Fight for You

by Charisse Spiers

She glances up at me from her five foot two height with a disgusted look on her face. "Umm...no! My two besties are going on a date and it's his first ever. You are going to knock his fucking socks off. I don't say that mildly. If we can draw out the emotion of jealousy we are on track. Don't judge me either. You know it's true. I don't care how nice you are or how wrong you think that is. All, and I mean every girl, strives for it. It's no surprise that most men can become cavemen quickly. To claim and protect what's his is the greatest compliment to a woman. Am I right?" She winks with a smile on her face.

  Damn, I love her. She's crazy as hell, but she's nice without taking any shit off anyone. It's why we just clicked from the beginning. Usually the nice people get run over and trampled on, but not her, ever. She can go from sweet to total bitch in less than two and a half seconds. It's an amazing transformation really. I've witnessed it. "Yes. You are totally right. I won't lie. From a girl's perspective, seeing a slightly jealous man is sexy, but it's a fine line."

  "See, I got your back bi-atch. Come to my humble abode. The paint and curling wand are waiting. I've already raided your closet, so your outfit is done and I've packed it along with your necessities in your overnight bag."

  She starts to pull me toward her room. "Overnight bag? Where am I going? It's only the middle of the week."

  "He wouldn't say, only to pack you an overnight bag and promised to return you in time for class Friday. Some things, doll, are better left for surprise."

  She walks into her room and leads me to the chair in front of her makeup station. Our apartments came with built in desks in both bedrooms, but she transformed hers into makeup central by putting up a huge mirror and added lights. She prefers to use her laptop in the middle of her bed wearing pajamas. "Do you people think that I don’t have homework?"

  She turns the chair to face me and pushes me down to sit in it. "Piper, we have no weekly assignments due until the rough sketch of our theme is turned in for approval. This week is the best week to go on a spur of the moment overnight getaway with a hot guy."

  I point my finger at her as I sit, preparing to allow her to make me pretty. "If I fail this semester from Mr. Sex-on-a-stick and you, the hopeless romantic at heart, I'm coming to haunt you both. The semester is about to start getting busy with assignments, book wise and sketching. It's only been slow because it's the beginning of the semester. I don't see Reese whisking you away on any getaways. While we're on this topic of conversation, what are you two anyway?"

  She starts wading through the absurd quantities of products that take up her entire station. You can't even see the counter because there is no room. I do not understand how anyone can function with organized mess. "We're just having fun. Neither of us wants anything right now. I don't need to fall and he refuses to. That boy is harboring something deep just as Haddox is. I think Haddox's shit just dates back further than Reese's from what I've gathered, especially with him being younger than Haddox. People like them will only come out of internal torment when they trust someone enough to pull them out or they hit rock bottom and have no choice but out."

  I close my eyes at the light brushing of fingers over my face, spreading the foundation of makeup along my skin. The contact is relaxing. We both become quiet as she works her magic. I can barely focus on where her hands are because they change so frequently. Instead, I try to imagine where Haddox is going to take me tonight or how he will react when I see him at the fight. If it's anything like Alyvia described then I may not even get to speak to him until after.

  "Alyvia?"

  "Yeah..."

  "Do you think I'm stupid for feeling this way about him, especially this early?"

  "What does it matter what I think, or anyone else? No two love stories are the same, babe. Whether you fall up front or two years later it's all the same. What does matter is that when you realize you have, you never look back."

  "But I'm scared he won't feel the same way as fast as my feelings are developing. I don't want to be hurt again, but each time I'm around him I get this giddy feeling consuming my body. I can't think or speak, but only stare and use all of my energy attempting to continue breathing."

  I can feel the brush gliding across my lids in a constant rhythm, only letting up when she reloads to add another coat. "Let me tell you a secret my dad used to tell me when I would beg him to watch a princess movie with me as a kid. He would always tell me no until I popped out that bottom lip and gave him my puppy eyes. Right there and then I could ask for the moon and he would find a way to get it. Southern men are always saps when it comes to their daughters. Anyway, I'm backtracking. I used to climb up in his lap and ask the craziest questions as I watched the two hopelessly fall in love. On this particular occasion it was, what if I fall in love with my prince but he doesn't love me in return?"

