Fighting for Flight

by J. B. Salsbury

  “Well, if it isn’t my own personal punching bag,” he says, glaring at Jonah.

  Jonah’s grip tightens. “Del Toro. I thought they only allowed civilized people into this place. Not knuckle-dragging chimps like you.”

  Mr. Gibbs moves between the fighters. “Save it for the octagon, guys. No need to make a scene in front of the lovely Raven.”

  Del Toro’s eyes swing to me and his head tilts to the side. He studies my face and a small smile tips his lips. His expression is animalistic, but not a chimp like Jonah chided. He looks more like a hungry lion.

  Now I know what it feels like to be a zebra on the Serengeti.

  “Raven, when you get bored with this loser, I’ll show you how a champion does it.” He steps forward, causing Mr. Gibbs to use his shoulder to keep him back.

  Jonah growls so deeply that I feel it before I hear it. His eyes fix on Del Toro in the death stare to end all death stares. “You fucking talk to her again I’ll put you in a coma right here.”

  Energy from years of animosity rolls off of them in waves. Jonah’s jaw is tense, his icy glare fixed, and his fists balled at his sides. He’s about to lose it. I can’t let that happen.

  I put on my sweetest smile and step in front of Jonah, placing myself directly between two of the biggest men I’ve ever seen. “You must be Victor Del Toro. Jonah’s told me all about you. Six years as the Heavyweight Champion.” I whistle through my teeth. “That’s impressive.”

  Blinking, Del Toro takes his eyes from a seething Jonah and sets them on me. His face visibly relaxes, but not by much.

  “Yeah, it’s impressive, and I don’t plan on giving up the title anytime soon.”

  “No, of course not.” I bat at him with a girlie giggle that’s so sweet it makes Del Toro smile. Great. It’s working. “About your offer, I can promise you I’ll never get bored with Jonah. But thank you for the compliment.”

  “You let me know if you change your mind, sweetheart.” He glares at Jonah one last time and walks away.

  There’s a collective sigh of relief from two of the three people left. Jonah’s still seething, but at least his fists are no longer clenched.

  “Wow, you have a gift. I’ve never seen anyone who can talk down testosterone-fueled fighters that quickly. Must be those eyes.” Mr. Gibbs winks at me before excusing himself.

  Once he’s gone, I turn to a still-frozen Jonah. Pressing my body to the length of his, I slide my hands around his neck. His eyes are unfocused, clinging to the edge of self-control.

  “Hey. You okay?”

  He makes a sound that’s half grunt half groan. Hm. Not okay. I need to try a different tactic.

  I press my breasts against his chest and kiss his chin. This gets me his eyes. Progress.

  Making my way from there, I brush my lips against his jaw line slowly, allowing him to feel my breath on his face. His arms wrap around my waist, and his thumbs rub circles on the exposed skin at my back. Now we’re getting somewhere.

  I kiss below his ear. “You okay?”

  “Better.”

  I lean away, but keep my hands locked behind his neck. “That was intense.”

  “I want to beat that guy’s ass. I swear, Raven, I don’t regret making that deal with Dominick. I’d do it a million times over,” he whispers. “But, I’m really, really looking forward to beating the shit out of that asshole when I get another opportunity.”

  I try to comfort him with a smile, but it feels off. My chest aches. Guilt wars with gratitude. How can I do this to him? How can I not?

  This must be torture: all this talk about being the next Heavyweight Champion, his undefeated record, and Del Toro antagonizing him. Instead of going out there on fight night, doing what comes naturally, he has to play possum.

  I’m grateful for his sacrifice, but I didn’t anticipate how much he would suffer. Turn his back on his instincts. Push down his nature. All for me.

  I pull away and he releases me from his hold. His eyes roam the room casually, unaware of the internal struggle his words induced.

  My lungs are tight. I can’t breathe. The weight of all that’s happened presses in from all angles. I turn to a nearby table and lean heavy against the chair. I knew what he was giving up on a hypothetical level, but seeing it with my own eyes, feeling the aggression electrifying the space between them, just made this real.

