Takedown

by Gemma Brooks

  I raised my head, my eyes meeting his. “Really?”

  “Yes, Gia,” he insisted. “Come with me. Please. I’m about to live an amazing life, but none if it matters I don’t have you. You need to leave Wagner. Get out of this stupid town. What’s keeping you here anyway?”

  I paused before answering. “My father.”

  “Your father?” he was confused.

  “I’m all he has,” I said. “I’m an only child. My mom died when I was eight. I can’t just up and leave him like that.”

  Rowdy sunk back, his head falling against the headboard of my bed as it rattled against the wall. “I didn’t know that.”

  If you subtracted our intense chemistry and the odd, magnetic pull neither one of us could deny, we really didn’t know each other at all.

  “There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” I said. The words hit me like a ton of bricks and made my heart sink. “And I’m sure there’s a lot I don’t know about you.”

  He nodded as he flung the covers from his waist and stood up to grab his jeans off the floor.

  “You see why I’m so apprehensive to just up and leave?” I said. “In a perfect world, you’d have stuck around Wagner and we would’ve gotten to know each other.”

  He snickered. “We don’t live in a perfect world, Gia. Things are never going to be exactly the way you want them to be.”

  “That’s not what I meant,” I said, only I wasn’t sure I believed myself.

  “I can’t stay here,” he said. “And I can’t beg you to come with me if you don’t want to. And you can’t ask me to give up my dream. Looks like the cards are stacked against us.”

  He walked over to me and leaned down, pressing his lips against my forehead for a brief moment before walking out of the room. The second he was out of my sight, I scrambled to get dressed.

  “Wait,” I called after him. By the time I’d emerged from my room, his shoes were already on and his hand was on the doorknob. I didn’t know what I wanted to say to him. I just knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.

  He turned to me with sad eyes. “You know, I came back for you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I came back to take you with me,” he said. “I told myself I wasn’t going to leave here without you.”

  I bit my lip as I hesitated. I wanted to leave with him. I wanted to throw caution out the window and never look back. But the thought of my poor dad, sitting at home every night by himself, missing out on our once a week dinners together and our thrice a week check-ins tore me up inside. Fifteen years and he was still in mourning. He’d never quite got a handle on moving on from my mom’s passing. He was just sort of stuck, treading water, but in a weird sort of way, I realized I was too.

  “I have to leave,” he said, his head held low.

  I stood there, like an idiot, and watched in virtual slow motion as the door shut behind him. The sound of his footsteps faded quickly as he shuffled down the hall and towards the stairway. Soon I couldn’t hear him at all.

  I plopped down on the chair and curled into a ball. I’d never been one of those people who knew exactly what they wanted. I only ever wanted things on my terms. As I watched out the window, I wondered if I was throwing away a chance at something amazing with Rowdy just because things weren’t exactly the way I thought they should be.

  I watched from my third floor apartment as he climbed into his truck and didn’t drive off right away. The truck idled loud as he sat there for a good couple of minutes.

  Maybe I didn’t have to stay in Wagner. Maybe if I left, it would force my dad to move on and find happiness in new beginnings. Maybe by letting him walk out the door, I’d be walking away from the best thing that had ever happened to me.

  I popped up like a racer at the starting line and threw my faded sneakers on that happened to be conveniently lying by the front door. With untied laces, I scrambled to get out the door and ran flew down the three flights of stairs like Cinderella at midnight. By the time I made it out to the parking lot, Rowdy’s truck was idling at the stop sign and inching towards the street.

  “Rowdy!” I yelled, praying he could hear me.

  His truck inched forward ever so slightly.

  “Rowdy!” I yelled again as I sprinted towards him. A quick glance down the street told me a break in the traffic was coming soon. I had seconds to flag him down or he’d be gone forever.

  As if a gush of wind had pushed me, I somehow ended up at the tailgate of his truck, clinging on and trying to catch my breath. I banged my fists on the side of his truck to get his attention before he took off.

  “Gia?” Rowdy climbed out of his truck and came around back. “What are you doing?”

  I leaned my out-of-shape self onto the side of the truck and tried to hide the fact that I was out of breath and my hair was going every which way.

  “Take me with you,” I panted. “I want to go with you.”

  Rowdy placed his hands on his hips and studied me as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “What about your dad?”

  “I think this might make him move on,” I said. “And me too. I think this is exactly what we need.”

  Rowdy stepped towards me and placed his hands on my hips before pressing his lips onto mine. A fighter through and through, it should’ve come as no surprise that he was willing to fight for what he wanted – me. He was willing to forfeit the fight in the name of my happiness, however, and I couldn’t let him do that. My happiness was him, and it took watching him drive away in a rare moment of defeat for me to realize that.

  “I think I just took you down, Rowdy Matthews,” I said with a smirk.

