As the ridiculous questions flew at him, Mike allowed his eyes to scan across the crowd. There. In the corner, he spotted her. Dressed in all black it was as if she was trying to hide. She could try, but her long, silky red hair gave her away.
His heart banged in his chest. He didn’t expect to see her here. He walked toward the edge of the stage. There sat a microphone, the one the announcer used for the weigh-in.
Mike reached down and picked it up.
“It’s good to see you.” The room hushed. Each person stopped talking, and slowly the room focused on him. “I thought you were gone.”
One by one, he saw people putting it together that he might have been speaking into a microphone, but his message was intended for only one person. Only Ava.
“I’m sorry things ended the way they did.”
Faces in the room were marked with confusion, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter to Mike who knew what or what they thought of him. All that mattered in this moment was that Ava heard him.
“I refuse to let my past stand in the way of our future.”
Daniella pulled him back from the microphone. “It’s time to go.” She ushered him off the stage. Reporters fired questions at the Stamina team. One reporter even suggested that he’d lost his mind. Cracked under pressure. He held in his laugh, not wanting to appear disrespectful. He almost stopped in front of Ava, but Daniella pushed him on. “Later.”
With Jack behind him he and Daniella forcibly removed Mike from the press room.
Ava followed, calling out his name.
“Later, Ava, please,” Daniella said to her as the three of them left the room. It wasn’t that Daniella didn’t like Ava, nor was she trying to keep them apart, he knew. His trainer needed him focused on Littleton, and nothing else, especially matters of the heart.
Chapter Forty
Ava stood in the doorway, watching Mike go. She lifted her hand and covered her mouth. Still in shock, part of her wondered if she’d dreamed it, Mike on stage, talking to her, not caring who saw or what they thought. Remarkable. Tears pricked the back of her eyes. She didn’t want to cry. Not here. Not in front of a room full of reporters. A room filled with people like her who’d easily turn her into the next sports story if she wasn’t careful. She drew in a breath.
A sensation trembled through her body. The reporters weren’t like her at all. She didn’t associate herself with those bottom-feeders, not anymore, not after Mike. She had loved her job, but the newspaper business had turned her into someone she no longer knew. She’d started out at the Times happy, her exterior like a bright, shiny penny, and after years of reporting scandals and nearly ruining careers, her excitement for the Times dulled. Her exterior had been covered in dirt, like a penny so filthy people stepped over it rather than pick it up.
Littleton continued to mesmerize the crowd. Watching them, Ava knew she no longer belonged here. It didn’t matter if Ed allowed her to change her reporting style or not. She wasn’t the kind of reporter Ed needed. She didn’t prefer selling papers over reporting the truth. Her hand moved from her mouth, and she placed it on her heart. Her future had been decided way before she realized her fate.
Ava grabbed her purse and left the room. She proceeded to the hotel’s lobby and drew her cell phone out of her bag. Selecting Ed’s number, she waited for him to answer.
“Yell—ow.” Ed answered after the third ring.
“We had an agreement,” she said flatly. “The Perez piece wasn’t meant for print, and it wasn’t right for the Times. You ran it anyway.”
He exhaled through his nostrils, blowing air right into the mouthpiece. A hard rush of noise landed in her ear.
“Ava, there’s a term we use around here that you need to familiarize yourself with right now. It’s called ROI—return on investment.”
“Sounds riveting.” She didn’t hide her sarcasm.
“What it means is we expect to see results for keeping you on the payroll. The publisher doesn’t like the idea of vacations on the company dime. We agreed to you traveling with Perez to bring us front-page news. You delivered a page-three puff piece, with a deal not to print it. Now, where’s the ROI in that? You submitted your article—granted, it wasn’t your best piece of work, but we had to go to print. To keep to our deal, I buried it on page three. There’s some ROI there at least.”
“This is ridiculous.”
Ed paused. This was the first time she’d actually challenged him head-on. She wasn’t making excuses, not trying to hide or downplay her work as if the article wasn’t a good fit for the paper. No. Heat flared inside her. She was pissed, and he needed to know it.
