Undefinable

Home > Other > Undefinable > Page 12
Undefinable Page 12

by Renea Porter


  I nervously board the plane and I’m not prepared for the five hour long flight. Luckily, we have books and gossip magazines to occupy us. And thankfully Les booked us a nonstop flight. So we would land in Las Vegas this evening. And he mentioned he already had an apartment set up for us and he’d pick us up at the airport.

  Not yet twenty one and not wanting to chance whether I can fool the flight attendant or not, to calm my nerves so I just order a soda. Thoughts of Cash invade my brain.

  Chapter Nineteen

  After talking with Vanita and my mom I feel positive about this new venture ahead of us. If anything it could put us on the map and make us household names in the MMA world. It is a fighter’s dream to make it pro, to be able to prove themselves.

  As promised, Les meets is at the airport. He is impossible to miss with his sign with Vanita and Cheyanne on it, his business suit attire and his tall frame.

  We approach him and he shakes our hand. “So glad you guys decided to come out here.” He smiles brightly.

  “We’re happy to be here,” Vanita says.

  I plant a smile across my face. Las Vegas is everything I anticipated it to be bright and lively were the two words that most described it. Les is having us all chauffeured to his office in a blacked out SUV.

  We pass a few casinos that are brightly lit and the three of us look on in amazement. It feels like we’ve landed in a completely different world as we ohh and ahh at the sights. Les seems to get a kick out of it since this is his stomping ground.

  We pull up to a huge sky scrapper building and the driver opens the door for us. The building is so tall as I look up.

  “My office is thirty floors up,” Les says as we step inside the elegant building. The elevator is mirrored. “All you have to do is sign the contract I’ve given you and then you’re off to your apartment, and then off to a night out on me.”

  “That’s really generous. This feels like it’s too good to be true.”

  “I treat my fighters how they deserve to be treated, and I don’t want to lock them in a contract if they are completely miserable. That’s why there is a stipulation that if you want out it’s within the first year, that way we aren’t wasting anyone’s time.”

  “That makes sense.”

  We step off the elevator and into his office. “Alice,” Les greets his secretary and she greets him with a nod. He continues walking down a long corridor and the walls are adorned with plagues of some of the elite fighters in the business. And I’m in awe of the company I’ll be in. He turns to the right and gestures us in as he holds the door.

  Inside his office, it’s simple yet sophisticated with a glass table for his desk and a sleek computer. His chair fits his frame. There is a wall adorned with books and pictures. He has an amazing view of Las Vegas from where he sits.

  On the other side of the desk are three lime green chairs that give the room a pop of color.

  “Please sit,” he gestures, smoothing his tie as he sits in his office chair across from us. We each sit in the cloth chairs.

  He folds his hands together and we get down to the business side of things. “As I was saying; you’ll work hard and the reward will pay off. You will hardly ever see this office, unless you want out of your contract or some other issue that needs addressed.”

  I nod in agreement.

  He continues. “You’ll have a car provided to you with a driver whenever you need. You’ll be in the gym six days a week and I expect you to be fight ready at the end of the month for the next three months. It gets your name out there, and the quicker we do it the better. You’ll be put up in your apartment for six months, and then you are expected to either start paying the rent or making other living arrangements. Any questions?”

  “None from me,” I say. He’s gone over what is expected from us thoroughly.

  “Okay, you guys have your contracts?”

  I reach in my handbag and pull it out, taking the pen and signing my John Hancock on the dotted line. Vanita follows suit and we shove them both toward him.

  “Alright, I look forward to working with you two.” He stands and shakes our hands. My nerves are a little more at ease.

  “Thank you for the amazing opportunity,” I tell him and he smiles.

  “Now, if there is nothing else, the car is where we left it. It will take you to your apartment, and once you’re settled in, the driver will take you to one of the hottest night clubs in this town, and it’s on me,” he instructs.

