Fighting to Start

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Fighting to Start Page 6

by S. L. Ziegler


  “Do you really have to feed the seed of Chucky?”

  I give Courtney my best evil eye. She and Lucy have a mutual hate for each other that I can’t help but laugh at it. It could have something to do with when Lucy was a kitten, Courtney stepped on her and crushed poor Lucy’s tail, resulting in it needing to be wrapped for six weeks. I swear, to get Courtney back, Lucy used her closet as a litter box for months causing Courtney to throw out a dozen pairs of shoes.

  Lucy hears me scooping her food and comes around the corner, nudging my leg while hissing at Courtney. I smile at the silent bitch fight between both of them. If it weren’t for these two, my home-life would be non-existent.

  Courtney pats Lucy’s head. “Okay, little Chucky, I guess that wasn’t very nice of me, was it?” Courtney turns her attention to me. “You didn’t ask who was coming out with us this time, missy.” She’s been bugging me to start dating for the last six months and every time we go out somewhere, she brings someone I just have to meet. Her words, not mine. They always end up being way too boring for me to ever want to go on an actual date with, but at least I’m not sitting around eating candy and getting fat while waiting for Reed to come back to me. Telling that to Courtney wouldn’t help my cause. So I just suck it up, put a big, fake smile on my face, and go with it.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Who is going to be there with us tonight?” I ask sarcastically.

  Courtney, not catching on to my sarcasm, holds her chin, pretending as if she is thinking. “Well, there is the usual trouble, Megan, Brooke, Darrius, and”—she coughs out the last name, trying to hide who it is—“Bennett Norton.”

  Drop dead gorgeous, “The Bennett Norton”—as the girls around my family’s office call him—is a thirty-four-year-old millionaire that my father does business with, and screams trouble. He flirts every time he sees me, but hearing the gossip from the other girls he “dates,” I know he isn’t for me. I’m not going for yet another “refined” man-whore. Bennett seems to have a very strong, domineering personality, way too into himself. Probably spends more time looking in the mirror every morning than I do, definitely not my type whatsoever. But then again, no one is, except Reed.

  “So now you want me to date a guy like that?”

  Courtney shrugs me off and rolls her eyes. “Hads, I never said anything about dating, maybe a little hooking up. Fun…you know what that is, right? You used to have it all the time. You haven’t gotten laid since dickhead left and I’m pretty sure you don’t even know how to work it anymore. Brush off the cobwebs, get on that saddle, and go for the ride. Who knows, maybe it will be the best ride of your life.” Leave it to Courtney to get straight to the point, but I can’t. I’ve only ever had sex with Reed. I am not going there.

  “Me and Bennett… I don’t think so. I see him too much and come on, Courtney, he’s such a player. Far too experienced for me. Really, you need to understand, I am okay being alone. We are watching Reed’s fight tonight for God’s sake, and I don’t think it’s right to go ‘have fun’ while doing that. Maybe one day…but right now, I’m good being alone.” And truly, I am. I’ve made great friends down here and I like my job. Only one thing is missing, Reed.

  “Whatever you say, Hads. Just let me know when you want a little fun. I promise I’ll find you someone right away, okay?”

  “You will be the first person to know when I’m ready to have that kind of fun, promise.”

  “Okay. All you have to say is, ‘it’s time.’ Deal?”

  Giving Lucy a quick scratch under her neck, I grab my keys and purse off the table. “Deal. Now let’s go.” I lock up and start walking toward the bar.

  Vapers is a huge sports bar and the place to go when the Falcons or Braves are playing because of the forty or so huge flat-screen TVs that cover the walls. It sits right in the middle of condos, apartments, and townhomes so people can walk home without having to worry about driving. Tonight, when we crack open the door every single table is taken. People stand all around, crowding every inch of the place. It’s loud and a bit intimidating, even though I’m sure no one pays any attention to us—there’s too much going on for anyone to waste their time looking our way. I spot Megan, Darrius, and Brooke at a high top in the middle of the bar. Courtney grabs my hand and pushes her way toward them, dragging me behind her through the standing bodies.

  “Wow, I have never seen it this packed,” Courtney says, putting her purse on the table.

