by Emma Nichole
A knot forms in my throat and I swallow to keep it at bay.
I rest my forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”
“What in the world could you be sorry for?” he asks, pulling me onto his lap. I wrap my limbs around his large body like he’s a tree and I’m a tiny nymph who wants to live on him.
“For reacting that way. I had no right. I swear, I’m not this way. I’m not a crazy jealous person.”
“You think I’m angry that you’re jealous? Fuck, Faith, it makes me feel…all kinds of ways that you’re jealous. While I don’t want you to feel bad ever, I would be lying if a part of me didn’t think it was hot that you wanted to claw her eyes out.”
I lean back so I can see his face. “Do you even like this girl? How could you? She seems like she’s the worst.”
He rests his hands on the curves of my body. “No, I don’t really like her, however…at the time, she was a quick conquest. A sure thing.”
“And that’s what you wanted at the time? Quick and sure?”
“When you say it that way, it sounds gross, but in a way, yes. I didn’t want a relationship. I didn’t want the hassle of a girlfriend or anything serious. My life is in that Octagon. I travel a lot. I train a lot. Casual is better.”
“Then why am I so different?” I ask, and I’m not sure I even want the answer because, what if I’m not different? What if I’m just his consistent sure thing for these few weeks?
“Because you’re…you,” he says simply, as if me being me is the ultimate answer.
“That’s all it takes? Just me being me?”
“Yeah, that’s it. When it comes to you, I’m a goner.”
Falcon
The buzz of the press readying their cameras and chatting amongst themselves, as they wait for the weigh-in to begin, simmers to a dull roar just a few feet from where we are standing.
“You’re going to stay right with Courtney, okay?” I lean down to whisper in Faith’s ear. “You’ll be right off to the side of the stage. You won’t be in the main area with all the press.”
She nods. “Okay.” She rubs her hands together like she’s a bundle of nerves. It’s endearing actually, and it makes me want to scoop her up and kiss the fuck out of her.
“You look beautiful tonight,” I tell her, and she gives me that smile I’ve come to crave.
“Thank you.”
She chose to wear a pair of tight skinny jeans and these red boot things, I think she called them booties, and a black sleeveless top that fastens around her neck, showing off the sexy expanse of her back.
“Falcon, two minutes,” Joe tells me from the doorway.
“I’ll be right there. Courtney waiting for Faith?” I ask him.
“She’s down just where you asked her to be. She’s waiting.”
“Perfect. Thanks, man. See you in a few.”
With that, Joe leaves us once again in the small green room the venue has provided for us.
“Okay, so this is a weigh-in. What exactly does this mean?” she asks.
“It means myself and Wyrez will meet with the press, take some questions. Then we’ll formally weigh-in to make sure we are fairly within the weight class to fight one another, then we’ll face off for photos.”
“Got it.”
“So there’s nothing to be nervous about.”
“I know, I just don’t like crowds, Falcon. They make me anxious, but I’ll be all right as long as I’m with Courtney.”
“If you’re ever uncomfortable, just let Courtney know and she’ll have Joe come take you back the room. We have a dinner after this, but if you want to skip that, we will. They are boring as hell anyway.”
“I don’t want to make you change your work stuff. I’ll be okay. I promise.”
I nod and kiss her head before standing. “It’s time to go. Come on, I’ll walk you to Courtney.”
***
The cameras flash wildly when I step onto the small stage with Joe just behind me. I make my way to the front, where the scale is located and strip down to my fighting shorts to an array of hoots and hollers. All of which I smirk and wink in response to. That is the Falcon way, after all.
Stepping onto the scale, I’m formally weighed-in at my intended weight, exactly what I wanted for this fight and exactly what I trained for.
My opponent, Jose Wyrez, comes onto the stage and steps on the scale as well, but I’m hardly paying attention.
I can’t take my eyes off Faith, who is standing just to stage left. There’s a beautiful smile on her face, her lips are painted a deep, blood red color that I can’t help but imagine sliding my cock between.
As a matter-of-fact, I’m going to do just that later. I’m going to tangle my hands in that silky hair of hers and guide her head up and down on my cock until she—
“Falcon, let’s go, bud,” Joe says, pulling me from my fantasy and telling me it’s time for the face-off. I give Faith a final look and she is biting that plump bottom lip. Maybe she can read my mind.
I wink and my cheeks move up in a grin before I turn and head to the middle of the stage.
This is my favorite part.
This is where the stories come from, where the antagonizing and shit talking comes in.
Wyrez and I stop when we are nose-to-nose and our hands come up into a fighting stance while everyone snaps pictures.
Wyrez isn’t a shit talker. He’s all business, like me. No bullshit. He just likes to fight, and that, I respect.
Over the next thirty minutes, questions are bounced around between Jose and I. Some are ridiculous and I don’t know how these people have jobs in the journalism, and some are actually things I’m happy to answer. It’s a process I’m beyond comfortable with at this point. It’s all a part of the job.
When we wrap everything up, I head off the stage and finally get my hands on Faith and my mouth on hers, uncaring that there are hundreds of eyes on us. I just need her lips.
