Until the Bell Rings: An MMA Fighter Romance

by Roxy Wilson

  “How long did we sleep?” she asked.

  “Not long,” I told her. “But you can go back to sleep if you want.” I’d hold it until the sun came up if it meant she’d stay.

  But she breathed against my chest, and shook her head. “I didn’t bring any clothes. I have to get up early tomorrow and I’m not wearing the same outfit to work that I left in. People will talk.”

  “You mind if they talk?” I asked.

  “You’re used to being around nothing but men, obviously,” she said. “If the people I work with start talking, they might never stop.” She pursed her lips, kissed my nipple, and then glanced up at me. “They can talk later, maybe. If you’re good.”

  I kissed her again, craning my head to reach her lips. Every time it was the same kind of lightning strike that went straight to my head and made me dizzy. The way she seemed to envelope me with it made me want to give up breathing and eating just to stay there.

  But she pulled slowly away, and ran her fingers over my chest when she sat up. “Mind if I shower?”

  “Go right ahead,” I said. “I’ll join you in a minute.”

  She winked, and left me.

  “Towels are under the sink,” I called after her.

  When she was gone into the only bathroom in my place, I went to the window facing the alley between my building and the next one over and relieved myself into it. What? It was already basically a public toilet for bums and nobody used it for anything else. I didn’t want to make her wait to shower and it was a little early to use the bathroom in front of her.

  I went back to the bedroom, but before I reached it, my front door jiggled, and then clicked. Without knocking, Logan pushed through the door. I’d have scrambled to get clothes on, but the way I saw it, it was my fucking house and he knew to call ahead before he came over. So I folded my arms and waited for him to notice me.

  “Riley, listen I—” He blinked, and then shielded his eyes. “Oh, what the fuck, man? You just walk around your place naked?”

  “If I did,” I growled, “that would be my prerogative. What the hell do you think you’re doing, man? You should have called.”

  “Go put some pants on,” Logan complained. “I got news. I did call, you didn’t answer.”

  “I shouldn’t have given you a key.” I sighed. “I have company. I’ll call you when she’s gone.”

  “Dude, who cares?” Logan said. He dropped his hand, defiantly pretending to be unbothered by my state of undress.

  “I care,” I said. “Come back later.”

  “This can’t wait,” Logan said. “Tully found you a fight. A big one, the kind that’ll pay out huge. Some Indonesian guy. He’s been all over the west coast and just finished up in Chicago. Twelve outta twelve and not a single match lasted, get this, even two minutes.” He gestured like that should have been a bomb that he just dropped on me, like I should be as slack jawed as he was.

  I might have been, at some point. Now, I just wanted him to leave.

  Logan rolled his eyes, and turned his head away. “I can’t take you seriously like that.” But he glanced again, obviously at my dick. “Fucking hell. Where’d you get your fucking genes from? Fucking monster…” He mumbled the last part, but I heard him.

  “Look, tell Tully I don’t care who I fight,” I said. “He knows that.”

  “No, so, here’s the thing,” Logan said, nervous suddenly. “Uh…this guy he…he killed a couple guys.”

  That did give me pause. Just for a second. It also got my blood running hot with an excitement I wished I wasn’t feeling. “That so?”

  “Yeah…uh…look, Riley…you don’t have to fight this one if you—”

  “I’ll do it,” I said.

  Logan watched me, his eyes firmly on my face now. “Yeah? You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I said. “Now you need to leave. Tell Tully to arrange it.”

  “Yeah okay—oh…” Logan looked passed me. “...uh, hi. I’m Logan.”

  I hadn’t heard the pipes go quiet. The door to the bathroom had never been closed, so I hadn’t heard her come out. Zahra was already dressed. Shit, how much had she heard?

  “I realize you have company,” she said coolly. “So I figured I’d better go.”

  “This is my brother, Logan,” I told her. “He’s leaving. Let me dress, I’ll walk you—”

  “I think I can see myself out,” she said. “Also maybe you could do me a favor and not show up at my office again, since it’s clear you can’t be trusted.”