  “I know, took us about twenty minutes to get this table. We were about to get into it with a few guys that wanted it, too. It was quite funny till they saw Darrius and ran like cowards from him.” Brooke smiles.

  Brooke is Matt’s assistant and we instantly hit it off. She is thirty years old and has been happily married to Darrius for almost ten years. It’s funny seeing them together, Brooke is small and petite—I don’t think she’s even five-feet tall—and Darrius is huge, right at six and a half feet. He owns a construction business so he is in great shape from doing hands-on labor. They have to be one of the cutest couples I have ever met. Megan is Darrius’ sister and Brooke’s best friend, and a complete knockout. Tall, long legs, thin, blond hair, the bluest eyes ever, and to top it off, she has the best heart of anyone. The five of us always have the best time together.

  The server comes over and gets our order. I glance around to see if anyone has sports shirts on to explain why it’s so packed, but I don’t see any. “Is something going on? I thought the Falcons play on Sunday.”

  “Nope, you’re right, they’re playing on Sunday. We are having a party at our place for it, remember? My guess is it’s because of the fight, all the guys were taking bets on it,” Darrius says, putting an arm around Brooke. I only follow Reed’s fights, nothing else about the MMPL, but I should have known by now that he’d gotten the headlining fights by how good he’s been doing since joining the league.

  The server comes over and drops off our drinks just in the nick of time. I’m thinking alcohol will be exactly what I need to get through tonight. I squeeze my limes in my vodka soda as the chair beside me is being pulled out. I turn as Bennett says hi to the rest of the table. The minute I catch his eye and his meets mine, my heart skips a beat. Holy shit, I’ve only seen Bennett in suits, and he’s always devastating handsome in them, but damn, this casual look was meant for him.

  “Hey Hadley, you look great.” Bennett starts eyeing me up and down, and his gaze lingers a little longer on my chest. Usually, I hate when someone looks at me like this, but with him, it feels right, good even.

  “Hey, yourself. You don’t look too bad, either, but you know my face is up here,” I say, pointing at my face. I give him the first flirtatious smile that has graced my face in a very long time.

  Bennett shakes his head, taking a drink of his beer.

  I look at him and then down to the bottle in his hand, unable to contain the laughter that bubbles past my lips. It’s not a drink I would think he’d order, and I like that. A lot.

  “Why are you laughing at me? What, do I have something on my face?”

  “Nope, your face is just fine.” Mine, however, instantly turns beet red as he takes a piece of my hair and pushes it behind my ear.

  “Yours isn’t too bad, either. But really, what’s up?”

  “I was almost positive you would be a fancy fifty-year-old scotch drinker. My dad, brothers, and all their friends go through it like crazy. I almost thought it was some kind of millionaire boy’s club rule or something.”

  “Oh, it is, but I do love breaking rules. I usually only stick to beer and shots, unless I am hanging with that boys club,” he says, winking at me, and we both start laughing. We go back and forth, talking and joking with each other, nothing too serious, but having someone other than Courtney make me genuinely laugh is actually fun.

  Two drinks into our conversation, I start to think I’ve been completely wrong about who Bennett is. He seems okay—well, better than okay, swoon-worthy. For the smallest, briefest moment, I feel somethi
ng flicker inside that I’d long thought left me. And I savor this feeling.

  “Do you actually like watching these kinds of fights or do you just have a thing for the fighters?”

  I gasp, choke, and spit out my drink on the table all at once. One minute, I’ve forgotten all about my problems, and with a snap of the fingers, I’m brought back to my reality, the real reason we are here, and it isn’t to be flirting with him. It’s also not to get that butterfly feeling back, but to see the man I’m in love with fight. The guilt swirls around me, boxing me in, over what I just felt for another person.

  All eyes at the table are on me, questioning how I’d answer that. Everyone but Bennett knows my history, why we watch these fights, why I’m the way I am. Well, mostly.

  “God, Hadley, you okay?” Bennett asks me while patting me on the back.

  I avoid it all and clean my mess, leaving Courtney to answer for me. “Hadley actually knows nothing about it, we just came here because Brooke and I love seeing men beat each other up, and you know all that testosterone in one area. Yummy.”

