by Alexis Angel
Remembering her saying that brought back the first night we met, and the first night I brought her back to my place. I shake these thoughts from my head.
She breaks the silence. "It wasn't me."
"So you do know what I'm talking about … but if it wasn't you, then who?"
"I wish I knew," she says, shaking her head. "I swear it wasn't me."
"The only other person who knows is Hunter," I say. "Could it have been him? But if it's him, why would he do that? That was always a carefully guarded secret between he and I."
"There's only one way to find out," she says. "Pick up your phone and call him."
Good idea. I don't know why I never thought of that. Of course. That's the simplest solution. I pull my phone from my pocket and dial him. The phone rings, but he doesn't answer and it eventually goes to voicemail.
"Let me try," Natalie offers. But she dials too and again, it goes to voicemail.
Just as we're about to try for a third time, we both turn and face the TV.
A sound has caught our attention.
What the fuck is going on? Just when I didn't think the day could get any stranger, it does. Sports Network is broadcasting an impromptu press conference with Hunter.
Natalie and I watch as he takes the stage. He's in a Navy blue suit, perfectly tailored, wearing dark sunglasses. But when he says my name, he has my undivided attention.
Hunter is standing behind a podium and speaking into a microphone.
"There's been a lot of talk in recent days about Logan and I. Sports analysts have been wanting to see us matched up for a long time. Some say it would be the match of a lifetime, and I'm here to officially go on record saying that I'm receptive to that match up. Logan, if you're listening, I'm ready to fight you, unless you're too scared to step into the ring with me."
The audience is going wild. They are chanting, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" And flashes are going off as reporters take pictures for the next day's newspapers.
Hunter poses for them with both fists balled and raised.
Just then, my phone starts to ring. It's ringing with unrecognizable phone numbers. Has the media already managed to dig up my number? I ignore the calls and shut my phone off.
I take a deep breath. It looks like I only have one choice now. My back is against a fucking wall.
"There's no way out of this," I say to Natalie. "I'll have to fight Hunter."
"You can't," she says, shaking her head. It's not what she wants to hear.
"What about the truce? You can't break that. You made a promise."
"That's in the past," I say, "and unfortunately, Hunter is using our past together to blackmail me into fighting him. I never thought he'd go that low, but now it's clear he has. I can't fucking stand that."
I look out the small window of Natalie's studio, lost in thought.
"I have to fight Hunter," I say, nodding my head with the recognition of it all, "because it's the honorable thing to do."
Natalie
“This isn’t fair!” I pout, looking down at the empty shot glass in my hand. I turn it around, watching my pale reflection on it, and then just slam it down on the counter. “TWO MORE!” I say, or, well, shout. Dutifully, the bartender makes his way back toward Michelle and I and refills both of our glasses.
“For someone who doesn’t like to drink when she’s out celebrating, you sure go at it when you’re commiserating,” she tells me, throwing her head back and drinking her own shot. She makes a grimace and then coughs into her hand, the tequila clearly getting to her.
“But it isn’t fair!” I repeat. Just like Michelle, I make a grimace of my own as I down my tequila. Oh, I’m going to have a massive headache tomorrow. “Everything was going great, and now this! It doesn’t make any sense!”
“I know, I know…” she agrees, taking the empty glass out of my hands and setting it down on the counter. “But drinking yourself silly isn’t going to help, is it?”
“I dunno. I feel good,” I shrug, although the whole counter seems to be leaning away from me. “TWO --” I start, raising my hand to call for the bartender, but Michelle moves fast and grabs me by the wrist.
“No, no more. We have to be in the office tomorrow morning, did you forget about that?”
“I don’t care about the office,” I pout, but I still allow her to pull me up to my feet.
“C’mon, let’s go. I’ll get you a taxi.”
With one arm around my waist, she guides me across the packed room of the bar, pushing our way through the sea of people drinking their Friday night away. We step out into the street, the cold night breeze caressing my skin, and I notice that there’s already a yellow taxi parked out front.