  “What? No, Zahra, listen, this is—”

  “You think I’m stupid?” Zahra didn’t look angry. But she sounded it. Her voice could have been a hail of silent, ice cold razors. “I know what a goddamn cage fight sounds like, Riley. I know what that world is like around here. I see the leftovers and casualties all the time. I should have known better.” She shook her head, and walked past me.

  “Zahra, please just hear me out,” I said, panicked and trying to decide whether I should throw on clothes and follow her, kick Logan’s ass, or throw myself on a fucking sword or something. “It’s not what it sounds like, okay?”

  She was at the door, head bowed. Her jaw muscles twitched. She didn’t turn around to speak to me. “Here I thought you were smart enough to come up with your own lines. Good bye, Riley. Nice to meet you, Logan. Thanks for filling me in.”

  Zahra opened the door, and left. I wish she’d slammed the door. Something like that would have made it seem like she could cool off. The way she just quietly closed it behind her made it seem more final, somehow.

  I rounded on Logan, this close to seeing red. “You dumb son of a bitch, you have no fucking idea what you just screwed up for me.” I took a step toward him.

  Logan staggered away, hands up. “Hey, look, I didn’t mean to, okay? How was I supposed to know? I called, you didn’t answer!”

  “I didn’t answer ‘cause I was in the middle of something. Something fucking real for once, Logan.” I held myself back, and tried to clear my head, center. But there was no center just then. She’d just walked out. “Get out.”

  “O-okay, Riley, okay, I’ll go…so…I should tell Tully—”

  “Fuck you, Logan,” I snapped. “Go! Now!”

  He all but sprinted for the door. “I’m sorry, okay? Real sorry just…you know…talk to her or—”

  I must have looked like I was about to come after him, because he swallowed whatever he was going to suggest, and ran out. Didn’t even close the door.

  So I closed it instead, and I did slam it. Hard enough that one of the only two bits of art I ever cared to hang—gifts from Tully—fell off the wall and hit the floor. The glass in the frame shattered, and sprayed my legs with a few tiny shards. I stood there, naked, staring at where I’d been cut until the minute little nicks began to bead up red.

  “Fuck.” I said to no one. Or everyone in the goddamn world. Whichever.

  I stared at the fallen picture. For some reason, just then, it wasn’t just a thing, or even the single sentimental gift from my mentor—other than the years of training he gave me, that is. Just then, it was a broken dream, and I hated it. I hated that it was broken, I hated that I’d had it in the first place. I hated that it had hurt me when it broke.

  Part of me wanted to go after her, run down the street, explain everything and make her understand that I had to do what I was doing, that it was to keep my loser brother alive. But the fight had gone out of me.

  Instead, I swept up the broken glass and threw it away, and then collapsed onto the bed and breathed in the lingering memory of Zahra.

  Chapter Eleven

  Zahra

  After an angry walk home, a restless night, and a six o’clock alarm from across the room where I couldn’t just hit the snooze, I felt like shit.

  It had been so good. So good for just that little bit. Why did he have to go and screw it all up?

  No wonder he had a temper. Cage fighters weren’t just people with anger management issues. It w
asn’t boxing, or wrestling, or kickboxing—it was a blood sport. People got into it because they didn’t like the rules that kept people in regulated fights relatively safe from serious injury or death. People died in the cage fights. I knew, because I had worked with their wives and their orphan children who sometimes ended up inheriting someone’s debt to the loan sharks that swam in the darker streets of the city.

  And I wanted absolutely no part of that.

  I should have known better. Any woman could fall for a bad boy—that wasn’t my fault; not really. Of course Riley had seemed dangerous. I’d looked passed that because, frankly, it seemed like maybe it would be adventurous. And it had been.

  But that adventure was over, and I woke up to my real life again. I ate my microwave oatmeal, had my Mr.Coffee-brewed-Folgers, and went back to work—to my life. Boring, but meaningful.