  A group of people walk up to us, but I’m so lost in my head I don’t pay attention. My mind whirls with excuses to get out of here. Bathroom. I’ll just run to the bathroom, gather myself and—What the hell?

  A gorgeous blonde in a skin-tight, bright red dress is standing way to close to Jonah. I watch in horror as the beauty queen wraps her arms around his neck. In sickening slow motion, she presses an open mouth kiss right on his lips.

  Fuck that!

  Adrenaline floods my veins.

  “Hey!” My body moves before I think better of it and I’m right in her face.

  Jonah’s wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Get your hands off my boyfriend.”

  She looks me up and down before pressing her body closer to his. Jonah takes a step to the side, but she winds her arms around his waist, sticking to him like a Siamese twin. “And if I don’t? What are you going to do about it?”

  Even her glare is pretty.

  “Step away. Now.” My voice shakes, but I stand tall.

  Jonah gives her arms a final tug and she releases her hold.

  She steps into my space. With her slutty shoes, she’s a good six inches taller than me. Her strapless dress reveals cut muscles that are coiled and ready. “Do you have any idea who I am?”

  “No. Don’t care. But if you touch my boyfriend again, you’re going to find out who I am.”

  An evil glint touches her crystal blue eyes. “I’m Camille Fisher. I fight for a living. You want to go there. Let’s go there.”

  I’m sick and tired of people messing with me. She may be strong and trained, but I’m fed up and pushed past my limit.

  I get right in her face and give her a smile that is most likely all teeth. “I’m Raven, Jonah’s girlfriend. And I’m a mechanic.”

  She tosses her head back, her blond hair cascading around her shoulders, and laughs. “Mechanic. Scary.” She says the last word in a sing-song voice and rolls her eyes. Her body closes in.

  “Baby, leave it alone. Let’s go.” Jonah slides his hand around my waist.

  “Yeah, you should be scared.” I lean in until our noses are almost touching. “Every time you get in your car, I want you to think about how easy it would be for me to cut your brakes. I’m sure you have some overpriced piece of fiberglass built in some foreign country. Do you have any idea how simple it is to disassemble a car? A few missing bolts and the thing falls apart while you’re driving down the freeway.”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  “Try me, bitch.”

  Her eyes travel back and forth between Jonah and me.

  “Forget it, Camille. Let’s go,” her friend says from behind her.

  “Hey, hey, hey! What do we have here? I love a good catfight.” Blake strolls up with a huge grin on his face, like he saw the entire thing and finds it hilarious. “They’re way more fun naked, but then again . . .” He scratches his chin and looks at the ceiling before looking back at us. “Isn’t everything?”

  I bite my lip against a smile.

  “Blake, this is Camille Fisher.” Jonah introduces Blake, and I don’t miss that he pulls me back a good two feet as he does.

  Camille’s eyes sparkle as she takes in all that is Blake. He gives her a visual once- over, like he’s sizing up a meal. It’s obvious where this will end up tonight.

  “Camille, you’ve got quite a mouth on you.” Blake’s double meaning makes me giggle-snort, earning me another glare from the female fighter.

  “Come on, baby. Leave her to Blake.” Jonah guides me away from the group, still wiping red lipstick from his face.

  “Here, a
llow me.” I run my thumb along his full lower lip, rekindling my anger at the reminder that another woman pressed her mouth against his. “Where do you think she parked her car?”

  He kisses my finger, smiling. “Don’t know. But damn, watching you nut up on that bitch? Tough, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

  I wrap my arms around his waist and kiss him. “There. All memories of her erased.” My fingers absently run along the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know what came over me. My tolerance tank was full and I snapped.”

  “Now you know how it feels to be me.”

  His words bring my thoughts back to earlier. As pissed as I was at Camille, Jonah must feel that a million times worse facing off with Del Toro. And there’s nothing he can do about it.

  “I’m going to run to the ladies’ room. Wash all this red lipstick from my hand.” I hold my hand up, and quickly drop it. I don’t need to wash my hand, I just need a second to shake off my thoughts and get through the night.