  I catch her eye and send a silent thank you.

  Bennett looks between both of us like he knows she is lying but, fortunately, right before he can ask, and the volume from the TVs boom, drowning out the sounds of the crowd.

  Every fight I have ever watched of Reed’s, I get nervous, it’s second nature, but the way the crowd around me goes wild, it seems different, bigger, more intense, more important. I catch Reed on the screen walking toward the cage, wearing his signature gray zip-up with the hood pulled over his head, and the only thing you can see is the glimmer of the red from the hat I’d gotten him. My heart starts beating faster and my hands start sweating, I can’t believe he still wears that thing. I hear snippets about the how the other guy, Hernandez, hasn’t lost in three years, and how the odds of Reed beating him are nearly impossible.

  I catch Courtney’s eyes as she mouths, “What the fuck?” I shrug, turning my attention back to the television and Reed. Before the bell rings, he hits his chest twice, something he’s done every fight since the night I watched him at our old place, and I swear, each and every time he does it, I still feel it deep inside me.

  The two men start circling each other. Reed makes the first contact with a left punch to his face, followed by a right kick to his side, but it doesn’t seem to faze Hernandez, who lands a couple good hits on Reed’s face. They exchange hits and kicks, but not enough for one of them to get an upper hand. The five-minute round is over and I finally take a deep breath, not realizing I’d been holding the air in my lungs. I watch Reed in his corner with Kenny, Logan, and some other guy I’ve seen in other fights. The only one that’s doing any talking is Kenny, just like how it used to be. Reed’s shoulders move with every breath he takes. He only nods, saving his strength for the fight, and stares toward Hernandez with a cocky attitude.

  The second round starts and something primal in Reed comes out—his “Riker” mode. In the last ten fights he’s fought, he has won them all. Three were KO’s, four by submissions, and the rest were decided unanimously. He has a fire in him that had never been there during his small fights in Columbus, and it’s blowing through him. Reed’s proving he can make it, throwing a big middle finger up to everyone that said he would fail. One thing I know about him is when someone says he can’t, Reed will.

  In the blink of an eye, Reed pounces on Hernandez’s shoulders with his legs wrapped tightly around his neck. Reed hurls him over, landing on the floor and sending a roar through the crowd. He twists Hernandez’s body, never letting his legs out of their hold. His opponent gives it one last try, but no matter how hard he fights, it’s useless—Reed’s legs are locked and not giving him one inch to work with. Hernandez gives one last breath and then he’s done.

  I have to force myself to keep my feet on the floor, to not jump up and down, to not show people I care. Even though I’m not there, I always get excited watching Reed kick some serious ass, and that’s just what he did. Closing my eyes, I send a mental I love you to him, opening them right when Reed’s hand is being held above his head.

  I order everyone at the table shots of tequila—it was Reed’s and my thing whenever something happened in our life, and now I do it after every fight. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll do the same thing later and my face will cross his mind. I lay the shot in front of Court, but she couldn’t care less, her eyes are glued to the TV with the dirtiest look I ever saw on her face. I follow her line of sight and a slow motion shot of Reed throwing his belt over his shoulder flashes across the screen. But that’s not what catches my attention. Nope, it’s the girl running and jumping into his arms. My heart drops down to my stomach, the sound roaring through every inch of me. I don’t know how I missed it before—big, fake boobs and more makeup than should be allowed at a nightclub…or, hell, even a strip joint. I’m staring at the complete opposite of me in every single way. Apparently, Reed likes that slutty look now because his hands grab at her ass, and he spins her around, just like he used to do to me when he’d win his fights. And then she kisses him.

  Right smack on the damn lips.

  On national TV.

  In fucking slow motion replay.

  He replaced me with a fucking hooker.

  I stand here. Mouth gaping open. Frozen. My hold locked on the shot glass in my hand. Heart no longer beating, proving how lifeless I truly am on the inside without him anymore. I wait for the prickling behind my eyes to tell me tears are coming. I stand here, in a crowed bar with nothing left and wait, but they never fall. One feeling combusts to life deep within me; anger, downright pure anger and hatred for Reed fucking Riker Collins. It’s fucking clear that Reed doesn’t want me, perhaps he never really did. Reactions storm around inside me that I never would have thought possible with anyone, especially not my Reed, not the one that said he loved me. I’m brainless to think he would actually want to come back to the boring, girl next door when he could have someone that looks like she stars in her own porn.