  Once I got to the office, I picked through the files I had decided not to take home with me the night before. I had to go back over several of them when I realized I hadn’t marked the file numbers down with any recommendation, and that set me back. My mind was still stuck in Riley’s bedroom, and if it was a thing I could have gotten my hands on, I would have shaken the memory of him loose and swept it into the trash.

  “You’ve got to focus, girl,” I muttered to myself. I gathered my files back into a stack, tried to get myself straight, and then started over again.

  I almost missed two meetings; luckily I had Marci watching out for me. After the second one, she came into my office with a cup of coffee.

  “You’re an angel of light and goodness,” I told her when she handed it to me. “How did you know?”

  Marci grimaced a pretty grimace. “You seem a little…off, is all,” she said carefully. “Is everything alright? I usually don’t have to remind you about appointments. I don’t mind. Really, just…it’s weird. Did you get like, kryptonite exposure or something?”

  I chuckled, and sipped the coffee she’d brought. Two sugars and milk. I didn’t think I’d ever told her how I liked my coffee, and wondered how she knew. That girl was going places. “You could say that, I suppose. I’ll get over it.”

  “Does it have to do with that hot—er, that guy that came by before?” she asked.

  I knew she meant well. I was on pretty good terms with Marci, and we’d had our moments to share gossip and I knew that she’d been seeing a guy for about six…no, eight… maybe it was almost a year now? Anyway, we talked. But now wasn’t one of those times.

  “I’d just as soon put it all behind me,” I said. “If you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” Marci said, maybe a little disappointed but too professional to push the issue. “Well…you’ve got a four o’clock with Mr. Carson. About the, um…cats.”

  That was after lunch, so I had some time left. I handed Marci a stack of sorted files along with the note sheet for them. “Thanks for the heads up,” I said. “You’ve been great all day. Thanks for putting up with me.”

  “No problem, Ms. Monroe,” Marci said. “Let me know if I can help with anything else.”

  I nodded my consent to the offer, and let her go.

  Lunch came, but didn’t have quite the same feeling of peace that it normally did. For one thing, I didn’t feel like going to the Thai place. The only other option in walking distance that I felt like was the diner. Greasy, indulgent food and maybe even a milkshake felt like exactly what I needed. Or at least, the next best thing.

  Normally I didn’t answer calls over lunch, but when Jackie called I thought I might get a chance to vent a little. She complained to me about Walter and Malcolm, the men in her life—she probably wouldn’t mind listening to me complain about the brief period I’d spend with one in mine.

  “Hey Jackie girl,” I said, more cheerfully than I felt. Though, really, just having her ear did make me feel marginally better.

  “Zahra, hi!” Jackie seemed surprised. “Oh, I know you’re probably at lunch; I was just going to leave a message. Are you busy?”

  “I’m at lunch but not eating yet,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Well…I hate to bother you,” she started. Which meant trouble. Which probably meant Tyson. Well, I’d answered the phone, hadn’t I? Rules are rules for a reason. Jackie was a friend, though, so I let her talk. “It’s just that…I wonder if you’ve seen Malcolm lately? I mean, seen him and talked to him a little bit?”

  “I haven’t,” I said, straightening a little. “Why, Jackie? What’s wrong? He didn’t run off, right?”

  “No, no,” Jackie said quickly, but her voice was strained. “No he didn’t run away or anything but…he’s spending a lot more time out of the house. I know, he’s eighteen now, he has his own life but…I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t prepared for the change. He’s always been so open with me, well, since you started working with us, I mean. I always know what’s going on with him and he’s never kept secrets but lately…” she choked off, about to lose it, and had to take a moment to gather herself. “You know we’ve been talking about college a lot lately. He printed off applications, and we’ve done the interview for student loans and Walter and I have already signed papers and everything.

  “Well, I know I should respect his privacy now that he’s an adult, but I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with him lately and he just kept telling me everything was fine and that he was doing some work—but he wouldn’t tell me where and so I went into his room.” Jackie groaned. “I’m that mother, God help me, it sounds so awful to say it out loud. But the thing is, I found the applications. He hasn’t sent any of them in.”