  “Thanks again,” Vanita says, waving as we all exit his office. She withholds her squeal until we are out of earshot of Les hearing her. In the elevator she jumps up and down with excitement.

  “Oh god, please pinch me, this doesn’t seem real.”

  My mom and I laugh.

  “Now what are we wearing?” she asks.

  “I’m settling in for the night with a book jetlag is kicking in. And this is your guys night,” Mom says. “You two deserve to celebrate.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  She hugs me tight. “I’m sure.”

  We meet the driver downstairs right where we left him and he opens the door for us as we enter. Our apartment isn’t far from all the action in Las Vegas and only about three miles from Les’s office. Once we arrive, the old building is stunning. Outside, the driver hands us each a key.

  “You’re on the fourteenth floor, apartment 3B,” he says. “I’ll be up with your luggage.”

  I smile as we make our way up and inside. The condo is beautifully decorated with elegance and sophistication with it’s ceiling to floor length windows and hardwood flooring. The living room has a wall specifically designed with an outrageous entertainment center and a huge flat screen T.V. The kitchen has counters that curve around it, making it circular. The dining room is the most elegant I’ve ever seen with it’s glass table and black cloth chairs, with black and white décor and lights. I am in awe of the place. How would we afford this after six months? This is heaven.

  Down the hall, each of the rooms are beautifully decorated with dark woods and white linens. The bed is simple yet is the star of the room with it’s wood frame and plush white comforter.

  “I found my room,” I yell.

  A white bench is at the end of the bed, and a TV on the opposite wall. The windows are the same throughout and the view is magnificent. Stepping out of the room, I find my mom in the room next to mine and it matches mine, but the décor is slightly different in every room. She is in awe, like me.

  “This is definitely a dream,” she admits as she felt the softness of the peach colored comforter.

  The door buzzer rang and I let the bellboy cart in our luggage. Reaching in my pocket, I tip him and thank him as he drops it off.

  Vanita is already relaxing on her oversized bed. “I could definitely get used to this,” she says when I enter.

  “It’s amazing,” I say.

  I miss Cash terribly as my thoughts are consumed by him. What was he doing? Did he miss me?

  I long for his strong arms and his luscious lips, but now he is no longer downstairs from me. He is now clear across the country. I wander around the condo, taking everything in for a second time. It is unreal.

  “Hey kiddo,” my mom calls. “I’m going to settle in my room and read for the night. You girls have a fun night out. And don’t worry about me,” she adds.

  “Love you,” I say. She knows me too well. I would be worried about her, but my mind is more at ease knowing she is here and is trying to be better. Her doctor gave her a reference for one here, and sent her records to the office. She has an appointment already scheduled for two days from now and we found some local NA meetings she can attend. She has everything here at her disposal. And I will do anything I can to help her along the way.

  “Get ready bitch, the party is on,” Vanita interrupts my thoughts.

  I move, showering quickly while she does her makeup. Once out of the shower I dress in a simply black dress that has cutouts at the sides of my wa
ist, and chest, revealing a steep line of cleavage.

  “I feel too exposed,” I say, smoothing my hands over the material.

  “You look fucking hot. Right Mom,” she quips, spinning me around to her.

  She cups her face in shock.

  “What? Too sexy?” I ask.

  “Cheyanne, you look so gorgeous. I need a picture,” she rushes to grab her phone to take a picture of me and Vanita dressed to the nines. “You both look amazing.”

  Vanita has on a silver sparkly body hugging dress and clear heels and her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail and huge hoop earrings hang from her ears. My feet are slipped into a pair of black strappy heels and my hair is pulled back into a low ponytail. My blonde hair is a stark contrast to my black dress.

  “Don’t wait up,” Vanita quips.

  “Okay, let’s go hoochie,” I joke.

  “Who you calling a hoochie?”

  “You, though we both look like we belong in a rap video or something,” I tease.

  “A girl’s got to hustle.” She laughs.

  We enter the SUV and after a short drive we arrive at Aries Nightclub, where we are immediately ushered in front of the line and granted access.

