by Emilia Finn
“Put. Him. On. The phone!”
“Ugh!”
I see her move on the screen. The cameras pan to the front row seats the very second she stands, and when she passes the phone to a shouting Biggie, the announcers make comment on ‘the little wife needing her husband’s attention.’
“Smalls?”
“Tell him to lift his hands, Biggie! What the fuck are you doing?”
He should probably scold me for swearing, but all he does is laugh and hold the phone closer to his ear. “You’re watching, honey. You see me working right now?”
“I see no one working, because Ben is getting his face rearranged. Lift. Your. Hands!” I jump off the bed and drop down closer to see my laptop screen. “Biggie! What the fuck is he doing?”
“He’s trying his best, honey. Hands up, Ben!” He’s speaking to me, he’s coaching Ben. This is my life in a nutshell. “Yes! To the mats. Take it to the mats.”
“He’s got him down. Biggie! This is so fucking stressful watching it on a screen.”
“I know. I’m sorry. ARM BAR!” I push the phone from my ear and laugh when Biggie’s shout turns my hearing tinny. “Lock it in, Ben! Lay back– lay back– Lift your fucking hips!”
“He’s got this.” It’s a chant. A prayer. A request sent up into the universe. “He’s going to win.”
“He’s gonna win,” Biggie agrees. “He’s a Roller. We don’t enter fights we can’t win. LIFT YOUR HIPS, dumbass!”
“Tap.” I get so close to my laptop screen, my nose almost touches the glass. “Tap, motherfucker.”
This is one of those moments Biggie should scold his daughter for cussing, but not right now. Not today.
“Tap, motherfucker,” he chants. “Lift your hips, Ben! Higher!”
My mom can’t remain still any longer. She was a professional photographer once upon a time. It was how she fed us when we were just the two of us and needed grocery money. She still carries her camera everywhere she goes, but it’s out of habit now, not desperation to pay the bills.
She snaps photo after photo of Ben, and ignores the photographers that were actually paid to be there. She moves in as close as Biggie, and almost climbs on the fence, until security shuffles her back.
“Tap!” Biggie shouts it into the air as Ben’s face strains, and his biceps bulge. He lifts his hips higher, higher, higher until, red-faced, his opponent taps his thigh, and my phone goes flying across the room.
“Yes! YES!” I pick the laptop up and kiss Ben’s panting face, and when my phone rings again, I scramble across my room and into Clair’s do-not-enter zone to pick it up. “Hello!”
“Why’d you hang up on me?”
“I dunno! I’m sorry. I’m so happy!”
Biggie laughs and stands back as my uncles slam the cage doors open and flood the octagon. Ben slowly makes his way to his knees, but then he’s thrust into the air on Uncle Jack’s broad shoulders.
“Winner by tap out!” The announcer waits for my uncle to set Ben on his feet, and then grabbing his hand, he throws it into the air and sends the crowd wild. “Ben Conner of the Rollin On Gym!”
“Wanna talk to him, honey? He told me he was gonna call you.”
“Yes!”
I grab my laptop and jump back onto my bed. It’s a mess of tangled sheets and tossed clothes. My pillows have been dumped aside, and Puppy is staring at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I watch Biggie move around the octagon on the screen at the same moment Ben approaches the cage door.
He’s coming to me. Well, he’s coming to Biggie, but by extension, he’s coming to me.
My screams make my voice hoarse, my heart pounds so heavily that I fear I might pass out. I’m mere seconds from speaking to him, but when his arm reaches out, it’s not the phone he takes.
Nora steps into the octagon and tucks herself under my boyfriend’s arm while everyone screams around them. He tucks her into his side, and places a hand to her ear as though to shield her from the noise. Her eyes are wide and kinda scared, but it doesn’t stop her hand from wrapping around my boyfriend’s hip and anchoring herself to him.
He’s my fucking boyfriend!
Biggie steps up into the cage and offers the phone, and I watch on screen as Ben brings it to his ear.
But I don’t hear him on my end.