  “Jackie, probably he’s just not ready to go. Lots of kids are taking a year off and honestly, a year of work wouldn’t be bad for him. Maybe he’s worried you’ll be upset if he doesn’t want to go straight into more school.”

  “I thought of that,” she said. “I told him about the applications, and said that it was entirely up to him and that I’d support whatever he wanted to do, you know, as long as he was doing something. And he said he was going to go to college, he just had some things to take care of first and...God I’m going to sound like a crazy person, I know, but, well…” she paused for a breath, which I assumed she badly needed, “…I saw a grease stain on his jeans.”

  I waited.

  “Like from a car,” Jackie clarified.

  Probably, I was too tired and too shaken up from everything else to put whatever puzzle she was trying to get me to solve together. “I know that means something to you, Jackie,” I said, “but I can’t quite figure it out on my own.”

  Jackie lowered her voice, as though someone might hear here. Maybe Walter was nearby. “I think he might be spending more time with Tyson, Zahra. He says he’s working but… well, what if he means, you know…boosting cars or something?”

  “Malcolm is a better kid than that,” I assured her. “You know that, Jackie. He wouldn’t throw his life away.” I didn’t mention that Tyson had been around recently; I could always check up on Malcolm myself.

  “I do know that.” Jackie sighed. “I know. I’m just so, so afraid Tyson will get into his head. He did when I was Malcolm’s age, you know? When he wants to, Tyson can talk anyone into anything.”

  “Tell you what,” I said, “I’ll check in with him, see how he’s doing. Maybe there’s something he’ll tell me that maybe he’s embarrassed to talk to his parents about. Could be a girl. Hell, it could be a boy, for that matter.”

  “Oh,” Jackie said, “I’d give anything for him to be gay instead of a criminal. Please, God, let it be that.” She laughed a little, which was a good sign. “Well…thanks for helping calm me down. What about you? What’s going on in your life? Malcolm mentioned you had an admirer? Did that, you know, pan out? Riley Dern, right? The fighter.”

  I had to keep from groaning into the phone. “Um, no,” I said evenly, “I’m afraid that didn’t work out. And, probably Malcolm should pick a better role model.”

  “Oh, no,” Jackie said. “Zahra, I’m sorry.
What happened?”

  I gave her the footnotes, but didn’t go into too much detail. Honestly, once I started talking about it, I realized I didn’t really want to. By then, of course, it was too late, so I relived it all, start to finish and felt just as crappy at the end as I had the night before. So much for a relaxing lunch. By the time I finished, my milkshake was melted and my food, which arrived shortly after I started, had gone nearly cold, and I had ten minutes left to eat. At least I didn’t have a meeting until four.

  “So, that’s that,” I said. “But it’s fine. I don’t need a man in my life right now anyway; already just one dinner date set me back almost three days at work. I don’t have time for all that. When I’m late at my job, people stay in abusive relationships, children don’t get new shoes, or have stalled development, divorces don’t get settled. It just seems selfish for me to, you know, waste time like that.”

  “Oh, Zahra,” Jackie said sadly, “honey, no. No, no. You can’t think like that. You do good work—believe me, I know exactly how important you are to this community and I love you for it and you know that—but what happens when you run out of fuel, Zahra? You’ll burn out. You have to know that; surely there’s a whole class on that in social worker school, right?”

  I laughed. Social worker school? Right. College prepared you to pass the licensing exam, and get approved by the board—it absolutely did not prepare you for life in the field or in the office. If it did, there wouldn’t be any social workers.

  “I hear what you’re saying,” I said. “I do. I’m okay waiting for the right man. If God has a plan, let Him follow through.”

  “Honey, if He does and you’ve got your nose in a file, how are you supposed to know?” Jackie made a distant tsking sound and then huffed. “Okay, that’s the end of my advice. You’re the professional, anyway. Gosh, I can’t believe we talked so long. We need to get together soon; I miss you.”

  “We will,” I said. “I could use some R and R with my people.”

  “Let me know if you talk with Malcolm?” Jackie asked, worried again. She’d probably never stop worrying about her boy. Not when he was twenty or thirty or fifty.