  CHAPTER 20

  One year later…

  One year. One amazing, blissful, rollercoaster of a year with Rowdy. I’d circled our anniversary on the calendar that hung on the side of the ‘fridge in our Vegas high rise apartment. Bright red marker, heart-shaped circle.

  “Good morning.” Two manly hands came up from behind me and wrapped themselves around my waist, followed by a kiss on the back of my neck. I spun around to face Rowdy.

  “Hey, baby,” I said, standing on my toes and kissing him with my hazelnut latte breath. “Did you sleep well?”

  The night before, Rowdy had won yet another fight. Fight after fight, Rowdy came out on top, only losing a small handful of cards his entire first year in the pros. The media had all sorts of nicknames for him and his phone was constantly blowing up from sports journalists requesting interviews. One woman, in particular, wanted to do a two-hour documentary on him. Two hours! Rowdy’s sponsors basically made the decision for him, which mean this skinny, little blonde athlete-chaser with a microphone and digital recorder was going to be following us around for two full weeks in the very near future.

  “Flowers?” I asked as I stepped past him only to see a gigantic vase of pale pink roses on the foyer table. “Where’d these come from? They weren’t here this morning?”

  Rowdy’s lips curled into a proud smile. “Happy anniversary, Gia.”

  I leaned down, carefully caressing the delicate petals of one rose in my hands and breathing in the soft scent. Life was good. And it wasn’t because we were living the highlife in a condo overlooking Vegas. It wasn’t because Rowdy had bought me a shiny new BMW to replace my aging Toyota. And it certainly wasn’t because for the first time in my life, I had a closet overflowing with new clothes I’d probably never have a chance to wear. Rowdy loved to spoil me, and he lived to make me happy, but all I really needed was just to be with him.

  Those still, small moments, when it was just the two of us after a crazy week of traveling and attending fights and standing in the background as Rowdy did interview after interview, were my little slice of Heaven. Most nights we’d order takeout, curl up on the couch together under a blanket, and fall asleep watching a movie. Rowdy wasn’t much of a partier, and he certainly didn’t let fame get to his head like most men with his kind of overnight success might. I loved him so much. I loved h
im so much it hurt sometimes.

  The faint vibration of my phone against the granite counter in the kitchen caught my attention. “Ooh, someone’s calling me. That’s weird. It’s seven A.M. on a Sunday.”

  “It’s your dad,” Rowdy said, handing me my phone.

  “Hey, dad,” I said. It was highly unusual for him to be up so early, especially on a weekend. He worked nights as a security guard at the hospital back in Wagner. “Everything okay?”

  My dad sighed into the receiver before responding. “Yeah.”

  I paused, waiting for him to elaborate. “You sure?”

  “Just couldn’t sleep,” he said, his voice low and slow. “Wanted to see what you kids were up to.”

  “You couldn’t sleep?” I asked. “Didn’t you get off at three? What’ve you been doing all morning?”

  “Just sitting here,” he said, his voice despondent.

  Flashbacks of my dad’s deep depression filled my mind. After my mom passed away, I thought he was going to be next, only from a broken heart. I made it my mission to always make sure he was okay. I never wanted to see my dad like that again, which was partly why I was so hesitant to run off with Rowdy. Being the only child of a widow was hard sometimes.

  “Everything okay?” Rowdy mouthed to me quietly.

  I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. “Dad, you don’t sound like yourself.”

  “Just a little lonely, kiddo,” he said. “I’ll be alright. I should probably let you go. Just wanted to hear your voice. It’s raining here.”

  From several hours away, I felt helpless. My dad was clearly going through something and I was not there to help him. For the first time in my life, I couldn’t help him and it tore me up inside.

  “You know, it’s been a couple months since I came home last,” I said. “Why don’t I come home for a few days and we can catch up?”

  “Oh, Gia,” he said, his voice starting to perk up. “You don’t have to do that.”

  His words said one thing but the tone of his voice said another.

  “I want to, Daddy,” I said with a smile in my voice. “I miss you.”

  “Well, you know you’re always welcome to come home anytime you need, baby,” he said, his mood instantly improving as if the sun had suddenly come out to play.

  “I know,” I said. “I’ll leave in a little bit. See you in a few hours, alright?”

  “Sounds good, sweetie,” he said. I could practically see him smiling through the phone.

  “Shit, Rowdy,” I said as I sat the phone down. “I’m going to miss the start of your documentary.”

  Rowdy shrugged. “It’s really not that big of a deal. Go home. Your dad needs you.”

  But it was a big deal. It wasn’t that I didn’t trust Rowdy. I trusted him with every fiber of my being. It was that I didn’t trust her. That blonde haired, big-breasted bimbo with the microphone who constantly waited outside every one of Rowdy’s fights to be first in line for an interview. She tried to act all professional with her ESPN media badge and camera crew, but she was nothing more than an obsessed fan girl. And he had thousands of those, more of which were popping up by the hour.

