“I got a female trainer. Her name is Violet March. Do you know her?”
“Not personally, but I’ve heard good things.”
I heard she was a ball-buster, but that’s what Kristie needed, Someone to stand up to her and not take her crap. She was quite the snob when she wanted to be.
“So how is the fighting going?”
In Kristie language that translated to: Are you still raking in the bucks? Kristie liked the finer things in life. Unfortunately for her she hadn’t found a sugar daddy that she was okay with being seen with in public. So, she settled for me because she thought there was a chance I’d be famous someday.
“Good, I’m winning, a lot,” I texted back. “I have one tomorrow night.”
“Oh yay!” she replied. Then there was a pause between texts for about fifteen minutes. The one that came then said, “Can I go?”
I told myself that at least she was asking now and not just showing up. That was an improvement, right?
“Yeah. How about we have dinner after?”
What the hell? Did I just ask my crazy ex-girlfriend to dinner? I guess I was the one that just said you shouldn’t hold people’s past against them. Everyone can change.
“I’d love to,” she texted back. We made arrangements to meet after the fight. I ended the conversation feeling better. It was something to look forward to…I think.
Chapter Four
Alexa
“Alexa? Can I come in?” My dad was knocking on my bedroom door for the third time that day. I was still in bed. I hardly got out of bed anymore. I was so focused on feeling sorry for myself that I hadn’t thought about what I was doing to him. The poor thing, I was such a mess and he was so worried about me. I felt terrible, but I didn’t know how to shake this unrelenting pain. I don’t even think anyone who hadn’t experienced it would understand that this kind of emotional pain is real, physical pain.
“Yeah Dad, come on in.”
He pushed open the door and stood there for a minute while his eyes adjusted to the dim light. The sun was still out, but I had pulled the drapes so none of it was allowed to filter in. It had begun to piss me off that it dared to still shine while Emma lay in a cold, dark hole in the ground.
“Alexa,” he said as he came towards the bed. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how to help you. Baby you haven’t gotten out of bed for days and you’ve hardly eaten a bite of anything. I had a thought I wanted to talk to you about and honey I know you’re probably going to say no, but hear me out…”
“Dad, I’m really okay. I wish that you wouldn’t worry.”
“How am I not supposed to worry? You’re wasting away in here.”
“I’m grieving, Daddy. It’ll get better…I think.”
“Not if you stay in this bed all the time. I think we should take you to see a doctor.”
“A doctor? Daddy, I don’t need to see a doctor. I’m not sick.”
“Maybe you just need something to help you until the grief passes.”
“Something like what?”
“Something for the depression or anxiety or whatever is holding you back from being able to live your life.”
He thought I needed to be put on meds for my depression. “No Dad! I’m not crazy. I’m not taking pills. I can cope with this. I just need time and I need to do it in my own way.”
“I just want what’s best for you, baby. You’re nineteen years old and you’ve made a virtual prisoner of yourself in your room. It’s just not healthy and it can’t keep going on.”
I felt the tears coming again. I tried to swallow them, but lately they had a mind of their own. “I just don’t understand, Daddy. Why her? Why did she leave me?” I dissolved into a torrent of tears. He sat down next to me and gently held me like he used to when I was a little girl. I cried until the front of his shirt was soaked. When I was finally able to stop, I felt exhausted. Who knew that crying took so much out of you? I pulled back and said, “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting like such a big baby…”
“Don’t say that and don’t apologize. Nineteen year olds are not supposed to have to see their best friends buried. I’m so sorry about that and I wish that I knew why myself. But you and I were just talking about how full of life she was and how happy she was. Emma wouldn’t want this life for you, baby. She wouldn’t have wanted to be the cause of this.”