“I told the bartender to call for a taxi,” she tells me, opening the door for me.
“What about ya?” I mumble, my whole body relaxing as I slide into my seat in the back of the taxi.
“Well, that cute bartender is getting off in fifteen minutes,” she shrugs, a devious grin on her lips.
“You told me to go home because we’re working tomorrow morning.” I narrow my eyes at her, but she just shrugs again.
“And we do. Doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun.”
“Alright, alright… Just be careful, okay?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m an expert at kicking guy’s in the balls,” she laughs, winking at me and then marching back into the bar.
Pressing my head against the headrest, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep in just a couple of seconds. By the time I open my eyes, the car’s already halting to a stop in front of my apartment building. Groggy, I reach for my purse, but the driver just waves me down.
“Your friend already paid the fare,” he merely says, and I thank him with a nod.
“Oh, God,” I mutter as I get out of the car, the door to my apartment building dancing in front of my eyes. Yeah, I definitely shouldn’t have drank all those shots of tequila.
Somehow I manage to open the building’s door and make my way toward the apartment. Once there, I simply throw my purse over the coffee table and collapse on my couch, my knees giving up under my deadweight.
Crap, why did this have to happen? Everything was perfect, and now this… I can’t believe that, because of this stupid leak, I’m on the verge of losing Hunter and Logan. Yes, Logan seemed to believe me when I told him I had nothing to do with the leak, but what if he changes his mind? And what about Hunter? He completely shut me out!
After what happened between the three of us, I don’t know how I’ll go with knowing that it’ll never happen again. Sex with them was… more than amazing. It was a religious experience. It might be silly when said like that, but you wouldn’t understand without experiencing it. There was a connection there, one more real than anything I’ve ever experienced.
Their lips on mine, their naked chests against my skin, their hands wandering all over my body… It was perfection. Oh, just thinking of it is enough to get me going. I already feel my heart racing, my pussy growing wet with each passing second…
Pursing my lips, I slide one hand down the front of my dress, bunching it up as I flatten the palm of my hand between my thighs. The moment I feel the pressure of my hand there, I start working on instinct alone: I slide my hand under the hemline of my dress and, flicking my thong to the side, I press two fingers over my clit.
“Ah,” I pant as I rub on it, going faster and faster as the memories of what we did in the deserted Gazette’s office flood my mind. Holding my breath, I slide my middle finger inside my pussy, pushing it past my drenched folds, and allow thunder and lightning to climb up my spine.
Breathing hard now, I let my fingers take me to the heights, my whole body tensing up as pleasure pools inside me. “Fuck,” I groan, my brain reaching the melting point. “FUCK!” I cry out again, pleasure shooting up my spine and exploding inside my head. I remain lying there in the couch, feeling tipsy and horny, as every single muscle in my body seems to be twitching and spasming.
&nbs
p; By the time I take my hand out of my pussy, I feel so exhausted that I can’t even help myself. My eyelids droop, I take one deep breath and, still with all the memories dancing inside my head, I drift off to sleep.
Logan and Hunter… Will I really be able to let go of the two of them?
Never, the answer comes to me, and it’s the last thing on my mind as the lights finally go out inside it.
Natalie
“Are you sure?”
“There’s no way around it. We have to fight,” Logan tells me, staring out of the limo’s window as we ride through New York City. Even though he didn’t have to, he called me this morning and told me to accompany him to the Empire State Building. The place where a fight with Hunter will become inevitable.
A small army of lawyers has been busy drafting up a document that’ll bind both Logan and Hunter, and today he has been called in to sign it. I hoped that this wouldn’t happen, but soon enough there’ll be no turning back; once their names are on the contract, there’s going to be a fight, one way or the other.
“You can’t fight. It’s just… wrong,” I try and tell Logan, thinking of everything Hunter told me. I can’t believe that they’re going to do it despite what they’ve gone through.