  A small laugh escapes me. I can't help it. I can totally envision that in my head. "And his famous response?"

  She stops touching tools to my face. I crack one eye open to see what she's doing. She has a mischievous smirk across her face. She changes her demeanor, so I know a voice change is coming as well. "He said- Angel, sometimes men catch on a little later than women, and that's to be expected, but at some point it'll come on in his head like a light bulb and things will never be the same. When you realize it's true, there's no turning back love. Don't give up, because the connection between the heart and the mind of a man tend to be a little slow, but it'll definitely come or you wouldn't have felt that way first."

  I burst out in laughter as she finishes her best southern daddy accent. This probably should have been one of those best friend moments where you get sappy and tell each other that statement was totally meant for the guys in our lives, but instead it triggers light hearted, barely breathing, abs constricting laughter. At least she didn't have the eyeliner or mascara on yet.

  I work to catch my breath as my fit of laughing comes to an end. "I would love to meet him. He sounds awesome."

  As if our makeup session wasn't just interrupted by therapy in new adult love strategies from a person that isn't even present, she goes to back to applying makeup. "You totally are. At some point I have to go back home to that hell hole and you're coming with me. I've never had the pleasure of showing a northerner around the south. My friends are going to love you."

  "What's so bad about it?"

  "Oh nothing I guess. I'm just being facetious. I think I was just meant to be a city girl at heart. There are certain aspects of the country that I like, but I belong in the city, no doubt."

  I start to relax again and my mind begins to wander. I wonder what Haddox is doing this very instant. Is he thinking of me? What do they even do to prepare for a fight? I feel like I have butterflies in my stomach as I feel the different textures being painted on my face from wet to dry. "Will he talk to me in public or should I leave him alone until after? I don't want to be clingy or needy, but I've never really been next to someone with a career in the spotlight of hundreds of people."

  She starts drawing lipstick on my lips after finishing my mascara. Who knows what I look like right now. I don't normally trust my makeup to someone else, but she isn't normally too heavy with her own. "We probably won't see him until after everyone clears, but if we do he won't ignore you...or he shouldn't. He only has one rule for people that know his true name, and that's not to use it out around his career. Refer to him as Houston, because that's what everyone knows him as. I usually just wait for him at his truck. There...it's finished. Look."

  I open my eyes and look in the mirror. I'm impressed. I've never gone with a shimmer before. Glitter usually strikes me as a preteen that just discovered makeup, but this is subtle and pretty. She has my eyes done in bronze, gold, and pearl colors. Smeared under my eyes and fanned in the direction of my temple to the outer edge of my brows are highlighted with a gold shimmer cream. The bold eyeliner follows the direction and shape of the shimmer. I've never done my eyes in the cat-eye theme. The tips of my eyelashes touch my brow bone and are a bol
d black. The colors make my brown eyes stand out, but what I like the most is that she kept my lips a light peach, barely different than the natural shade, and topped with a clear gloss.

  I smile at her through the reflection in the mirror. "I love it. What am I wearing and what are you doing with this mop on top of my head?"

  "Oh girl, wait till you see this..." She walks into her closet and starts digging through the contents. "I saw this the other day and picked it up for you. Someone needed to wear these bad boys and I don't have the legs for them," she yells. "You'll thank me later," she says as she exits the closet.

  She holds up a hanger with what looks like leather leggings. My eyes widen. There are no hiding imperfections in a pair of those. "Don't even go there. Your legs are hot. If I had that length I would barely cover myself and show them off regularly. Put them on."

  She holds out the hanger and walks forward, pushing it into my chest. "Not to mention you have a rockin' ass," she says and winks at me. I grab ahold of the hanger and roll my eyes, now looking at the shirt in her other hand.

  "Is that what's going with it?" She nods and hands the cream colored sleeveless tunic toward me. The shirt is also dusted with a gold shimmer. Now I know where the color scheme for the makeup came from. "I'm going to change in my room. I think I have some shoes that will go with it. I'll be right back."