I press my finger to the red icon and kill the call, and all the while, I see Ben’s lips and tongue move as though to say hello?
His brows furrow, and his lips move again. Hello?
When he pulls the phone from his ear and studies the blacked-out screen, I slam my laptop lid closed and curse the sob that tears up my throat.
Ben
And It All Came Tumbling Down
“Evie?” I shout at my phone, while the rest of the world shout at me. My face aches, and my heart still races, but I try again, as though the black screen is lying to me. “Evie?”
“What’s the problem?” Aiden shouts to be heard over the roar.
“She’s not there.” I extend the phone back to him. “Why’d you give me the phone?”
“She was there!” he shouts back. He swipes his screen to unlock it, then he dials and brings the device up to his ear.
While Aiden makes himself busy, I spin my friend and try to catch her eyes. “Nora?” She’s freaking the fuck out. “What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I-I’m sorry,” she stammers. “I just…” Her eyes wheel around in what can only be described as terror. “I’m sorry.”
“She’s not answering,” Aiden shouts. “She was there.”
“Let’s take it to the locker room.” Bobby steps up behind us and extends a hand toward the gate. Nora nearly jumps out of her skin every time someone comes near us. It’s like she’s caught in a terror-filled loop. She’s frozen with fear, unable to do anything or make her own choices.
“Come on.” I pull her in and place my hand over her ear again, in an effort to block some of the noise. I lead her through the cage door, and precede my team back into the tunnel and past the cameras that refuse to stop.
The noise level is insane, but despite the hype we’ve generated leading up to tonight, mine isn’t even the main card fight. My team will take home about sixty thousand dollars for tonight, but the guys who fight after me will take home well into six figures.
Aiden remains on my heels the whole way back to the lockers, and once we step in and close the doors behind us, the majority of the noise cuts out, and Nora slips out of my hold to take space for herself.
She’s not really a toucher. Not a hugger, so the fact she came to the octagon surprises me.
“Where is she?” I leave Nora alone and go to Aiden. “You got her?”
When he shakes his head, I stop in front of Bobby and extend my hands so he can remove my grappling gloves. I could do it myself, but my knuckles hurt. For this moment, he can earn his fifteen percent cut.
The second he has them off and my hands swell from the freedom, I snatch my phone from my bag and dial.
I promised I’d call her, and she demanded that she be my first stop.
I bring the cell to my ear and wait with a smile on my face. I won my second pro fight, I won it convincingly, even if the other guy got a few shots in, and now I’m riding my adrenaline and ready to shout my victory to the girl I love.
But she doesn’t answer.
I frown when my call goes to voicemail and, pulling the phone away from my ear, I dial again. When she still doesn’t answer, I dial again.
Aiden and Tina were riding my high with me, but when their daughter remains missing, their smiles turn to frowns, and their phones come back out.
Evie doesn’t take my call – or the dozen more that I attempt after that – but she takes Tina’s, which settles her parents’ nerves and sends mine into a tailspin.
“What’s going on?” I step up to Tina and stand over her, despite the fact I’ll get my ass handed to me if Aiden notices. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“She’s go
ing to bed.” Frowning, Tina’s electric blue eyes come up and stare into mine. “She said she fell asleep during the fight, and our calls woke her up. She’s going back to sleep.”
“Sleep?” My heart gives a hard knock. A painful thump. “Why would she go to sleep? It’s fight night.”
Tina shrugs and takes a step away. “It’s finals time. She’s doing the best she can.”
“Conner!” Bobby’s voice booms from the doorway. “It’s time to get ready for the conference.”
Evie
Like Father, Like Son
Ben: Take my fucking calls!
Ben: Evelyn? What’s going on?
Ben: Babe? Why won’t you take my calls?
Ben: We’re boarding our flight now. Please reply to my texts while we’re in the air. Don’t make me come looking for you.
Ben: You didn’t text. Evelyn! What the fuck!
Ben: I’m getting on a plane and coming to you. When I get there, I’m gonna beat your ass for ignoring me.