Ava curled one hand into a fist. “You are willing to sacrifice quality reporting for the sake of sales. I told you that I didn’t get that information from Perez legitimately, but you knew it would get us something, even if it wasn’t the scandal you wanted. You weren’t happy with the tone and ran it anyway, breaking our deal, even after I told you the story wasn’t meant for print.” She paused, thinking. “You printed it to get back at me, didn’t you?”
Silence met her question head-on.
Ava’s rant continued. “We both know Perez is a changed man from the way he grew up. We both know the public has no interest in good news. Positive stories don’t sell papers. And, I’ll admit. When I first started at the Times, I had a special interest in bringing athletes down, especially those motivated by ego, selfishness, and greed. But with the bad also comes the good. I never saw that until now.”
She allowed her eyes to scan the room to see if anyone was listening.
Ed made a slurping sound. Coffee, she presumed. “Look. It’s great that you see both sides. I’m happy for you.” Yeah. His condescension pissed her off, all right. What started as a low simmer heated, and her temper flared as Ed continued. “But the fact of the matter is that you need to decide if you want to keep your job or not. Calling me and bitching isn’t the way to stay employed.”
She let out a huff. “Maybe I don’t want to stay employed.”
“What are you saying? You quit?” A note of surprise pitched in his voice.
Her heartbeat thumped in rapid succession, and her hands shook. She wanted to be brave and as strong as Mike was on the stage with Littleton, shaking his hand. Like Mike, she wanted to take her career someplace good.
“Yeah,” she said with a tremble in her voice. “I quit.”
“Well, then. I hope you have a plan, and don’t think of using me as a reference.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, the quiver in her voice now gone. “Good editors wouldn’t care what you think anyway.”
With that, she hung up.
In the time she’d been away from the newspaper she realized how unimportant Ed’s opinion of her was. Being out from under his watch would give her the time and the confidence to write the kinds of stories she never thought she could. He was too focused on the bottom line. Her editor put profits before people, before good journalism, and now that she’d realized that, she knew she had to go.
Pride welled inside her. Her career wasn’t over, no matter how he tried to scare her. She’d continue to write. Freelance. Maybe she’d start her own blog. She didn’t need a job at ESPN to be happy, because she’s already found happiness. His name was Mike Perez.
She looked around the lobby, not focusing in one spot. Her urgency to see Mike pulled her to the door. She knew Daniella must’ve taken him to the locker room at the Garden. His trainer wanted him alone, concentrating on the fight. But there was one thing Mike needed to know before he stepped in the ring—win or lose, she’d be there waiting for him. Truth was she’d waited for him her entire life. It was time she told him so.
***
“Five minutes, Ava,” Shakes said, letting her in the locker room door. “Sorry, but Daniella needs him concentrating on Littleton.”
Ava looked into Shakes’s kind eyes. “Five minutes,” she agreed. “Tell Daniella I appreciate it.”
Shakes leane
d in. “I know it’d be better for Mike if you spoke to him before he walked into the ring. I want that for him as much as he does. In all my years of experience, I can tell you that if there are distractions clouding a boxer’s mind before a fight, be it personal or professional, it’s always best to have cleared the air before the bell.”
“I’m sure it is.” She wondered why he had yet to let her inside the room.
The old man flashed a compassionate smile. He cared for Mike like a son. He wore his affection for him on his sleeve, so it was no surprise when he put up a hand, stopping her, and said, “Unless the distraction is going to upset the boxer even more. Then, well, I’m sorry to say there’s no place for it in the locker room.”
Shakes may’ve been the kindest bouncer she’d ever met. She returned his toothy grin. “Well, the last thing I want to do is upset Mike before the biggest fight of his life. I’d like to wish him luck.”
Shakes pushed the door wide. “Come on in, sweetheart. This is boxing, and we’ll take all the luck we can get.”
