Swink

by Adriana Locke

  “Tell me we’re going to be okay,” she demands, swaying slowly back and forth.

  “We’ll figure it out after the fight.” I sit up and touch her cheek. “I can only do one thing at a time and I fight tomorrow. I have to focus on that.”

  “How are you feeling? Honestly?”

  “Better. Not great,” I add when she starts to call me out. “But I’ll be fine. It’s just three rounds.”

  “Just three rounds,” she scoffs.

  “Three. Rounds.” I take her face in my hands and kiss her, knowing it will be our last kiss before I fight.

  Breaking the kiss, I stand and look down at her. “I’ll text you tomorrow before I go in the ring. But don’t call, okay? I need to get you out of my head or that’s all I think about.”

  “I’m going to be a nervous wreck,” she says, wringing her hands.

  “Then I’ll text you as soon as I win. Promise.”

  She walks me to the door, that stupid wedge apparent between us.

  “Don’t forget to text me,” she says.

  “I won’t.” I can’t help myself. I kiss her again, this time longer and deeper. “Talk to you soon.”

  “Not soon enough.”

  Dominic

  THE LOCKERS BEHIND ME WERE once painted black. Before then, they were red. You can tell by the layers of paint peeling away on each and every one of them.

  A faucet drips in the shower room next to the locker area I’ve been put in while I wait my turn in the ring. The room on the other side of the showers is a little nicer and most fighters pick it . . . and that’s why I pick this one. I’m alone.

  Not talking to Camilla last night or all day today seemed like a good idea. But I’m starting to wonder if it was a mistake. I thought I could focus on the fight, but all I’ve managed is a knot in my stomach that I can’t get to go away.

  Winning this fight is a must-do. I’ve trained for it, battered myself for it, and I could use the money. Why I can’t block everything else out and feel good about my strategy not only confuses me, it pisses me off.

  I trained through the police investigation when I was a kid. I trained through work lay-offs and break-ups with girlfriends and working two jobs. I even managed to focus when I was working towards my HVAC certification. Now, the final fight of my life, and I’m losing my edge.

  The crowd roars outside and I hear the announcer over the intercom tell the fans to settle down. It’s insane out there, bottles being thrown and brawls starting in the crowd. The energy in this arena, an old warehouse, is all jacked up. That is a distraction in itself.

  Voices come down the hall and I listen as they echo. I make out Nate and know it’s his fist that slams on the metal door before he opens it.

  “Hey,” he says, his head sticking in. “How you doin’?”

  “Ready to roll.”

  “Don’t sound so enthusiastic.” He steps in, but still blocks the door. There’s something in his face that causes that knot in my stomach to twist harder. “This will excite you some more. Look what I found.”

  His arm comes off the doorframe and Camilla walks around the corner. She’s working her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks at me with wide, curious eyes.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” I yell, springing to my feet. “Damn it, Camilla! Can’t you fucking listen to anything I say?”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you I was here,” she whispers.

  “Oh, because that makes it okay. Fuck!” I groan, throwing her what must be a death stare because she flinches, her face paling, but she holds her ground.

  She walks to me, her chin up, posture straight, and puts her hand on my arm. I just look at it.

  “You do realize I’m expending all the rage I need to be spilling out there, right? When the other guy is trying to kill me?”

  “I just wanted to support you.”

  “You could’ve done that from home,” I seethe.

  “Yes, I could’ve. But I wanted, needed, to make sure you’re okay.”

  “There are a thousand people out there just dying to do something stupid tonight and now you are in the mix. How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate when I’m going to be worried about you?”

  “How was I supposed to be sitting at home and not worrying about you? Damn it, Dominic! Don’t you understand?”

  I force a swallow, my eyes trying not to see the emotion in hers.

  “This is important to me. You are important to me.”

  “You are important to me too,” I gulp. “That’s why I don’t want you here.”

  “I’ll be fine,” she insists. “I’ll stay out of the way.”