Ben: Aiden said my contract is void if I leave the state. Answer my fucking calls before we lose everything we worked so hard for!
Ben: Evie? Please call me. I’m scared.
That’s how my life unfolds from the moment Nora stepped under my boyfriend’s arm on national television while I metaphorically stood to the side and was ignored. I’m his girlfriend. I’m the person he’s sworn a lifetime to, but it’s her that goes to his fights and makes a declaration without saying the words.
I don’t fight women for a man. I don’t compete to win affection, because if he wants a little of both, then he gets none of me. She can have it all, and I’ll sit here in my stupid fucking lecture hall, not listening to my professor, while my phone incessantly buzzes and sends me to the brink of insanity.
“Curls?”
That pencil. I swear, I’m going to shove it through Reid’s eye and laugh when it plops onto the floor.
“Are you okay? My stalker skills mean I’ve watched you for half a year. You seem sad.”
“Fuck off.”
“Angry, then?” He taps my shoulder with that pencil, and can’t know that his teasing almost brings tears to my eyes. I’m not coping, with school, with life, without Ben. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve legit got me worried.”
“Go away, Reid,” my voice cracks. “Please go away.”
“I watched your boyfriend’s fight on ESPN the other night.”
“Awesome.”
He leans closer so his lips touch my hair. “Who was that other bitch?”
I slam my books shut and sweep them all into my backpack. Eyes shoot toward me because of the noise I make, but I still sling my bag over my shoulder and swing out from behind my desk.
“Problem?”
“No sir.” I wave my professor off and shoot into the aisle. “I don’t feel well. Need to poop.”
With nothing but a glare for Reid, because a true friend wouldn’t throw that shit in my face, I stalk along the stairs and exit the room at a sprint. I run along the hall and burst into the sunlight outside, and when faced with an almost empty quad and the sounds of Reid’s sneakers slapping the concrete behind me, I run as hard as I can and shoot between buildings in my escape.
“Evie, stop! Fuck. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay!”
“Evie?” Ben’s crackling voice snaps my eyes up and draws me to a skidding stop. He stands on the steps out front of my dorm building, with heavy bags under his eyes, and hair that’s messy from running his hands through a million times. “What are you–” His words cut off when Reid follows me around the corner and stops twenty feet back. “What the fuck?”
“Ben?” I slowly move forward with a wash of rage and desperation sliding through my blood.
I’m so angry at him, so truly, deeply, horribly angry that he’d take Nora to a fight when that’s our thing. Fighting is ours! But I’m so desperate for my best friend, I almost run into his arms and beg myself to forgive and forget.
Almost.
“What are you doing here?”
“Who the fuck is that?” He shoots a glare over my shoulder and ignores me just as easily now as he did when he celebrated his fight with Nora. He steps around me and stops so he and Reid stand twenty feet apart. Muscles flex and fists ball. Ben’s nostrils flare like he’s ready to charge. I’ve seen that face a million times in my life. It’s the face he makes when things have spiraled so far out of his control that he loses it. “Is there a reason you’re chasing my fucking girlfriend?”
Reid should turn around and walk away. He has no claim, not even that of friendship to justify stepping forward and facing the very guy he kind of reveres, but that’s not what he does. He pushes forward and shows he’s not afraid of Ben or anyone else. “I was following her to make sure she’s okay. Seems she’s been upset the last few days. Could have something to do with you.”
“She’s been upset?” Ben’s eyes come to me for a moment, then back to Reid. “Who the fuck are you that you think you get to notice? What makes you think you get to be the friend that consoles her if she’s upset about something? Step away, asshole.” He shoves Reid back when he comes too close. “Stay away from her.”
“Ben!” I jump forward when Ben goes to shove again. “You need to leave.”
“I’m not taking my ass anywhere until you explain why you’re not taking my calls.”
“Because I don’t want to!” I push between the two men and plaster my chest to Ben’s. Not in comfort, but to tell him to fuck off. “You don’t deserve my undivided attention, Sasquatch. If I wanted to speak to you, I would take one of your million calls. I didn’t, which means you need to take a hint.”
