I'm not much of a gambling man. It's too risky for me, but to show my support to someone who gave me a place to crash when I was on the streets, I bet some with him during football season and send him people from time to time like Alyvia. If someone wants to judge me for betting illegally with a man that donates a large portion of what he brings in to numerous programs that help out other kids without a place to go like what I used to be, then fuck them. Some kids don't have an option until they find their way. Some kids are on the street not because they want to be, but because it's far better than the shit-hole they came from. This fucked up world needs more people like him. I don't give a damn where the money comes from.
When Alyvia told me she liked sports betting back home my mouth almost hit the floor. It's not too often you see girls like that. When I realized she could be trusted I connected the two and she's been betting with him since. "Yeah, man, Piper's good for it; although, I don't like her betting that kind of money, but I'll deal with that on my end. You can trust her. I do, and you know that's saying a lot."
"Yeah, okay bro. I feel better now. I'm just looking out for my family. You know that. Don't make me lose too much money. I'll get up with you later. I still have bets coming in for shit."
I laugh. "Yeah, well I can't make any promises when the bets for me to win is higher than for me to lose. Maybe you should set a limit."
"My reputation is worth more than what I'll pay out, but I won't deny it hasn't crossed my mind. Get me two tickets for Vegas and we'll call it even. I need a good anniversary gift anyway and you know Kaitlyn has been bugging the shit out of me to take her to see you fight. If I'm going to do it, it might as well be the big one." I know he's joking about me getting him tickets, but it's a small price for the things he's done for me.
"Consider it done, man. Hit me up later and we will go over the details."
"Will do. Later, bro."
I disconnect the call and lay my phone back down. I continue the routine I was about to start before the phone rang, wrapping my hands in the red wraps. With each wrap I picture her, losing focus on what I should be locking down on mentally. I'm taking her to my house in Rhode Island tonight. I just want to spend time with her away from everyone else. I want to pinpoint why it is that I'm drawn to her when I've successfully steered clear of any emotional intimacy before.
I've never told anyone about my house in Rhode Island, not even Alyvia. No one knows it exists except for Bankston, because that's where he lives now and the reason I bought it. No one else has been there. That is my safe haven when I need to get away from the fast pace of the city. I came from a small town. Occasionally, they have their perks. When the memories get too bad and I need seclusion to keep from going apeshit on someone, I go there. I've never wanted to share that part of my life with someone, my deepest secrets, and some I still don't. Letting that part of myself go is a big step for me, but when I tried to imagine what in the hell I wanted to do for a date that was the first thing that came to mind.
Once I decided where we were going, ideas started coming fairly easily. Maybe I just needed to train my mind to think of what it means to date a woman. Before, the thought had never entered any vicinity of my brain. The hard part is going to be keeping my dick in my pants with the two of us under the same roof. I already want to rip her clothes off of her body every time I see her, including being around people. This time we will be completely alone. The good thing about me is that when I want something bad enough, I shut all other options down.
I've been called an extremist over things I set my mind to. I have gone through the years of my life with plenty of sex and no form of emotional intimacy, but when I'm in her presence I'm pulled to her, except it's not only sexual. I actually want to know her. Since the bastard inside of me wants to throw a curveball, I'm retaliating. This time, I'm going to be around her with no sex, at least until I can't physically endure it anymore. He's gotten the best of me before. He could always do it again. The timeframe of my sexual abstinence is yet to be determined.
The door to my dressing room opens. I turn to the member of staff now shoving his head in my room. "Walley, you're up in ten. Take your position."
I nod as I fasten the last wrap and head for the door. I exit and walk down the hall behind him. I can already hear the crowd going wild, driving my blood flow to pump harder and faster. This shit is what I live for, what I was built for, and what I was bred to do. Fighting is the only way I can be free. This is just the legal way to do it.
The cage comes into view with the two lightweights in the center. One is on the floor out cold and the other is standing beside the referee with his hand in the air, reveling in his win for all to see. It may seem cocky to those on the outside, but it's no different than an animal marking his territory. It's a physical need to a fighter. To a true fighter it's not about the money or the glory, but about the respect it earns.
I stand at the end of the tunnel, waiting for my name to be announced. Stokes goes first; just the way I like it. The lights dim to everything but the center and the announcer calls his name for the crowd. Some scream, but not enough. It's time to put on the mask. I close my eyes and let the rage build, preparing to spread. The feel of it coursing through my veins burns as if being injected with gasoline. Where you been, you fucking bastard?
The sound of his voice in my head alone is enough to light the fire. One hit to the jaw and I'll be consumed in full flame. "Weighing in at 185 pounds and measuring at six foot two is Houston Walley." The screaming picks up, sounding all over the venue.
As my name is called I exit the tunnel and begin in the direction of the center. Posters are being waved through the hair with various colors and phrases written on the front. I keep to the middle of the makeshift aisle, not wanting fans to touch me. Girls try to get hands anywhere they can find a place. I prefer to keep myself clean of others' germs. You already end up covered in the other fighters sweat, sometimes even blood.