  The day he told me he had to do the documentary, my heart sank. It was practically unheard of for someone as new as him to have a two hour special, and part of me wondered if it was all a ploy for little miss microphone to spend time with him. Rowdy was a good man though, and he didn’t see it the way I did.

  “When is Avery Sharp coming again?” I asked, her name instantly leaving a sour taste in my mouth.

  “Uh, tomorrow I think?” Rowdy replied as he grabbed an apple from the fruit basket on the table and took a bite. He was so oblivious.

  “Oh, okay,” I sighed. I couldn’t act like I had an issue. I trusted him. I did. I just didn’t trust her. “I guess I’m going to start packing. I don’t know how long I’ll be in Wagner. Just depends on how my dad is doing.”

  “Take as much time as you need, Gia,” he said, leaning over and kissing my forehead. I looked up into his ocean blue eyes. I was going to miss the hell out of those. In the whole last year, we hadn’t been apart for longer than a day or two. “I’ll be right here when you get back. We can pick up right where we left off.”

  “You make it sound like I’m going to be gone a long time,” I laughed nervously, running my fingers through the strands of my long, dark locks. “I’ll hopefully be back by the end of the week.”

  “Gia,” he said. “It’s your father. Take as much time as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Don’t we fly out this weekend to Tulsa?” I reminded him. “You’ve got that fight against Moreno.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said as he scratched his head. “That is this weekend. Well, I’ll just see you when I get back?”

  “Yeah,” I replied, looking down.

  He leaned over, lifted my chin, and pressed his lips against mine, his kiss tasting like tart, green apple.

  “Now your phone’s ringing,” I said as the faint beeping of his ringtone echoed throughout the massive apartment. “Who’s calling you this early?”

  “It’s Avery Sharp,” he said, making a surprised face.

  “Why’s she calling you at seven in the morning?” I asked, one hand on my hip and one eyebrow raised.

  “She’s in New York,” he said with a shrug, not reading into it. “She probably didn’t think about the time difference. Hello, this is Rowdy.”

  I stood by and watched as Rowdy took her call. She had a lot of nerve bugging him on a Sunday, and plans should’ve been finalized by now.

  “Yes, I didn’t forget,” he said to her. “Yep. Meet you at the gym at eight tomorrow morning. Yep. Probably just me and my coach. Okay. See you then.”

  He hung up. He was innocent enough. I couldn’t fault him for anything. But visions of the way the other fighters drooled over Avery’s platinum blonde waves, shiny red lips, and dimpled smile made me sick to my stomach. I may as well have been throwing him to the wolves.

  CHAPTER 21

  “Hello, hello!” I sing-songed as I opened the door to my father’s house. “Dad, it’s Gia. I’m home.”

  The faint humming of a T.V. in the other room hinted that I’d find him there, sitting in his favorite chair, remote in hand, watching his shows.

  “Hey, daddy,” I said as I walked in.

  “Gia,” he said, his face lighting up. Dressed in red plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt, he clearly hadn’t done a damn thing that day. His thick beard told me he hadn’t shaved in days. He stood up to hug me, wrapping his big, bear arms around me and squeezing me tight.

  “You really miss me don’t you,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

  “So much,” he replied, burying his head in my shoulder and inadvertently dousing me with guilt in the process.

  My father was always more of an introvert. A loner perhaps. He was a quiet man and my beautiful mother, God rest her soul, was the love of his life. I was all that was left of her, and I was, I assumed, his only sunshine. Running off with Rowdy was devastating to him, but I couldn’t stick around Wagner, Utah forever.

  “You seem sad, Dad,” I said as I stepped away and looked him up and down. “Let’s talk.”

  “Nah,” my dad waved me off. “It’s just that time of year. Cold. Dark. Gloomy.

  And the fifteen year anniversary of when mom was diagnosed, I added silently.

  “Just needed my Gia fix,” he said, beaming from ear to ear. My sheer presence had the power to bring him out of his dark hole. The only question was for how long?

  “Rowdy has a fight this weekend,” I said. “I’ll probably fly to Tulsa on Saturday, so I’m just in town for the rest of the week.”

  My dad looked disappointed, though he tried to hide it. “Sure, baby. That’s alright.”

  I headed over to his kitchen, ransacking his cabinets and pantry to try to get an idea of what to make for dinner that night, and I wasn’t too surprised to see that almost everything was bare.

&n
bsp; “You been eating a lot of takeout, daddy?” I asked, one hand on my hip and my brows furrowed.

  “Just a little,” he lied. “Don’t have nobody here to make me a homecooked meal.”

  “I’ll fix you up with some freezer meals or something before I leave,” I said, racking my brain for ideas. “You can’t live off cheeseburgers and fries. It’s not healthy.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said with a laugh, not taking me seriously. “So how’s life in Vegas? Rowdy being good to you?”