“You have work to do.” Dean didn’t even glance up at Micah. Instead, he continued glancing through piles of piles of paperwork.
“What is going on with this Dean? I told you from the get-go that I was not about this fake bullshit. These endorsement deals, these crappy drinks—I’m not here for that crap.” Micah attempted to be calm, but his voice was still agitated by the situation at hand.
“Listen, Micah, I’m helping you become the professional fighter everyone talks about. This is part of the game you have to play. Take their money and do your job.” Dean’s eyes were still fixed on a paper contract sitting on his desk.
“Then, I don’t want it.” Micah crossed his arms and sat down on the chair across from Dean’s desk. “Not this, anyway. Whatever the fuck this is, it’s not fighting.”
Dean glanced up, studying the man before him. “You want to go back to living in a retirement home with your grandmother? You want to go back to working twelve-hour days at the yard being someone else’s bitch? Because if you do, that’s fine. Go ahead. The door is over there.”
Micah considered his words. It was Dean, after all, who convinced Micah that he could make a career out of MMA fighting. And not just a career, Dean had promised him a better life for him and his grandmother. No more rundown assisted living homes, no more cutting classes to make it to work where he lied about his age for a job, no more chasing scraps of food and booze with whatever he could come up with money wise. Because of Dean, his life had changed dramatically.
“What is this about, Micah?” Dean looked him up and down—as if he could tell that something was different, perhaps missing. “It’s not her, is it?”
“Who?” Micah egged him on, knowing that Dean wouldn’t dare mention her name—at least not after the knockout punch he delivered the last time he brought her up.
“So, it’s over? You ended it?” Dean’s gray, burly eyebrows arched suspiciously, questioning.
“That’s what you told her to do, wasn’t it? That’s what you wanted me to do, as well.” Micah’s face turned to stone. He was not about to let Dean know that the relationship had continued despite his attempts to kills it.
“I only ask because a reporter came to me asking about a girl he spotted you with after the match. From the description, it sounded a little too close to her for my comfort. Red hair, long legs. It seemed to fit.”
Micah’s heart raced as he swallowed hard. “It was just a girl from the outside. Security let her slip by. Do you have a problem with that or should I take my vow of chastity now?”
“I don’t have a problem with you hooking up with ring girls. I have a problem when your training suffers and you start losing matches. And that’s what happens when you’re with…her…”—Dean stopped himself from saying her name outright—“…when you’re with a girl that takes up your time and energy. Stick with the ones you can screw and lose.”
Micah stood up, wanting no more to do with the man he once considered to be a father figure. His anger boiled and tumbled in his throat and veins. Reaching for a poster of himself at an old match, he ripped it down, crumbling it in his hands. Without turning back, he tossed it bitterly on the ground and walked out of the office without another word.
He had work to do, and he wasn’t about to waste another minute listening to Dean and his opinion of how his life should be. After all, what did he know about life outside MMA? He spent his days living, working, and breathing in his cramped brick office. The only times he ventured out was to get to a match or scout a local talent someone had given him a lead on. Even his coaching had become a joke. Micah knew his motivation, and it sure as hell wasn’t giving Micah the life that he “deserved” anymore. It was all about the bottom line, the percentage he could get.
Micah grabbed his sparring gloves from locker on his way to the ring. He noticed his phone flashing in his bag. It was a message from Alice:
“Do you have an ETA on that car? I need to see you.”
He could guess why she needed him. His fist hurt just thinking about it.
Chapter 4: In Action
If Alice were to be honest, she would admit that waiting for a private car never really got old. In fact, she secretly loved the idea of being chauffeured to and from places, her own personal assistant to open her door, offer her a bottle water, and place her bags in the trunk. It was the kind of luxury that she knew she only got from being Micah’s secret. But, as she waited by her bedroom window for the black sedan, she couldn’t help but feel like a part of his world by proxy.
However, today Alice was growing impatient of constantly having to wait. The normal routine was for her to meet him at the gym, as she waited in the backseat of the car. But Micah’s texts had her running a bit scared. The change of plans sent chills up her spine, as she looked for the possible red flag to come. Why would he want her to stay far away from the gym and his practice time?
The hours passed one after another. She attempted to concentrate by painting a bit more, but her mind wandered and her work looked almost uncharacteristically sloppy. Even her prized painting, the one she started when she first began seeing Micah, suffered from the paint dripping unevenly in places.
Seven o’clock rolled around. Her stomach growled, as she debated going ahead with dinner without Micah. She questioned sending him a text but stopped herself, knowing that if he was still at practice, he wasn’t going to answer his phone until he was done. Instead, she said screw it and cooked up some quick pasta with spaghetti sauce and sat down to watch television.