I enter the octagon and take my corner of the ring. Stokes continues to show off for the crowd in his corner. I prefer less of the bullshit and more of the fight. I remove the black company shirt while my crew says things in my ear, preparing for the start. I toss the shirt as I'm handed my mouth guard.
My eyes immediately divert to the seats that better be full. I need my focus on the fight, but first I need to see her. It takes my eyes a second to find the spot, but when I do my heart stops. Holy hell. My jaw locks as I take her in from head to toe. It's like seeing her for the first time all over again. Tonight may be harder than I originally thought. I want to slowly remove those tight-ass pants with my teeth.
Piper doesn't immediately notice me, because she's standing and looking down at some prick sitting beside her. She looks like she's yelling at him. I lean slightly so I can get a better look. He grabs her ass and every muscle in my core tightens. Fuck that no good mother fucker. He's now touching what's mine. My jaw steels as I try to remain calm. She shoves his shoulder, but he just takes that as an invitation for another handful. "Fighters, take the center."
I grab a fist full of my hair as I look between the referee and the dumb-ass I want to mutilate, still trying to touch all over her. I've been told to interact with the audience more; well, they're about to get their wish. I'll probably even get fined for what I'm about to do later, but I don't give a shit.
I'm about to exit the ring when her eyes lock with mine. I point to the bastard beside her. She knows what I want. She gets his attention and points in my direction. He looks at me and points his thumb into his chest. Yes I'm talking to you, fucker. I nod. His face becomes imprinted in my mind. My photographic memory is unbelievable. I give a hand gesture that even his ignorant ass is sure to understand and he holds up his hands as if being apologetic. My greatest flaw: I don't forgive and I sure as hell don't forget. I could tell from this distance she wasn't into it. No means mother fucking no in any language on the human planet. After I'm done with this fight, he's mine.
"This ni
ght is going to be awesome," I say sarcastically as Alyvia enters the row and takes her seat.
She hands me a beer in an aluminum bottle and I take a big gulp, as my eyes remain locked on Haddox. Oh, that beautiful man is now thoroughly pissed off. I can see it in his stance. Is it wrong that it's totally turning me on? Maybe I'm not so mad at the stupid asshole beside me anymore. That secret I'll take to my grave.
His eyes never stray from mine. It feels like we're just two people standing alone in a massive room yards apart. Everything is reeling in slow motion. I swallow, trying to moisten my dry mouth, but don't succeed. It feels like I've swallowed cotton. The power in his stare should concern me, but it only leaves me thriving for more. I focus on the tightening of his abs through my peripheral vision as he breathes, trying not to appear affected. Surely I'm not readable at this distance, but I can't be sure. I haven't become familiar with all of Haddox's senses and how precise they may or may not be yet. I do know one thing. I want to lick his body in front of this entire audience. That thought alone should make me feel ashamed, but it doesn't. He could ask to fuck me in the middle of that octagon and I'd probably let him. What does that say about me?
"What'd I miss? Obviously it was something good. Next time I'm making your ass get the beer." He looks away and just like that I'm free to look where I please. I feel like I'm coming out of hypnosis, leaving me slightly dizzy.
"What the hell was that?" I grab my head in my hands, trying to make everything stop spinning. I look around and realize that I'm still standing while everyone else has taken a seat. I sit down in a hurry, slightly embarrassed. Two points in the stupid category for you, Piper.
A hand becomes flush with my forehead. "Are you okay? Do we need to leave? You look pale, Miss Tropics. People of your skin tone shouldn't be looking pale."
I turn to look at Alyvia and shoo her hand away. "I'm fine. Don't be dramatic."
I look out at the ring, wishing I could crawl under my seat and hide. Haddox is standing at center, facing the other fighter with a referee to the side of them, saying something. I can't tell what he's saying from my seat. I can only assume he's going over rules or telling them something about the fight to come.
The two fighters bump fists for sportsmanship and the buzzer sounds, signaling the start of round one. They begin to move in this manly dance of sorts. It's kind of beautiful, because it creates this perfect rhythm as they bounce back and forth on the balls of their feet. The other fighter swings first, but Haddox dodges, avoiding the hit.
Haddox retaliates with a swing of his own, landing his fist on the other fighter's jawline, knocking him slightly to the side. He catches himself and jolts forward, plowing into Haddox shoulders first, hitting him in the stomach with swing for swing as he pushes him toward the fence wall. "You can breathe, you know. Stokes may look like he has the upper hand right now, but you haven't seen anything yet. This right here is for entertainment. Watch the storm brew," she whispers into my right ear.
I didn't even know I was holding my breath, tensed up at the edge of my seat. I am starting to think maybe she is wrong. Stokes continues to pummel his fists into Haddox's defined stomach as he holds him against the fence by his shoulders. My nails are going to be hideous at the rate in which I am gnawing on them, and they aren't even real making them twice as strong. "Houston, Houston, Houston!"
The crowd is screaming his name, sending a rush of adrenaline throughout my body. "Come on, Houston! Get him, babe," I shout inadvertently. He looks over in my direction, signaling he heard me. Shit.
