Fiona held up the lanyard she wore. “Is there a problem?”
“Just standard screening before the event,” he replied, looking over Tegan’s too.
“Event? What event? The fight is over,” Fiona asked.
“Those passes get you into the meet and greet upstairs.”
“The... Wha...” Fiona turned to Tegan, looking like she was ready to explode. “Oh. My. God... Backstage passes, babe! I had no idea this was the prize!” Fiona jumped up and down like a giddy schoolgirl then marched to where the guard told her to wait.
Tegan followed closely behind but said, “Fi, I think I might call it a night. I’m beat.”
“What? Are you kidding? You don’t want a photo with him? We’ll be in the same room with him.”
“Babe, that’s your thing, not mine.”
“There will be plenty of other hot guys in there.”
“It’s been so long since I got laid, I can’t remember who is supposed to pay.”
Fiona pouted, then smiled. “Please? Just for an hour? You’re single. Kylie is the one with relationship drama. Let me get a pic with Gasnier, then you and I get one with him. If you don’t want it, I’ll take both copies.”
Tegan sighed. “OK. One hour.”
Chapter Two
Owen Gasnier stepped out of his fighter shorts and placed them on the bench, readying a silver texta next to them. He had arranged to sign them and auction them off for a charity granting wishes to terminally ill children. He was prepared to sign them right then, except for one thing that happened after every fight. He looked down as a plastic cup was thrust into his hand; then back up at the stroppy gent that had thrust it at him. “Can’t this wait until after I sign them?”
“Now, if you please.”
“Always a pleasure to be naked in front of you, Gerald.”
“Mr Gasnier,” he replied, gesturing to the bathroom stalls. Owen crossed the room and went into the nearest bathroom cubicle, leaving the door open as was required for drug tests. He stood over the toilet but needing to urinate wasn’t of great urgency. Yet, if he wanted to freshen up and get the hell out of there, he had to piss into this cup.
“Hey, Gerald?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been doing this for how many years now?”
“Over twenty-five.”
“Anyone ever asked for your help in pissing?”
“I have never been asked to cheat, Mr Gasnier.”
“Who’s asking you to cheat? Just wouldn’t mind you holding it for me while I cut the hand tape. It’s tough tryin’ to hold it steady like this, you know? Might piss all over the seat, then we’ll really be in trouble.”
“With your impeccable record, there are already whispers you’ve been getting added help. I would’ve thought you wouldn’t want to draw this out. Gives a bad impression.”
“Jeez, ask a guy to hold your dick, and he suddenly gets all offended,” Owen replied, turning his cheesy grin away from Gerald. He waited a few seconds before saying, “Could you do a whooshing sound maybe? A Niagara Falls type of thing?”
“Mr Gasnier!”
Finally, Owen let out a long groan, filling the cup quickly. “There she blows! Eureka!” He turned and offered the cup to Gerald, who looked like he’d calmed down. Owen moved to the sink where his trainer, also his father, Robert Gasnier, stood leaning.
Owen didn’t have the hangers-on one would usually find with Cage fighters. And that’s the way he liked it. His father, a former fighter, had been so against Owen following in his footsteps, he went to great lengths to prevent it. But Owen would not be denied, and when Robert attended one of his earliest training sessions, he relented. Not only did he threaten to break the trainer’s legs for the wrong advice, he showed Owen the correct way to strike.
From that day, though he never said he approved of Owen’s career, he had never left his side. They were a team. Robert handled all the contracts, all the money. He ensured Owen received the best rest in between matches and was kept away from the shadier areas of this world they now shared. Father and son had become one of the most fearsome teams in all of MMA, but Robert kept Owen grounded.
“Why can’t you just piss in the cup and be done with it?” Robert grumbled.
“Can’t I have some fun?”
“It’s a bad look.”
“Look,” Owen said, unwrapping his hands. “Everyone reckons I’m on something because of my record. I get that. It comes with the territory. But the guy tried to shove the cup in my hand before I was even in the hallway. I was still signing autographs. Little kids saw that for fuck’s sake. Now, that is a bad look. It’s bullshit.”