“You’re my fucking girlfriend! You don’t get to not take my calls.”
“And you don’t get to leave the state without forfeiting your contract with my family. Sucks for you, huh?” I push him back and suck in my breath when Reid’s hands come to my hips and try to pull me back.
Ben lunges for him, and slams his fist against Reid’s jaw. “You don’t fucking touch her!” Ben takes Reid to the grass and smashes him to the ground so hard that their colliding bodies make an actual thumping sound. “You don’t touch her!”
I think Reid is stunned for a moment. A single moment where his brain has to decide between bowing down to the guy who’s basically living the life he wants, and defending himself. But that single moment is all it takes for his instincts to kick in and for his legs to scissor around.
He hooks Ben’s legs with his, snaps his arms down so Ben loses his balance, and then they roll, and Reid ends up on top so his fists slam into Ben’s already bruised face.
Other students mill around to watch the brawl on the grass, but this isn’t like high school where the teachers will come sprinting out to restore the peace. Every time Ben fought in high school, Aunt Britt – a teacher – would come out and kick his ass for being a nuisance.
Here, on a college campus, we’re considered adults, and detention isn’t the punishment handed down when we’re caught.
Ben bridges up when Reid struggles to catch his breath, tosses him to the side, and follows him over until blood bursts from Reid’s lip.
“Fuck.” I drop my backpack when I realize this isn’t ending. Maybe subconsciously, I was hoping for a one-two tap, the way they do in school, but these aren’t wannabe fighters. They’re both pro in their own way, and they’re proud.
Biggie isn’t going to kill Ben’s contract for coming here, but fighting on a college campus might get it done.
“Ben!” I step into the zone where I’m going to take an elbow to the face if I’m not careful, and try to shove Ben off. “Stop it! You’re gonna fuck everything up.”
“You don’t touch what’s mine!” Ben whales on Reid’s face, and doesn’t stop just because blood coats their shirts. “She’s here for an education, not for a fuckin’ hookup!” He keeps going, and doesn’t notice my proximity when his elbow hits my thigh and nearly deadens my leg.
“Ugh!” I grunt in pain and hop back, and when Ben pulls back for a wind-up hook, I lower my stance and run straight toward them. My aching leg is forgotten as I brace, square my shoulders, and run head-first into Ben.
Though it feels like I’m running into a brick wall, I still send him sprawling and rolling, so together, we land six or so feet away from a panting Reid.
I land on top of Ben, but he’s fast, and he’s trained with the best. He bridges up and resembles a wild dog in a fight for his life. He throws me to my back, mounts my hips, and winds his arm back for a shot.
“Stop!” I cover my face and wait for the impact. “Ben! Stop.”
His brain isn’t as fast as his eyes. Through the gaps of my arms, our eyes meet. His are enraged, machine-like, and ready to take me out. His arm makes the wide arc and comes straight for my jaw. I see the war in his eyes; take his enemy out, finish the fight. But then his eyes recognize mine, his brain catches up. Ben pulls his shot, and allows me to bridge and toss him off.
My jaw aches with phantom pains as I lay on my back and try to catch my breath. “Jesus, Ben.” My chest lifts and falls while I pant. “You nearly killed us all.”
“Curls!” Reid’s face stops mere inches above mine and blocks out the sun high above us. Blood coats his chin and lips. His teeth are red, and a bruise is already forming around his left eye. “Fuck, Evie.” His panicked hands race over my torso as though to check I’m okay. “Did he get you? Fuckin’ hell.”
“No, he didn’t get me.” I push him away, and breathe a sigh of relief when he drops back to his ass and doesn’t try to hold me down. Groaning, I crawl to my hands and knees and try my damnedest to ignore the couple of students who watch us and point their phones at us.
It’s going to be on the news by six o’clock, and when my family sees, we’re all dead.
Panting, despite the fact I did nothing more than run five feet, I crawl my way to Ben and find him lying on the grass with the heels of his hands pressed to his eyes.
