She says, “I’m done. Do you want to play?”
“You’re done playing?”
“For tonight. I don’t want to give them back their money, just yet. Do you want to play?”
“I don’t play the slots.”
“Oh, what do you play?”
“Blackjack.”
“Well, let’s play some blackjack, then.”
I take Leah’s hand and lead her to the blackjack tables. Gus and Dove are sitting at one of the tables. I nod when he looks up.
“Come on, let’s sit down,” Leah says.
“It’s not that easy,” I say, without looking at her. “You have to scan the tables and pick the right one.” She doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her watching me. “This one.” I lead her to a table on the right side of the room. I explain the rules of the game quickly before we reach the table. We both sit down at the only two seats left at the table. I place small bets at first and wait patiently for our cards. I stay and Leah wants another card. My focus is on the card sharks sitting at the table with us. We both lose and I place another small bet for Leah and for me.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers.
I wink at her and say, “It’s all right.”
We get our cards and this time, Leah stays and I get another card, then another one. The guy on the right is tapping his right index finger. A clear sign he’s nervous. He doesn’t have a high hand. And the guy on the left is smiling. He’s bluffing. The other two players sit expressionlessly and I haven’t had time to figure them out. Leah wins with a 20 in her hand. She screams and I laugh at her. Beginner’s luck.
“I’m ready,” she whispers. I pick up the unused chips and we leave.
We pass Bethany and Kyle near the entrance to the casino. “Leaving so soon?” Kyle asks.
“We’ve been here awhile. Every time Leah wins, she’s ready to go,” I say.
“I’m keeping my money,” she says seriously.
“Will we see you guys for breakfast?” I ask. This hotel has an excellent buffet.
“Sound like a plan. See you guys in the morning.” Bethany leans up and gives Leah a hug before taking Kyle’s hand and walking off towards the casino.
The next night, we are standing outside of the Bellagio Hotel, where the fight is scheduled. Gus explains that when he went to buy additional tickets no ringside tickets were left. He apologizes to everyone and he seems sincere. I look over at Leah, but she isn’t buying it. She stands there wearing a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt that says “Grether Rocks” in bold black letters written across the back. I laugh as I try to look serious.
“Grether, is this funny to you?” she demands.
“No, not at all.”
“You guys get ringside seats and we girls get to sit where?”
“Really, Gus?” Dove says, looking very upset with her hands on her hips. She is about the same height as Leah with long blond curly hair. “If you think we’re going to be seated in the back of the damn room, you have another think coming.”
My dad, Tim, and Kyle just stand there. They don’t want to get involved in it. Smart men.
“Dove, I had to call everyone I know to get these seats. The ones they offered me didn’t have you girls sitting together at all. It wasn’t until I threw in Bobby’s name that they gave me these seats. Dove, they’re not in the back of the room. Look at the seating chart — these are actually excellent seats,” he says, showing them the seating chart. Dude, you shouldn’t have said that.
“Well, if they’re that good, you guys sit there,” Leah says, snatching the seating chart out of Gus’ hands. He looks at me for help. Even Gus fears her. I look at her dad for help and damn — he’s looking anywhere but at me. Thanks, Tim.
“Leah,” I say softly. She has her arms crossed tapping her foot on the black marble floor. “We aren’t here for fun. The only reason we are here is because we want to learn Kennedy’s moves and try to figure out why he’s been in hiding. “Do you think the further away we sit, we’ll have a better view?”
“No.”
“We need to be up close to be able to study him. You understand this, don’t you?”
“Yes.” She pushes her bottom lip out and she looks so sexy. I just want to lean down and suck it.
I say, “If you insist, we’ll swap seats with you girls. If ringside is what you want, we’ll exchange places.”
She doesn’t say anything and she doesn’t have to. I can tell she understands this is serious to me. We file into the room and we walk the girls to their seats. I look around the room, and the girls really do have pretty good seats. Dove and Gus talk quietly in the aisle as the girls take their seats.
I say, “Not bad seats, huh, Leah?”