  “I’ll go with—”

  “No, it’s fine. You’ve got people who want to talk to you here. I’ll be back before you know it.”

  His questioning stare locks on mine, as if he’s trying to read my thoughts. I avert my eyes, knowing he’ll be able to if I give him enough time.

  “All right, find me when you’re done. Or I’ll find you.”

  “Jonah, I’m fine. Really.”

  He doesn’t look convinced, but I take my chance to leave before he changes his mind. I kiss his dimpled cheek, and slip from the room.

  The maître d’ directs me to the restroom at the other side of the restaurant. I welcome the distance and take the time to sort my head. Halfway there, something familiar catches my eye. I stop mid-step and squint. No, it can’t be.

  Sitting at an intimate table for two is a stunning woman with long black hair and a shimmering gold dress. She flips the dark locks in a playful manner, a bright smile lighting her face. She seems happy and carefree. If I didn’t know better I’d say she looks . . . in love.

  “Mom.”

  Twenty-five

  Raven

  It’s been two years since I’ve seen her. Part of me wants to run to her, hoping the sight of me will make her smile. I want her to tell me she’s missed me and has been meaning to call, as most moms would do with a child they haven’t seen in two years. But I’m frozen in place. Those thoughts are nothing more than the musings of a neglected child—one who wants what she’ll never have.

  I study her as she sips her wine, her eyes intent on the john across the table. She tilts her head and smiles. The softness in her gaze makes my heart pinch with envy.

  I’ve never been on the receiving end of her smile. Her blank stares, those I know. The way her sparkling eyes go dead when she looks at me, I know that too. And she’s certainly never looked at me with love. Indifference, yes. Resentment, maybe.

  Love? No.

  She wouldn’t give me that. But here, for the right price, she gifts these things to a stranger. He’s paid for it. He is deserving of it, but not me, not her own daughter.

  My breath becomes short. Anger boils my insides. Tears launch their brutal attack without mercy. This time, I don’t fight them. I savor the sting on my cheeks as the salty evidence of my neglect consumes me. I welcome the sadness and desperation as it spurs on my rage.

  I’ve been such a fool. Daydreaming about what might be. I have no parents. They used each other to create a sick joke of a human being for their own selfish reasons. I’ve put up with the neglect and abuse for long enough. No more.

  My legs begin a journey my mind hasn’t caught up to. Before I know it, I’m standing at their table. My eyes lock on my mom. I sense the curious stare of her date from the corner of my eye, but I wait. I wait to be acknowledged by her.

  It doesn’t take long before her face turns to me with a polite smile, probably thinking I’m a waitress, and then falls instantly: blank stare, dead eyes.

  No smile for me, mom? What a shocker.

  Silently, our eyes locked on each other, my lips curl.

  “Can we help you?” says the john.

  I ignore him and speak directly to her. “How could you?” The acrid tone of my words makes her shift in her seat.

  “Raven,” she whispers my name like it’s a dirty word. Her eyes dart around the room. “I’m on a date. Call me tomorrow and we can—”

  “How fucking could you? You smile at him.” I point an accusing finger at the john. “But you can hardly stand to look at me!” My fist slams against their table, shaking the china. “Your own daughter.”

  Eyes on the john, she shakes her head and shrugs as if to say, I don’t know what she’s talking about.

  Bitch!

  “I’m sorry about this, Mark. There must be some mis—”

  “You’re sorry, Mark?” My glare swings back and forth between Mark and my mom. “You’re sorry, fucking Mark? You ruined my life!”

  Mark jumps from his chair. “Watch your tone! We’re having dinner, and if you know what’s best for you, you’ll turn around and walk out of here. Now.”

  I have no intention of walking out of here. Not without saying what I need to say.

  “Did you know, Mom? Did you know what his plan was for me? Do you have any idea what it’s like to have your dad tell you that he . . . that he . . .” I can’t bring myself to say it, but the fear showing in her wide eyes tells me she knew. “He’s come for me.”