  I turn my back on the TV, turn my back on Reed, turn away from my past, and lock eyes with Courtney and Brooke. I see nothing but sadness and pity for me on both of their faces, for the heartbroken Hadley. But Reed’s Hadley is dead and gone.

  I will never forget this moment. This is the moment I never saw coming. This moment right here, not one single doubt is inside me, I fucking despise Reed with every inch of what’s left of the soul he just murdered.

  I look at Courtney and lift my shot to her. “It’s time,” I announce and down the shot.

  Ahhhh…my head is about to explode. I try to swat Lucy away from my neck, but Lucy talks. Wait, Lucy’s a cat, and cats can’t talk. I snap my eyes open and see Bennett looking down at me. “I was wondering when you were going to wake up so I can get a chance to take you again before I have to go to work.” He places soft kisses right over the tattoo I got for Reed and my baby. Knowing I don’t need to, I lift up the covers just to check…yep, bare ass naked in a stranger’s bed—well, practically a stranger. I turn my head around and see the condom wrappers on the floor of his bedroom.

  “Um, about that… I’m…yeah…” I roll off the bed, taking the sheet with me in the process, pluck my phone off the table next to me, and quickly run into Bennett’s bathroom, shutting the door in a haste.

  My palms are flat on the courter as I stare at the mirror, and I don’t recognize the reflection staring back at me. This girl isn’t me. That’s when it hits me like a ton of bricks, I needed something to drown the ghost.

  Reed.

  The fight.

  Fake boobs.

  Kissing.

  Hooker.

  Spinning.

  It’s time.

  Me.

  Flirting.

  Dancing.

  Jäger shots.

  Kissing.

  Lines of coke.

  Begging Bennett to take me home.

  Begging Bennett to help me forget.

  If only it was that easy. If
only I could just erase him from my heart and my head.

  Why does my heart have to be so loud? Why can’t it just break silently?

  Reed has all the power over me, and it’s time to change that. My eyes shine through the mirror. I know the first step to do that. I shoot a text to Courtney.

  ME: Spa day on me, time for a makeover.

  Courtney: Cool beans girl, I’m near Bennett’s place anyway, pick you up in five.

  Reed’s action spoke volumes to the broken promises he told me.

  I will never forget Reed Collins and the broken heart he left me with, but I’ll fucking try. Tell me what I’m supposed to do now?

  Chapter 7

  Reed

  I wake up drenched, and I’m not sure why till I feel a twitch on my stomach. Dragging my eyes open, Krystal and some girl we took back to the hotel after my win last night are both draped over me. Shit, I never let the extras stay. Staying means they do things like this, they want to cuddle, they want kisses, they want all of me. I don’t cuddle. I don’t do flowers. I don’t do romance with any of them. And I certainly don’t do feelings. I do fucking and that’s all.

  With each fight, with each win, with each girl, I feel myself pulling away from who I was. Who I liked. Who Hadley loved. Reed feels further away than ever. Riker has taken over completely. I thought this was right, but now I’m not so sure. I walked away to become a better person for her, for the future I had planned in my head, but somehow I lost that person along the way. I’m losing the only fight I can’t train for.

  Krystal’s hand moves over my tattoo, making me clench my teeth. Even in her sleep, the bitch still tries. More and more she’s been trying to get closer, thinking that since we have been with each other for a while and have some kind of shitty history, I’ll let her touch it. Which is fucked up because I don’t even kiss her. Our first major blowup was when she tried to kiss me after I won my first belt. That shit is too personal and the last lips I want mine on had to be Hadley’s, and that bitch tried to take that away. Hell no. Two things I have left of her are my lips and my tattoos. The only thing that touches those sparrows is my hand—twice before and twice after every fight. I didn’t touch her for three weeks after that, till she came back crying, spewing shit that I never wanted to hear. But I needed to feel that night, so I took her back, and it bites me on the ass every time I think about Krystal wanting to stick her claws deeper into me.

 

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