“They aren’t bad, but they could be better.” She smiles, and I know she is getting over her attitude.
“Sit on the end,” I tell her.
“Why?”
“In case you need to pee, you won’t be excusing yourself through all these people.” In case you need to get out in a hurry to pee, you’ll be on the end and you probably will not pee yourself. I think this; I don’t say it out loud; I keep it to myself. Mama Grether didn’t raise her little boy Robert up to be no fool.
“Oh, yeah, good idea. Where will you be sitting?”
I look down at the ring and point to the area our seats are. “Right there. If you need me, text me, I’ll have my phone on me.”
“Okay, Ace, I love you.”
“Sweets, I love you, too.”
Chapter Six: Las Vegas Fight Night and a Loaded Gun
Leah
I watch as Robert makes his way towards the front of the ring. A few people recognize him and start pointing at him. Someone yells, “Grether rocks,” and I have a proud moment. I hate Robert fighting, but it feels good when people recognize him for his hard work. My man is a rock star. Robert acknowledges him with a slight wave, trying not to draw attention to himself. The flashing spotlights shine on Robert and a second later, Robert is on the big-screen monitor. The crowd erupts with yells and screams. Robert shyly waves to the camera. I am no longer looking at Robert but watching him on the screen. Gus waves to the camera to get them to stop.
“They’ll be talking about Bobby on the pre-fight announcements,” Dove whispers. “It’s just a matter of time before Kennedy gets word that Bobby Grether is here to watch the fight.”
“How do you know that?”
“I’m a badass reporter, that’s how,” she says, laughing. “I bet that whoever is sponsoring this fight will be out to try to talk to Bobby and Gus.”
While we talk, we keep our eyes on the monitor that is now showing the people in the audience.
“Why? I’m sure he isn’t the only boxer here to see this fight tonight.”
“It’s because they’re rivals. This is a big deal. They know Bobby isn’t here because he’s a fan.”
I watch as someone walks over to Robert and embraces him in a hug. The camera catches it and soon Robert and the man are on the big screen. “Who’s that?” I ask Dove.
“Really, Leah?”
I look at her in surprise.
Bethany leans in and says, “That’s my future husband. Sugar Ray Tiger, pro-boxer and the hottest man who ever boxed — I mean he is the second hottest man who ever boxed.”
I look at him again and I have to wonder how they knew that. “I knew that,” I lie.
“Yeah, sure you did,” Bethany leans back in her seat and Dove says. “I didn’t know they were friends.”
Obviously, I didn’t know either. I watch as Robert and Sugar Ray Tiger waves to the crowd of spectators. The crowd waves back and screams obscenities at the two boxers. I smile and sit back in my seat. I thought boxing was a man sport, but obviously, I was mistaken. A lot of women are here tonight.
Dove scopes out the room, looking for I had no idea who. On the monitor flashes movie stars Bruce Willis and Tom Hanks. I look around trying to see where they are seated.
Dove whispers to me, “Tom
Hanks has a well-deserved reputation as one of the nicest people in Hollywood. He has made hit movie after hit money — oops, movie — but of course once in a while he makes a dud movie. He produced, directed, and starred in the critically panned and unpopular movie Larry Crowne. Later, he met a couple who told him that the movie ‘wasn’t that good,’ so he offered them a refund. The couple accepted the $25.”
“If we can find him, maybe we can get his autograph.”
“We better not. I’m sure that giving the first 30,000 autographs is exciting, but after that it gets kind of boring.”
The monitor also flashes Michael Jordan and then Demi Moore. Awkward. Demi and Bruce aren’t together, although I wish they were. The screen also flashes back to Robert again.
“I have to pee.”
“I’ll come with you, Leah,” my mom says.
By the time we get back to the fight, they have already started to bring out the opponents.
“Kennedy looks like he’s on steroids,” I whisper to Dove.
“He’s definitely gotten a lot bigger this year.”
