“What are you doing right now?” Gina asks without wasting time with a proper greeting.
“I was about to look for paper and pen to make a list of all the things I need to do today.”
“Are you dressed and all that shit?”
“Actually, yes. I took my time getting ready – it was nice. Why do you ask?” Pouring myself a cup of coffee, I add some sugar and cream before taking a sip.
“When I saw your lazy ass was still in bed this morning as I was leaving, I thought it must be your day off..”
“Excuse me? Did you just call me a ‘lazy ass’? You better take that back.”
She of course ignores my question and my threat, almost stifles a giggle and goes on. “Well before you go off and do whatever it is you are about to make a list about, get your sweet ass over to my studio.”
“Why? What’s up?”
“Nothing’s up. I’ve got a slow day today. I was supposed to have a doctor’s appointment, but they called and cancelled and had to reschedule me.”
“That sucks.”
“Yeah, but what can you do? I guess my doctor was called in for emergency surgery because someone’s tits exploded or something.”
Choking on the coffee I had just sipped directly before that little gem, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and spit out, “What?”
“Yeah. I know, right? Crazy shit.”
“They actually told you that?”
“Well, you know how I’m friends with Wendy at the office there because I wax her hoo-ha? Well she’s the one who called me, and then proceeded to give me all the details.”
“Ah. Well, that was nice of her, I guess.” She makes a non-committal noise at my comment, “Did hearing that make you nervous?” I can’t help but ask. “I don’t think I’d like hearing that someone had problems with their breast implants after I just got my own.” Gina saved up for her implants for months. She’s only had them six months or so, but she loves them like they’re her children. It’s damn freaky really.
“Nah, not really. I mean, I figure the only way one of my tits would pop is if someone I’m banging throws his chest really hard into mine,” she answers matter-of-fact. “Or, I guess he could throw me over the kitchen counter and I like bang it into a toaster, or something.” Cue my second round of choking. “Even then, considering the amazing sex I’m getting as a result of these babies, it may be worth it.”
“Oh my god, Gina, you are warped.” I laugh, used to her personality of telling it like it is. Nothing she says really phases me anymore. It’s why I love her. You always know where she stands and where you stand with her. No drama, no secrets, no guessing. It’s refreshing.
“Well hey, I know it’s a possibility, and if it happens, I’ll just get them fixed. They’re worth it in the mean time.”
I still remember as soon as she was feeling better and had her bandages removed, she couldn’t wait to show me. She wasted no time stripping down and asking me if I wanted to touch them. I declined and laughed at her enthusiasm. The woman doesn’t have a reserved bone in her body. Nothing is off limits. It’s something I both love and find weird about her, but only because I’m the complete opposite. The less people know about me, the better.
“So what does someone’s tits exploding have to do with me coming into the studio?”
“Nothing, duh. You need to get your ass in here because I haven’t waxed your chimichanga in so long, you’ve got to be looking like a freaking chia pet.”
It’s a good thing I’m used to these kinds of comments from her. Otherwise, the coffee would be all over the kitchen from spitting it out. That’s happened before - plenty of times. “I do not look like a chia pet.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. I expect you here in ten.” She hangs up the phone without waiting for comment. Well. I guess it looks like I need to add endure mind-numbing pain to that list I need to make. Awesome. I hate getting waxed.
I hit every red light on my way to see Gina and if I were smart I would take that as a bad omen and turn around and go about my day. Thing is, if I don’t show up at the studio, I wouldn’t put it past her to bring her supplies home and hog tie me down so she can groom me. She’s got a problem. Seriously.
The second I walk into her studio, it’s really astonishing how fast she has me in the back room, undressed and spread eagle on her table. I’m not sure if she’s a smooth talker or a voodoo priestess. It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve done this with her, it’s awkward every time. Legs wide open, her all up in my business ripping hair off right and left. I don’t know what astounds me more; the pain that I’m never able to get used to from getting waxed, or the fact the woman can carry on a conversation without stopping once despite what’s going on below.