Suddenly, Mike came into full view. She allowed her eyes to land on the glorious boxer. God. Her heart nearly melted. He was so gorgeous; eight-pack abs, strong biceps, and a body that could rock her all night long. He looked both intimidating and delicious. He wore red boxing trunks trimmed with gold. The colors against his darkened skin sent an ache to her fingers. She wanted to touch him. When he turned and took her in, she instantly wanted to do more than touch him.
“What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“I’ve only got five minutes.” She rushed into his arms. Crashing into him he hugged her so tight. God, she wanted to stay here forever.
“I was thinking about you,” he said. “I’m sorry for walking out, for not letting you explain.”
She pressed her cheek against his chest. “I should’ve never written the article. I thought I could do both, hang on to you and my job. It was stupid to think they wouldn’t run it.”
He pulled her from him. His gaze met hers.
Air left her lungs in a rush. “It was one of the worst ideas I’d ever had. I didn’t think it through, I should’ve just quit days ago.”
He frowned. “You quit?”
“Yes, but I only have a few more minutes. Let’s not talk about this now. I saw you with Littleton today. He won’t be able to touch you. You’ve got this.” She wrapped her hands around him again and held him close. “You’ve prepared for this. It doesn’t matter what other people think. What they say. Tonight, you’re the best fighter in the ring.”
She pressed a light kiss to his cheek. “Good luck.”
Mike didn’t say anything as Shakes entered. “Ava, we have to go. It’s time.”
Chapter Forty-one
Mike focused on the curve of Ava’s ass as she walked away. No matter what happened in the ring, he knew he’d already won. He never realized until getting in the car with her all those many miles ago that the biggest opponent he would ever face was himself. And she would be his greatest challenge.
“Thanks.”
Shakes nodded. “Sometimes it takes getting your heart right to get your head right.” And that was Shakes, always the one with the fatherly advice, right on cue.
Mike gave the old man an easy smile. He helped Mike glove up. Then, a noise at the door caught his attention.
Daniella walked in the locker room and Jack followed. He looked in his trainer’s eyes as she approached. “I’m ready.”
He spoke true. His chest swelled, basking in this moment, his moment. He’d released himself from the chains of the past. This newfound freedom came with the understanding that nothing Littleton did could harm him. He’d won because he knew he’d be the best boxer he could be, and Ava would be there waiting for him.
Jack dropped a hand on his shoulder, bringing him back to present. “This is it, brother. This is the big time. Don’t look at the cameras. Focus on Littleton. Watch his speed, and if he goes low, what are you going to do?”
“Step to the side.”
Jack gave two hard pats on his back. “Hell yeah.”
The heavyweight moved out of the way and let his wife, the real trainer, take over. She locked eyes with him. “Put Ava out of your mind.”
“She’s out,” he confirmed.
Dani pointed her finger at his heart. “It’s fine if she’s in here.” Then she pointed at his head. “But I need her out of here, just for a little bit.”
“Done.” He visualized the ring. Littleton. He imagined the sounds of the crowd. Centering his mind, letting nothing but the fight consume him.
“Watch your pacing. Littleton won’t tire, so look for his weaknesses. Play on them. When he’s feeling comfortable, he likes to drop his left hand.” She winked. “Make him comfortable.”
“You got it, boss.” A slight grin peeled the corner of his mouth.
A knock sounded on the door and Shakes opened it. Security. Time to go. Daniella helped him into his robe. Red, with the words Stamina Gym, Las Vegas embroidered in gold letters on his back. Pride welled within him. Nerves tingled in his belly, not from fear, from excitement. This was his time to take Littleton down and show the press and all the haters he was a force.
Shakes led the way, followed by Jack and Daniella flanking his sides. They walked down the hallway’s narrow throat until it opened up to a sea of people. A mass of fans came into full view. Tension bunched his muscles.
He rolled his neck from side to side. Stay loose, he told himself. Tonight doesn’t belong to Littleton. Music blared. Jack clapped a hand on his back in a show of unity. He walked out, and a spotlight found him. Some people cheered, most booed. He wasn’t used to the sound, but Mike still found their jeers easier to block out. Ugly cries meant for someone else, someone they thought they knew, not him. The cheers, though—those were for him, with all his faults, and that was harder to swallow.
