by York, Marie
With a deep breath, I stood up and headed off to finish the rest of my shift. I got halfway down the hallway when Sal appeared, his fat frame taking up much of the small space.
“Your set sucked tonight,” he said in his thick New York accent. He was never one to beat around the bush.
“I have a lot on my mind. Sorry,” I said, and went to walk around him, but his hand on my shoulder stopped me. Chills ran down my spine at his touch. I loved Ariana, but her choice in men was questionable. Sal slept with all the girls, but he never got me in bed and never would. Normally, because of that, I would be out on the street, but Ariana wouldn’t allow it. He might cheat on her constantly, but she still called the shots.
“There’s a whole lot of girls out there with shit on their mind, who would be willing to push it aside for a chance on my stage. You forget how lucky you are to be here,” he said, his finger dragging down the bare skin of my arm.
“I haven’t. It’s just…” I stopped myself. He didn’t care about me or my situation, about the fact that my sister was missing. “I won’t let it happen again,” I said.
“Good,” he said, dragging his finger up and grazing the side of my breast.
“They say sex is a good stress reliever,” he purred, and I nearly vomited in my mouth. “I’m always willing to help my girls out. Remember that.” He gave me a wink, and went back to the bar.
My body convulsed with disgust as I watched his fat ass plop down on a stool. I breathed in and out, trying to forget that whole conversation. Trying to forget the repulsive feeling of his finger on my arm.
“Everything okay?” Ariana said from behind me.
I plastered on a fake cheery smile and turned. “Everything is great.”
Her eyebrow arched, and it was obvious she could see through my bullshit, but she didn’t argue. And for that I was grateful.
Chapter 8
Knox
Coach told me to take a few more days to find that fire again. It’s not like I could have found it under a couch cushion or in my car, so I had to dig deep. I decided to borrow Sebastian’s private jet, and fly home for the weekend.
I didn’t see Mom and Dad much these days, and it was great to be back in my old bedroom, back to my roots. It reminded me of the simple things in life. It also reminded me of Zoey, and how much I missed her. I kept expecting her to barge through the door without knocking, waving her hands, as she spoke animatedly about some new project she was working on.
But, no matter how long I stared, she never came in. Even after all these years, it was still a hard concept to accept. I packed my bag and, after one last glance at her bedroom door, I went to say goodbye to my parents.
“It was so good to see you,” Mom said, as she took my face in her hands and kissed my cheek. “I just wished you didn’t have so many marks on your face.” She had been bitching about the fading bruises since I walked in the fucking door. Ten years, yet she still could not fathom how I wanted to lock myself in a cage and let people beat the shit out of me. “Oh, wait, I found something I wanted to give you. Don’t you leave until I get back.”
Mom disappeared into the kitchen, and I turned to Dad. He held his hand out for a shake, and I pulled him in for a hug. It was funny how much bigger I was than him now. As a kid, I thought he’d always be the biggest man I ever knew. As an adult, I realized that being the biggest man had nothing to do with size, but about the person within. He still was the biggest man I ever knew.
“You going back after your title?” Dad asked. He and Mom had avoided the topic the entire weekend, and I was almost home free.
“Coach wants me to. I just…”
“Lost your way,” Dad said, and it amazed me how he could always read my mind.
“Something like that.”
“You’ll find it. You always do.”
“I appreciate the confidence. I’m just not so sure this time. I thought coming home would help.”
“Did it?”
I shook my head. “I still have no idea what I’m looking for.”
“Here it is!” Mom called out from the kitchen as she walked back into the living room. It looked like a photo. She clutched it to her chest, a bittersweet smile spreading across her face. Her eyes filled with tears and she handed it over.
Curiosity had me reaching for it, instantly. As soon as it was in my grasp, I turned it toward me. The memory slammed into me like one of JoJo’s fists. Except this picture was a snapshot from the outside of that memory looking in.
It was taken the day Sebastian and I left for New York. Our car is driving away, and Zoey is watching us, her arms held high in the air with her fingers crossed.
“I took that picture from the porch. All she ever wanted was for you to follow your dreams. This.” Mom tapped her finger against the glossy finish. “This is her watching you follow those dreams.” A tear slipped down Mom’s face, but her smile pushed through the sadness. “She might not be here, but you better bet your ass that she’s still watching you.”
I stared at the picture, emotion clogging my throat, and making it impossible to talk. I nodded as a sob burst out of my mouth. Mom threw her arms around me, and, just like when I was eight years old and fell off my bike, she held me while I cried like a baby. Ten years of suppressed emotions and heartache poured out of me like a river bursting through a dam.
When there was nothing left in me, I pulled away. Dad rested his hand on my shoulder, and gave it a squeeze. “I think you found it,” he said, and a smile spread wide across my face because he was right.
I found it and, this time, I wasn’t going to let it slip away.
Zoey was, and would always be, my inspiration. She was the reason I started fighting in the first place. I always thought it was her illness that propelled me to the top. And, now, I was hit with the epiphany that fighting was my calling in life. It’s what I was meant to do. Zoey’s cancer may have started me on this journey, but I was the one who continued it after her death. I was the one who broke my ass and won fight after fight and now I was going to do it again. I was going to get my title back, not only for Zoey, but this time for me.
