Until the Bell Rings: An MMA Fighter Romance

by Roxy Wilson

  “That silver tongue gets you in all sorts of trouble, I bet.”

  Riley tilted his head a little, smiled, and leaned in toward me. “My tongue is gold, not silver. I’m happy to show you.” He straightened. “That is, if lunch goes well. And then dinner. I’m a two date kind of guy; you can’t be sure about someone on a first date.”

  “What makes you think this is a date?” I asked.

  “I didn’t even think it was lunch, until just now,” he said. “But if you’re agreeing to lunch, I’m happy to call it whatever you want.”

  “Oh,” I said, laughing a little. “I see what you did there. You sure are smooth, aren’t you? I’m still not convinced though.”

  “Command me,” he said, “and I’ll do whatever it takes. Any dragons you need me to slay?”

  “Fresh out of dragons,” I said.

  “Any quests at all? I’m good for any kind of quest, big or small.”

  “I could put you in my rolodex,” I said. “Call you when I get one. I can always use a back up when I’m not on my own quests.”

  “Well,” he said, getting slowly down onto his knees. “Next best thing I can think of is prostrate myself before you and make up poetry about your beauty. I wonder what rhymes with Zahra. Give me a minute.” He lowered his hands to the ground.

  People across the street had stopped to watch curiously. Probably they thought he was going to propose or something.

  I almost let him get on his stomach.

  But, it was a game of chicken that I lost. “Alright, stop,” I said. “Get up.” I sighed, and watched him hop to his feet. That body was not just for show.

  He waited, smiling. “I’ve got some really great poetry lined up,” he said. “You sure you don’t want…” He bent his knees again.

  “No,” I said quickly, but I was fighting to keep my smile down. “You can take me to lunch. And quick, too; my break is almost up and there’s gonna be a line at the place I like. Hope you like Thai because that’s where I’m going.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”

  I rolled my eyes, and led him toward the Royal Flower. As we walked, I glanced sidelong at him. “So you got some good poetry, hm?”

  “I’m pretty sure Tennyson and Byron would be green with envy,” he said.

  “Oh, okay. You read Tennyson and Byron?”

  “My dad was an academic type,” he said. He shrugged. “I got a trickle-down education, mostly by accident.”

  “I see. Well let’s hear it.”

  Riley smiled at me, then stared ahead of us. When he recited his poetry about me, it was loud and drew every eye I could see. “There is no beauty like my girl Zahra; not even the stars of Cassiopeia!”

  My cheeks heated, and I had a strong urge to hide my face. “Okay, okay,” I said. “Not exactly dope rhymes.”

  “Not a lot rhymes with Zahra,” Riley explained. “Plus don’t forget I get hit in the head a lot.”

  “I guess that’s fair,” I told him. “But I think Tennyson and Byron can probably rest easy. Good thing you’re good at fighting.”

  “It’s just poetry in motion,” he said, and winked at me.

  We got to the Royal Flower, and there was a line out the door. “Great,” I said. “See, you got me all distracted. If I miss my lunch, you and I are gonna have the sort of words that’ll have Tennyson and Byron turning in their graves.”

  “Yeah,” Riley said. “We don’t want that. Follow me.”

  “Uh, no,” I told him. “I have a routine, and believe me it keeps me sane.”

  “We’re eating here,” he insisted. “Come on.”

  There were already people behind me. If he had some fool plan and I ended up not eating lunch…

  But Riley led me to the front of the line, and through the door, and to the counter. When we got there, one of the young men that was usually here for lunch waved to me just as Riley caught his attention.

  “Yes, sir? How can I help you today?”

  “I’ve got a reservation for lunch for two under Dern,” Riley said. He was real smug about it.

  “Oh, yes,” the kid said. “Right this way.”

  “They don’t take reservations,” I whispered.

  Riley smiled, and shrugged. “Special circumstances.”

  As we were led through the restaurant to a back table that, indeed, had a hand-written sign marking it reserved, it hit me. Riley had never had a doubt that I would let him take me to lunch.