  Inside, it was the most hip club I have ever been in. The bar area is glowing with a blue light ambiance. Vanita and I are able to score a private booth that glows with lavender lighting.

  The dance floor is overflowing with partygoers and the multi colored lights dances around them to the beat of the fast paced music. The DJ booth is huge and the center of the dance floor.

  We order a few rounds of shots and down them. I feel the burn all the way down my throat. My heart kicks up it’s pace and Van drags me onto the dance floor and we start dancing to the beat. We dance and drink for the next three hours.

  I haven’t laughed so much in a long time. A few guys bought us drinks but we refused any advances they shot our way. We dance with them until the wee hours of the morning. But Cash keeps appearing in the back of my mind.

  ***

  CASH

  While Cheyanne is off making her dreams come true, mine may or may not come crashing down. Today is the day I have to meet Bianca at the doctor’s office to take the paternity test and I am possibly the baby’s father. This can alter my life for the next eighteen years if I am, and I’m not sure how I’ll handle it.

  She greets me sweetly when I walk into the waiting room. “Are you nervous?” she asks.

  “Hell yeah. Who wouldn’t be?” I tell her harshly.

  “Geez, who pissed in your Cheerio’s?”

  “Come on; don’t break my balls. I’m about to take a test that will determine the rest of my life,” I tell her.

  “Oh relax. It’s not like we are going to get married or anything. You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just couldn’t handle those hoochie’s you train and you wouldn’t quit. It’s a shame things didn’t work out with us.”

  “Everything happens for a reason,” I retort.

  Thankfully the nurse comes out and ushers us into a room for us to wait for the doctor to perform the test. My nerves are shot.

  Bianca puts on the robe provided and sits on the patient table.

  The test is simple enough and goes by quickly. Now I have to wait a full twenty four hours before I hear the results. It’s going to be a long twenty four hours.

  I bid Bianca goodbye as we walk out to the parking lot.

  Chapter Twenty

  CASH

  Today I found out the results to the test, and I guess I’m going to be a daddy. I am not thrilled about the idea. I am not thrilled about telling Cheyanne, and possibly losing her. Maybe she deserves better than some asshole getting another woman pregnant. She’s been gone a whole week and I feels like a part of me is missing since she left.

  She definitely took my heart with her. I hate that she is so far away and that I can’t kiss her or hug her whenever the hell I want. I contemplate on not telling her at all until I absolutely have to. How much of an asshole can I be? I shake my head as I take a sip of my beer. I plan on getting shit faced, and cursing myself for not doubling up with Bianca.

  She will ruin me and my life and possibly what Cheyanne and I have, which is nothing compared to her. I look out into the night sky and wonder what she is doing. Is she looking at the same stars? Is she thinking about me as much as I am thinking about her?

  Granted, we talk on the phone a few times, but it doesn’t feel the same, and the chats are always too quick.

  ***

  Cheyanne

  Three months have passed and I am not feeling any better about leaving Boston. I try to keep going, try not to let Cash consume my thoughts twenty four seven, but it is a feat I am losing. Lately, he has been sounding off on the phone, like something is wrong and he is not telling me, which makes me worry more. I love him just as deeply as I ever did and I had hoped distance would make the heart grow fonder, but I fear that is not the case. Maybe it is time to let go and move on. Maybe that’s what we need to move on and live our lives separately. A lump forms in my throat at the thought of letting him go.

  I wonder if he already has one foot out the door. Maybe the distance is too much for us. The holidays are fast approaching and my mom is excited to be preparing Thanksgiving dinner for the three of us tomorrow. I am excited to have two days off in a row. Van and I both won our fights each time we were scheduled to fight.

  Cash even watched the event on pay per view. He said I had improved immensely since I first started. He was proud of me. Celebrating my wins was no longer the same since I couldn’t share the moment with the one person that wasn’t there. Granted he was there in spirit, but still not the same.