He was right. Emma would have kicked my ass right out of bed. But Emma wasn’t here…I could get up, but then what? Now that I told Ian I didn’t want to see him again, there was nobody in my life that truly understood. Dad was trying, bless his heart, but he didn’t really get it. Emma was one of a kind and you had to know her the way we did to understand why we loved her so much. I felt like every day that passed without bringing up her name with someone or talking about a memory, made her that much more gone…if that made any sense. I missed her and if I was being honest, I missed Ian too. I’d been laying here thinking about him a lot. I wondered if I had been too hasty…too judgmental. I did have a habit of that. It was one of a handful of things I could thank by mother for.
“Hey Dad?”
“Yeah honey?”
“Do you think people can change?”
“What do you mean, like their personality?”
“Yeah, or their morals and values. If a person makes decisions that are clouded by personal gain rather than right or wrong or possible consequences, do you think that person is destined…or doomed to repeat the same behaviors over and over?”
“No, absolutely not. It’s human nature to make bad decisions or mistakes. It’s part of growing up for most of us. I did a lot of things when I was younger that I regret. But since you can’t change the past, you have to just move forward and make better decisions as you go along. If I met the guy I was twenty years ago, I wouldn’t be able to stand him.”
It was what I wanted to hear, yet it wasn’t. I felt terrible. He was right. We all make bad decisions. I was as guilty of it as anyone. I wouldn’t want my mistakes held against me. I wouldn’t think it was fair if I’d learned from them and grew from them. Ian was a kid then when he made all of those bad choices. He’s a man now. Those mistakes he made were a long time ago and they probably had a lot to do with shaping who he is. What I needed to get through my fat head was that none of them or all of them put together makes him up completely. It probably says more about his character that he was able to overcome those things and put his life on the right path. “Thanks Daddy,” I told him. “I’ll get in the shower and come out and make dinner here in a bit.”
“I’ve already ordered Chinese Food,” he said, “All your favorites.”
My weight was another source of worry for him. I’d lost close to ten pounds since Emma died. I never seem to have an appetite anymore. “Sounds good,” I told him. “I’ll be out in a bit.” He kissed my forehead and told me he loved me before he left me alone. When he left, I thought about Ian again. He helped me with my grief process so much that I’m sure being without him to talk to was what was wrong with me now. I missed him so much that my chest ached doubly bad. I know that Emma loved her brother and she was proud of him. She used to talk about him all the time. Emma wouldn’t have been that proud if he was still doing things that he wasn’t supposed to. She would have still loved him, but I know she wouldn’t have supported him using any kind of drugs or cheating in any way. If he had changed and I was holding all of that against him…I was the one that was wrong.
I wondered again what Emma would have thought of me and Ian together as I finally pulled my butt up out of the bed. I had to go out there and at least try to eat some of that food or Dad was going to worry himself sick. I looked up and said, “So what about it Emma? What did you think of Ian and I being together, however brief it was?”
I stood up and my phone began to make its little alarm sound. It startled me. I didn’t remember setting an alarm. I reached for it and when I saw the face, I remembered. It was letting me know that Ian had a fight in one day. I ha
d put the dates all in at the last fight I went to so that I wouldn’t miss any. It was a pretty big coincidence that the alarm sounded at the moment I was talking out loud to Emma about Ian. “Was that a sign?” I asked her. Then I realized that if she was here she would have made the sign of an “L” across her forehead and said, “Here’s your sign, goofball.”
I chose to take it as a sign. Maybe only because that’s what I wanted it to be. But I decided to go to the fight. I really wanted to see him, so badly that it was bordering on need.
“Thank you, Emma.” I said aloud to the room again.
Chapter Five
Alexa
I woke up feeling lighter the next day. I’m not sure if it was the Chinese food and conversation with my dad the night before, or the fact that I knew I was going to get to see Ian at the fight tonight. Dad and I talked about some choices for my major. It felt so much better to have something to look forward to. I got out of bed in the morning before Dad went to work like a normal person and fixed him breakfast. He was as happy to see me up as I was to be up and out of bed, maybe even happier.
After Dad left for work, I started cleaning. I took apart the house room by room and even cleaned out closets and drawers. I wiped everything down and washed every piece of dirty laundry. By the time I was done the whole place smelled fresh and was shining. I felt as renewed as the place looked.