We sit there and watch the fight. It’s more brutal and takes longer than the fights Robert has been in. Kennedy looks pretty good, but his opponent, Tyler “Striker” Greene, looks like a bloody mess. When I can’t take it anymore, I say, “I have to pee again.” I’m grateful when no one acknowledges me. I stand up and Robert is looking behind him. I wave to him to let him know I’m all right. Once he is satisfied, he turns back around.
When I get back, Dove is holding up a cosmetic mirror and dabbing her face with a powder puff. I watch the fight and I watch her from the corner of my eye. When I realize what she is doing, I can’t believe it. I look around and make sure no one else is watching her.
“What are you doing?”
Without looking at me, she says, “What does it look like?”
“It looks like you’re applying powder to your face.”
She whispers, “Good, that’s what it’s supposed to look like.”
“We can go to jail for this. You aren’t allowed to video record this fight.”
“I know, so hush. I’m a reporter, how do you think I get my stories?”
“Oh, you’re good.”
“I know.”
I look around and no one seems to notice, so I continue to watch the fight. Greene’s eyes are both swollen, he’s bleeding, and he looks exhausted. It’s the end of round 9 and Kennedy looks tired, but he is in far better shape than Greene. I am thankful that we are seated at a distance. There is no way I would be able to stand being that close to the ring and watching two boxers pummel each other. During the one-minute break time, the boxers rest and get taken care of medically. The camera catches Robert and Gus on the monitor. They are both in deep conversation and they don’t even notice.
“Look at Kennedy’s face,” Dove whispers.
I look away from the monitor and look at Kennedy. He looks away from the screen and into the crowd; he’s scanning the crowd for Robert. My stomach does a flip at the expression on his face. Kennedy finds Robert and stares blankly at him. Robert and Gus don’t notice, but my dad does. Dad nudges Robert and he looks up and locks eyes on Kennedy. Robert and Gus are still on the monitor from one camera, and Kennedy is on the other monitor from another camera. The crowd erupts with cheering, boos, and a mixture of both. I think I’m going to get sick. Kennedy points his glove at Robert and mouths, “Bobby, you’re next.”
Robert mouths back, “Bring it on, Bitch,” with both hands up in the air.
“Oh, shit, it’s on now,” Dove says. The bell dings and Kennedy and Greene are at it again. They got the bleeding to stop on Greene’s face, but he doesn’t look good. Kennedy looks like he just got his second wind.
“Kennedy looks revived,” I say.
“It’s the adrenaline from seeing Bobby in the crowd,” Dove says as she gets out her mirror and starts video recording again. “This will be it.”
I hear Dove, but I can’t look at her. I watch as the boxers get in the middle of the ring and Kennedy throws one hard solid punch and Greene stumbles and falls against the ropes before landing on the mat. He does not move — nothing comes from Greene. The referee steps in and separates the two boxers. Another referee begins to count and Kennedy is focused only on Robert and vice versa. If anyone is talking, I can’t hear them. The adrenaline is interfering with my hearing. I swear I can hear my heart beating in my ears. My eyes are focused on Greene, Robert, and Kennedy. I don’t know how, but I swear I’m watching all three without taking my eyes off of any of them. The bell rings and they hold up Kennedy’s arm declaring him the winner. Still no movement from Greene. Greene’s coaches and trainer rush over to him. Kennedy and Robert are still staring at one other. A doctor or a paramedic comes onto the mat and checks Greene out before applying a neck brace. They carefully place him on a backboard before removing him from the ring. A thick pool of blood is on the white boxing mat where Greene was lying. The referee announces Kennedy as the continuing champion and hands him the championship belt. Before Kennedy walks off the mat he looks at Robert, points his glove at him, and says, “I’m coming for you,” before he jumps down and is escorted out of the room.
“I’m going to be sick,” I get up and run to the restroom.
Bethany, Dove, Mom, and Margie all come into the bathroom behind me.
“I’ll be all right, just give me a minute,” I yell from inside the stall.
After I dry heave for several minutes, Dove yells, “Robert wants to see you.”