  I look at Nate. He understands. He shakes his head in frustration with Camilla, but knows better than to get involved.

  “Are you alone?” I ask her.

  “Yes.”

  “Of course you are.” Hearing the fight before mine coming to an end, I scramble for a solution. “Nate, get her a seat somewhere high. Out of the way.”

  “I can take care of myself,” she says, narrowing her bright blue eyes.

  “Cam, baby, most days I’d say you’re right. Tonight, you’re wrong.” I look at my brother. “Somewhere high.”

  “I could keep her with me,” he offers.

  “Fuck, no,” I hiss. “The closer you get to the ring, the more shoving and shit happens. Get her out of the way.”

  “I’m right here,” she insists. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”

  “We know you’re here. That’s the problem.” I set my sights back on her. Her attempt at blending in is adorable. Jeans, white sneakers, and a pale purple shirt. “You don’t look like the average fight fan.”

  “Don’t be an ass, Dom,” she says, fighting the tears in her eyes. “Come on, Nate. Lead me to my seat.”

  They turn but stop.

  “Hey, Dom,” Hannah says over the top of their heads. “You about ready to head down to the ring?”

  Camilla casts me one final look over her shoulder, a look so full of hurt and anger that I have to close my eyes from seeing it. I know if I don’t, I’ll be going after her, and I just need to get through this.

  When I open them, she’s gone.

  Camilla

  “Stay here,” Nate tells me, pointing to a seat under a giant American flag. “I’m not kidding, Priss. Stay here. I’ll come get you when the fight is over.”

  “I don’t need you to come get me.”

  He looks over his shoulder as Dom’s opponent starts towards the ring and then back at me. “I get why you’re here. Should you be? No. But I respect that you are, okay? But, listen to me, you should’ve called me and let me figure this out, not springing it on us.”

  “I’m going to be fine,” I insist. “Make sure he’s fine. He’s the one with busted ribs and an attitude to match a wounded badger.”

  “That’s the plan.” He starts down the steps, taking two at a time. He gets to the rail where he has to turn and go down another set of stairs. “Three rounds. Be here when I look up.”

  “Fine, fine.”

  I get situated in my seat. There’s no one in my immediate vicinity, and as I look around, I’m kind of grateful. The noise in this place, whatever you call it, is incredible. I keep flinching as the crowd roars—I’m not even sure what for most of the time.

  Everyone has a drink of some sort, and although I thought smoking was illegal in all public areas, apparently fights are an exception because there’s enough smoke in here to give someone cancer.

  The longer I sit, the more uncomfortable I feel. Everyone has a pack, a group of people surrounding them. Everyone but me.

  Like a tsunami wave that comes from nowhere, I feel every word Dom has said about these things. I must stick out like a sore thumb because Nate found me easily, without even looking, I think. The groups to my right and left have spotted me. The one on my right just kind of snickered and went back to their party. The one on the left seemed more . . . interested in me. I focus o
n the ring in the center of the room, two flights of stairs below, and listen as the announcer calls Dominic’s name.

  A blast of rock music rips through the building and I see Dom coming up a ramp from the far side. He’s shirtless in a pair of dark green shorts, his hands in dark gloves.

  The crowd goes wild, definitely louder than they were for his opponent. Every female in the room is whooping and screaming, shouting profanities and lewd suggestions and offers that render me speechless.

  I’m on the edge of my seat in every sense of the word. My heart is beating so loud that it nearly drowns out the chaos surrounding me. People are chanting Dom’s name, filling in the walkway below to get a better look as he’s approved by the referee and enters the ring.

  I’m panting, my breath coming in quick, rushed spurts. A burst of activity rumbles from the people to my left, but I can’t take my eyes off the ring.

  Dom heads to the corner where I see Nate and an older man with “Percy’s” written across his shirt in green. The older man is in his face, looking animated, and Dom nods, showing his mouth guard. Then he looks at Nate. Nate points up, at me, and Dom’s head turns. Our eyes meet. Even in the midst of all these people in this crazy place, we find each other. I smile at him, holding a hand on my heart. He almost smiles, but not quite. Then he looks away.