“There’s no other way, Natalie,” he repeats, laying his hand on top of mine and squeezing it softly. “It’s the last thing I want to do, but…”
“But…?”
“It’s been a long time coming. Some things can only be settled inside a ring,” he whispers, the grave tone of his voice enough to make my skin prickle. This isn’t about sports, prizes or money; this goes so much deeper than all that.
As the limo finally stops in front of the Empire State Building, we both get out of it and start walking toward the main entrance. We do it a brisk pace, hurrying as a light drizzle threatens to turn into a serious downpour. Even Heaven itself seems to be crying over what’s about to happen.
I follow after Logan as he heads toward the elevator, and we remain in complete silence as we make the climb toward one of the top floors. On the way up, I grab his hand and give it a soft squeeze, just like he did before. It’ll be okay, my gesture says, although I’m not so sure if I can believe that.
As he leads the way toward the offices where they’ll be signing the contract, I feel my heart beating faster with each step I take. There’s already a young receptionist waiting for us in the front desk of our floor, and she’s the one leading us toward the conference room.
“They’re already inside,” the receptionist tells us with a nervous smile, waving at the double doors in front of us and stepping to the side. With a confident nod, Logan runs his fingers down the length of his tie and steps forward, turning the door’s handle.
I follow him into the conference nervously, and my eyes meet Hunter’s in a fraction of a second. He’s sitting in the middle of the table, flanked by what I assume to be his agent and lawyers, and his gaze is as cold as ice.
I look from Hunter to Logan, expecting them to say something or, at the very least, to acknowledge each other.
They don’t say a word.
They simply remain silent, not even daring to look into each other’s eyes. It’s as if there’s a barrier between these two, one that simple words won’t be able to cut through.
“Hunter…” I whisper and, even though he looks straight at me, the ice in his eyes doesn’t melt. Under the table, Logan holds my hand, lacing his fingers with mine.
“So, we’re all here,” one of the men next to Hunter says, clapping his hands together and resting a briefcase on the desk. Popping it open, he takes a few documents from the inside, stacking them into two neat piles. He hands one of these piles to Hunter, and the other one to Logan.
“I’ve take it you’ve already read the copies I’ve sent you this morning,” the man continues. “What you’re holding in your hands are the originals. Just sign them and we’ll be good to go.”
Hunter is the first to move. Without even bothering to flick through the documents, he grabs the pen in front of him and signs his name on each and every page, his movements tense and angry.
Logan doesn’t follow suit. Instead, he grabs the contract in front of him and opens it up, taking his time as his eyes run over each line on the page. Then, satisfied with it, he grabs the pen in front of him and signs it, his movements fluid and relaxed. Even though he’s as angry about the whole thing as Hunter seems to be, he doesn’t allow his feelings to run rampant.
As everyone waits on Logan, the tension in the room keeps growing and growing, becoming almost unbearable. The palm of my hands becomes sweaty, and I start drawing quick and short breaths, too nervous to take a deep breath. How did it come to this? Just a few weeks ago I was a nobody, and now here I am, right in the middle of what’s about to become the fight of the century!
Still, it doesn’t make any sense. Why would Hunter drag the memory of the woman they loved through the mud? All this because of a fight? Somehow, I don’t believe that Hunter was the one behind the leak. But if it isn’t Hunter, then who?
“Well, almost done!” one of the men says, getting up from his seat and changing contracts. Now it happens faster: they sign each other’s contracts, and then the lawyers collect them both. “Fantastic, gentleman!” the man, whom I suppose to be the head lawyer behind the agreement, continues. Despite the somber mood inside the conference room, he looks pretty cheery about the whole affair. No wonder, a fight like this will make so much money it makes my head hurt just to think of it. I wouldn’t be surprised if it topped $1 billion in revenue. Yeah, billion with a B.