  I turn to walk out of the room but she stops me. "Piper, wait." I turn back around right as she throws something black at me. I catch it and look down. It's a bandeau.

  "Put that on under the tunic. Hurry up I still have to curl your hair and time is running out. We still have to account for traffic."

  I smile, suddenly excited about this outfit. Maybe she's right. "I'll be right back," I say with a smirk. I rush out the door and walk toward my room until I'm laying the outfit on my bed and undressing quickly. Starting with the pants, I pull on the sexy but simple outfit and turn in the mirror. The leggings fit like a glove. "Damn," I mumble as I admire the way I look. I have never loved my body the way I do right now. "She totally hit it perfectly."

  "I usually do." I look over and she's leaned against the wall with her hands crossed over her chest. "You're not the only one obsessed with fashion. You totally look hot if I do say so myself." She walks up to my jewelry box and opens the drawer. "Do you want to know what inspired this very outfit?"

  I of all people know that one single object can inspire a lot of things to an artist. The genre doesn't matter, because all artists are basically the same when it comes to the creative process. It starts with a muse. "What's that?"

  She pulls out two small, black boxes and I instantly know what she's holding: my black diamond earrings and matching ring. Each are round and surrounded by a row of small, white diamonds. My dad gave them to me for my sweet sixteen. I don't wear them very often, because well, they're black. I'm more of a color girl.

  "These beauties." She brings them over to where I stand and begins rubbing her thumb over the stones. "That fabulous wine night you showed me your jewelry collection; out of everything you have, this set stood out the most. Most people misjudge black, even myself at one time. It's associated with darkness and evil; something heavy, but the thing is it also represents beauty and boldness. It takes a strong person to wear it and represent it properly. Even the darkest can sparkle, Piper. Put them on."

  She hands me the two boxes and I look down at them. They're more beautiful looking at them now than they've ever been before. Maybe it's her words and maybe it's that I've met someone that seems to be scared of light, but I can see his beauty. One series of events can alter a person's mentality drastically. I haven't removed these three pieces from the very boxes they sit in, in years, but I think it's time. It just seems to fit.

  I slide the ring on my right ring finger and insert the earrings into my earring holes as I look into the mirror. It blends together perfectly. "Here, last thing." She walks up behind me and places the black linear drop necklace over my chest, fastening the hook behind my neck. The black, light-catching strand sits between my boobs on top of the fabric, making the ensemble complete. "You look beautiful, babe. You're going to shatter his composure. I'll give you a minute to finish up with shoes and then come let me finish your hair. We need to get going soon."

  She turns to leave my bedroom and I stare at myself in the mirror again. I look so different, yet the same. This time when I look into the mirror I feel beautiful, and a boost of confidence I haven't felt in a long time starts to return. Slowly, but surely, the chains are breaking.

  ***

  I hand my ticket to the doorman and wait for him to return the stub, before catching up to walk beside Alyvia through the doors, allowing her to lead me. People are crowding in quickly, nudging each other in a race for their seats. I stay close as we push through the packed entry. I follow her to the gate labeled on our tickets and watch as she veers in the direction of the section we're supposed to be in. This entire walk I haven't seen her look down at the stub, as if she knows exactly where she's going.

  "Are you ready for this," she asks looking back.

  "I guess. I'm not sure what to expect really. My parents would probably flip out if they knew I was at an event like this. They don't condone any form of violence. How do you even know where we're supposed to be going? You act like you've been here hundreds of times."

  She smiles. "Because I have. Lesson number one on Ha- Houston: he is predictable in every aspect but himself. He will always put us in the same seats, because he will look for you when he comes into the ring."

  We descend the steps and take a left into the bottom row. Wow, awesome seats. The spotlights beam down into the ring in the center of the venue. My nerves are starting to get worked up as I take in all of the people piling into the rows at a rapid rate. I can't believe he does this for a living. When I saw him at the fashion show he didn't seem to have a scratch on him. "How much are you putting on it?"

  I turn toward Alyvia. She is looking down at the screen of her phone. "What?"

