Fight or Fall

by Anne Leigh

  “I’ve heard of Achilles. He’s the guy who caught the arrow in the foot right?” I verified, tracing my right forefinger over her lips. I’m pretty sure Brad Pitt was Achilles in a movie wherein he wore a leather skirt and rode a bunch of horses. Hell would have to double freeze over before I’d ever ride a horse in a skirt.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, fixing her blouse that had become crinkled from lying on the quilt. “You wanna shoot me with an arrow?”

  She inhaled a large breath and looked directly at me. “He caught the arrow in his heel and it’s believed that he died because of it. He was the greatest warrior in the Iliad and he fell to his death because of an arrow. When I say you’re my Achilles, it means you’re my weakness, Milo.”

  Shaking my head, I stated, “I don’t ever want to be your weakness. I want you to draw strength from me. From us. Your father can’t use me against you, Ava. His hold on me has an expiration date. Whatever you’re thinking, whatever you’re feeling, remember this; I understand how you feel. I’d protect my family from any harm. I don’t want you to hang out with Emmett. Whether it’s a fake date or not, it stinks like shit and I hate it. But I’m willing to make a compromise because now I know you have great reason why you’re doing it.” Stealing a glance at her mom who was napping peacefully against a small pillow that Ava had placed around her neck before joining me on the picnic blanket.

  Clutching her hands tightly against my chest, I murmured against her lips, “He gets nowhere close to this.” Touching my hands all over her body. “He doesn’t touch you any place your clothes cover Ava. So when you’re out and about with him,” gritting my jaw so hard that I may have permanently locked it, “You wear a freakin’ parka if you have to.”

  Placing small, tender kisses on my face, she answered, “Emmett is just a friend. I’ll continue this charade with him because I have to. The reason I asked you to come meet me here today is because I want you to know and understand that you’re very important to me. I don’t want to lose you. I’m sharing with you the only person who’s more important to me than you.”

  I would never make Ava choose between me and her mom. If that was a choice she had to make, I’d always tell her to choose her mom. I understood the strength of the bond between families. I would never be able to live with myself if she’d knowingly chose me over her. Theirs was a bond that transcended time, space, meaning; she didn’t owe me any explanations. All Ava had to do was tell me. All I had asked for was honesty.

  “I understand, baby. You have to do what you gotta do. I’ll be here for you. But there’s one other thing I’m gonna ask from you…” Hugging her until no space was left between us, I commanded, “You. Come. Home. To. Me.”

  She nodded her head and kissed me like she’s been starving for me as I had been for her. Ava’s appeal to me was beyond physical. I cared for her beyond the borders of the vast lake ahead of us. It’s what makes the pain, the anger of what I’d been through the past weeks dull and fade away.

  I will never come to terms with Emmett dating her in public, even for her father’s benefit. But I’d endure it for her because the woman sitting immobile on the chair to my left was the woman Ava valued more than me, more than her own happiness, and I’d be less of a man if I ever denied Ava that.

  By the time the sun’s rays formed a pattern of purplish orange hues along the mountain peaks, Ava, her mom, Naomi, and I had spent the day talking about Ava’s childhood.

  Ava treated Naomi like a mom. To a judgmental outsider, Naomi’s scarred face could be a deterrent; they were distracting at first because you were left wondering how in the world she survived those obvious burn marks. I’d have to ask Ava about them at another time when it’s just the two of us. But Naomi’s personality, her zest for life, outshone a dark past and I believed Ava had a lot to do with that. When Naomi talked, Ava listened with rapt attention.

  My woman, as beautiful as she was, cared for things and people where beauty was hidden to the discerning eyes. Sure, Ava liked to feel good and look good. But she’d gladly offered her sweater when she saw Naomi shiver from the cool breeze. When Naomi was about to feed Ava’s mom lunch, Ava told Naomi to sit with me and just relax.

  It was when Naomi recounted to me how Ava defended her against an employee of her father who was sexually harassing her that had me do an about-face regarding any lingering doubts that Ava was a good woman.

  “She’s suffered a lot you know.” Naomi’s accent was evident, but I could understand her. “Sometimes the scars may not be as obvious as mine are, but that girl,” her head tilted towards Ava who was describing the scenery of the lake to her mom, “has gone through so much.”

  “Has he ever laid a hand on her?” Just asking the question made me want to howl in anger or drive a fist through a brick wall.

  “No.” Her left hand visibly shook in slight tremors, I politely took the small lunch basket of oranges she was holding. “Mr. Troudeau is a very difficult man. He can be very cold. And he became cruel after Mrs. Troudeau’s accident. Not to his wife. But to his daughter. Hijo, Ava takes it all in because she loves her mother muchísimo.” Sitting on the small concrete bench, she tapped on her chest. “When that girl loves, there’s no stopping her. She’s loyal to a fault.”

  “I know.” I couldn’t deny that. “She’s been my sister’s best friend for more than a decade. Even when my sister was in the hospital, Ava never left her.”