I dry heave some more and say, “Just give me a minute.”
I hear screaming and I know Robert is in here.
“Leah, open the door.”
I dry heave some more. “Give me a minute.”
I hear water running and he says, “Open up.”
I do. He hands me some wet paper towels and I dab my forehead.
“Sorry, ya’ll, but I have to pee,” someone with a southern accent yells from the doorway. I hear heels tapping across the restroom floor, and someone says, “Bobby Grether is in the ladies’ room. If I didn’t have to pee, I’d be really excited about this.”
“Better?” he asks me. “Because I’m not leaving here until you are.”
I flush the toilet and Robert escorts me by my elbow to the sink. I wash my hands and splash some cool water on my face before leaving. When we get to the front lobby of the hotel, a man in a suit and tie and another man who was with Kennedy in the ring are talking to Gus, Walter, and Tim. They appear to be in deep conversation.
“Leah, stay here.”
“Robert?”
“Stay here. I need to see what they want.”
I stay with the girls because I don’t want to cause a scene in public. I know when and how far I can push Robert and right now isn’t the place or the time. I hear a siren leaving the hotel, and I look out the window to try to see it. Everyone’s talking, but my attention is on the guys, Robert mostly. He talks and looks at me on occasion. After several minutes, they all shake hands and leave.
A limo pulls up and Robert says, “Our ride is here.”
I watch as Dove and Bethany practically run for the car.
I ask, “How did you get this?”
“Compliments of the hotel,” Robert answers.
“At what price?” I don’t take his arm and I walk through the large double doors alone.
“We’ll talk when we get to our room,” he says when he gets behind me.
“I’m ready to go now.”
“Not yet. We have a show to see first.”
We have champagne and strawberries as the limo drives us around. Of course, I’m not drinking and I’m not celebrating either. I know a hotel just doesn’t give you a limo and show tickets for nothing. Either Robert has lost a lot of money and intends to lose a lot more, or this has something to do with boxing.
We get out of the limo and the driver hands Robert an envelope. We bypass the line and are granted V.I.P. access into the b
uilding quickly. I hold onto Robert’s arm as we are led down a dark hall and through a set of double doors into a large elegant room. Red carpet, white linen tablecloths, and beautiful chandeliers fill the oversized room. We are led to a large round table for 10 front and center of the room, directly in front of the stage. “What is this?”
“We have front row seats to the Broadway musical Showstoppers.”
“Robert, this is a big deal,” Bethany says, excitedly.
“That’s what I hear.”
Before we order, the cocktail waitress comes over with two bottles of champagne and a bottle of sparkling water. I try to enjoy the evening, but I know they just didn’t give Robert these tickets. We have dinner and watch the musical from the best seats in the house. Robert keeps a secure arm around me and it feels good to cuddle into him. The show’s good and even the guys seem to be enjoying it.
We get dropped off outside of our hotel and everyone is laughing and having a great time. Robert seems relaxed and happy. I still have a feeling that something isn’t right. We all go our separate ways, and Robert and I head to our room.
The door shuts and locks and I ask, “What did you do to get those tickets?”
“I didn’t do anything,” he says, turning on the light in the room.
“Who were those men you were talking to in the lobby after the fight?”
“One was the C.E.O. of the hotel and the other was Kennedy’s manager.”
My stomach flips again, “You agreed to a fight?” I ask, backing away so I can sit on the edge of the bed.
“You already know I want to fight him. And Kennedy wants to fight me. In the boxing ring, he said, ‘Bobby, you’re next.’ He is a man of his word.”
“When?”
“Next year, May 1st. Of course, the lawyers have to finalize the terms of the contract, but this fight will happen.”
“Why so long? Why are they waiting so long for you guys to fight?” I rest my hand on my belly.
Robert slowly walks over to sit beside me on the bed. “I think it’s probably for the hype. It’ll be a big fight and the hotel along with the sponsors stand to make a lot of money. So do Kennedy and I.”
“You said after you fight him, you’re done.”
A Life Worth Fighting Page 13