  Her hand grips at her throat and her face pales. She leans to the side, squinting at something behind me. She wants to avoid what I’m saying. No, not this time.

  I get right in her face and point. “You did this to me. Why? You ruined my life. I wish you never had me!”

  Her eyes glisten before they drop to her lap.

  “That’s enough!” Mark grabs my arm and pulls hard.

  Unfazed by Marks tightening grip, I intend on expelling the ugly until they throw me out. “Do you hear me, whore? I wish I was never born!”

  “Get your motherfucking hands off her,” a low, but authoritative rumble demands from my back.

  Mark’s eyes move to a towering figure behind me before he releases his hand. I don’t have to turn around to know my savior as his strong arms wrap around my waist.

  The sound of Jonah’s voice and comfort of his touch trigger a sob from deep in my chest. He’s here. Thank God. I lean into his embrace. I don’t know how much he heard, but his presence reminds me of what I have and dulls the ache of what I never will.

  “I’ve got you, baby. Let me take you home.”

  Home.

  Jonah is my home now. He’s the only one who ever cared enough to fight for me. He’s my family. All that matters now is us.

  Jonah turns me in his arms. I bury my face in his chest, and let the emotions overtake me. His soothing words are nothing but background noise to my uncontrollable sobs.

  He walks us from the restaurant and back to our waiting limo. The tears begin to dry as I’m placed into the privacy of the car. I’m a mess of nerves, anger, and hurt as verbal vomit flows from my lips like a sorority girl on induction night. Sobs break with roaring words of devastation as twenty-one years of pain finally find release.

  Jonah’s eyes are wide, watching me kick and scream, throwing out every curse word that comes to mind. I’m not fully aware of what I’m saying, but Jonah flinches as the once foreign words tumble from my lips with ease.

  Seconds turn into minutes before my heart rate slows and my muscles relax. Exhaustion sets in. Jonah slides to my side, wrapping me in his arms.

  “You finished?” His question is tender and laced with meaning.

  Finished crying? Finished with my mom? Finished fighting my future?

  Nodding my head into his neck, he holds me tighter.

  “I should’ve gone with you. I never should’ve let you leave after that shit with Camille.” He sounds angry with himself, but none of what happened tonight is his fault.

  A new wave of anger flicke
rs at the mention of her name, but there’s no fuel left to ignite it. I sink deeper into his embrace.

  “Taylor wanted me to be seen in public with her to promote the Female MMA League. I told him I wouldn’t do it, but I guess she didn’t like taking no for an answer.” His lips press against the top of my head. “Don’t think she’ll be hearing no from Blake.”

  Camille up against Blake. She doesn’t stand a chance.

  “I understand. It just caught me off guard. Del Toro, Camille, my mom . . .”

  “Crazy night.”

  I nod.

  “Feel good? Telling her off like that?”

  My face heats, and I’m thankful it’s dark so he can’t see it; although, he can probably feel it through his shirt.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Everything. You were yelling pretty loud. I’m proud of you, baby.” His warm hand caresses my arm, reinforcing his words.

  “Proud? I acted like an idiot in there. Made a fool out of myself, out of you.”

  “You stood up for yourself. Let your mom know what you’ve been keeping inside for way too long. What you did was really brave.”

  Once again, he gives, unknowingly filling my emotional cup to the brim. And then some.

  “Please tell me no one from your team heard. Your boss? Your publicist? Camille!” My voice grows louder as hysteria returns.

  “Shhh, they had no clue. I went to find you and saw you leaning over your mom like a bear about to attack. I told the hostess to give them the message that you were sick and I had to get you home. Did me a favor. I hate those stuffy dinners, everyone blowing sunshine up each other’s asses.”

  The limo slows to a stop. I peer out the window to see we’re in Jonah’s driveway. Charlie, the limo driver, opens the door and Jonah gets out. I hear him mumbling something about not talking to the media followed by Charlie’s emphatic agreement. Jonah reaches in to help me out of the car.