  “Imagine that…” Her voice was reflective as she slowly peeled an orange. We’d shared the chicken and roast beef sandwiches they’d brought for what’s turned out to be a picnic by the lake. “Why do you think she wants you to know about Mrs. Troudeau? When this is something she’s not told her amiga?”

  Ava’s tinkling laughter coincided with her mom’s chuckles, their dark heads closely attached that you couldn’t tell where Ava’s hair ended and where her mom’s began. I found myself smiling at the scene unfolding just a few feet away. “She wants me to know because she doesn’t want to lose me.”

  “Si. Why is that?” Naomi questioned, she turned her head to admire the beautiful sunset developing in front of us. “Why doesn’t she want to lose you?”

  I digested her words for a few minutes and replied, “Because she cares about me.”

  “Ah.” A hint of a smile transformed her face. If she didn’t have the visible scars, Naomi would be a looker, even at her age. “Even as a child, Ava knew who she loved. You see, hijo,” Lifting her index and middle fingers to her lips, she finished, “when that girl loves…she loves forever. Remember that.”

  Ava loves me?

  She’s never said it.

  Naomi trudged slowly to join Ava and her mom. I walked to join the group of women who had become very important to me in a span of hours. I caught Naomi giving me a meaningful grin as Ava wiped the left lower side of my mouth with what could have been a leftover from the chocolate milk shake I’d bought for us from the snack bar earlier. I wouldn’t know the difference if Ava loved me or not. She’s always looked at me the same way. Even when we were younger.

  I leaned in for a small kiss, to which she’d asked, “You okay?”

  “Yep. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Hmm…I don’t know.” She put her hands inside my front jean pockets and tilted her head up. “You might have changed your mind after you’ve listened to all my childhood escapades.”

  “Duchess…” Duchess was now sort of a joke between us. “It would take a lot more than you sticking bubble gum all over your mom’s prized vase, diagnosing your puppy with a digestion problem and feeding him Tums, and shaving all your dolls to make me run the other way.”

  Her face heated up and a shy smile appeared by the corners of her mouth. “Ha.”

  Hooking my thumb on her chin, I pretended to ponder. “I think the deal breaker was when you told Bee you’d asked your mom to order Chia pets to look like your Greek gods. What a way to desecrate those iconic symbols of…studliness.”

  Hold
ing back my laughter, she elbowed me by my ribcage. “Okay, fine. You’re not running away. Even if you did, you know I’d come chasing after you, right?”

  She said it lightheartedly, but Naomi’s words hung in my head, “Even as a child, she knew who she loved…”

  Could it be true?

  Ava has loved me for that long?

  Nah.

  She would have said something by now if she had. Plus there’s no way she did. Most of the time, she couldn’t wait to get out of the room if I was in the room when we were kids. She just liked Bee and barely tolerated me half the time.

  Naomi was wrong. Ava might care a lot for me now, but there’s no way she could’ve carried a torch for me for that long.

  When our bodies molded inside each other that night, I felt the difference between just sex and making love. Being with her, inside her, has always been different. But there was a deeper connection between us now. It’s brought by completely baring our secrets and fears to each other. Now we’ve reached a higher, extremely satisfying connection. By revealing to me what she valued most, she’s given me the power to break her if I had the inclination to.

  As she laid her soft, small hands across my chest, I caught a glimpse of Ava’s show of contentment – her cheeks pink and flushed from our sweaty exertions, her breathing settling into an even rhythm, and her thick and overly long eyelashes resting peacefully on her face.

  I brought her right hand to my lips, kissing the indentations between her knuckles tenderly, carefully so as not to wake her up.

  I would protect her from anything, anyone.

  Somehow, this bossy, spunky woman has chipped off the walls I’ve built around my heart, slowly galvanizing her hold on it, and for some crazy reason, I wasn’t so scared at the thought of having it in her safekeeping.

  “Ava, you seem distracted tonight,” Emmett leaned into my ear, his brows bunched up, his blue gaze probing, observing. For the past twenty minutes he’d been trying to get me involved in the conversation with his father and two of the senator’s friends.

  I had been nodding my head, giving them small smiles, nodding, and going “hmm” at what they were saying. Emmett must have noticed my distraction.

  I glanced down at my phone and replied, “I’m sorry, Daria’s sending me some last-minute details regarding my Hong Kong trip.”

  Thankfully the Senator and his friends were now discussing some sort of bill that had them engrossed in each other.

  “Is everything okay with your trip?” he asked quizzically, his broad shoulders bunching up in the navy suit he pulled off effortlessly. He leaned in again, and this time I lifted my head in a nod and turned my neck the other way. The other way being the direction to which my boyfriend was standing. Even with the few feet between us, I knew that Milo was watching me, watching Emmett and I, and I felt the vibes of irritation and anger he was sending my way.

