, and yet the place fills me with a sense of nostalgia tinged with sadness. I wonder if I’d feel this way if Jason and I had come back together.
I motion for Lark to go in first.
She shakes her head frantically, holding out a hand demanding I give the suitcase to her. Both of our stuff had been packed in it, and she wants to carry it.
“Okay, little woman.” I ruffle her hair, imitating Axel’s voice as best I could, echoing how parents sometimes call their little boys little men.
With a look of triumph, Lark grabs it from me and drags it as best she can into the foyer. The living room is otherwise empty, and I have a clear view of the kitchen. There’s still a pot on the stove and I rush over to it, praying that no one left food out for two weeks.
When I notice it’s squeaky clean, I exhale. Thank goodness.
A pang of guilt washes over me as I enter the kitchen, reminding me that Axel had teased me about his cooking skills. He really wanted to cook for me.
And I hadn’t let him, and I missed my chance. The same way I missed a lot of others. Why was I so preoccupied with Axel in my own apartment when he’d only been here once? Drunk and …
The doorbell rings.
It’s probably Selena.
She wanted to stop by a store on the way home, and said she’d be a little late. But my heart springs with hope that it might be Axel, coming to the door to tell me that he still hasn’t given up on me.
I rush to the door to open it only to see the last person I expected.
Jason.
He’s carrying a bouquet of flowers.
Red roses, not white like the ones Axel would have gotten for me, if it were him at the door right now.
I attempt to slam the door, but his foot is in the way, holding it ajar. He yelps in pain—Axel would never have done that. Just then Selena comes running up the stairs, a package of pink cupcakes in her arms.
“What the hell?” Selena’s face doesn’t fit the prissy pink of the promised baked goods in her hand. “Jason? Get the hell out.”
Only his foot is in the apartment, but I’m inclined to agree with Selena. What the …?
Thankfully Lark’s is in her room. She doesn’t need to see this. Jason raises his hands over his head in surrender.
“I just want another chance,” he whines to me. “I messed up, baby, please forgi—”
He’s interrupted by a shriek of laughter from Lark, who apparently is no longer in her room.
Dammit!
Then I turn back to see what got that reaction, what made Jason’s face go from whiny prick to “oh crap.”
Selena has a cupcake out, all pink frosting with blue sprinkles, and she’s smeared it all over the back of his head. She dips a finger in it, brings a dab of icing to her mouth and gives it a lick. Her face breaks into a grimace.
“Ugh, nasty! You ruined it,” she complains. “God! Get out!”
Shocked and indignant, Jason leaves.
“That was really weird,” I say, trying not to laugh.
“Girl! Listen.” Selena taps her foot, demanding my attention, and I realize where Lark got that behavior from. “I know you’re thinking about Axel. Don’t lie to me.”
I try to look away, but she keeps talking.
“Olive Wilson, this is important!” I look at her, surprised she used my full name, even though it’s something she’s done plenty of times.
“You need to go after Axel, Olive. He’s not going to give up on you. So you don’t get to give up on him either.”
“I just got home. I’m tired. I don’t even know where he is.”
“He’s at that hotel down the block from the sandwich shop,” Selena says, coming into the foyer and pushing me back out the door. “There’s a match in the crown room, or something. No excuses. Now I’ll watch Lark.” She pushes me again. “Go.”
“Wait, I—”
She raises a hand. “I said no excuses. You’ll see the flyers.”
Tabloids are what got us in this mess, but I’m grateful for them because the only reason the bouncers let me go backstage is because they recognize me. It’s super crowded, the people are horrible, and I’m starting to regret coming back here.
But I can’t back out now.
A burly, bald man waves me in, and I go searching through the back. In the midst of the people standing about, there are some punching bags and other training equipment that I assume are for Axel. A woman in heels glares at me. She’s beckoning some of the big guys to throw me out when Coach Parker sees me and calls me over.
“You’re here for Axel, right? He’s over there.” He nods to a door that’s separated by a curtain. I look through it briefly, trying to see if I can make out Axel from this angle, but from where I’m standing, I can’t see anything.
“It doesn’t help that you’re short,” Coach Parker says. “Wait back here and as soon as the match is over, I’ll send you right out.”
It’s only a matter of minutes before Coach nods and tells me it’s time for me to go out, and he pulls the curtain back for me. I open it the rest of the way and walk toward the ring.
It smells worse on this side, but that’s to be expected. This is where the actual fighting is going on. I see Axel now, standing in the ring victorious. My heart skips a beat. He looks so handsome.