“The whole time he was talking to me he was staring at my new girls,” she tells me when I finally focus back in on what she’s saying. “I mean, it isn’t like I can blame him - you’ve seen them for yourself - they’re fabulous. So I decided to let him get an up close and personal look.” She rips off a particularly painful strip of wax on my labia and I cringe and grit my teeth. One time I made the mistake of biting my lip through this. It was bleeding by the time she finished. Never again.
“He had a body to die for,” she continues as she places the next wax strip and presses it firm against my skin, “like seriously one of the best I’ve ever seen. But oh my gosh, his dick was so small. I seriously felt like I wasted my tits on him, let me tell you.”
My eyes are watering now and I’m pretty sure it’s due to the pain of having my hair yanked out, but she sees me and says, “I know, it’s sad isn’t it?”
“Well, was he at least good with the equipment that he had?”
“No. Not at all,” she shakes her head sadly. “It’s a shame really. All those muscles and tattoos just being wasted.” I nod non-committedly just wishing that she would hurry up and get finished.
“I thought you said that new numbing cream you used on me was great?” I ask.
“It is. The best I’ve found so far. My clients rave about it.”
I laugh, but it’s completely forced because her clients must have vaginas made of steel.
“So, tell me about your latest hook up.”
Gina is all too aware of the fact that I go through men like some women go through bins in a clearance sale. Fast and looking for the best deal. She’s known me long enough; my deep and dark secrets have been laid bare to her long ago. She’s not a fan of my actions, and doesn’t hide her concern at times, but she once told me she wasn’t about to be a hypocrite.
Lying in bed, feeling dirty and ashamed over the guy I picked up in the bar, I’m surprised when I feel the bed move behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I see Gina. A small smile on her face and not a trace of judgment in her eyes, she touches my shoulder. When I turn around to face her, she takes my hand in hers, holds it, and says nothing. She doesn’t need to. “I know why I do this. It’s so fucked up and I know it’s wrong, but I don’t know how to stop.”
She squeezes my hand, “Have you thought about trying to talk to someone again?”
“I’ve done the whole therapy thing. Like I said, I know why, I just can’t seem to stop. Maybe I don’t care to.”
“Only you know the answer to that implied question.”
I look at her wishing she had answers for me to questions that haven’t even completely formed in my mind or heart yet. “Maybe some day I’ll be able to.”
“Look, you know very well I’m the last person to judge you and I never will. You want to make it a personal goal to have sex with every single guy in the Phoenix Valley area, then fine, that’s your choice. I will love you and be here for you no matter what. All I ask is that you’re careful.”
“I’m careful.”
“I’m serious, Tessa. I think that sometimes you could care less if something happens to you. That’s unacceptable. You’ve spent years questioning your worth, and I get that, but I’m here to tell you right now that
you’re loved and cared for. You mean the world to me, and I don’t want to lose you.” Looking down at my sheets, I pick the invisible lint from it and nod my head. “No,” she says firmly, “look at me.” Slowly, I raise my eyes to hers. “I’m serious. And I’ll say it again. You are my best friend and I do not want to lose you. Not ever. Whatever is going on inside of you, know that you are loved. I believe in you. And I’m here for you always. No matter what. No judgment.”
And that’s the way it’s always been. Gina is the only person that I’ve ever confided my past into, and she didn’t hesitate for one second to believe in every word I said. There was no question in her eyes and I will love her forever for it.
“Well there was this one guy the other night…” I drift off thinking about him. His body and face flash through my mind again and before I realize it, I’m smiling. I frown at myself and shake my head a little wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
“Oh yeah? Give me the details, and please tell me he wasn’t like that one guy Larry that lived across the hall that you banged. Because that dude totally made my labia shrivel.”
Laughing at her comment, and enjoying time with my best friend, I tell her all about the man in the bar.