I sit back in my seat. I see a slight smirk start to form on his face. In a split second, he grabs the back of stokes head and shoves it down at the same time his knee comes up, jarring into his face. I flinch at the hit and my hands automatically press against my nose as if I'm the one that just got hit. It knocks Stokes back, blood draining from his nose, giving Haddox his out.
I can feel Alyvia lean toward me this time, as if she has something more to say. I feel like I should just keep both eyes looking forward; that way she can't judge my behavior. I never shout at sporting events. The two of us have been to a couple Giants games for her to know this is outside of the norm for me. The crazed fan persona is not me. I prefer a more classy approach to things.
It makes me uncomfortable to yell things at players...so why the hell did I just single Haddox out in the middle of thousands of people? Adrenaline maybe, or could it be the fact that I know him personally? I'm going to hope it's one of those two reasons and not that it physically was causing me pain to see him get hit that way. I am going to pretend the soreness in my abdomen is a figment of my imagination running wild.
"Someone's getting some tonight. Drink up, darling," she says as she thumps the neck of my beer bottle. "You're going to need it after this. Now that you've hit that, you get to experience the adrenaline junkie that he will be when this is over, and you just spiked it with that outburst. If you think he’s been wild to this point, forget it. You haven’t seen anything yet. Every form of energy must be channeled away from its housing mechanism. Your body is now his outlet. I'm only going to warn you that you better get ready for that current, because the sound of it is enough to leave a scar. I can't even imagine being on the receiving end."
My eyes widen slightly. I place the rim of the bottle to my lips and tilt it back, allowing the bitter, amber liquid to drain into the back of my throat. I allow the entire contents of the bottle to slide down as I swallow. There wasn't much left anyway. My stomach is forming a knot from her comments. I'm so ready. I pull at the collar of my shirt. "Is it starting to get hot in here to you?"
I glance at Alyvia, but she's already lost in the fight, screaming left and right. She stands as the crowd screams repeatedly, stomping her foot on the floor occasionally. I blink a few times. My whole body is starting to feel bizarre. I hear groans coming from various people, but I can't stand to see what the commotion is. The room is starting to spin and I'm getting nauseous. I think I need to find a restroom.
I stand and stumble as I turn to my left, but grab ahold of the chair arm. The seat beside me is vacant. "What the hell was that, Houston? Get back in there." I grab the back of my head as I make my way down the row, trying to get to the aisle. Alyvia is too involved in the fight, so I went the opposite way. I don't feel good. Something must have been wrong with that beer or something I ate.
My vision is wavering and I feel like my pulse is pounding in my head. My tongue feels heavy. I continue to blink my eyes, trying to clear my vision each time I stumble into the knees of people sitting as I pass. "Hey, watch it, girl."
The sound is echoing in my head. "Sow-ry," I stammer, finally making it to the rail in the middle of the aisle that leads up the steps.
"Piper! Where are you going? Are you okay?" I try to wave her off, but even my arms feel heavy. Just make it to the bathroom, splash a little water on your face, and you'll be fine.
My vision goes black every few seconds. I finally come into the main area where the bathrooms and concessions are, bodies sparse from being in their seats watching the fight. "I knew you'd come find me, sexy. Why don't you give me that name now..."
I scrunch my eyes together, trying to blink away this weird feeling. I look up in the direction of the voice and recognize the guy. He was sitting beside me. I don't understand. "Pi-per," I mumble to my best ability, and like the lights go out, I can't see a thing.
I have a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can't shake. Stokes' fist connects with my brow bone. I shake it off. I've been hit worse, way worse. I can feel a warm drip running down my eyelid: blood. Fuck! I need to get my head back in. That's his one hit to the face. The end of the first round sounds and I go to my corner, allowing a member of my team to tape my cut. I remove my mouth guard and let him squirt water in my mouth as I rid my face of the sweat.
I look around him into the stands, looking for her. I find Alyvia, but Piper's seat is empty. Where is she? She probably just went to the bathroom to piss
or do girly shit in the mirror that alters her appearance none in comparison to before. She couldn’t wait until after I was done? Haddox! My head twitches at the recognition of Breanna's voice in my mind. My breathing is still heavy and timeout is almost up.
I grab the fence, extending out from each corner in my hands and look up again. I look at Alyvia and nod upward. She looks beside her to Piper's seat and back at me, shrugging her shoulders. I can't deal with this shit right now. I need to finish this. "Why did you let him touch you, Bree? I told you to fucking call me next time, kick him in the nuts, something."
Dammit, not right now. I don't need this shit. I close my eyes, trying to push the memory back in the place it belongs. "You ready?"
I look at Matt as he squirts water in my mouth one final time. "Yeah, man. I'm ready."
"He's onto me avoiding him, Haddox. It's been almost two weeks. All I did was sit down and eat dinner before I was supposed to leave for Rachel's. The next thing I knew I woke up in my bed naked and sore. What does it feel like to be drugged? I think he slipped something in my drink. I don't remember a thing..."
My head snaps back and a feeling that hasn't hit me in a long time spreads throughout my body. No.... fucking no. I look back up into the crowd and just now realize that prick is gone as well. Piper still isn't back. I feel sick at my stomach. I rarely feel sick. My nerves are made of steel after the shit that I've gone through.
Fight for You Page 19