Eight o’clock—nine o’clock—ten o’clock—her eyes struggled to stay open as she watched the late night news. As she curled up under a blanket, her head filled with thoughts of where Micah could be, a knock shook her apartment and brought her back to life. She walked slowly towards the door, cautious of opening. After her mugging, she was not too keen on breaking safety protocols.
“Alice.” A low, almost rash voice floated into the living room where she stood debating opening the door. “Alice, open up.”
She unlocked the chains and pushed the door open wide. Micah stood outside, decked out in a light leather jacket, a pair of jeans, and a black, tight fitting t-shirt, he was dressed to kill. His face, however, said otherwise. Without a word or an embrace, he shuffled past her and sat on the couch, grabbing the remote from the end table and turning the volume down.
Neither spoke until Alice grew wary. “What happened to the car? I thought I was going to meet you after practice?” She tried to make it not sound accusatory, but she couldn’t help but be a bit suspicious. After all, his practice normally finished around five.
“I was held up.” He was not in the mood to talk, she could tell, but Alice shot him a glance that forced him to continue. “Dean had me doing these commercials with this sports drink or something. I didn’t start practice till late.”
“So, then, what are you doing here? Why didn’t you just text me that you were running late?” A million other things ran through her head, but she kept it low key. He was obviously not in the mood to play along or to share.
“I’m here because I’m here. I didn’t want to go home. I didn’t tell you because…” he stumbled looking for an answer. He honestly wasn’t entirely sure why he was at her place today. “I didn’t tell you I was coming because I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It does matter if Caroline was home. It does matter if you were followed.” It also mattered to her.
“I know. Let’s just drop it, okay? You said you wanted to talk to me about something, so let’s just move on to that.” Micah hadn’t once glanced up at Alice. Instead, he waited for her to slam him with something, to make his day even worse than it already was.
“I talked to my boss today.” Micah’s heart sank, as she continued. “He gave me some vacation days and changed my schedule back to afternoons. Since I’m no longer welcome at your practices, I guess that will work out.”
“Yeah…” Micah waited for her to continue.
&n
bsp; “Yeah what? I thought you would be thrilled. It will be no more sneaking out at four in the morning to get to my morning shift. No more working seven days in a row if I don’t want to. I can take time off and travel with you to your tournaments if you want. Why is this not a big deal to you? If you’re worried I cannot be at your local matches, I get off of work at seven now, which should give me enough time. ”
Micah kept quiet, unsure of where to go with this. It was happy news, but it was also completely unexpected. “Yeah, it is great. I’m glad to hear it.”
“When is your next match, this Saturday? I want to make sure I have it in my calendar.” She sat down next to Micah on the couch, as she grabbed her phone and opened up the schedule.
“Saturday,” he stammered. “Yeah. The Breakthrough Invitational. Saturday’s the—uh—the prelims—” Before he could continue, Dean’s words came back to him, haunting him once more. In order to continue fighting his way to the top, he had to be in the best form. Could he risk her being there? His performances since dating her had been so uneven. One minute she was his inspiration, the only thing keeping him alive. But those were easy matches with slim targets. He probably would have won those outright with or without her around.
But the Invitational was something else. It would be huge with promoters and sponsors begging to bring those to the next level. Dean’s “quarter mill” comment played like a broken record. What would happen to that money if he moved up? What could he do for himself, his family, even Alice if he had that kind of cash sitting around?
“Micah, I asked you what time your fight was at.” Alice was growing impatient. It was late, and she really had no energy to be ignored.
Micah returned his focus with new determination. “I don’t want you there. Can you sit this one out?”
“What?” Alice was stunned. First, he was telling her to stay away from the gym, and now there was this? She wasn’t sure what this all meant. “What are you asking me?”
“I’m asking you to stay home. I can’t have you distract me.”
“A distraction?” Her voice raised, insulted. He had never once referred to her presence as being an issue. Now, she couldn’t help but feel like he was putting his past losses and failures all on her.
“Okay, hang on. That’s—that’s not what I—look, Alice, I have to think about my career. And when you’re around, it’s like, my focus goes… elsewhere.”
“Gotcha,” she said huffily. “So it’s my fault you suck lately.”
Micah moved closer to her in an attempt to calm her, but she scooted away. She didn’t want anything to do with him, let alone let him get any closer to her. “Alice,” he whispered tenderly, “it’s just one match. Let’s just see how I do without you there.”
“One match?” she said bitterly. Micah nodded his head in a reply. “Fine. I’ll stay home. I’ll watch it on TV like everyone else. But don’t you fucking dare blame me if you lose. Whatever happens is all on you.”
Micah could feel that he had wounded her; he had taken away a part of her pride. But he knew it was for the best. With Dean already suspicious of him and reporters chasing her down, this was the only way he could protect her. He knew she wasn’t ready for a life in the celebrity bubble. And if he won the Invitational, it would be even harder to keep up. Taking a step back, away from the sneaking around and the lies, was the only way to make sure these moments lasted as long as possible.