When we break the kiss, she pulls away just enough to say “Wow. What was that for?”
“Because I wanted to.”
I go in for another when someone clears their throat beside us. I look to my right and see the source.
Fuck’s sake. Doesn’t she ever learn?
“Same room as last time, Falc? They did always give you the biggest green room.”
“Jennifer, enough.”
“What?” She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll spare the new girl, and keep it simple. I’ll see you after the fight…like always.” She slides her hand across the bicep as she walks away.
Faith watches her with a face that reads only as disgusted.
“She better be careful. If that dress were any shorter, you’d see her well broken-in and probably droopy vagina.”
I toss my head back and laugh. “Wow. That’s an image I didn’t need.”
“Trust me, it’s not one I relish either,” she sighs.
“You know what, we can order in dinner,” I tell her. “No one likes those damn dinners anyway, and there’s something I’d much rather do with you.”
“Are you sure? Really, we don’t have to. I mean that.”
“I want to skip it and spend time with you.”
“If you really mean that, there is something I’d like to do.”
“What’s that?” I ask her.
“Find me a gym with a punching bag.”
Chapter 21
Falcon
“Nice!” I shout as she lands a solid punch to the bag. “Give me another from the left. No hesitation.”
She does just that, landing another with power and confidence and without being prompted; she throws four more in quick succession.
I’ve had music playing over the speakers around us because I know that helps me get into a flow when I work out. The current song slows to a halt and the next begins. The singer’s voice bleeds all around us, singing about falling to pieces and the energy shifts in the room.
Faith freezes and doesn’t look at me at all. She closes
her eyes and shakes her head before she stands tall and stares at the bag.
I don’t say anything. I can feel in the air whatever is happening in her head, she needs to work through it.
Her chest rises and falls rapidly before she tosses punch after punch to the bag. She’s not worrying about form or power: this is emotion. Pure emotion and rage spilling from her pores and shooting out into the room.
Punch. Kick. Punch. Kick.
Soon, she just starts wailing on the bag with two gloved hands like she’s trying to beat open a door.
I can see the tears glistening on her face when she gives one final blow then sinks to the ground.
I don’t ask questions. I just rush to her side and drop to the floor with her, pulling her into my lap, and she cries loud, gasping sobs that seem to go on forever into my shirt. I stroke her hair and back; just letting her know I am here and I’m not going anywhere.
After some time, her body begins to settle and her breathing evens out, and we are left with only sniffs when she pushes up to look at me.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I wipe the tears from her red, blotchy beautiful face. “Why would you ever apologize?”
“Because I kind of went crazy and had a meltdown in front of you. I’m so embarrassed.” She tries to look away from me, but I capture her chin in my hand, tilting her eyes back to mine.
“Don’t ever be embarrassed by anything you do in front of me. Especially not something like this.”
She sniffles again before relaxing her body back into mine. I hold her there for a while, on the mat, just letting her calm down.
She is tracing her finger back and forth across my abdomen when she starts talking.
“I beat myself up for so long after the assault. If I had been stronger, maybe I could have stopped him? Why didn’t I fight? That song that just came on...that was playing when it happened.”
“Christ, baby, I’m so fucking sorry.”
She shakes her head. “You couldn’t have known. Honestly, I don’t think I even remembered consciously until I heard it just now. All I could see was his smug face...and I just needed to get the feelings out somehow.”
“Do you know where he is now?”
“Falcon, I don’t even know his name. I had been drinking. Everything is blurry. I just remember bits and pieces. We danced, he was nice...then he wasn’t.”
My hands are shaking and my body is stiff as I listen to her recount this, but I think she needs to get this out.
“I don’t remember going upstairs, but I do remember he tried to kiss me and I said no. He got so angry, but like in that arrogant way? He smiled like he was amused I had the audacity to turn him down. After that, everything is kind of mixed up. He brought me a new drink, and then I was just on a bed somewhere. I could smell the whiskey on his breath. He was hurting me. Clawing at my thighs and....he was...”
“You don’t have to say. You don’t have to relive it.”
She relaxes in my arms like a weight was lifted from her.
“Did you go to the police?” I ask.
“Not at first. I was so afraid because I was underage drinking. I guess in my dumb, young brain, I thought I’d get in trouble.”
“When did you decide to report him?”
“When I was standing in line at the pharmacy to get the morning after pill. I knew it was a stretch, but as I stood there, literally paying money to prevent something coming from the worst night of my life, I decided I couldn’t let him do this to someone else, but at the end of the day, it didn’t matter.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I went to the police station, they took my statement. I went to hospital and was essentially treated like shit because I showered. They told me all evidence was gone, and since I was drunk and likely drugged, my statement was loose, at best, and since it was a crowded party on a college campus, the odds of actually finding him was slim. After that, I decided I was just going to move on. I filed the report, went to the admissions office to drop out of school, and went to Savannah with two thousand dollars in my pocket to start a new life.”
“And your parents? Do they know?” I rest my chin on the top of her head.