“Good,” Logan says, buttoning his jacket as he stands up. Without even looking at Hunter once, he walks out of the office, and I just follow in his footsteps.
“My God,” I whisper as I catch up to him, grabbing his arms. “It’s really happening.”
“It is,” he tells me somberly.
“Who were all these people?”
“Lawyers. And Hunter’s agent,” he says, and it’s like a light bulb comes to life inside my head. When Fat Ed first told me he wanted me to profile both Hunter and Logan, a couple of men strolled inside his office shortly after. One of them had a scar that went from his chin to his lower lip, and that same man was sitting across from us today.
“Hunter’s agent; is he the one with the scar?”
“Yeah, he’s the one.”
Holy shit, what the hell is going on?
Natalie
I shift my weight from foot to foot, waiting as Ed takes a long drag out of his cigarette, wisps of smoke escaping from between his parted lips and climbing all the way up to the ceiling.
“I’ve been thinking about you, Natalie,” he starts to say, staring at me with his beady eyes in such a way that I can’t help but feel an ounce of disgust.
“Thinking… about me?”
“Yes,” he says, crushing his cigarette in the ashtray as he starts to cough, the hoarse sound of it making me wince. If I had to bet, I’d say he’s smoking his way into an early grave. “I want you to cover the fight.”
“The fight?”
“Yes, the fight. It’s yours,” he says between coughs, waving one hand at me as if he was offering me something tangible. “I want you to cover the fight for the Gazette. You want to do something important, don't you? Well, there you have it. You’ll be covering one of the most important sports events in history.”
“No,” I tell him flatly. I don’t care how good for my career this fight would be. I don’t want to make a profit off it. Two men I care deeply about will be fighting each other, and I’m supposed to help the Gazette make money while it happens? No way. Besides, Ed knows I’ve developed a personal relationship with Logan, and I bet he’s trying to exploit that.
“No?” he asks me with a deep laugh, looking at me through the clouds of smoke escaping from his nostrils. “I’d expect you to be thankful, not to act like a brat.”
“Have someone else do it. Like Michelle, for instance,�
� I tell him, standing my ground as I see the corner of his lips curl upward. The bastard’s grinning at me.
“No, the matter is settled already. You’ll cover the fight, or else you can start looking for a job somewhere else.” He doesn’t break eye-contact, nor does he blink. He just tells me what his orders are, like a general ordering his soldiers to march straight into the jaws of death. “Now get out of my office,” he finally grumbles, patting away the ashes that have fallen on top of his keyboard. “Go on,” he repeats, and I’m too stunned to reply to him. I just turn around and leave, ashamed at myself for not sticking to my guns.
“Jesus, Natalie, put on a smile,” Michelle asks me as she sees me walking inside the office. She’s nibbling on the end of a pencil, taking some notes on a big basketball game that happened the night before. Something I was supposed to be doing, but I was so distraught with the Logan/Hunter situation that she ended up covering for me… again. Soon enough I won’t owe her dinner; I’ll owe her an entire restaurant.
“Ed wants me to cover the fight,” I tell her with a sigh, sinking onto my chair and running both hands through my hair.
“You told him no, I’m guessing,” she whispers, never taking her eyes from the sheet of paper in front of her.
“I told him no, yeah,” I confirm, “but he wouldn’t budge. He even threatened to fire me if I didn’t do it! Can you imagine it?”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. He has already threatened to fire me a hundred times at least. And I’m still here, as you can see.” She stops writing then, setting aside the paper and the pencil. Looking up, she raps her knuckles against the surface of her desk and then smacks her lips together. “He probably knows about your relationship with Logan, and he’s trying to play that up.”
“I know, I know…But this is horrible! How does he expect me to cover the fight when I’m worried about the men in the ring?”
“It’s not like you have a choice, Natalie…” she says, and I notice the worry in her voice. If she could, I know she’d take over for me in the blink of an eye.
