by Ellie Danes
* * * * *
After we had landed, we made our way to the restaurant where we were meeting Ryder and his father. I saw Ryder sitting at a table with a man that looked exactly like an older version of him, only less muscular.
“Mr. Rollins, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said as I approached the table and extended my hand. “I’m Tristan Thorne.” I turned my attention to Ryder second and shook his hand as well. “Ryder. Good to see you again.”
“Tristan,” Ryder said.
“These are my associates, Bruce and Amy. Bruce is here because he will be handling most of your negotiations, so I wanted you both to meet him and get familiar. And Amy is here to make any notes about things that you are concerned with regarding your contract. I do want to make you aware that we changed a couple things in your contract. We dropped the percentage we get paid for fights that are negotiated to 15%. We also made the percentage for endorsements 20%. Both are different than what is in the contract you have, but everything else is the same. I hope the changes will make this offer a little more enticing.”
I pushed the new contract in front of Ryder and handed his father a copy as well, then waited for them to look it over.
“Our attorney will be here in just a few minutes. He got caught up at the office. He can look it over,” Mr. Rollins said before Ryder could.
“Great,” Bruce said. “We always like it when we can speak directly with the attorney handling things for you. Helps speed the process along.”
Our waitress arrived just as we were settling in.
“Can I get you drinks?” she asked, eyeing Ryder as she stood there.
“I'll have water,” I said.
“Me, too,” Amy said.
“Tea,” Ryder responded and smiled at the waitress.
She flushed, and it made me want to laugh. He was charming, and I was already sure I’d likely have to get his play dates under control.
“Water for me as well,” Bruce answered.
“Make that two teas,” Mr. Rollins added. “And there will be one more joining us.”
The waitress nodded, smiled, and headed off.
We chatted about the upcoming fights and discussed some of the companies that had contacted Ryder about working with him. The biggest company was Fight Gear. The kind of contract they were offering would take months to get together, and it was precisely the kind that had killed many an athlete financially.
I brought this up and explained that all the big companies were protecting themselves and a lot of times they unintentionally screwed over the guys who worked for them. I explained what would happen if he signed with me and how we would proceed with any and all contract negotiations. He would have full access to all of my staff, but Bruce would handle the majority of his business. He seemed to understand, and before I could go into the next leg of my pitch, the attorney showed up.
I handed the attorney a copy of the contract, and he took his seat at a table and went over it. He agreed that it was similar to the other one and that it was a good deal. He was a little worried about the length of the contract, and I explained that we signed for two years because of the risks involved. If Ryder were to get hurt, then the endorsements would try to pull out but we would be there to make sure he at least got paid the majority of what he was due. In the event that he was injured to the point he couldn't perform anymore, we would adjust his contract to a retiree contract. The attorney nodded and leaned in to have a private conversation with Ryder and his father.
After a few nods, Ryder looked at me and smiled. “It seems my attorney has recommended I take you up on your offer.”
And as he signed the dotted line, I let out an internal sigh and proceeded to tell him what my plans were—namely, getting the Fight Gear contract moving and scoping out the next fights.
“Some people are calling me out,” Ryder said.
“So we’ve heard,” I said with a smile. “We’ll get in under control and get your schedule set. No more smaller circuits, though.”
He nodded. I couldn’t tell if he’d miss them or not, but my feeling was that this guy had been born ready for the big fights.
I continued, “Also, we want to get you set up with a private trainer to free your father up to help us with some of the negotiations. I’ve already found a gym that will be outfitted with everything you need.” I paused to see if there were any questions. When there weren’t, I continued. “Things will change for you, Ryder, and it will be hard to adjust at first, but we are doing all of this for you. Any questions, don’t hesitate to get in touch. Email, call, text, fax—hell, write me a letter. I’m available to you twenty-four hours a day.”
Ryder nodded again and looked over at his father. On the one hand, it was nice to see him rely on the wisdom of his father, but on the other, he was twenty-eight years old. There was going to come a time he would need to be more in control of his life. That time was going to come sooner than either of them realized.
“I'll let you know if we have any questions,” his father replied. “One issue, though. Ryder trains at the gym of his choice with the trainer he has had for years. It has gotten him where he is. I don't think changing all of that at this point is going to be a good idea.”
“I agree. I like where I train and would like to stay there,” Ryder said.
“Okay, we’ll leave it alone for now, but if it needs to be changed at any point, then you are going to need to be on board.”
“I can agree to that,” his father said.
I wanted Ryder to train in a state of the art gym, but these fighters were loyal, and they liked their hometown gyms. “If you don’t mind,” I said, “I’d like to send my people in to assess the current situation and as long as you are able to train the way you want to as well as the way we need you to, then staying put shouldn’t be an issue.”
“I have no problem with that. So, can we eat now?” Ryder smiled as he picked up his menu.
The remainder of the lunch went well. It was helpful to get to know Ryder a little more and come to realize that he wasn’t just ego like I’d thought that day in the locker room. What he was, however, was the kind of guy who was focused and wouldn’t take shit from anyone. He had no intention of letting anything stand in his way. I had a feeling that meant me, too, if it came down to it.
