As the door clicked shut behind them, he faced his trainer, not knowing where to begin.
“I screwed up. I got involved with the wrong women. Tiffany and Ava, they’re cut from the same cloth.”
Daniella sighed. “I know it may seem like everything’s falling down, and I’ll admit, this isn’t what we want to happen before you get in the ring, but I need you to stay focused on Littleton. Let me worry about the rest.”
“And Ava. She’s in my hotel room.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t advise you about your love life, Mike. Shakes tried to tell me to stay away from Jack and I resented it. But we both know you need to focus on the fight, and if something is standing in the way of your concentration, you’ll need to address it head-on.”
Daniella handed Mike her tablet. “Here. Take this. I’ve cued up all of Littleton’s former fights. Study them.”
“I’ve studied them.”
“Study them again.” Daniella’s eyes narrowed.
He’d watched those fights a million times. He memorized every right hook, jab to the body, and defense tactic Littleton had. He knew it. His trainer knew it. Yet, she stood, holding out her tablet, as if he hadn’t done his homework. With reluctance, he removed the device from her hand.
“Study up on Littleton/Ahern. Especially the second round,” Daniella advised.
He didn’t want to waste his time telling her he’d memorized that fight backward and forward. He wanted to tell her to stop treating him like a newbie, but he understood what she was trying to do.
He looked down at the device in his hand, then returned his gaze to Daniella. He was wise to her strategy—his trainer wanted him thinking of nothing but the upcoming fight. She didn’t care if he watched the videos a million times or not. What she didn’t want him doing was going downstairs and learning what the hell was really going on.
Chapter Thirty-three
Mike allowed his hotel room door to close behind him with a slam. He walked deeper into the darkened room and Ava sat up on the bed. She focused on him.
Wearing a thin white T-shirt, gym shorts, and no bra, she looked like she wanted to spend the afternoon in bed. He wasn’t going to get caught up in her amazing body or the perfect tits he saw through her shirt. He was done with being lured. Tempted. Seduced. He’d fallen for it all so easily. Not anymore.
She pushed her hair off her shoulder, exposing her kissable neckline.
His eyes averted to the carpet. The bold gray color matched his mood. His shoulders slumped, and he let out a long exhale.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Ava lifted from the bed and walked toward him. She outstretched her fingers to touch his cheek, and he pushed her hand away.
“Why did you do it?” His words came out in one breath.
Ava gasped. “Do what?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t play dumb. You used information I told you off the record in your article. You wrote something you shouldn’t have, and then turned it in. You sold me out. Why?”
She had no words. No response.
“Those things I told you in bed, it was just pillow talk. Things to be kept between you and me. And you took it and you used it. Don’t you understand the damage you’ve done? My past is burying me like it buried José.”
Her brow furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Really? Perez’s Path to Success Paved in Blood by Ava Phillips. That’s what I’m talking about.”
“Oh shit.” Color drained from her face.
He closed the window to the fight he was supposed to rewatch and opened the app for the New York Post, pushed it at her. “First page of the sports section is Tiffany’s rebuttal. Do you want to find it, or should I?”
She glanced down at the tablet and didn’t move. Then, Mike pressed on the screen and brought Tiffany’s response into full view. “See?” He tilted the tablet so she could read.
Ava lifted her hand and covered her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears.
“The article you ran in the Times laid the groundwork for Tiffany’s rebuttal. You made me out to be some sort of hero. That’s not remotely true, not in the least. I did what I had to do to protect my family and survive. That’s not heroic. That’s life. And no one was supposed to know.”
One single tear rolled down her cheek but he didn’t reach out to wipe it away.
“Tiffany’s got her day in the spotlight and it’s making my life a living hell. All this attention, this media frenzy, the shit I don’t need, you caused it. I need to focus on the biggest fight of my life and I can’t because of you.”
Ava’s lip stiffened. “I called Ed after I’d written the article. I told him it wasn’t for printing, it was for me. I wanted to show him the kind of articles I wanted to do going forward. No more scandalous stuff, I’m done with that. He read it and he agreed not to run the story. I don’t know how it wound up being printed.”
“That doesn’t matter.” Even to himself his voice sounded cold. “You wrote it.”
“I wrote it for me.” Her brow furrowed. “I told Ed I’d cover your fight for the Times, but I wanted to change my writing style. It was just supposed to be an example, it wasn’t a final draft. And I never, ever would have run the story. You gave me that information in private.”
“Exactly. You couldn’t have chosen someone else to write about? There were a million people you could’ve written the article about, Ava. Yet, you chose to focus it solely on me, and what I’ve done. That decision put everyone on edge.”
She reached out for him, and he pulled away. “Don’t do this.” Stretching out her hand, she reached for him again, and he stepped back. Half a foot away, he felt miles apart from the woman who stood before him. Who was she?
“I defended you. Jack tried to blame you for the media mess and I told him that you were only doing your job.”
“I was! I didn’t mean for the story to be run, but it was my job to write an article about you, to tell the truth about you, and I did. That’s what I do.”
His temper flared. “But you’re not sorry for the trouble you’ve caused. You pushed it too far this time, Ava. You’ve simply gone too far.”