There was a long pause. Micah looked down at his feet, then towards the kitchen, and finally back to Alice. “So… any leftovers from dinner?”
Alice couldn’t help but break into a smile. It was a question only a man could bring up after a fight. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed the remainder of the pot of pasta, pouring it out onto a bowl. From the refrigerator, she grabbed one of Caroline’s beers. She returned to the couch and watched him dive ravenously into his meal.
The moment, to Alice, felt so normal. This is what real couples do. They come home from work; they eat their home cooked meals; they watch their late night talk shows. It may not be perfect or full of fame and fortune, but this was what it was supposed to be. It pained her to think that life with Micah was always going to come with strings attached, like photographers and journalists hounding him while his coach pressured him to chase tail. She didn’t sign up for that.
But as the two slept soundlessly into the night, her head resting on the expanse of his naked chest, she remembered that it may not be perfect, but this was what it was. Every moment with him brought her closer to the kind of love she wanted to both give and receive.
She was falling for him. Every scar, every break down, every match…she was more and more head over heels for her fighter. She longed to wake him up, break him from his slumber, to even just whisper it in his ear as he dozed. But she knew it wasn’t the right time. It would just be another distraction for the both of them, for their relationship.
***
The bed moved from under Alice as the weight of the mattress shifted in her direction. She could hear Micah move slowly out of bed, hesitating ever so slightly as he fully stood. He looked down on her, as she faced his opposite direction. Her fragile body almost glowed in the night’s iridescent light.
Coming to, she rolled over to face him, as he slipped on his pants and shirt. “Where are you going? Come back to bed.” She patted the warm spots of the sheets where his body had made an imprint.
“I’ve got to go. Your roommate is going to be home soon, right?” He stood straight up, attempting to listen to the sounds of the apartment for any signs that she may already be here.
“I don’t know. What time is it?” Alice sat up further, ready to follow him outside.
“It’s two. Doesn’t the late shift end about now? I don’t want to get caught, at least not tonight.” A flood of memories of their earlier argument ran through his head. He still felt numb from listening to Alice’s pain become real because of his actions.
“Yeah, but she usually goes out with Jace after her shift is done. I doubt they will get in for another hour or two.” Alice reached across, grabbing his arm, yanking him downwards into the pool of sheets and pillows. He leaned backwards, grabbing her face and hair in his hands as he kissed her sweetly.
“I should go. Walk me out.” He stood suddenly and opened the door to the bedroom, closing it partially behind him.
A noise rang out of the silence—almost a squeal. Micah shouted something Alice couldn’t make out. She sprang from the bed and ran towards the commotion, her heart beating fast as a flash of all the horrible things it could be played out through her mind.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE? GET OUT!” Alice heard Caroline’s shrieking voice first. Micah’s body had edged further towards the living room door.
“I’m going! Damn!” Micah took a few steps further before Caroline noticed Alice had woken up and emerged in the living room. Alice took a moment to turn on the living room lights, illuminating the scene.
She could see why Caroline was so frightened. Micah looked like a thief in the night with his black clothing and his hood pulled over his head. Caroline was in a pink silk negligee, her underwear showing through the lace bottom accents. She had a bat in her hand, the one that both of them swore they would use if someone attempted to break in. It was lifted high above her head, as she was only steps from clobbering Micah’s shoulders and back.
“Caroline! Put the bat down! It’s okay!” Alice’s commands had broken through, as Caroline stood frozen in place, surveying what was actually happening. She looked across to see Alice standing in only her long t-shirt and panties, her hair frazzled and frayed from the night. She then turned back to her robber, as he removed his hood for her. As soon as she spotted the tattoos on his neck and the square of his razor sharp jaw, a burst of recognition shot through her. She lowered the bat slowly, still keeping it firmly in her hand ready to strike if necessary.
“Alice,” Caroline said, as she eyed the two of them, unsure of who to yell at firs
t. “What the fuck is he doing here in our home?”
“It’s okay,” Alice repeated slowly. “I invited him.”
Micah continued to stand there, frozen as the two girls tried to navigate the situation. He was aware that he was not supposed to be seen or found. Yet, here he was, right in the line of fire and exposing all of Alice’s lies from the past month.
“Alice, I have to go. Walk with me.” Micah’s voice was low and soft, yet he was ultimately commanding her to follow. Alice turned back into the bedroom and slipped on a pair of pants she had discarded earlier. When she returned, Caroline was still in the living room, bat in her hand.
Micah led the way, silently stomping down the apartment building’s stairs. Alice was ten steps behind him, unsure of what to do next. When they got the bottom, he waited for her, facing the door nearest the street.
Sucker Punch (The Submission Fighter Book 2) Page 3