“O, this is what we signed up for. I’ve always told you the higher you go, the more attention you get. I see the way you treat the fans, and they love you for it. But you can’t be so bitter about the rest of the business. It’s a complete package. Good and bad. It’s time for us to focus. You think it’s bad now? You win the next fight, you get a shot most fighters only dream of—Everything we have worked for. But there are elements of the business that hate you and will try to take you down. Believe me, I know.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Take the cup thing for example. I’ll lay a bet someone paid them off to ensure you’re tested more harshly than others. Turns out your sparring partners in the last few weeks weren’t sick. They were backing away from us and going to Dominov, or Ricardo, or Gaines. Or, I dunno, anyone with a bigger paycheque. Also, just before you went out, I got a message saying they made an error in booking our return back to L.A. We have to stay a few extra days.”
“What?” Owen said, crossing his arms. “Why didn’t you tell me all this?”
“You’re clean. Let them waste their money. And the booking thing was just childish. Whoever it was that did it or had it done, just wanted to delay our return to camp. Good on ‘em. They know if we book an earlier flight, even if we pay for it ourselves, we’ll cop a huge fine under your contract since the company contracted all fight related air travel with this airline. Who cares? We get extra time in Straya. Don’t let it get in your head. That’s what they want.
“It’s fucking wrong. When I started, you said I was crazy for not going to the ground. I never wanted to be a target. I just wanted to fight. My way. I always have and I always will. Put me up against someone in the ring. If I win, I win. If I lose, I lose. But if it isn’t fair, if deals are being made behind our backs, I want to know. I can’t inspire people if I’m oblivious to this kind of shit.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “This is what I’m talking about. This, right here. Inspire people? You inspire people by winning clean, the way you do. Forget the backstage politics. Let me worry about it. We are so close. You can’t let anything derail us now. Drug testing? Do it and let it go. You get tested more than others? Let it go. They stop you in the middle of the street and give you a cup? Smile and piss. They will come after you worse than they ever have because you’re different. You’re special. Let it drive you, not piss you off.”
“It does. More so than you think. If I get that belt, I’ll finally have the ability to change things. I will not be who they want me to be or who they think I should be. If I have to crack a few lame jokes to keep from that, so be it.”
Robert smiled and shook his head. “Just make sure you aim straight. Now, get ready. Meet and greet starts in ten.”
* * *
Tegan grabbed champagne off a silver tray and took a big sip. The place they were in looked like a huge corporate box. Windows overlooking the arena adorned the entire right side of the room. Just in front of them were tables lined with white linen and platters of seafood, sandwiches, salads, soups and breads. The place was full but didn’t seem overcrowded. There was more than enough space and staff to accommodate everyone, but she was struggling to enjoy herself.
After treating herself to a few prawns and washing down the fish breath with alcohol, she found herself wandering the room, looking over th
e walls at the framed memorabilia of events from previous years hanging side by side. Concerts, boxing matches and even set pictures of blockbuster movies that had been filmed there. It was interesting, but truthfully, she was just passing the time. She had been here ten minutes, but it felt like three hours.
Her mind-numbing walk was interrupted by Fiona almost bowling her over. “Your phone, babe, quick!”
Tegan didn’t need to ask what the rush was for, Fiona’s expression said it all. Tegan looked over to the far side of the room as Owen Gasnier had entered. He wore tight-ish blue jeans with a white tee under a tucked in, black, button-up, long-sleeved shirt which gripped the muscles of his arms like a wetsuit. He was mobbed by fangirls, all scrambling over themselves for an autograph and a picture. Tegan noticed the devilishly handsome face break out into a smile. Nodding polite thanks and acknowledgment. He took the mayhem in stride, obviously used to it.
“I need to get a picture with him,” Fiona breathed. “How the hell will I get through them?”
“Tell him you wanna sit on his face,” Tegan replied, gulping the last of her champagne.