Once at the ring, he climbed through the ropes. Shakes took his spot in the corner. It meant something having the best cut man in Vegas sitting on his side of the ring. Daniella claimed her trainer’s chair, and Jack took a seat in the front row.
He bounced on his toes, warming up, and he allowed his eyes to scan the crowd for Ava. Immediately, a pang of remorse hit him in the chest. He defied his trainer’s orders. He had to, just this once. Ava couldn’t be in his heart but out of his head. The thought seemed impossible. His mind bartered with his soul. Just one look, one glance to make sure she was here, then he’d focus completely on the fight.
With a quick scan of the audience, he found her. Three rows back. She stood, letting him see her. Then, Ava returned to her seat. Warmth spread throughout his body. Adrenaline kicked in. His heart beat kicked up a notch. Her presence supercharged him. He shadowboxed and practiced his punches as the music blasted.
Littleton appeared from the opposite side of the room. Fans screamed. Team Littleton surrounded the prize fighter. A spotlight shone down on him, and the crowd cheered. No one wanted to see him lose. Mike’s contender wore a black robe with gold trim. He pulled the hood over his head, making his appearance all the more menacing.
Mike stood strong. No amount of hoopla and fan-worship shook him. He was here to fight, and win.
Marlon Littleton marched toward the ring and Mike readied. The champion climbed between the ropes and shed his robe. Bouncing on their toes, getting loose, both fighters prepared for introductions. Mike peeled the robe from his body, and Shakes took it away.
The announcer stepped up to the microphone.
“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight’s matchup inside the famous Madison Square Garden, where Marlon Littleton takes on Michael Perez.”
The crowd went wild.
“First, the contender in the red corner. Straight from the Stamina Gym in Las Vegas, Nevada, Michael Perez.”
Polite applause lifted in the room and was quickly followed by Littleton’s fans yelling out things like, “Loser,” and “Where’s your crew?” He took the last snide remark to
mean he’d need the Latin Boyz to beat Littleton. Not likely.
The announcer turned to the opposite corner of the ring. “In the black corner, with over forty-eight career wins, and weighing in at one hundred and sixty pounds, Marlon Littleton.”
Cheering and clapping, people stood up from their seats. The room erupted in a celebration of all things Marlon Littleton.
After introductions, both men met in the center of the ring. They touched gloves and proceeded back to their corners to wait for the bell.
Ding! The fight was on. Mike charged out from his corner, meeting Littleton in the center of the ring. They circled at first, testing each other. Then Mike and Littleton traded quick shots. Mike advanced, and Littleton blocked. With a straight right hand, Mike’s punch landed on his opponent’s glove and forearm. The crowd hooted. Too much power behind that one, Mike thought, not enough focus.
To knock a guy like Littleton out he needed patience and opportunity. He watched Marlon’s left hand and allowed him to get a few easy shots in. Punches that built his confidence, hits that made him comfortable. Mike absorbed Littleton’s abuse. He memorized his fighting pattern. Head, body, head, followed by a low uppercut, landing the punch just above the belt. Littleton drew in close, bowed low—and Mike sidestepped, forcing a missed punch. The few Perez fans in the room went wild.
Mike pressured his opponent. He advanced, forcing him toward the ropes. His game? To box him in, keep squeezing him out of space in the ring. Their cat-and-mouse game continued until the bell rang, sending each fighter to his corner.
A stool bumped Mike’s calves and he sat down. Shakes jumped in front of him and wiped Mike’s forehead with a towel. “You got this. You see what he’s doing?” Shakes removed Mike’s mouthpiece.
“It’s a pattern?” Mike said in between exhales.
“Head, body, head, gut . . . the dude’s predictable, especially after you’ve taken a few shots and he thinks he’s got you.” Shakes squirted water into Mike’s mouth. “Keep up the pressure, you’re doing great.”
Going The Distance (Ringside #2) Page 20