“My mom does. I had to explain to her why I was leaving. She was hurt and angry and heartbroken that it happened to me. She wanted to fight. She wanted to rip the city apart until I found some kind of justice, but I knew it was a moot point. I just wanted to move on. I decided I wasn’t going to let it rule my life. I deserved to live the life I wanted. I wasn’t going to be a victim anymore. I took my body back. I took my sexuality back. I took my mind back. That’s what the tattoo is for.” She slides her hand over the ink on her thigh. “A reminder of my strength and my beauty.”
I’m so fucked when it comes to this girl. She is so goddamn strong and beautiful. My chest aches in a way I’m not used to. I know, in this moment, with her in my arms in the middle of a gym, I would do anything for her. Fight any battle. Wage any war. Slay any demon. I would and will keep her safe for as long as she will allow me to.
Faith
When I woke up this morning, the last thing I expected to happen today was I’d have a full-blown meltdown in front of him. Honestly, I try not to have that kind of reaction in front of anyone at all, but when that song came on, an icy cold chill ran through my blood. All I saw on the punching bag was that man’s face.
As you go through life, and as time passes, memories grow more faint. It’s harder to remember faces, smells, tastes, or sounds, but I’ll never forget his face, with his sickening smile and shockingly blue eyes. He was handsome, traditionally speaking, but there was evil in eyes I didn’t see then, but that finds its way into my dreams sometimes.
I’ll never forget the smell of his cologne. It was citrusy and it smelled cheap, and way too strong, like he had bathed in it before he came to the party. It filled my nose and covered my skin for days on end, even after I scrubbed my body clean.
I’ll never forget the taste of blood in my mouth from his teeth biting into my lips and breaking the skin.
And I’ll never forget that song. At base level, I know that song holds no power unless I give it power, but in that moment tonight, staring down that bag, I finally felt like I could fight back, even though it was just that...a bag.
I was angry at myself because I didn’t fight back that day, that I didn’t know how, and I wasn’t strong enough.
These thoughts plague my mind even now, as we step back into the hotel room after leaving the gym.
“I can hear your mind whirling, even from here,” he says, as he empties his pockets onto the small dresser. How do men keep so much in there? Wallet, room key, cell phone. It’s actually kind of ridiculous.
“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to shake it all off,” I tell him, wrapping my arms around my chest.
He crosses the room to stand in front of me again and wraps my entire body up in a bear hug.
I’m surrounded by him, by his energy, by his scent, that warm cinnamon and rich cedar, by his warmth, and by his strength. This is what I crave from him and why I’ve been so unable to let go of him. He makes me feel safe and he makes me feel strong.
“When I was first starting out in the professional circuit, I was at an event in Las Vegas. Nora was with me that time. It was one of the last events she went to.”
I tilt my head back and look into his eyes, letting him know I’m listening. He guides us over to the small chair in the corner of the room and sinks to sit, pulling me with him to sit sideways across his lap.
“We were at a dinner and press conference at a hotel on the strip, meeting managers, agents, press, other fighters, bigwigs with the WFC. It was a big deal, you know? Anyway, we were down on the casino floor, playing blackjack, drinking a bit, just mingling, doing what the event was intended for, and this guy, Braxton fucking White, came strolling in.”
“Braxton White? He’s on your schedule, isn’t he?”
“He is. Our last stop
actually.” He rests his chin on my shoulder. “Anyway, he came up to our table and asked to join. He instantly began zeroing in on Nora. Talking to her, trying to flirt, but it was so inappropriate and disgusting. Then he put his hands on her. He grabbed her ass and when she pushed his hand away and told him to fuck off, he grabbed her again, and told her he likes it when they are feisty.”
“Jesus Christ,” I say, shaking my head, my stomach churning at the thought.
“I saw red. I think I may have blacked out, because I barely remember what happened. Apparently, I exploded, jumped over the table, and tackled him to the ground. I smashed his face in so badly that my knuckles were busted open and bloody. A couple of them were out of place, even. We were broken up within seconds and I was promptly arrested.”
The assault charges.
“I was held overnight and released the next morning. Braxton didn’t drop the charges and the casino tacked on some of their own because we damaged some of their property. I pled guilty, paid my fines, and that was it. It’s something I’ll have to live with forever, but I wouldn’t change it. I would do it all over again if it meant protecting my sister.”
“That’s because you’re a good man. You love fiercely and you would do anything to protect the ones you care about. I mean, look what you’ve done for Nora all her life. You stepped up and kept her on a path to succeed in her life. That’s the most admirable and impressive thing I’ve ever seen or heard.”
“I try to be a man my father would be proud of. Have I made mistakes? Sure, but who hasn’t?”
“Exactly. And I know I never met your parents, but Nora has told me so much about them, and I know, without question, both of them would be so proud of who you are now.”
This man, this beautiful man, harbors so much guilt and sadness under such a stoic surface. He keeps it inside until he can let it out in the Octagon. I know that now, and it makes so much sense. That’s why he doesn’t want to give up fighting. That’s why he is scared to move forward. He’s scared of where that sadness and emotion will go without the Octagon.