Shadowboxing my way to the octagon is one of my favorite parts of being a fighter. Most fighters probably won’t admit this fact, but the truth is, it’s an amazing high. People cheering for me, or booing - it doesn’t matter - I have their attention. My focus and determination is at an all-time high- oh, hello there sexy blonde at three o’clock. I wink as I make my way past her and when she screams in excitement, I grin, I can’t help it.
It’s not that I don’t take my fighting seriously. I do. But let’s face it; part of being a professional fighter is about image, as much as it’s about skill, and I’m not about to disappoint my fans. Thanks to Jax’s girl, Rowan, I’ve gained hundreds more since she started managing all of our social media accounts. I admit when Jax first hired her, I figured it was so he could keep getting laid, but then when I actually spoke to Rowan about her ideas, I realized she knew what the hell she was talking about. I thought I was managing my campaign pretty well on my own, but with her involved, my popularity has soared. The impact is evident during fights like these – our audience has multiplied and our ticket and merchandise sales are steadily increasing and in fact, have never been higher. Levi actually put his fucking address on his page and he’s been getting all kinds of shit in the mail from people. Someone sent a guy’s G-string in the mail, it’s bright red, and begged him to wear it during his next fight. He swears he’s going to and honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised. We’ve all enjoyed the extra attention – I like it for sure. Especially when that extra attention provides the added bonus of getting naked.
Passing the gang, I give them a head nod, acknowledging them all - Levi, Dylan, Zane, Tyson, Tyson’s girl Sydney, and Rowan – all sitting in the front row. I grin at them, slap Levi’s hand when he gestures for me to do so, then head to the octagon toward Jax and Coach Gil. Jax claps as I step inside the octagon and stand in my assigned corner. Gil starts rubbing my shoulders to keep me loose. We listen as they announce my opponent.
“Alright, ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s fight of the night! It’s what you’ve all been waiting for. Put your hands together for the light heavyweight fighters for the evening.” The crowd goes wild and it’s like music to my ears. My adrenaline is rapidly increasing. Endorphins course through my veins. There’s nothing like it. “In the red corner, weighing in at one hundred and eighty-five pounds, with a record of five wins three losses, we have Zach, The Attack, Snyder.”
I watch stone-faced as Zach, jumps up and down in his corner after being announced. Rolling my head on my shoulders, I give no reaction as he plays to the crowd, then stares me down. Pointing at me, he yells, “You’re going down, Pretty Boy.” I give him nothing.
“And in the blue corner tonight, weighing in at one hundred and eighty-four pounds, with a record of seven wins and only one defeat, ladies let me hear you scream for Ryder, Playboy, King.” The announcer holds out the ‘g’ in my last name and only then do I look away from my opponent, so I can live up to my persona and play to the crowd. Grinning, providing a few air kisses to my female admirers, I bow to all the screaming ladies making them yell louder. I fucking love this shit. While I may love it, I also like other perks that come with winning. For example, the more you win, the more you get paid, and I want to get paid. And winning big, pays big. My guess is most people would be surprised to know how lucrative this can be. But hey, we earn it. We work hard for it. Turning away from the crowd, I jump up and down as Coach Gil and Jax begin shouting orders in my ear. “Remember, press forward hard and make him move to his left,” Coach instructs as he puts my mouth guard in.
“Yes, he’s uncomfortable moving to his left. That’s your ticket,” Jax adds. “Got it?”
Looking at them both briefly, I nod, then wait for the bell to ring signaling the beginning of round one. When it finally comes, I move forward and Zach and I circle each other a few times, measuring one another up, then take my first shot. We each get in a few punches and kicks, and after minimal sparring; we tie each other up in the center of the octagon, vying for position. His leverage and skill take me by surprise, and before I know it, his strength has taken me to the ground. Cursing internally, I’m angry he’s got top position and control. I’m fighting hard to defend against his elbows. One gets by me and connects with my forehead; it hurts like a son of a bitch. I can’t tell if the moisture running down the side of my head is sweat from exertion, or blood from the blow. Managing to hold him off and tie him up, he can’t do any more damage in this position. I’m thankful when the sound of the bell resounds through my pain.