Fiona turned and smirked. “What good is that when all of them would be offering to suck him?”
“He’s a fighter. He’d like strong women. Women who take charge. Women who know what they want. Women who would wear his lips like a g-string and ride that boy to glory.”
Fiona gave a burst of laughter. “Babe, you’re pissed.”
Tegan was about to retort when a wave of nausea hit. Whoa. How much had she had? Not that many, surely. When was the last time she had drunk though? Months? New, more pronounced screams caused Fiona to turn her attention back to Gasnier, allowing Tegan to excuse herself.
She stumbled out through an exit and found a balcony overlooking the inside of the arena. She barely made it to the small, fake, cobbled garden before losing the contents of her stomach. She heaved with such force, she sank to her hands and knees. As she coughed and vomited again, her hair was pulled from around her shoulders and held behind her head. She tried to thank Fiona, but the sting of the tears prevented any real words from escaping.
The warm caresses across her back really helped calm her. “Thanks, babe. I’m sorry to ruin this. Can you please call me an Uber? I have to get home.”
“You sure you don’t want a doctor? There’s one in the building.”
“No, I... I...” Tegan held her breath, turning slowly at the sound of the voice. The deepness. She held her mouth open, but no air escaped. Owen Gasnier was kneeling behind her, slowly letting go of her hair. He had held it while she was sick. Rubbed her back too. “Um...”
“Are you sure you’re OK?” he asked.
Tegan’s head was spinning, and she felt like another purge was nearing. “Oh, God.”
“Bit heavy on the drink, were we?” he asked through a smile.
“No, I... Thank you...but I haven’t had much.”
“You don’t sound too bad, maybe it was something you ate?”
Tegan gave a small shake of her head and took a deep breath. “I only had a handful of prawns.”
“From here?”
Tegan nodded as she put her head down, breathing deep.
Gasnier gave a knowing groan. “That’s not good.” He rose and waved to a server through the windows. The server may as well have been doing a sprint trial for the Olympics, such was the speed he got out to Gasnier’s side before bouncing back in and towards the serving tables. “Well, that takes care of that. Now, to sort you out.”
“I’m OK, really,” she replied, but even she knew it sounded flimsy. She couldn’t really move right at that moment. “My friend, Fiona, is just inside.”
“It’ll be a while before anyone is let out. A few of the fans got rowdy, and a scuffle broke out. Hence, why I had to move aside, and why I saw you out here all alone. Security has blocked access, and I’m pretty sure the cops have been called. All in all, an eventful but pointless party. Oh well.” Gasnier made to reach out for her but paused, holding his hands out instead. “May I?”
“May you what?”
“I don’t feel right about leaving you out here like this. If it’s food poisoning, I feel it’s partially my fault. So...” He lowered himself to one knee, slid his hands under her, and lifted her into his arms.
The strength with which he held her shouldn’t have surprised her, but it did. He carried her down winding steps and into the suite he had obviously occupied an hour before. It’s where he had dressed, relaxed, then celebrated his victory. It was also where he could access ice and cold water, which he presented to her after setting her down on a plush, leather couch.
“So, tell me about yourself. What can I call you?” he asked, sitting beside her about a foot away.
“Tegan,” she replied before sipping her water and pressing down on the ice pack at her neck. “I work at a coffee house just across the road. I got dragged here tonight by a friend that is completely obsessed with you, by the way. She’ll kill me if I don’t get her an autograph. I hope that’s OK?”
Gasnier gave a silent mini snort through his nose. “After all this, you’re still worried about your friend.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “Fiona, right?
Tegan adjusted her ice pack and nodded. “It would mean the world to her.”
“But not to you, I’m guessing.”
Tegan gave a short shrug. “Fighting isn’t really my thing.”
Gasnier turned so that he faced her, his knee bent to the side and resting on the couch. He was getting comfortable. “Really?” he asked, a look of absolute fascination on his face. “So you knew nothing about...” he said as he ticked things off with his fingers, “…me, the first fight in Sydney, any of it?”