  They’re in the middle of the ring, and before I know what happens, the bell rings.

  Everyone is on their feet, yelling, shouting, splashing beer out of cheap plastic cups. There’s a flurry of activity from Dom’s opponent, but Dom seems to block most of them. Dom fires back with punches of his own, landing a few.

  They go round and round, pulling my heart right along with it. My hands are clenched in front of me as I keep whispering, “Come on, Dom,” in repetition.

  The clock on the wall starts to wind down and I take a breath of relief. It’s a moment too soon.

  Dom gets hit by a kick right above his waist on his right side. He drops to one knee.

  My heart stops as I spring to my feet, watching as his challenger gears up to take him out.

  “No!” I shout, my voice not a drop in the bucket in comparison to the madness around me.

  Just as he’s within striking distance, the bell rings and the round is over.

  I fall back in my chair, landing with a thud. The audience is amped after that display, the close call on Dom, but not me. I can barely breathe.

  The stands shift, everyone angling for a better view in expectation of an angsty second round. I, too, head down the steps and stand at the railing. My fingers twist around the rusty metal pole, my eyes glued on Dom in the corner.

  He’s bleeding from a cut above his left eye. The older man has a giant cotton swab held to it as he yells in Dom’s face. Dom turns my way and I see the panic on his face.

  He reaches for Nate and they exchange a few words. I realize—they can’t see me. I’m not where I’m supposed to be.

  Hurrying back to my seat, I trip and fall onto a woman in the aisle on the left.

  Her drink, a cheap beer, soaks my shirt. It’s the loss of her drink, not the impact, that has her screaming in my face.

  I look over my shoulder to the ring just as she plants her hands on my chest and shoves me backwards.

  Dominic

  “WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?” I shout, panic sitting right in the middle of my throat. “Where is she, Nate?”

  I hear Percy tell me to get my head straight, that the bell’s gonna ring, but I have to find her.

  “Fuck . . .”

  The way Nate utters that one little word has my gut sinking, my instincts switching gears from self-preservation to protecting Camilla. I follow his gaze to just above the walkway on the second floor. Her purple shirt is all I can see as she goes toppling over two seats.

  Nate is gone and I only catch a glimpse of him as he turns a corner at the base of the tunnel to hit the stairs to get to her.

  “Cam!” I scream, watching as a black-haired woman stands over her. “Camilla!”

  “Fighter, are you ready?”

  Ignoring the ref, I look at Percy. “Stall the fight.”

  “I can’t stall the fight. What the hell are you talking about, Hughes?”

  The bell goes off behind me as I grab the top rope and begin to climb out of the ring. There’s a woman standing over Cam and it’s enough to send my adrenaline on an all-time high. I hear the gasps from the crowd, the murmurings, the shouts from the ref to protect myself as I start over the barrier.

  Then I feel it. A blast, unchallenged to the side of my face. For a second, I can feel every inch of my face move—my jaw, my nose, my skin. My knees buckle as I’m knocked sideways by the force, my feet slipping, only barely catching me as I take a step to the side to get my balance.

  “Come on, Dominic!” Percy shouts.

  I look up for Cam, but can’t really see. Everything is still blurry from the punch. My head rings, but I’m cognizant enough to know that I’m in trouble.

  “Umph,” I groan, the wind knocked out of me as a kick, a punch—I’m not sure—rips through my side. My ribs crunch like an accordion, the cartilage separating them smashing.

  The pain is blinding. My mouth opens to help my lungs get enough oxygen so I don’t pass out. Despite it all, I’m looking up in the stands, trying to focus on Cam.

  Getting to my feet, adrenaline tearing through my veins and buffering the intensity of the agony long enough for me to focus, I see Nate with his finger in some guy’s face and Cam standing beside him. Watching me.

  Movement catches in my peripheral vision and I see my opponent charging in my direction. Knowing I have one good, solid move left in me, I turn my body.