  Alright. Round one to Riley Dern. I supposed I could see how round two went.

  Chapter Four

  Riley

  I’ll say this for Zahra, she handled the surprise with grace; like she’d expected me to have made reservations at her favorite restaurant, during a time when they didn’t normally take reservations. I had to pay them a hundred bucks to reserve a table for us.

  It was money well spent. Zahra was smiling, even if she was mostly trying to hide it and play it cool.

  She wasn’t the only one, though. I played it casual as the guy sat us down and gave us menus. We wouldn’t have to wait long—part of that little bribe was to make sure our order went to the top of the list when it was put in. She already knew what she wanted, and I picked something at random. I wasn’t here for the food.

  “So,” Zahra asked, “do you make a habit of rigging things in your favor?”

  “Gotta think ahead in my line of work,” I said. “Is this all going in my favor?”

  She gave me an appraising look, flashing champagne colored eyes that had a subtle shade of orange amidst clear gold, under lashes that curled for days. “We’ll see.”

  In my experience, that meant yes. I figured all I had to do now was lay on the charm, get her to laugh a little more and it was a done deal. Every woman likes a good time, but a woman like her especially—if I read her right; and I normally do—needed more than just a surprise. For the Candy’s and Cookie’s and Sugar’s of the world, it was enough.

  “So, social work,” I said. “What got you into that?”

  Zahra relaxed a little bit. She’d been on guard against my attempts to flirt. She wouldn’t be, later, if she let her guard down long enough. A date was a lot like a fight, to me. All about getting to know your opponent, getting them to drop their guard, and then giving them the old one-two when they least expected it. There’s some zen for you. Tully would be rolling his eyes.

  “Something like a calling,” Zahra said. “I worked with a social worker myself when I was young, after my father passed. I had some trouble with it. Because of him, I stayed on track, and by my second year in college I knew what I wanted to do. I’ve been at it for five years.”

  “So,” I said, “smart, accomplished, and beautiful. That’s quite a trifecta.”

  Zahra watched me for a moment, and then quirked an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were trying to talk me up.”

  “Is it working?” I smiled.

  She pursed her thick, beautiful lips and shrugged a shoulder—but the corner of those lips were just barely curled up in a smile she was trying to hide. “I bet a man like you is used to getting what he wants and getting it quick,” she said after a moment. “I think it’s only fair that I tell you right now I’m not some easy woman you can have just because you tell me I’m pretty and pull out a few magic tricks.” She sipped her water.

  “A man like me?” I wondered. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

  “You want an honest answer to that, or do you want me to flatter you?”

  I chuckled. “Well, now I’m not so sure. But I’m curious anyway. Shoot.”

  She set her shoulders and leveled with me. “I’m not blind; you’re a good looking man. I imagine ladies fall all over themselves to be with you. I’m guessing that’s given you a bit of an ego. Actually,” she said, gesturing at the table and restaurant, “I’m sure that’s given you an ego.”

  “Fair,” I conceded. “Go on.”

  “If I had to guess,” she went on,
“I’d say that you’ve probably always felt like you had something to prove. You’re an athlete, but it’s not a team sport; you went well out of your way to get me on a…lunch outing.” She said it pointedly instead of saying ‘date’, and I grinned. “And I just bet you’re the type of man that thinks it’s all in good fun; nothing serious.”

  It was a fair assessment. I didn’t say that right away, but I did feel momentarily uncomfortable.

  Zahra chuckled, and pointed at me. “And all that just made you a little wary because you’re not used to anyone seeing past that rough exterior. Am I right?”

  I held my hands up in surrender. “Okay,” I said, “you got me. You must be really good at your job, huh?”

  She nodded, and forced a smile. “In my line of work, you have to have a highly sensitive bullshit meter.”

  That made me laugh, and fortunately she laughed with me. All hope was not lost, then.

  “Well,” I said, “is any of that a deal breaker?”