Before the fight I took a long, hot shower. I did some of my best thinking in the shower and while I was in there I decided that although I was going to the fight and I was excited to see Ian, I knew that it wouldn’t be the time or place to ambush him with my apology and the fact that I was really hoping we could try again. I would call him later, in a few days and we could talk about all of that then.
I dressed in jeans and a T-shirt and for the first time in almost a week, I left the house. Somehow the air smelled sweeter, maybe since I hadn’t smelled it for so long. I drove to the fight and got in line for my ticket. Watching the fights was not just about seeing Ian. I loved the atmosphere. There was electricity to it; everyone was so alive and full of their own adrenaline that it was like an energy drink for me. I sat near the back again next to an older couple. They were really cute. He was dressed in a suit and a fedora and she was wearing a dress that looked like she’d had it since the 1950’s but it was adorable on her. While we waited for the revelries to begin, the old man said, “Why is such a pretty young girl here alone…if you don’t mind me asking?”
“One of the fighters is a friend of mine,” I said. At least I hoped that Ian and I could still be friends.
“Which one?” he asked.
“Ian.”
“Oh, we’re here to see the other one. I don’t know either of them, but my son said I should put my money on Wreckin’ Ralph.”
“I hope that was wise,” I said. “I don’t know this Ralph character, but Ian’s pretty darned good.”
“How’s his boxing game?”
“The best,” I said, like I knew anything about it. “He’s super-fast, so he’s great on his feet.”
“Hmm, then I should hope that Ralph takes him down to the floor.”
I laughed and he did too and then he said, “My name is Buster. I was known as Buster Bruiser in my day, and this is my wife, Rose.”
“You were a fighter?”
“He was one of the best,” his wife said. Buster was smiling from ear to ear.
“I was the welter-weight champion two years running in ’52 and ’53.”
“Wow, awesome! Well, I’m pleased to meet you both. I do hope that your Ralph loses, but maybe if you don’t mind you could explain some of the moves for me? I don’t really understand a lot of it yet.”
“Okay. I just hope you don’t mind a little cussing. Rose says that I have a potty mouth.”
“That he does,” she said.
The announcer interrupted us then. He announced Wreckin’ Ralph first. The guy that jogged down the aisle was big. Height-wise he was probably the same as Ian, but his shoulders looked like they were four feet across. His nose was crooked like it had been broken a few times and I think part of his ear must have been torn off and sewed back on…crooked, at some point. Now I hated the thought of Ian beating him. The poor guy definitely didn’t have looks in his corner and this sport could only make that worse.
Next we heard, “Ian the “Iceman” Michaels!” I clapped and whistled and then watched as he came down toward the octagon. He was wearing dark blue shorts. His eyes looked really blue tonight. Just the sight of him made my heart flutter. Once the preliminaries were taken care of, the bell rang and the two men faced off in the center of the octagon.
They danced around each other for a few seconds and then Ralph was all of a sudden on Ian in a flurry of punches and then a kick. Ian managed to dodge most of them and then I saw him go in for a couple of jabs. One of them caught Ralph on the bottom side of his jaw. It looked like it hurt as he stumbled back. Ian didn’t give him any time to recover before throwing what Buster told me was a “hell of a right cross”. That connected with Ralph’s crooked nose and blood flew out, spattering them both. I think that must have pissed Ralph off a little because he came back with a direct hit to Ian’s chest. Ian was knocked back into the mesh and Ralph continued coming at him, throwing punches. Ian ducked out of most of them and came back at him with a swing kick (according to Buster) that caught him in the upper chest and knocked him over to Ian’s left side. Ian didn’t miss a beat, punching out with his left hand and finishing up with a round kick and an elbow to the back of the guy’s neck, knocking him face first to the mat. Buster let out a litany of cuss words that Rose elbowed him in the side for. Ian was on the guy’s back, trying to get an arm around his massive neck. Ralph was resisting and he’d gotten his legs up and around Ian’s waist. He’d just managed to throw Ian off as the bell rang, signifying the end of round one.