The fire was back. I was back.
***
The plane landed, and I headed straight to the gym. I had to talk to Coach, and it couldn’t wait. I was ready to get back in the cage. I was full of renewed energy. I felt almost giddy and excited. I was ready to fight my way back to the top.
I grabbed my workout bag that had been sitting in my backseat for over a week and hurried inside. The gym was booming with fighters of all ages and sizes, but, even amongst the chaos, Coach spotted me.
His lip curved upward before he jumped down from the ring where he was watching a new guy and came straight to me. He held his hand out, and I took it. His grip tightened, and he yanked me in, smacking his hand against my back. “Good to have you back,” he said.
“It’s good to be back.”
I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I walked through those doors and smelled the blood, sweat and tears that go into making a fighter. It gave me that last little surge of what I needed to begin my comeback.
“I’m ready to do this. Whatever it takes. I’m all in.”
Coach patted my back. “Good. Remember me telling you about that kid down in Miami?”
“The one with the stupid name.”
“Yeah, Bronx Boston. He’s currently undefeated. He might not have the title, but, if you beat him, at least it’ll get you some cred back. From him, we’ll keep moving up until JoJo loses the belt to someone else or agrees to another fight.”
Coach started walking toward his office, and I fell in step with him, ticking things off on my finger. “Let’s get some tapes of his fights then, and find out his strengths his weaknesses, his signature moves.”
Coach laughed as he bent behind his desk, and came back up holding a flash drive. “One step ahead of you,” he said, plugging the drive into his laptop.
I lifted an eyebrow. “How lo
ng have you had those?”
He shrugged. “The day after you lost.”
“How’d you even know I’d want to fight him?”
Coach leaned back in his chair, resting his hands behind his head. “I told you. My gut never lies.”
Chapter 9
Mila
Mackenzie was still missing. She didn’t even have the fucking decency to call and let me know she was okay. At this point, I would have settled for a goddamned email. I was beginning to worry that she was in trouble.
I stapled one of the million flyers I had to a telephone pole and moved onto the next. If I had to plaster her face all over this city, I would. It was my first night off in days, and it couldn’t come fast enough.
As soon as that shithole of a place where Mackenzie worked opened, I was going in. Someone there had to know something. I hoped. I posted a few more flyers, and handed some out to people passing by. At this point, it almost felt useless. I wondered if she was even still in Vegas. But, if she wasn’t, where would she go? We didn’t have family or friends. All we had were each other.
I got back in my car and drove over to The Gaslight. I hadn’t even walked in the door, and the place already looked shady. There was no lighting in the parking lot, and the building was small and dingy with blacked out windows.
I walked through the front door, and scanned the place for someone who might be able to help me. A girl was on stage, doing her best to work every inch of it in front of some sleazy man with more hair on his chest than his head.
“Looking for a job?” I heard to my left, and swung my attention to the deep voice. “Come back tomorrow around three.”
The man sat at the bar with a rock glass clasped in his hand, pinky ring pointing outward. His dark grey hair was slicked back, revealing skin marked by pock holes.
“I don’t need a job. I’m looking for my sister, Mackenzie Greene.”
“Never heard of her.”
“Bullshit. She worked here. I know she did.”
“I know all my girls, and never had a Mackenzie,” he replied.
All his girls, the words floated over to me like nails on a chalk board, grating on my ears.
“She was here that night Knox McArthur was arrested. She was on stage. Dirty blonde hair, green eyes.”
“Oh, you mean Mila.”
My eyes popped open wide, and my heart all but stopped. “Excuse me?”
“Mila Greene. About yay high.” He held his hand up to just below his shoulder. Real young face.”
“That’s her!” I exclaimed, feeling like for the first time in over a week I was finally getting somewhere.
“She only lasted a few weeks. After the arrest, she never came back.”
“Dammit,” I mumbled.
“She in trouble or something?”
“She’s missing.”
“Well, that’s a damn shame. Probably off on a binger. I’m sure she’ll show up when she’s out of cash or drugs.”
“Drugs? You’ve seen her do drugs?” I stepped toward him. “What do you know?”
His hands flew up in front of him. “I don’t know anything. It’s just a guess. All strippers come from the same mold. They all fall into the candy eventually.”
Maybe the strippers here did, but not the ones I knew. We weren’t some junkies dancing for our next fix. We were trying to support families, go to school, pay our rent. I didn’t know what was worse. The fact that Mackenzie worked for this slime, or the fact that she used my name to do it.
Disgusted and defeated, I gave the guy my number and told him to give me a call if she ever showed up. He winked at me like I was actually giving him my number for the hell of it. I gave him a dirty look, and went back to my car.
I turned the radio on, and pulled out of the parking lot, preparing myself for another night of driving the streets of Vegas.