There are women all around him. He puts his arms around them and presents his cheek to them for kisses, then he turns his face, and just as he and I make eye contact, his lips smack against one of the women’s. She leaves a big red slash on his lips, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
He releases the women and stumbles toward me.
Is he drunk? How drunk is he? I turn away from him, running through the crowds because it’s easier than letting him just follow me backstage, and he’ll have to fight through the swarms of people anyway.
As I rush through the crowd, I think I pass Jason, but it’s probably my imagination. I’m so upset my mind is probably playing tricks on me. And the tears in my eyes make it hard to be sure about a lot of things.
/> 24
Axel
I’m not sure if she’s real or if she’s just part of my imagination. I turn to let the blonde kiss my cheek. I’m not in the mood for real kisses. Not from this random girl anyway. There’s only one girl on my mind, and I could swear that’s her.
It’s definitely Olive. Her hair, her frame, the pained look in her eyes.
I cringe, trying to pull myself away from the women I’m entangled with on stage, but it only makes it look like I’m wrapping my body around them even more.
I’m definitely a bit drunk. Fuck.
Then the blonde babe plants a big kiss right on my mouth. Right in front of Olive.
Fuck me!
I try to run after Olive, but my legs are wobbly beneath me, and I actually fall on my ass as I watch Olive run out the door. Dimly, I think I see a familiar face trailing after her. But before I can make this a coherent thought, the burning in my stomach roils up to my throat.
I gag, try to calm myself, urge my body to calm down. I can’t vomit right now. It’s not that I care if other people see me; I just need to get to Olive.
Sadly, I can’t control it, and I get sick, unleashing a noise I couldn’t even recognize as coming from me.
I should have listened to Coach and stuck with the water. I sense, more than see, the girls around me scampering away as I vomit, and I hear someone call for Coach. He’s going to have to deal with me and my shit.
Fuck …
Olive!
“Congratulations on passing out after your first match back.” Barry is clearly displeased, tucking his phone back into his pocket. I wonder if I was interrupting some booty call of his, and then I remember who exactly I’d seen him tangled up with: Selena.
And Selena’s best friend, who I’d last seen …
The whole nightmare that is my life comes flooding back to me.
I lean up on my elbows, but fall back, clutching my pounding forehead. Damn. I’ve been fucked-up before, but this is a record hangover I’ve got.
Barry is mumbling about some girl something or other. My head kills too much to listen. My throat resembles sandpaper. I open my eyes to slits and try to figure out where I am.
There’s a couch beneath me, but it might be a bed … I don’t know. It’s reasonably comfortable and there are a lot of blankets. I sigh, but it turns into a cough.
“God, I don’t know if you’re still drunk or actually getting sick.” Barry shakes his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Romeo. I brought you to my place last night.”
I grimace, but he keeps talking, assuring me that it wasn’t his idea. “It was all Coach Parker, who insisted on taking care of things with the press after you slipped and puked yourself.”
I remain still, not even nodding.
Barry scowls at me again, telling me I’d better not consider this a bonding experience.
I don’t give a crap about that. My only question is whether I want to beg for a glass of water or a cup of orange juice or if I should just die.
In the end, I do none of the three. Instead, I choose sleep, drowning out the sound of Barry’s voice as the world goes black around me.
The next morning I feel so much better. Coach Parker is back, and he convinces me to shower before I run off to Olive, which is exactly where everyone knows I’m going. Apparently, after the fiasco at the match, there were some still pics taken of Olive and me and a history of what’s been going on between us made the news. The rumors are confirmed, except now there are photos of me with some groupies, so I look like a cheater now, too.
Not that this is a new thing for the media to say, and not that it’s true. It’s never been and never will be. All that matters is I’m the bad boy again.
Barry comes to tell me that his phone is blowing up with meetings to arrange, and congratulates me on somehow falling so far that my fuckups have become successes. I don’t respond, just shove past him on my way to the shower.
I’m beyond disgusting and can’t even find a towel, so after I shower I just grab one of the extras off the rack and wrap it around myself. Hopefully, no one’s used this to dry their hands, and hopefully Coach has some old clothes lying around I can change into.
Coach brings out a bag he found stuffed in my locker—fuck yeah—and I pull it on. Gym shorts and a T-shirt. I don’t care what I wear as long as I get to Olive.
I pay no attention to the two men behind me telling me to take it easy, nor do I listen to the one bastard urging for me to focus on “more important things, like my career.” Instead, I run down the stairs into the street.