Chapter Six
Alexa
Both fighters looked tired as the bell rang for the second round. Ralph’s poor crooked nose was bandaged now and Ian looked like he was limping a little bit. Ralph was quick to strike this time and he threw out a fast upper cut. Ian dodged part of it. The blow landed, but not squarely so hopefully it didn’t hurt as much. It still made me wince. Ian threw a punch that caught Ralph square on the jaw and actually knocked him to the ground. Ralph scrambled to his feet before Ian could pounce on him and he came up fighting. He swung his leg out and hit Ian hard in the obliques. I watched him double over and Ralph kept coming at him. Ian stood up to move out of the way of another kick and when he did, Ralph landed a punch that hit him directly in the middle of his chest.
Ian fell to the mat on his back and I could tell that he was having trouble breathing. The big, crooked-nosed son-of-a-bitch didn’t let up, throwing another kick at him while he was trying to struggle to his feet. That one caught him in the side and tossed him over into the mesh of the octagon. I was getting nervous as I watched Ralph grab Ian around his chest and push him so that he was face down on the mat. Ian was struggling and I was trying to see his face because I was so worried about him getting air. I didn’t notice that he was using his legs. He got ahold of Ralph’s legs and in one swift move he had him in a scissor hold. Ralph was using his elbows on the back of Ian’s face and the side of his head. At this point, I just wanted it to stop. The bell blessedly, finally rang. Ralph got up off of Ian and then I watched Ian struggle to his feet. He wiped his arm across his nose…it was bleeding.
His trainer gave him water and stuck gauze in his nose and did his best to help him relax. Ian looked spent. I looked over on Ralph’s side of the octagon and realized that he did too. He was still bleeding from his nose and he was sweating profusely. His wide chest was heaving, gulping in air like he couldn’t get it fast enough. I thought, and Buster did too, that it was safe to say it was still anybody’s fight.
The third bell rang and I wondered if Ian was as glad to know it was the last round as I was. I couldn’t imagine putting my b
ody through all of that…over and over. Ian rushed towards Ralph immediately, throwing punches. Ralph was in defensive mode. Ian forced the other man back against the mesh and that was when Ralph had had enough. He used both of his big hands to push Ian back off of him. Ian went back about two feet, stumbled and regained his footing quickly. Ralph took advantage of Ian’s momentary loss of composure with a round kick to his side. That knocked Ian further back and this time he went down on one knee, but managed to get back up before Ralph was on him. Ralph hadn’t expected Ian to get up so quickly and completely missed dodging the right hook Ian threw out that landed hard on the side of his head. It knocked him to the floor. He rolled and began to struggle up as Ian pounced from behind.
Ralph wasn’t ready to be taken down however and continued to struggle to his feet, almost carrying Ian up piggyback with him. Before he was all the way to his feet, Ian let go and was ready to land a kick to the center of the other man’s chest. That sent Ralph stumbling back, but he didn’t go down. He used the momentum of his back against the octagon to propel him forward into Ian. The problem for Ralph was that it propelled him right into Ian’s fist and the hardest punch I’d seen him throw yet. Ralph hit the mat with a bounce. He didn’t get back up. The referee took a pulse and then announced Ian the winner. I looked at Buster and said, “I’m sorry about your money, but now you know not to bet against Ian next time.”
Buster grinned and winked. “You got it little missy. Hang on to that one, he’s gonna be wearing one of them big belts someday.”
I took one last look at Ian as he went by. He was still bleeding a little bit from his nose, but he was smiling from ear to ear. I wanted to tell him I was proud of him, but I stuck to my guns. This wasn’t the time or place for that serious conversation. I’d let him enjoy his victory tonight and then in a day or two when I can work up my nerve, I’ll call him…maybe.
Chapter Seven
Dirty Biker (An MC Motorcycle Romance) (The Maxwell Family) Page 34