Tegan gave a submissive upward turn of her hands. “I thought there was a band named Gasnier playing tonight. The way his whole face lit up when he smiled was infectious. Tegan couldn’t help but return it. “Sorry.”
“No, no. It’s brilliant. I’m really glad you didn’t know who I was. So, what did you think of the night?”
“I have to admit, besides yours, I was bored. And yours was the quickest one.”
The door opened, and the trainer Tegan barely recognised poked his head in. “Excuse me. Owen, what’s going on?”
“Tegan, this is my father, Robert,” he said before addressing his dad. “She got a bout of food poisoning from the prawns.”
“And that meant you had to bring her here?”
“Sure, where else was I going to put her until she felt better?”
Robert straightened himself. “There are no cameras in here. Did you know that? Did you alert security, so they could be outside the door?”
Gasnier Jnr gave a bewildered huff through his nose and stood. “What exactly do you think she was going to do?”
“All I’m saying is, even one misunderstood gesture or word from you and this young lady would have every right to take you to court. To not have someone in here was ridiculously stupid.”
Tegan had heard enough. She popped some gum in her mouth, then removed the ice pack, saying, “OK. Well, I’ve got work in the morning. I’m gonna go.” She was angry that the insinuation was there, but even through her anger, she could see the logic behind the caution. But even so… Fuck it. She would never see him again, so why the fuck not? She turned into Owen Gasnier and pressed her lips to his, opening his mouth slightly and flicking his tongue with hers. She could feel the warmth of his hands hovering over her skin, only lightly touching her shoulders. She took the opportunity to reach around and give the tight, toned muscle of his arse a squeeze before breaking apart. “Thank you for taking such good care of me,” she said before planting another kiss full on his lips with a loud mwah. “You can sue me for that awesome make out sesh if you like…” she paused to chuckle, “…but I’ve got fuck all money.”
She waved goodbye to the stunned father and son and made her way back to the main building. She called Fiona, responding to the seven missed ca
lls she found. Tegan would meet her outside, and they’d share a cab. She would tell Fiona everything that happened. Except the kiss. There was no way Fiona would believe Tegan would do that. And truthfully, Tegan couldn’t either. Maybe it was a dream. After all, a mouth like Gasnier’s had to be too good to be true.
Chapter Three
Tegan stood by the coffee machine, yawning for the fourth time in the space of two minutes. Her head pulsed with the effects of last night. A hot shower and more makeup than she had ever applied, outside of a pre-party prep, could not and would not hide the fact she looked like Death, felt like the reaper.
She repeated the order to herself, in her own head, and called out the customer’s name.
“Raj? Skim latte.”
“Uh, that’s me. But I ordered a chai latte.”
A woman beside him held up her hand, “I ordered a skim latte.”
“Oh! Sorry... Here.” Tegan turned to Raj, Mr Chai. “Coming right up.”
She received a pat on the rear from Fiona, who had appeared after clearing tables. “I’ll do the coffees. You work on the front for a while.”
Tegan sighed deep. “Thank you.”
“But don’t think this favour comes free. I want details about last night.”
“Hi, what can I get you?” Tegan asked the next in line. As she inputs his order through the ticket machine, she said with a smile, yet without looking back, “I told you what happened.”
“You told me facts, not details. I was in too much shock and too jealous to want more. I do now,” she said, jiggling the handle for more coffee. “Cough it up.”
Tegan handed the customer’s receipt back and served the next in line. The customers came and went quicker and quicker. Fiona was a machine, pumping out orders almost as fast as Tegan printed them.
Fiona placed the cups beside Tegan, more so that she could mutter questions under her breath. “What was he like?”
Tegan couldn’t hide the new smile she wore, even briefly, as she handed the cups over to the customer. “Thank you. Enjoy! He was...really sweet. Like...insanely sweet. A gentleman. Too good to be true. Next please.”
Undisputed (The Undisputed Series Book 1) Page 2