My stomach lurches, reminding me to slow down a little bit, but it’s not as bad as it was just a night ago and I refuse to let it get the best of me. I heave, gasp, and try to make myself feel a bit better, but I don’t slow down.
I can’t slow down.
I need to explain myself.
I run up and down the street until I find a taxi. I’m missing my motorcycle right about now, thinking how easy it would be to just jump on it and drive over the sidewalks in my desperation to get to Olive.
But it’s back at home in the garage, where I left it. I regret it now as I flag down the taxi, shouting, almost screaming as the taxi almost passes me by.
The taxi cab driver stops, rolls down the window to ask me where I want to go. His voice stalls out when he realizes whom he’s talking to. He must recognize me. Without going through the whole thing, I run to the other side of the taxi and throw open the passenger side door.
Olive’s address falls out of my mouth, and I’m surprised I even remember the numbers since she never told me it. I’d seen it, though, and briefly wonder if that makes me creepy that I immediately memorized it.
No. Not creepy, just devoted.
“Get me there fast and there’s an extra twenty in it for you,” I say. He doesn’t say anything in return, just puts his foot on the pedal. I’m pretty sure we speed through a few red lights and break a few traffic laws on our trip, but I’m not bothered.
All that matters is that I get to Olive. The driver pulls up right next to her apartment building, as close as he can get with the cars parked everywhere, and lets me out right by the doors.
I pay him, sign a quick autograph, and once I get inside the building, I run up the stairs. My heart pounds, more from nerves than from exertion. As crappy as I feel, I’m still in tip-top shape.
But when I knock on the door, it’s not Olive who answers. It’s Selena, and my heart drops back down to where it belongs. I sigh, but at the same time …
“Great, it’s you,” I mutter, trying to sound more bitter than I am.
Selena’s given me more time to compose myself by answering the door, and my girl is somewhere behind her anyway. I’m about to joke with my girl’s best friend, a girl I’m starting to consider one of my own close friends, when I see she’s been crying.
“Whoa, hey.” I wasn’t expecting this and I don’t know how to deal with it, because I don’t think Selena wants the type of comfort I have to offer, and Olive’s the only girl I want in my arms. “Did you get in a fight with Olive?”
She just shakes her head. “No.”
I’m confused. Something must have happened. This isn’t the usual playful, arrogant Selena I’m used to. I try to move past her to get in the door, but she puts both her arms out, holding the doorframe so I can’t get past without moving her.
I don’t want to put hands on a girl, much less my girl’s best friend.
“Selena,” I say, as casually as I can. “Tell me what’s going on.”
She just shakes her head again, tears blossoming over her eyes and streaming past her cheeks. She says nothing, and this time I move toward her, taking her arms and moving them so I can get past the door. She doesn’t fight me as I expect her to and I go to the foyer, searching for the sound of Lark’s laughter and my Olive alongside her.
But I don’t hear anything. Maybe they’re still asleep. It’s early.
Selena grabs my arm ag
ain, trying to stop me, but I shake her off.
“Where’s Olive?” I demand. My Olive.
Selena just shakes her head again. And again, she simply says, “No.”
My questions go unanswered.
“Fine,” I sigh, finally, deciding that Selena’s just choosing to be difficult. “Then what about Lark? Is she sleeping?”
“Axel.” Selena reaches out to stop me. “Lark’s not here.”
“Okay,” I say, refusing to think what she might be trying to say to me.
“Axel,” Selena says again, slower this time. “She’s gone. They’re both gone.”
And Selena drags me to the couch, and she tells me everything.
25
Olive
I usually don’t have my phone on, but it seems like everyone has to be connected to everyone somehow. I hear it beep and I ignore it, knowing it’s Selena but not wanting to check.
A voice in the back of my head tells me it could be Axel. But I doubt it. It’s not like he cares enough to message me.
He’s already over me anyway.
My mind flashes back to the image of him in the ring with those girls, and I can’t believe I truly thought he would only ever love me.
I’m such an idiot.
We’re in the car, driving far, far away. I told Selena I was planning to get away from all this. She doesn’t even know where I’m going, and I struggle with everything in me not to tell her where I am. She’s my best friend, and I will miss her terribly.
But she’s the one who led Axel back to me, leaving him clues and everything so he would know where to find me before. I can’t take the risk she’ll do that again.
I feel sick.
I stop at a red light and look over my shoulder into the backseat. Lark’s asleep in her car seat. Her head starts to lull to the side as she rests. The ride is slow. I’m not a dangerous driver like Axel—never have been.