  Tonight was all about Next Generation’s Fight Club. It was the official reveal to the public. A select few of the media were invited and had been handed scripts on how the unveiling will be brought to the public. Daria had mentioned that one of her friends, who was also a reporter, almost fainted at all the excitement and build-up that the public reveal was going to bring to her news company. When my father played his hand, he went all out.

  In a matter of hours, once the word was out of the fight club he’s built, I have no doubt that Troudeau Enterprises’ stocks would skyrocket. With the backing of the most prominent lawmakers and celebrities in the country, this latest venture would be his biggest yet. Not inviting the public in the beginning was part of his conniving genius, he gained the trust and the buy-in of everyone in this room so a whisper of failure was not even an option.

  “Ladies, messieurs, thank you for being here tonight.” My father’s towering form stood in the middle of the room packed with over 500 guests. He cleared his throat and gestured for Daniel to give him a glass of Perrier. Everyone in the room went silent. He didn’t need a microphone. Just the sight of him standing in the middle of the room was enough to quiet the noise and stop all movement and chatter. It was the power that billions bought.

  “I am extremely pleased that all of you are in attendance.” His French accent, the one I could imitate without any difficulty, was on full show. When it showed up, it meant that he was at his top form, his ultra-confident swagger in place. Throughout the years, my father’s accent adapted a more American approach, but when he was at home, at his invulnerable self, the side of him, the one he loved, the French side, came out. The other half of him, one he’d tried to cover up because of how his German mother left him when he was seven, was a side he’d never acknowledged.

  He lifted a hand and pointed towards the ceiling. “This would not have been possible without the grace of Him.” I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. What a hypocrite.

  To the public, he showed how pious he was and many of the charities he associated Troudeau Enterprises with were religious organizations. I doubted the god he believed in would ever be amenable to what the cruelty he was putting his wife to, denying her the chance to regain her memories, and keeping her as a shameful secret.

  My father went on to lift his right hand with the glass and saluted the audience. He described his hopes for Next Gen’s fight club – that it would be the premiere fight club in the world; that others would probably imitate it, but this club would be the only one of its kind. When he’d proclaimed, “This is how high society does fight club,” the audience roared in applause and cheers.

  A bunch of sickos.

  I glanced back at the man who looked ravishing in a black suit, his green eyes complimenting the naturally tanned skin that a lot of the people who had fake tans in this room envied. He gave me a dark look before I saw my phone light up with an incoming text.

  Milo: I’m cutting his hands off and feeding him his balls. Remove his hands from your chair right now.

  A shiver of excitement and the thrill of possession made me clench my phone tighter. I’m pretty sure I would be paying for it in bed tonight. The past month and a half has been both a challenging and revealing time for our relationship. After I’d revealed my mother’s condition to Milo, he had been okay in the vaguest sense of the word, with me dating Emmett in public. Milo knew I had no desire to be with Emmett and that I was only trying to please my father.

  I’d been out with Emmett three times since that day Milo met my mom, and each time I made sure to wear my most conservative clothes and removed them as soon as I walked into Milo’s place. My man’s temper had no equal. It was probably the reason why the last guy he fought, a guy almost twice his size, a heavyweight Samoan martial arts expert, was knocked down in less than five minutes. His sexual drive, his need for me, seemed to have increased by a ten-fold. He’s had me on almost every surface in his house and I’ve actually had to wash a few loads because I was too embarrassed to have Brynn visit and find out I’d dirtied up her sheets. I was just trying to look for an old yearbook when Milo found me in Brynn’s room and well, the yearbook was forgotten the second he touched my butt.

  I typed in my reply. “Calm down, trigger hands. YOU are the only one who has me.”

  Milo: I better be.

  Me: Gosh, babe, like YOU would ever allow anyone else to have me.

  Milo: Damn right.

  I scooted my chair surreptitiously away from Emmett, who was enraptured with my father’s speech. While I liked feeling that Milo was possessive and jealous, I wasn’t one to go on and on about it. I’d never been the kind of girl who needed a guy to show he wanted me in public or in private. Wanting someone should be free from all the entanglements of unnecessary jealousy. Although I’d have to say that Dia, Milo’s ex, current accounts manager of his foundation, a red-haired bitch who had boobs that spilled out of the light green strapless EVIE dress she was wearing tonight, was the one woman who could make my blood overheat in jealousy. She was currently sitting with Milo, and even if there were five other people in their tab
le, her presence riled me up like no other. I considered myself a stable, pragmatic woman, but just the sight of those ginger strands makes me want to go Amazonian on her butt. Grr, I hate that bitch. Milo has reassured me that he’s not going back to her. Of that I had no doubt. But just her being close to him or being associated with him makes me want to pour the red wine from my glass, maybe the whole bottle, at the top of her head, pull her curly hair out of her head, or just simply pluck her eyebrows one-by-one until none was left. She came between Kieran and Milo. Any woman in her right mind would not even go there but she was a vindictive, vile person. This was the first time I’ve seen her since bowling night and hopefully, the last.