"Are you okay? What's the matter?" I dropped my purse on the couch, realizing she was there to help me get ready for the party myself.
"I saw Fenton and Kev a little while ago. Kev was really upset. He said that they got kicked out of some snobby golf lunch. They accused Fenton of trying to pull off some tacky publicity stunt."
"I think there's a little more to it than that," I said. "It sounded to me like they crashed the party and tried to start a fight with Jackson McRay."
"He doesn't sound like a nice man." Sandi turned back to her brushes and color palettes. "They said he had that reality television star cornered."
"If you ask me, I think Fenton acted like a jealous suitor. Maybe he'd rather go to the promotion party with Sienna."
"Really, Kya, how can you say that?"
I crossed my arms over my chest. "I just can't help but get the feeling I'm being played. Neither story adds up and neither Fenton or Jackson or even Kev will tell me the whole truth."
"I don't want to get into it, but Fenton didn't say a thing the entire time they were here. Kev said he shuts down like that when someone doesn't believe him. Probably happened to him a lot as a child. You didn't believe him and he can't defend himself, so he has nothing to say," Sandi said.
"So instead of telling me the truth and trying to convince me, Fenton's just going to give me the silent treatment?" I asked. "Sounds like he's still acting like a child."
"Don't you want to believe him?" Sandi asked.
I flopped down in the chair she had set out for me. "Yes. But that would mean Jackson McRay was some kind of monster and Sienna was an innocent victim. Do you see why that's hard to believe?"
Sandi gave a weak smile. "Yes, but believing that means that Fenton stepped in to help her even if it meant confronting Jackson and causing a huge scene. He's not the type to stand aside for the sake of his reputation, and I think that makes him heroic."
I held my hands up. "Alright, I hear what you're saying. Let's just agree that all I know for sure is that I need to get ready and head to the fight promotion party."
Sandi patted my shoulder and then got to work. Within the hour, I had my copper hair swept up, my green eyes accented with perfect makeup, and the iridescent dress shimmering every time I moved. She ushered me into the elevator.
"Let me guess, it all changes back to normal at midnight," I said as I stepped inside.
"Let's hope so," Sandi said.
I headed into the flashy party feeling like Cinderella for more reasons than just the dress. I was still an outsider in Fenton's world and I half expected the doorman to send me away.
"Hey, beautiful. No hard feelings about earlier, right?" Mario Peretti appeared trailing a large entourage.
"You mean when you attacked me?" I asked.
"Just a kiss between colleagues. Surely, that's happened to you before," Mario said. "Besides your boyfriend did not seem to mind."
"Jackson McRay is not my boyfriend," I said.
"Well, obviously, I'm not the only one confused by that," Mario said. He nodded in the direction of the bar.
Fenton leaned over a limber, black-haired woman and drank a shot off her flat stomach. She sat up and offered him a lime from between her overly plump lips.
"They've been pretty friendly ever since I arrived. Maybe I picked the wrong photo op to make our man jealous," Mario said.
I pushed past him, much to the amusement of his entourage, and marched into Fenton's eye line. He caught sight of me, and his blue eyes blazed. It was not the smoldering appreciation I had imagined when I chose the dress. I forced myself to walk straight over to him.
"We need to talk," I said.
He turned back to the bar and ordered another shot. A voluptuous blonde took position and smiled at Fenton with bright red lips.
"Aren't you going to say anything?" I asked. "Really? You're going with the silent treatment? What if I say that I want to believe you? It was an awkward situation. It seemed personal and I did not want to let something personal get in the way of the business I have with Jackson. Come on, you don't have anything to say about that?"
Fenton shrugged. "Actions speak louder than words." He leaned down over the blonde's bare midriff and savored the second shot. He made a big show out of sucking the lime wedge from her fire engine red lips, but when he looked up, I was staring over the top of them.
On the wall, almost a story high, was a slideshow of Mario's rise to the top. Fenton's loss was heavily featured and now I knew why he wanted to add a photograph of me. The sharp cuts and close-ups of Fenton's first loss to Peretti were all psychological warfare meant to shake his confidence. My picture would surface soon enough.
"Well hopefully reason speaks louder than photographs," I said. "I can explain."
It was too late, Fenton turned around just in time to see the wall-sized shot of Mario kissing me full on the lips. My hands that had been raised to ward him off actually looked like I was embracing him.
I grabbed his shoulder. "Please, Fenton, you have to believe me."
"Like you believed me?" he asked. He did not even glance at me. Fenton yanked his shoulder away and strode across the dance floor to call Peretti out.
The crowd burst into excited chatter and the music stopped. Fenton shoved him as soon as Peretti turned around and for a moment it looked as if the fight would happen right there on the dance floor. The crowd backed away and the two were left in a wide circle.
I tried to push my way in, but the crowd was too tight and too excited to move. Kev appeared at my side and stopped me.