By the time we shook hands to leave and numbers were exchanged, my mind had shifted gears. The contract was signed, and my focus no longer was on Ryder Rollins. I had a new conquest in my sights. One that I knew wanted to take me down.
* * * * *
Amy pushed me into the wall of the elevator that she had cleverly managed to get me in alone and put her mouth close to my ear.
“Do you have any idea how much it turns me on when you’re so in control like you were back there? It makes me think of how you like to dominate in the bedroom.”
I wanted to take her right there, but the elevator door dinged, signaling that we’d reached our floor. She practically dragged me to our room down the hall. The moment we were behind the closed door, she stripped her clothes off, leaving a trail for me to follow.
Five minutes later, she was pleading with me to make her come.
“Yes, Tristan, god yes. Right there! Harder!” Her words echoed in the room.
I reached around with my hand and grabbed her clit and gave it a small tug. I continued to tease it as I moved faster and faster. She screamed my name and I couldn’t hold back any longer. We slumped to the floor and fell back against each other.
“This will never get old, will it?” she sighed against my chest.
“As long as you are screaming my name and asking me to do dirty things to you, no. I can’t see how it will never get old.” I kissed her neck and smiled to myself.
This unassuming mousy woman was a crazy nympho in the bedroom. I doubted anyone would believe me if I told them, though. Well, unless they had ever seen her drunk. That was a sight to behold.
Chapter Thirteen
Ryder
&n
bsp; The next few weeks had been full of training as Tristan, true to his word, was hard at work getting fights set up for the rest of the year. I was busy, almost too busy, to remember the weekend in Vegas. But being busy didn’t seem to matter. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit that I couldn't stop thinking about that weekend. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Truth was, she was damn near all I thought of, every single day.
I had caved on two separate occasions — during moments of drunken weakness, might I add — to reach out to her, even though I knew I shouldn’t. But the more I’d thought about her, about our time together, the more I knew that I could be the man she wanted and needed. And I think she knew it too. Maybe that’s what sent her running for the hills. Hell, I didn’t know what kind of baggage she’d had to deal with. What I did know was that, if given the chance, we could make it work. Granted, it might be a little tough with our schedules, but it could be done if we tried. That is, if she were willing to try. Or maybe I had completely misjudged our connection.
Which was possible, since she hadn’t answered the texts I had sent her. Yes, the drunken texts. But they weren’t obviously from someone who’d had few too many. If anything, those texts were probably more on the sweet guy side than they would have been if I hadn’t been drinking.
“God, when did I become such a huge wuss.” I thought out loud.
“You've always been a huge wuss,” someone said from behind me.
“Zip it, Curtis,” I grumbled.
“I don't know what’s going on with you, but you've acted like a big baby who didn't get what he wanted for Christmas these last few weeks.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I didn’t,” I said, not wanting him to know what was really wrong. The last thing I needed was for anyone to know that I was allowing myself to be distracted by a woman.
“Let's get you in the ring and let you beat the crap out of one of these cocky kids.”
“Sounds great,” I agreed as I pulled myself from the bench. I wiped the sweat from my brow and moved across the room to the ring. After climbing through the ropes, I moved to the middle of the ring to get ready, and I smelled her. I smelled her scent as if she was standing beside me. I wasn't sure why it hit me all of the sudden, but it threw me off my game. And even though I saw the kid coming toward me from the corner of my eye, my mind was on her.
“What the fuck?” I yelled as I hit the ropes.
“Oh, weren't you ready, rock star?” the kid taunted. Tyler. I made a mental note to remember him. He was twenty years old and full of bravado.
I shook my head and moved back toward the middle, stalking him. I saw the uncertainty in his eyes. He knew he had fucked up with that cheap shot.
“How ready are you now, cock sucker?” I growled. A breath later, I pounced on him, and within a few seconds he was tapping the mat.
“Jesus, you asshole, you trying to kill me?” he shouted as he moved away from me.
“Nope. If I wanted to kill you, you'd be dead. Remember that before you throw cheap shots.” I stalked out of the ring and toward the locker room.
“You good?” Bret, the other trainer, asked as he pushed through his way into the locker room.
“I need a few days.” I pulled my tank over my head and shoved it into my bag. I lifted my duffel and walked toward the door. “I'll check in on Friday.”
“Dude, you can't just check out,” Curtis said as he stood with Bret.
“I need a few days to get my head straight before I do kill somebody. I feel like I have fucking ’roid rage. Completely out of fucking control. And I don’t even do that shit. I need to regroup.”
“What happened?” Curtis asked more quietly as he moved toward me.
“I just have a few things to take care of before I can be in this fucking gym.”
I pushed past both of them and stalked outside. I climbed into my Jeep, clipped my belt, and burned rubber out of the parking lot. I had to see her, or I was going to drive myself crazy.