  “We haven’t made any deals, mister,” she said archly. “But…no. Not strictly.”

  Our food arrived, and we ate for a moment in silence before I worked up the nerve to ask her what her deal breakers were. Those things are good to know ahead of time.

  “Aside from the obvious,” she said, “criminal activity. Gang involvement, things like that. I grew up around a lot of that and don’t care for it. My father worked hard to take me and my mother out of that world and give us a good life. It still got him in the end…but I think what he wanted most for me was to never go back there again.” She sighed. “Of course, these days I spend a lot of time hip deep in it, but, you know, I’m at least trying to help other young people like I was helped. I figure that gives me a pass.”

  “What did you father do?” I asked.

  “He was a cop. A good one, too.” She smiled, but it was sad. “He died about ten years ago. Got cornered in an alley by…by some kids. He’d arrested one of them for trying to steal a car. Instead of booking him, though, he had a long talk with him. Tried to help him onto a better path in life. That was the kind of man he was, you know?”

  Zahra was quiet for a long moment, and I let her have it. I could see her composing herself, prodding her noodles with her fork but no longer apparently interested in eating.

  “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “He sounds like a good man. The real kind of good man. Not a lot of those out there.”

  “Don’t I know it,” she said. She cleared her throat, and shrugged. “You know my mother says that if he knew it was going to happen, that that young man was going to find him with his friends and…do what they did, he’d have made the same choice. He just believed in the good in people. I try to do the same. It’s tough.”

  We shared a short look with one another, but it was intense. I could almost feel her trying to look into me, to answer a question for herself about whether there was any good to find in me. It was unsettling, how far into me it felt like she could see.

  I broke first, stuffing a forkful of noodles into my mouth. When I’d chewed and swallowed, she was hungry again.

  “So,” she said, “anything you want to tell me? Gang associations, drug running, mob ties? Best to get it all out now.”

  I chuckled, but mostly to cover a moment of panic. In the strictest sense…well, I didn’t only fight in the ring.

  The truth was, I fought about half my matches outside the strict regulations of the League, in the Cage, where money could change hands more freely. Not because I wanted to—the money I made from League matches was fine, it was enough—but because I had to. Somehow, though, I didn’t think that would make a difference. I almost told her. There is this one thing…

  But, I couldn’t quite bring myself to say it. I didn’t want to lie, but I didn’t want her to get up and walk away, either. Not after this. Not after I’d started to really see her.

  “Nothing like that,” I said. “I’m not a fan of rules and traditions; authority kind of chafes which is probably part of why I like to fight. But I try to keep my nose clean. I should tell you thought that…I do have a record.”

  Zahra’s face smoothed a bit with disappointment. She nodded slowly. “Okay. What’d you do.”

  I sucked in a breath, held it, and then sighed it out. I hung my head a bit, too. “Well,” I said slowly, “if I tell you…I’m worried you might decide you don’t want to see me again.”

  I didn’t see her reaction, but I could hear her set her fork down on her plate, ready to walk right out. I kept my face penitent.

  “I might not,” she said honestly.

  “Yeah…I…I guess that’s a risk. Well…when I was younger, maybe eighteen or nineteen I…” I swallowed loudly, and tried to obviously look like I was preparing myself for confession. “…I forgot to pay a speeding ticket. They hunted me down like an animal, arrested me…I did almost fifteen hours of hard time in the slammer for it. I came out a changed man.”

  Zahra burst out laughing at me, and I joined her. She picked up and threw a piece of chicken from her plate, too. “You’re making fun of me,” she said. “You need to watch your step, mister.”

  “I’m not.” I assured her, still chuckling through it. “I felt like you wanted full disclosure. Didn’t want you to find out from a background check or something later on and dump me.”

  “I’m a social worker,” she said wryly, “I can’t run background checks.”

  “Well if I’d known that,” I said seriously, “I’d have kept it to myself.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said. “So there it is, then; you only tell the truth if you think you’ll get caught. I see.”