Chapter 10
Knox
Julius dribbled the ball past Marco, and slam dunked it into the hop. Being six foot seven, and an all star NBA player, had its advantages when you were playing a little ball with your friends. Julius danced under the net, and Marco dismissed him with his hand.
“Nobody wants to see that,” Marco said, while Julius continued dancing.
“Oh, everyone wants to see this,” Julius exclaimed as he turned around and started humping the ground. Marco and I averted our eyes, laughing.
Sebastian, who had gone to get the ball, came back and kicked Julius in the ass, causing him to fall to the ground. “Are we dancing, or are we playing?” Sebastian asked with a laugh. “Or, do you want more time with the ground. A private room maybe?”
Julius jumped up and wiped his hands on his shorts. “Come on, let’s kick their asses so I can go jump in that pool.”
He grabbed the ball, and went to center court. It was two on two, and Sebastian and Julius were up by three. I stepped up to Julius, prepared to do my best to block him. Sebastian and Marco were currently playing a game of cat and mouse, as Sebastian tried to get open for the pass.
“You know, I saw Mila the other day,” Julius said, while holding the ball over his head and looking for his opening.
“I don’t care,” I spat. It took a while, but I was finally able to get the girl out of my head. I was pouring all of my focus into the next fight. Bronx Boston might have been a kid, but he was no joke, and I needed to be a hundred percent focused.
“You know her sister’s still missing?”
I shrugged, pretending like I didn’t care, but unable to ignore the tiny part of me that did.
“It’s been a month, Dude.”
“What am I supposed to do about it?”
“You have resources she doesn’t,” he said and, after lifting his eyebrow at me, he made the pass to Sebastian. The ball went back and forth a few times before Julius went for the reverse lay up.
“Do you guys want to give up now, or should we continue kicking your asses?” Sebastian asked, with a smug smirk on his face.
“We’re no quitters,” I replied, and headed back to the center.
Julius met me again, and checked the ball. When the ball was back in his hands, he gave me a look, something just short of a smile. “You quit on Mila,” he said, and drove by me before I even had a second to react.
I stood there center court, alone, while Marco tried to stop Julius for me. I could have run back in, and tried to turn this game around, but suddenly my head was heavy with thoughts.
Mackenzie had been gone for a month. Mila must be devastated. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through. Every day, waking up and not knowing where her sister was or who she was with. It sounded like a horrible torture.
I reached into my pocket, and slid out my phone. I swiped the screen, and went to my contacts. The phone rang a few times before he answered.
“Hey Paul, do me a favor. Look into a Mackenzie Greene for me. Sixteen years old, last known location: Vegas. She went missing about a month ago. Dirty blonde hair, green eyes. Has a sister, Mila Greene, who is her sole guardian. If you need anything else, call me directly.”
I hung up the phone, and suddenly had a strong desire to go see Mila. To make sure she was okay. To hold her and assure her that it would be. But, instead, I shoved the phone back into my pocket and rejoined the game.
Chapter 11
Mila
It had been over a month, and I had to accept the fact that Mackenzie was gone. She wasn’t coming back, and I may never see her again. The thought burned my eyes, and turned my blood cold. I didn’t know what else to do or where to turn. So, on my day off, I got in my car and just started driving, like I had been doing for the past month.
However, this time, when I left Vegas, I started heading to the only place I ever considered home. I crossed the state border for the first time in seven years, and drove into California. I kept driving until I was in the cemetery. The place where people stared at me with pity and gave me sympathetic squeezes to the shoulder. All coworkers of my parents, and parents
of my brother’s friends. None of them were able to help me or Mackenzie. Their kind words, gentle touches, well wishes, and encouragement meant nothing in the grand scheme of things.
I hadn’t set foot into this cemetery since that day. Once my family was in the ground, I took Mackenzie home and we never looked back. Now, with Mackenzie gone, it was all I could do. For so long, I suppressed the memories, fought their unwavering strength and denied them any place in my mind. Slowly, one by one, they started squeezing their way to the forefront, making it impossible to continue to keep them out.
The minute my foot stepped outside of the car, the floodgates opened, and I was drowning in memory after memory. Tears filled my eyes, and my lip quivered as I tried to fight the overwhelming sadness. But I was no contender in this battle. I was as good as a washed up soldier with bad bones and a weakened resolve.
As I walked toward the graves, I was assaulted with more and more memories. Countless family nights, trips to Tahoe, the zoo, Christmas shopping at the outlets, being dragged around the wineries, bored out of our minds, while Mom and Dad enjoyed a rare moment of their own kind of fun.
Teaching Matthew how to tie his shoes and ride his bike. Making him and Mackenzie ice cream sundaes, and then Mom taking them back in the kitchen and cutting them down to half the size. I didn’t think that all the sugar would keep them up all night, or that their eyes were bigger than their bellies, but Mom did. No matter what, she always knew what she was doing. I envied her for that, and I would kill to be able to speak to her just one more time. Ask her how she did it.
My feet stopped before my eyes caught the names, as if they knew exactly where we were. I glanced down and, as soon as I saw the large grave marking the three lives lost, I fell to me knees, hugging the stone as if their arms would come out and comfort me.