  His right arm is pulled back, ready to fire, as he lunges forward. Like a coiled spring, I unleash a left uppercut.

  He doesn’t see it coming. Doesn’t expect it. It gives me a bigger opening and I put every bit of power I can muster into the punch. It hits its target—right under his chin—and he falls backwards, his eyes rolling as he hits the mat.

  The bell rings and the ref covers him, waving his arms indicating the fight is over.

  Cheers from the crowd filter back into my ears as I look up again, trying to find Cam. Tears stream down her cheeks, Nate at her side. My brother gives me a thumbs-up and I fall to my knees, gripping my side, as the pain becomes unbearable.

  My body feels like it’s splitting in two, like something inside is definitely wrong. I sway, searching desperately for something to hold on to so I don’t pass out.

  My arm is lifted by the ref and I’m declared the winner, but it’s all secondary to staying conscious. My vision goes in and out.

  A smile starts spreading across her cheeks, then falls just as quickly.

  A pair of hands are on my shoulders, a lock of bright red hair swishes in front of me. “Dom, are you okay? Where do you hurt?”

  I angle around Hannah, my heart racing now for another reason altogether.

  My gaze meets Cam’s, her smile faltering further as she looks from me, to Hannah, and back to me.

  “Move, Hannah,” I growl, shuffling to my feet. I wave off the medic as I watch Nate walk a couple of steps behind as Cam makes her way to the stairs.

  Camilla

  “Slow down, Miss,” A man with a stethoscope admonishes me as I run by him down the drab hallway. I burst through the door to the locker room, my eyes scanning the rows of lockers until they fall on him.

  He’s slumped against the wall, his eyes closed, his skin ashen.

  “Dom,” I blurt, rushing to him. I kneel in front of him, touching his cheek. “Are you okay?”

  His eyes flutter open. The blues are full of pain, but when they land on me, the corners of his lips struggle to lift. “Cam.” His face twists in pain. “I don’t know whether to kiss you or kill you.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, my voice at the point of breaking. Seeing him like this, so not like Dom, is something I can barely accept. And to know that my presen
ce helped put him in this situation is unbearable. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I’m not sure if he’s punishing me by not responding or if he doesn’t know what to say. Either way, it hurts my heart. Guilt swamps me as I take him in and my heart shatters into a hundred thousand pieces.

  “I shouldn’t have come,” I say, the words toppling from my lips. “I just wanted to show you I cared, that I supported what you were doing.” Tears flow down my cheeks. “I didn’t realize . . .”

  “I told you.”

  “I know you did,” I sniffle. “I know and I should’ve listened.”

  He exhales sharply. “This place is no place for you, Cam. You could’ve gotten killed.”

  “Well, you know what? This place isn’t a place for you either.”

  “This is what I am, Camilla. This is my version of a charity event.”

  The fact that he says my full name, something he very rarely does, is not lost on me. I fall back on my heels and look at him through the hot liquid pouring from my eyes.

  There’s a sadness soaked into his eyes, the way he’s sitting, so pitiful, so painful, that I want to break out into a sob right before wrapping him in my arms and taking him home. With me.

  “This is not what you are,” I insist. “I understand you love to fight. It’s weird to me, but I get it. What I don’t get is that you would fight for money, that you think it’s okay to put yourself in danger like this.”

  I reach out and touch his cheek. His skin is moist, cool, not like I expect.

  “Dom, you are worth so much more than whatever prize money you’ll win tonight. Don’t you see? Your life is worth way more than that. Your health, your happiness. I . . . I need you and I need you to be healthy and happy. You deserve that. You are so, so much more than all of this.”

  He chuckles and I hear the exhaustion in his voice.

  “Let me take you home and put you to bed,” I say, offering him my hand. Instead, he looks over my shoulder. I follow his gaze and see Nate and Red.

  “What’s she still doing here?” Red barks.

  Dom starts to say something, but I turn and block his line of sight.