"Fenton knows it was just a prank. It's all part of the show," Kev said.
"Are you sure? I screwed everything up. What was I supposed to do?" I asked him.
"How about conducting your business over the phone or email like every other agent?" Kev asked.
Peretti puffed out his chest and was strutting around Fenton getting the crowd riled up. Fenton answered with a hard shove that deflated Peretti's chest. Security burst into the circle to haul them both back. Instead of de-escalating the situation, the fight promoter handed Peretti a microphone.
"A fighter's got to keep a cool head and it seems Fenton Morris is ready to lose his again," Peretti said.
Half the crowd cheered and half howled with rage.
"I know that ladies love a man with self-control, with focus, with the ability to see things through to the very end," Peretti said. He shook off the security guards and roamed around half the circle, encouraging the crowd to choose sides. "It’s not my fault if Fenton's woman wants the same thing."
I cringed when the wall-sized photograph reappeared. Fenton fought off his security guards and got right back into Peretti's face. Peretti held the microphone away, but the rough tone of Fenton's voice made his message clear.
"You'll have your turn," Peretti said, leaning back to speak into the microphone. "And when you do, you better apologize to your woman. She's gotta be unsatisfied if she came to me."
Fenton lunged and knocked the microphone from Peretti's hand with a sharp slice of his hand. The crowd cheered and the security guards swarmed the two fighters again. This time, when they ebbed back, it was Fenton who had the microphone.
"Some people become fighters because they think the lifestyle looks cool," he said. "I didn't become a fighter, I was born fighting. I had to fight for everything. I had to fight to keep my family together. I had to fight to keep my sister safe at school. I had to fight to keep food on our table. What I never did was fight to keep my focus. I wanted better from day one, and I'll be damned if I let some strutting scum distract me from that."
The crowd heckled him, egging him on, hoping for more trash talk or maybe another sneak preview at the fight.
"I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti's skills as a fighter. I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti at all. He doesn't matter to me, the title does. I know Vegas is confusing, there's hype all around. But I guarantee tomorrow, Peretti's hype isn't going to follow him
into the ring. It'll be just us, and the better man will win."
"What about your girl?"
"You just gonna let him take your woman?"
"Come on, Morris, you can't take that lying down!"
The crowd heckled him more, and the wall-sized photograph of our kiss appeared again. Peretti bounced around with his fists in the air then blew air kisses at the crowd. Then, he directed the spotlight towards me.
Kev tried to help me duck away from it, but the hot light blinded me. The crowd around me surged back and then forward. Hands shoved me towards the open circle where Peretti and Fenton waited. I lost grip of Kev's hands and was pushed along, helpless until I was in the open.
Peretti bounced over and reached out to embrace me. Without thinking, I batted away his hands and spun to avoid him. The crowd went wild. The spotlight still blinded me, and I tried to find Fenton. Suddenly, a strong arm locked around my waist. Peretti was pushed far away.
"Only a weak man would use a woman," Fenton said. "My reputation might be tarnished, but nowhere in the long list of my misdemeanors and conflicts is there an accusation of treating a woman badly.
I wrapped my arm around Fenton's waist, glad for the solid feel of him in the sea of ogling faces. "Actions speak louder than words," I said.
"Say it again, darling," Fenton told me. He held the microphone in front of me.
"That photograph was a dirty trick. Peretti's all trash talk and tricks. Actions speak louder than words," I said.
Fenton's loyal fans erupted in chants and applause. It felt good to stand arm in arm with Fenton, even though I knew we had not yet come together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Kya
The music started again, and before I could turn to Fenton, he was disappearing into the crowd. He said something to a security guard in passing and the large man helped me off the dance floor. I was deposited near the bar and decided it was a good time for a drink.
"Order one for me, too," Kev said. He leaned on the bar to peer into my face. "You did alright on mic. I'm sure the fans wanted you to extol Fenton's sexual prowess and call him a god, but, you know, what you said worked."
"Did Fenton practice that speech?" I asked.
"The one about his upbringing and focus or the one about how to treat women?" Kev asked.
"Either, both. Wait, have you heard them both from him before?" I asked. My hand trembled as I picked up my drink.
"Fenton has spoken out against domestic violence, but he normally doesn't talk about his family life," Kev said.
I slumped into my stool. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
"Come on, Kya. It’s like I told you; it's all part of the show."
" I thought you meant his reputation, not our relationship," I said.
"Well, they might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi thinks you'll make it," Kev said.
"Excuse me, Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the Desert Post and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.
Kev handed him a business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."
The young man smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted over a bar stool to give him room.
"I'm sorry, I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.
"Sure you are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and, who knows, it might be good for Fenton."
"How long have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.
"A few days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.
"Have you always been attracted to 'bad boys?’? Or was it Fenton that approached you."
"Fenton approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.
"And, do you feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my face.
"Those are all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to slander," I said.