Her face flushed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we’re done.”
“No, don’t say that.” Tears spilled over her cheeks.
“I can’t be with someone I can’t trust. I trusted you, and you betrayed me.”
He stepped around her. He took his bag from the floor, opened the dresser drawer, and threw a mass of clothing inside. Packing quickly as he stood Ava watched him, tears streaming. She pleaded for him to stop, but somehow he found himself deaf to her cries. He no longer wanted excuses. He no longer wanted to share the same space with her. He no longer wanted to breathe her air. He was done.
“Please. I can help you fix this.” Her voice sounded small, desperate.
He glanced at her over his shoulder. “That’s great. Just great. You can help me fix a problem I wouldn’t have if it weren’t for you. Not interested.”
His heart pained him with every piece of clothing he dropped into his bag. He’d been such a fool. Thinking he’d found her. The one. Who was he kidding? All he’d found was another Tiffany. Sure, her hair was different, her name had changed, but they were both the same person who set out to use him for what they could get.
“Don’t leave. Please, don’t go.” She cried now, tears flowed, and her nose started to run.
It was all too little, too late. How could he stay?
“I don’t have anything else to say to you. I need to be alone.”
From the look in her eyes he thought she might crumble and fall into pieces on the carpet. He hurt her. But she’d hurt him, too. Nothing he’d experienced inside a boxing ring caused this much pain. No body shot. No uppercut. Nothing compared to the feeling that his insides were splitting She had broken his heart.
He moved into the bathroom, gathering his things. Toothbrush. Deodorant. Razor.
He dropped each one into the bag. He looked to her side of the sink, taking in all the cosmetics and perfume that made her look so wonderful and smell so great. All the things that had worked to deceive him. The makeup was just another cover to turn her into something she wasn’t.
How could he have been so stupid, so blind?
If he’d just stayed true to his routine, followed his gut, none of this would have happened. He should’ve known. One step outside the box and he immediately regretted his move. He took the risk. He opened up, and she’d thrown his past in his face.
He emerged from the bathroom, bag in hand.
“Please,” she said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know this was going to happen.”
His gaze settled firm on her. The rush that pounded through his body every time he laid eyes on Ava was gone. He felt nothing for her. No emotion. No hatred. Just nothing.
“Maybe you didn’t mean for the story to run or know what writing the article would do, but you didn’t stop to consider what would happen if it did run. You never told me you’d turned it in. Trust goes both ways. I put faith in knowing you’d do the right thing. You didn’t. It’s over.”
And with that he opened the door to their room and didn’t look back.
Chapter Thirty-four
Mike spent the night in his own room. A quick call to Daniella and she’d set him up in his own space “to focus,” he’d told her. He didn’t bother with the other details. Too many women were up in his business lately.
He woke early, dressed, and left to meet Jack. Mike opened the door to the hotel’s tiny gym. The space made for business travelers and average joes didn’t house the equipment he’d accustomed himself to using. Never in his life had he used an elliptical machine. He ran. Preferably up the steps at the high school stadium, rather than over some fake incline. His body craved fresh air, even if it was the piss-laden stench of New York City’s streets. He didn’t like not having the option of choosing the smell of exhaust fumes and garbage over the recycled perfumed air inside the hotel.
Stay inside. Daniella’s orders.
Walking into the tiny gym, he felt edgy. Tense. Like a cat in a fucking cage. Maybe this was what Daniella had wanted. To trap him up like some animal, only to unleash a beast in the ring. But the claustrophobic feeling inside him wasn’t the only thing that fueled him. Knowing what waited for him downstairs, the lights, the cameras, the reporters’ nagging questions, worked together and fed his desire to escape.
Jack stood in the corner, waiting for him. “Sup, bro?”
“Sup.” Jack had brought the fourteen-ounce sparring gloves. The ones he used to train with in order to beat Cortez and win the world championship. Maybe he thought they were lucky.
“Did you sleep, or were you too wired?” Jack asked. He’d been in Mike’s shoes. He knew the anticipation hours before the fight.
“I slept.”
“I guess Ava had something to do with that. At least she’s making herself useful.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Mike snapped.
“Nothing, man, I just thought . . .”
Mike exhaled. “Well, you thought wrong. I cut her loose. Too many distractions.”
“Good for you, man. The fight comes first.”
True. Jack was never the most eloquent speaker. Hell, he rarely thought before he opened his mouth. But if he was saying it, the fact of the matter was Daniella and Shakes were probably saying it.
Ava was a mistake.
Jack tugged on a glove. “Just try to keep your mind on what’s in front of you.”
Mike felt his face pull down. “Do you know something else I don’t know?”
“No, but I know Daniella. Something is going on. Her phone rings off the hook and she tossed and turned all night long. Normally, the woman sleeps like a rock.” Jack exhaled.
With his hands wrapped Mike and Jack pulled the exercise equipment to the corners of the room, giving themselves enough space to spar.
“Shakes is coming down to keep time,” Jack told him. “He’ll glove us up.”
“You really think something’s about to happen?” Insecurity crept through Mike’s tough exterior. He knew Jack might do a lot of things, but he’d never lie.