Angrily stalking to my corner, I sit as Coach and Jax immediately start in on me, “What the fuck are you doing out there? You look like a rookie! You want to get beat to shit?” Coach asks me making me glare at him. “Your looks have no effect on me pretty boy, he says to drive home the taunting of my opponent. Get your shit together.”
“How are you feeling?” Jax asks as he pulls away a cloth from my face that’s covered in blood. That answers that question. Not sweat, blood. He begins covering the cut with wax to try and slow down the bleeding.
“I’m fine,” I grit out as I avoid thinking about the sting above my eye and the pounding in my head, the unseen result.
“Listen, do what we talked about before,” Jax says. “Stay on your feet. Keep him going to the left, and whatever you do, don’t let him get you to the ground. Got it?”
As I nod, he finishes up, and the bell rings signaling for round two. I’m boiling. All of my training kicks in and I’m able to do what I want. I get him moving back with my jabs and to the left with my hooks. Continuing to push him back, I leverage him with my weight, and strike with continuous hits that are finding their way home. Zach raises his hands in defense, trying to fend me off. I continue to consistently land each blow right where I aim. This pace continues for most of the second run. When it’s all said and done, he hasn’t landed too many shots, but I once again feel blood running down the side of my head and eye. I do my best to see past the crimson curtain and keep focused.
When the round ends, we drop our arms and stances immediately and go back to our corners. Breathing heavy, I listen as my team tells me I’m doing great and that we definitely won that round. “Go back and have another round just like that one,” Coach instructs.
“Do it again and you’ve got this,” Jax confirms.
Before the bell rings, I take a moment to close my eyes and let the energy and screaming fans around me seep into my pores like a mental adrenaline shot. The third round has both Zach and I showing evidence of ensuing fatigue, but I do my best to push through, still pulling on the energy from those around me. It’s clear Zach and I both know this last round is needed to win. Our aggressiveness is in high gear as we bound out of our respective corners. We’re both d
etermined to win and end this. I’m swinging and throwing, trying to land punches, while keeping him moving back again. He’s trying to get to my knees so he can try to take me down. I’m able to block him by positioning my legs and hips so that he can’t get into a good position. I hear him curse under his breath with each failure and it spurns me on.
Finally, I’m able to push him off, stay on my feet, and land another one two combination of punches to his face. Blood explodes from his nose and I feel profound satisfaction at the sight. I follow that up with a hard leg kick that hurts his knee. At this point, I know I’ve got him. He’s lost steam and winces in pain – maybe his nose is broken too. The shot to his knee takes away some of his aggressive take down attempts, which only helps me reach my goal.
Breaking through the adrenaline pumping through my body, my team’s cries reach my ears. “Be smart! You’ve got this!” Jax yells.
“You’ve got this. You’ve fucking got this, King,” Coach yells. “Steady now!”
Trying to maintain a little bit of distance, yet at the same time maintain contact with my blows, I move around the octagon hoping that the bell will sound soon because I know I’ve won this round and I’m ready for this shit to be over.
When the bell rings, Zach throws his hands up in the air like he thinks he’s won and I laugh out loud at the sight. Heading to my corner, Jax mutters, “Dream on mother fucker,” to Zach and takes my hand and raises it over my head for me, boldly declaring his opinion of the outcome.
Waiting for the judges to confirm, Jax goes to town on my eye again, and Dylan, Cole, Zane, Levi and Tyson appear behind Jax and Gil. “Fuck dude, your eye is swelling up good,” Cole tells me when he gets a good look at my face.
“It’s a good look for Playboy here. Or should we start calling him pretty boy?” Levi says and Zane pushes him off the side of the octagon making me chuckle.
Finally the judge’s scorecards are as I thought they would be. 29-28, 29-28, 29-28. A win by unanimous decision. “And that’s it folks, the judges have decided. Winner by unanimous decision is Ryderrrrr ‘Playboy’ Kingggggg,” the announcer bellows and the place around us erupts.
Fighting Lust: A Deadly Sins Novel Page 4