"So, you're saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"
"It’s a natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the truth."
The reporter wanted to ask more, but I turned to Aldous. "Is this your wife?"
Aldous stepped in front of the reporter, effectively shutting him out from further conversation. "Tia, I would like you to meet Kya Allen. Kya, this is my lovely wife, Tia."
"It is so nice to meet you, Kya. I've heard a lot about you," Tia said. She was older, mid-forties, though it was impossible to tell from her flawless olive skin and shining black hair.
"You've heard about me?" I looked at Aldous. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."
"I think we have a lot in common," Tia said. She shooed Aldous over to talk with Kev and sat down next to me. "Aldous and I met when I was around your age. He was on the boxing circuit. I, believe it or not, was dating an accountant who tried to save himself from being boring by going to boxing matches."
"I don't think I can see Aldous having a wild streak, but I bet he was an amazing boxer," I said.
"Yes, very clean-cut and very fair. That's why he was never a fan favorite and also why he's such a great coach," Tia said. "He's been with Fenton so many years, they are starting to feel like family. So, when he mentioned that Fenton wants to settle here in Vegas for a while, I was overjoyed."
"You wouldn't mind moving?" I asked.
"Not at all. If it means I see my husband every night instead of a few weeknights here and there throughout the month," Tia said. "I should thank you for putting the idea in Fenton's head."
"Oh, I'm not sure it was me," I said. I looked across the room to where Fenton danced with three women.
"Give yourself some credit," Tia said. She patted my hand.
Even as I watched Fenton draped with women, my heart was buoyed up by the thought that meeting me had encouraged him to find a home base and try settling down. I clung to thought and nurtured it into a small spark of hope.
I held on to it all throughout the promotion party, even though Fenton never spoke to me. He only glanced my way a few times. I waited until I saw him leave the nightclub and then I took the very long way back to my suite at the Tropicana. My stomach was in knots as I approached the door, only to discover it was worse than I had imagined.
Fenton was gone. The second bedroom was completely packed up and a maid was stripping the sheets.
"Did he say where he was going?" I asked.
She shook her head. "But the porter said his stuff was going to the MGM Grand."
My hand was on the door handle when there was a soft knock. I pulled the door open to discover Sienna. It was shocking to see here without the blinding orbit of her television camera crew. Instead, it was just her, the long blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail and her blue eyes soft without the heavy dose of eyeliner.
"Is Fenton here?" she asked.
My chest burned. "No. He wants to be alone the night before a big fight," I said.
Sienna was not surprised at the bite of jealousy in my words. "I just wanted to tell him thank you. If you see him, will you let him know I said so?"
"Thank him for what?" I asked. I squeezed my eyes shut and raised my face to the ceiling. When I opened them, I looked back at Sienna. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I get it. And it's not what you think. Just tell Fenton thank you," Sienna said.
She looked so slim and lonely as she headed back to the
elevators. "What, no camera crew?"
Sienna turned back to me. "I took the afternoon off. I needed a little time to recoup – I mean, relax."
"Well, if you want to relax off camera, why don't you come in? Once the maid's gone, I'll have an empty suite. There's a bottle of wine." I held the door open.
The reality star hesitated, looked at the elevator, and then at the open suite door. "Sure, why not. I could use a glass of wine."
The maid had tidied the second bedroom until it looked as if no one had occupied it in weeks. I kept looking at it as I opened the wine and almost spilled all over the white rug.
"Here, let me do that," Sienna said. She expertly handled the wine opener and had two glasses poured in seconds. "I used to be a waitress; it’s a necessary skill if I wanted good tips."
"You were a waitress?" I asked. "I always assumed you had a trust fund or something."
Sienna smiled. "Exactly. That's what I want everyone to think." She slumped back on the couch.
"It gets a little tiring playing the part?" I asked.
"Yes. You get it. You can't be a successful female sports agent without playing a certain part," Sienna said. "Yours is good, subtle."
"Thanks, I guess. Though, I think I'm going to drop the act." I sipped my wine.
"Me, too," Sienna said. "I think it’s getting in the way of my relationships. I mean, I can't really find anyone genuine if I'm not acting like my genuine self."
"Is that how you feel about Fenton?" I asked.
"Don't be stupid," Sienna asked. "Our acts go perfectly together, but even that ended up not working because he's so into you." She finished her glass of wine and got up. "I think it’s about time I try out my obscenely huge hotel room tub without the lighting guy adjusting the soap bubbles."
I walked her to the door and waited until her elevator descended. Then, I grabbed my purse. I had to see Fenton and the glass of wine had quieted down all my rational objections just enough for me to go right away.
I made it all the way through the lobby of the MGM Grand before I was stopped by Dana Maria.
"You can't be bugging him the night before the title fight. He left the party early to be alone," she said.
The Fight (A Standalone Novel) (MMA Bad Boy Romance) Page 22