“Shit’s going down, brother. But you and I can’t focus on that. Daniella will tell us when she’s ready, if there’s anything to tell. Till then, let’s spar.”
Mike agreed. Focusing on the business at hand kept everyone on task. Shakes entered the gym and strode over to them.
“What did you find out?” Jack said. “What’s Daniella doing?”
“We should probably spar,” Shakes said, changing the subject. “We’ve only got the room for an hour.”
It wasn’t lost on Mike that Shakes didn’t answer Jack’s question. But he dropped it, too. The fight was more important than anything else. They could stand here and talk about what might happen, or they could prepare for what was going to happen. Perez/Littleton. Mike had waited for this match forever.
Shakes helped him and Jack with their gloves. “I’m going to call two-minute time. This is light sparring. I know you two like to bang it out sometimes, but we’re too close to fight night for that.”
Light sparring didn’t call for mouthpieces. It was the time to work on defensive strategies and counter punches. The idea was not to get hit.
“Time!” Shakes yelled and the match was on.
Mike circled Jack. He led with a right cross, hitting Jack’s gloves. It was usual for him and Jack to test the waters. Usually it took them a round or two to warm up. Jack fired a jab to Mike’s chin and missed.
“Good footwork,” Jack complimented. “Keep on the balls of your feet. It’ll be easier to sidestep when Littleton goes in low.”
Mike nodded. They exchanged another round of light blows.
“Good defense, Mike. Excellent.” Shakes didn’t hold back his excitement.
They circled and tested. Both fighters put up their hands and held their stances. Mike had missed sparring with Jack. No one laid it on quite like he did. Mike fired off a left hook to Jack’s body, hitting him center mass.
“Damn, boy,” Jack said, after the hit thudded off his chest. “Thought we were going light?”
“Sorry.” Mike set up another jab and punched. His arm sliced through the air, striking Jack.
“He’s ready,” Jack told Shakes. “Make no mistake. Whatever happens today, Mike is ready for anything.”
Chapter Thirty-five
A hum lay beyond the pressroom doors, and Mike exchanged glances with Daniella. They waited on the fight’s promoter to open the doors and let them inside. After sparring, he mentally prepared to answer all of the questions he thought they might ask. He’d even rehearsed in the shower.
Daniella looked more gravely concerned than ever. Maybe she feared the room would turn on him. That the public opinion of him would sink faster than she could come to his rescue. He couldn’t worry about that now. All he could control was his answers to whatever they asked. Public opinion be damned. At heart, he knew he was a good person. It was the only thing that allowed him to sleep at night.
His trainer’s phone buzzed. She glanced down at the device hooked onto the waistband of her pants. She was in full manager mode. He only hoped his actions today made her proud.
“Once you’re settled, I’m going to watch you from over there by the wall. If something happens that you’re not prepared to answer, just look at me, and I’ll end it.”
He agreed as the doors opened. The noisy hum rose up into the air, and cameras flashed. He entered alone, behind him his team. Daniella saw him to his seat at the front of the room. He settled in and pulled his chair up close to the microphone.
Jack and Shakes took seats in the rear of the room. The press mobbed the front. Due to the tightness in the room, the press wanted to interview one fighter at a time. Littleton¸ the more experienced fighter, went last.
The fight promoter, a short, balding man, walked across t
he room and took hold of the microphone. “I want to thank you all for coming out this morning. This press conference will last exactly thirty minutes, then we’ll break and prepare for Mr. Littleton. Please welcome middleweight contender Michael Perez.”
Polite applause erupted. Mike’s stomach quaked. The promoter selected the first reporter who raised his hand.
“Mike,” the reporter asked, “what can you tell us about your plan for Littleton in the ring?”
Good. They wanted to talk about the sport. He hoped anyone with half a brain could tell Tiffany’s article was nothing but garbage.
“Marlon Littleton is an excellent fighter. He’s quick. He’s got moves I think everyone in this room has admired. I look forward to the matchup. As far as my plan goes, I believe he’s somewhat predictable. He leads with a right hook and tries to wear his opponents down with shots to the midsection. He needs to know if he remains predictable when he enters the fight with me, he’ll not only lose, but lose fast. So, I hope he brings his A game.”
He glanced at Daniella. She nodded her approval.
“Next question,” the promoter called, and he looked out on the sea of hands in the air.
“If you win, who do you plan to fight next?” another guy asked.
“When I win, I plan to leave who I fight next up to my manager. I concentrate on one fight at a time,” he answered.
He glanced at Daniella. Again she nodded.
A woman raised her hand.
“You near the back,” the promoter said.
A brunette with short hair stood. “I was wondering if you’d like to elaborate on the claims made by your former girlfriend that you abused her?”
“I never abused her,” he retorted.
“You never went days without speaking to her?” the reporter pressed. “Are you saying because you’re physically violent, you’re incapable of being emotionally violent as well?”
What magazine did this chick come from? Psychology Today?
“Look. I can’t make Ms. Longoria change her feelings about our relationship. She saw it one way, I see it another. I’m sorry if she wasn’t happy, but our relationship didn’t play out the way she described.”
Going The Distance (Ringside #2) Page 17