  It was remarkably close to the truth, actually, and I had to ignore the sliver of guilt that wiggled in my stomach. “Yes,” I said, “exactly; I’m an opportunistic penitent.”

  “Good to know,” she said, still weathering the aftershocks of the laughing fit.

  It felt good to laugh, and it looked like it did her good as well. I tried to remember the last time I’d had a genuinely good time with a woman—not just in the sack or at a club, but like this; just honest (mostly honest) good conversation. It had been a long, long time. I wondered how long it had been for her but didn’t ask. Now that I saw her—really saw her—I didn’t want to know who else had made her feel like I was pretty sure I did. Call it immaturity if you want; I don’t particularly give a fuck.

  Zahra glanced at her watch, a tiny gold thing on her wrist; the one bit of jewelry she wore. She didn’t wear much makeup, either, and I hadn’t realized it before but up close now I could tell—this was just how she looked. Radiant, all on her own.

  “Well,” she said, “my lunch is almost over and I have a pile of cases to get through that would make your storied arrest record look like a footnote.”

  “Hint taken,” I said. “Date over.”

  She narrowed eyes at me.

  I met them with a sly smile. “You can say it isn’t a date if you want,” I told her, “but in my book I got to have lunch with a gorgeous lady, I laughed, she laughed, and I want to see her again; that’s a date.”

  “Maybe your definition needs an update.” She groaned. “But…I suppose I could think about it. Maybe next time you could call me, though, instead of stalking me at work. Does that normally work for you?”

  I shrugged. “It worked this time. You don’t win if you don’t play; that’s my philosophy.”

  “Oh, okay.” Zahra chuckled. “Well it has been…nice enough.”

  “Mind if I walk you back to work?” I asked her. “It’s a scary world out there full of criminals just like me—parking tickets, seatbelt violations, even broken tail lights; dangerous individuals flouting the very foundations of our society.”

  That got another laugh out of her; it was like music, rich and real—never forced.

  “I suppose I could use a bodyguard,” she admitted with another giggle. “Just in case.”

  When I’d paid, and we were on the sidewalk, I gambled a little. I offere
d her my elbow.

  She gave it a sharp eye, and then glanced up and laughed quietly at me. But she slipped her arm through it and I could see her smiling. We chatted a little bit, but all I could think was whether or not she’d slap me if I tried to kiss her later.

  Chapter Five

  Zahra

  I had to admit, Riley Dern was a little fun to be around. Probably he had some deep seated insecurities—I could spot those things a mile away—and there was definitely something about him that triggered an instinct in me to be wary of him. But, then again, he had that kind of look to him, that bad boy image that probably was just as much about marketing himself as a fighter as it was anything about his actual character. Still, I knew a thing or two about the dangers of profiling someone on how they look so…in this case, I could maybe wait before I rushed to judgment.

  It felt good to have my arm hooked in his. He was taller than I am, but I’m all legs, so we kept pace together and it was an easy stroll. I think neither one of us really wanted the moment to be over. But reality couldn’t be staved off for very long. My office was in sight too soon.

  My mother always taught me that it’s a woman who sets the pace of a relationship of any kind. Men have one speed setting, she said; and it’s ‘fast’. A good man paces a woman. As much as I was feeling the attraction and almost wanted to know what it would be like to be kissed by him—and I could tell it was on his mind the way he kept looking at my lips—I made the resolution that I would wait. Set the boundaries now, make them clear. I’d told so many other women that in my career that I’d lost count and it would be foolish to ignore my own professional advice; I was damn good at my job.

  With this in mind, I disengaged from Riley’s arm when we got close to work. Last thing I needed was more questions than I was already in for. “This was nice,” I said, finally admitting it to him. He’d waited patiently, after all.

  “I’m glad it was,” he said, smiling with those bright white teeth and pouted lips. I wondered how he stayed so pretty. Maybe he was a better fighter than I imagined him to be. On close inspection, though, it did look like he’d broken his nose at least once before.