I was not that creepy stalker guy, never had been before. But as the night moved on, I became him. I searched for her on every social media platform I could think of. I hadn't been able to find her, but I found her friend, Annette, and moved through her friend group until I found Zoey. Zoey had a profile that made it difficult to learn anything, but Annette was an open book. I looked through Annette’s posts until I found a photo that gave me a few clues at least to the neighborhood they lived in. Seemed like they went to a place called TipTop Deli fairly often. There was only one TipTop Deli in New York, and that was in Chelsea. High end, nice.
Feeling guilty for searching for her like this, I looked through more pictures and found multiple pics of places they frequented.
I made plans to be in New York the next morning. I was going to get her to talk to me so we could put this matter to rest. There wasn't a chance in hell that I wasn't going to make this right and even though I wasn't sure why she had been the one to make me feel this way, I couldn't deny it to myself or anyone around me. Curtis and Bret had seen the distraction and had pulled me to get in line and train like I wanted to win a fight, but my mind had other plans. I could still feel her wrapped around me, and I often saw her in places I knew she wasn’t.
I called my dad and told him what I was doing.
“If this gets you back in the ring and less distracted, then do it and do it fast. You cannot raise a belt if you have some woman standing in the way.”
“She isn't just some woman,” I said.
“Well, a one night stand isn't worth all this,” he grumbled.
“She changed me.”
“I don't know if that was for the better or not. Fix it and fix it now, son. This is your future on the line.” The dial tone in my ear was loud and clear. I was going to take this one shot and run with it.
The next morning, I boarded a train and headed into New York. I was glad Dad had taken me into the city so many times. If he hadn't, I would have never been able to find my way around the subway. When I walked out of the tunnel, I looked around, taking in the city. People were everywhere, and I felt my body fill with dread as I realized there was a decent chance I may never find her.
I walked down the street, following my phone as it led me to TipTop Deli. According to Annette's Facebook, they met there a couple times a week. Maybe I would get lucky fairly quickly, or maybe I would sit there all day and wait for her. I didn't have a place to stay, I hadn't thought that far ahead, so I waited. I sat on the patio which was actually only three small dessert tables on the sidewalk. The city was alive, and people rushed down the streets. I had never really been the kind of person who cared about his surroundings, but watching the variety of people that moved around this city was amazing.
An older lady walking her fluffy white dogs down the street paid no mind to those around her. It was easy to see that the streets were hers and had been for a very long time. I saw myself in her, only in the ring instead of on the street. I watched businessmen thundering on their phones and kids rushing between the adults. Couples walked hand in hand and smiled at each other. I sat and watched for a few hours, the waitress checking on me often. I paid for coffee refills, and explained that I was looking for someone and that I would be here a while. She would smile and then move away, cleaning a table close by.
When I saw Annette, my heart stopped. She was moving along the sidewalk with what's-his-name on her arm. I didn't see Zoey with them, but I watched as Annette moved to the crosswalk and then on past me. She was laughing as she walked by, either not noticing me or not recognizing me, I wasn't sure.
I sat in my chair and watched the streets, still looking in Annette’s direction, hoping Zoey would appear. I’d reached an all-time low. I felt kinda bad that I was going to surprise her this way, but I’d run out of options.
“Ryder?” I heard the voice behind me. I knew it was her, but it took a minute for my brain to actually believe she was saying my name.
“Zoey.” I didn't turn and look at her. I keep staring
out over the busy New York streets like I couldn’t snap out of it. Then she said my name again, and I turned to find myself looking up at her standing next to my table.
“What…why? I don't understand,” she stuttered. “What are you doing here?”
“I'm here for you,” I answered.
“Ryder, I—”
“Don't talk, just sit.” I pointed toward the chair across from me.
“I don't know why you’re here.”
“I'm here for you. I already told you that.”
She sat, and I could feel her studying my face, trying to make sense of this encounter.
“You’re here in New York for me?” she questioned, her voice disbelieving.
“Yes. I needed to talk to you. I know you think we can't do this, that our lives are too different, but let's be honest, I’m a man who finds what he wants and gets it. I found you, and I believe you’re meant to be mine.”
She started to say something, but I raised my hand. “I'm not done. I have a lot of things to say, and I want you to listen.”
I tried not to look her in the eyes, because they distracted me and all I wanted to do was kiss those perfect lips of hers. So, I studied the flowers in the middle of the table instead.
“When you walked into my life,” I said, “I was lost in a world that included only my job. It was all that was important to me. It's all I really cared about. Then you showed up out of nowhere and messed everything up. I had plans, and over the course of a few hours with you, those plans lost more and more of their importance. I felt things that weekend that I've never felt. I felt a connection to another human being I thought was bullshit when I heard people talk about it. A connection I was certain didn’t exist. Now, every time I think of you, it changes me a little more. I don't want to have all of the things I’ve worked so hard for unless I can share them with you. I can't even look at you because I know this all sounds crazy and believe me when I tell you I feel crazy even sitting here. My dad and my trainers think I've lost my edge. They think I’ve lost my will to fight, but they’re wrong. What I’ve lost is my will to be alone in this. I sound like giant wuss, and you know what, I don't even care. I just want a chance to try this.”