  She glances around her. "Are you betting? Are you putting any money on the fight?" Her tone is low, clearly trying to avoid being overheard. "I'm putting it in with my bookie now to lock it in."

  A bookie? Isn't that illegal in most states? "Umm...what are you going to do?"

  A sly smile draws up from her lips. "I'm putting fifty on Stokes."

  I'm confused. "Who's that?"

  She winks, her smile broadening. "Houston's opponent."

  She's not clearing up my confusion. "Why would you bet against him? Is he better?"

  "Because Houston knows I'm going to. It's our thing. If I don't, the fight is boring, because he has no motivation.... well, maybe he does now, but you get what I'm saying. What's it going to be, babe?"

  I don't know anything about betting. "I'll put five hundred on Houston. Her eyes widen slightly, but only for a moment. She grins from ear to ear.

  "Oh he's going to love this." I watch as she looks back down at her phone and types out a text before sending and putting her phone away. "I'm going to get a beer. Do you want one?"

  "Sure. Bud light, please."

  "Good choice." She stands and shuffles back down the row toward the end. I look around the venue. It's packed to capacity now.

  A hand brushes up my arm, causing me to jump. I turn to the guy sitting next to me with a smile on his face. "Hello there, gorgeous. What's your name?"

  He's cute enough, but instead of the usual excitement I would feel with being noticed, this time it just makes me feel thoroughly turned off and is slightly creeping me out. Pickup introduction attempt: failed. "What's it to you? I don't give out my details to every decently attractive man in New York City. I hope you understand."

  I turn back toward the ring and hope he leaves me alone. He rests his arm on the back of my seat, invading my personal space. He leans in and starts to whisper, the smell of beer filling the air between us. "Don't worry, beautiful. I'll get it before the night is over. I like those that p
lay hard to get," he mumbles and inches his hand away from me.

  "Yeah...we'll see about that." This night just took a slight turn toward bullshit. Alyvia needs to hurry up or I may just have to go find her.

  I jump up and grab the pull up bar in each hand. I begin pulling myself up, allowing my shoulder joints to loosen. I give myself five reps so I don't tire out right before a fight. I need to loosen, not tear down my muscles. After the fifth pull up I drop, landing on my feet. I pull my neck to each side and swing my arms repetitively, continuing to stretch out my arms.

  I start pacing back and forth across the floor of my dressing room. I really hope Piper didn't back out. Rarely do I give a shit who is in the crowd, but I won't lie. I want her to be there.

  I walk to the table and pick up my red hand wraps. Some fighters use gloves, I prefer wraps. It’s a tighter fit to me. My phone starts to ring. I look down at the number and immediately start to smile. I touch the answer option and hold it to my ear. "Yo, what numbers you got for me?"

  "Hey, bro. Alyvia put fifty on stokes. No surprise there. You have five grand on your head to win and stokes has three from my regulars...but I have an interesting bid that came in with Alyvia's."

  "Oh yeah? Give it to me. I need my numbers."

  "A chick named Piper bet five hundred for you to win. I trust Alyvia, so I allowed her to place the bet, but you know how I am about newbies. I don't usually take that high of a bet from someone I don't know. I don't care how fucking good your ass is. This is part of my livelihood. I already have to watch my back and shit. I don't want to chase someone down for money. I’m getting too old for that. Is she good for it?"

  Bankston is my boy and bookie. We go way back. He was the first person I met on a personal and not business level when I came to New York. He helped me out when I needed it. Today, I'd do anything that damn guy needed. You take care of those that first helped you.

  Like me, he doesn't go by his real name for obvious reasons. I know his real name, but don't usually use it around here. He takes bets under the table, meaning what he does is straight cash. It's not his only job, though. He's a family man now. He works for his main income and only does this on the side. He tried to quit once after he got married several years back. His conscience was starting to eat at him when he found out his girl got pregnant, so he stopped taking bets altogether and would only bring in a legit income, but the truth is he has too many people that use him to give it up. After his wife saw the difference in the income and how much he liked doing it, she told him to stop giving up what made him happy because of her, and their daughter. Her only rule was to keep it separate from their family life and not to do anything that could put them at risk for being harmed.