  Van and I constantly trained. We lived and breathed it and we deserved this much needed break. If I thought Cash trained me hard, you should meet my trainer Kit. He’s a beast in the gym and expects a lot out of us, and we train with guys, which is not what I’m used to.

  So she and I had to prove ourselves to them that we deserved to be there, too. It is exhausting sometimes. But we managed to get their respect with each fight we won. Women fighting in MMA is still taboo almost. But we were breaking the stigma that it was a man’s sport. The men felt threatened by the fearlessness of us women.

  “Cheyanne get in here and help bake these cookies,” Mom yells. I don’t have any memory of her ever cooking in the past and I wonder where she found the recipes.

  I join her in the kitchen while Vanita sits on the bar stool watching her. “Are you supervising so the kitchen doesn’t catch fire?” I ask her jokingly.

  “Uh huh,” she say, giggling.

  “I happen to know how to cook. And I found some recipes on the internet.”

  “Oh well excuse me,” I tease. “What do you need help with?”

  “Mix those dry ingredients for me.” She points to the bowl. “We are going to have a great feast tomorrow and plenty of leftovers.”

  “Just remember to take out the giblets and the gizzard,” Van teases.

  “Is this pick on Mom day?”

  “Yes,” Van and I say in unison.

  Mom shakes her head at us. Vanita took to calling my mom, mom as well. The three of us have grown close, and share an unbreakable bond. My mom has been taking each day by day and improving. She is looking better and better and seems to enjoy going to her meetings. I’m so impressed how strong she is.

  Mom mixes the wet ingredients with the dry ingredients and we form the cookie dough into balls and places them in the oven.

  “Now what?” I ask.

  “We can’t have Thanksgiving without pumpkin pie. And don’t worry, I at least bought the already made crust,” she teases.

  Mom keeps me busy in the kitchen while Van continues supervising.

  “Have you talked to Cash?” Van asks.

  “Not today, but he’s been distant on the phone and I don’t know what it is. He keeps saying he’s fine, but I can hear something else in his voice.”

/>   “Maybe he just doesn’t want to worry you,” Mom jumps in.

  “Maybe. I just wish he would talk to me. Let me in on what’s going on.”

  “So are you two going shopping with me tomorrow night?” Mom asks changing the subject.

  “I don’t know if I want to get up that early,” Van says.

  “I guess I’ll sacrifice sleep to go,” I say.

  “Alright, the turkey is in, the baked goods are baked. Let’s get a few hours of sleep,” Mom suggests.

  “Thanks for supervising,” I tell Van. “Goodnight.”

  I already know sleep will not come as quick as I hope. In bed, I contemplate on calling Cash; I long to hear his deep seductive voice. I scroll through my phone and wait for him to answer.

  “Hello? Cheyanne, is that you?”

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” I say, trying to sound cheerful.

  “Fuck I miss you,” he admits.

  “Are you drunk?”

  “Maybe, why?”

  Cash getting drunk is becoming a normal thing now that I wasn’t around. I should have known better to call this late. It is late evening there.

  “I just wanted to hear your voice. I miss you so much.”

  “Maybe you should just move on. I’m nothing but a loser.”

  “Cash, you are not a loser. Did you get the results for the DNA test?”

  “I got to go. Have a good holiday.”

  And he hangs up. I am left dumbfounded and it is like that whenever I ask about the results. Maybe he is the father and doesn’t want to admit it. If he isn’t going to fight for us, I sure as hell am. It isn’t time to let go, not yet. I am not willing to lose this fight.

  ***

  Thanksgiving dinner is a huge success as well as shopping. It is time to get back in the gym, back to the grind. Sometimes Van and I don’t get to train at the same time, and I always feel awkward not having my wing woman, even though people are coming around and accepting me.

  Charlie is a training partner of mine, and training with a man is no different than training with a woman. They don’t treat me any different and don’t go easy. This particular day is different than the others; Charlie is handling me with kid gloves and I am concerned.

 

‹ Prev