Tegan gripped his hoodie and closed her eyes, letting him in. Letting his mouth roam over her sensitive skin. Deliberately, slowly driving her wild. “Where else?” she hissed into his ear.
“Where else what, my dear?”
“Come on, don’t make me say it,” she replied, casting a sweeping glance of the handful of smokers before kissing his cheek. She gasped in response as he gripped her arse, firmly.
“Say it,” he said, cupping her arse and bringing her into him to hold her close as his hands moved all over her.
“Where else do you wanna fuck me?”
“Oh… that. Kitchen sink, balcony, shower, again—”
She placed a hand over his mouth. Time for talking was over.
* * *
Tegan ran her fingers down his chest and stomach, pleasantly numb several hours later. She had no idea what time it was, but a good guess was after midnight. They had both been fighting sleep by having more sex. But sleep, as it always seems to, was catching up fast.
“What time is your flight to LA?” she asked.
“Nine in the morning. Gotta be at the airport by six.”
“Shit. You’ve really got to get some sleep,” she said, yawning.
“Can’t. You still haven’t told me your request. I got mine. And I can’t say no.”
Don’t go. Just say it. Who cares what it means if you do. Tell him you want him to stay. Fuck the fighting out of LA. Stay here. With you. Yes, it’s crazy. You hardly know him. You don’t care if he loses all his money by not honouring his sponsor deals. You’ll be OK. You’ll find something, some way to survive. Just tell him how you feel.
“Say goodbye to me now,” she sighed. “Don’t wake me up when you leave.”
“You don’t want to watch me walk out, do you?”
Don’t want to? I don’t think I physically can! Do you have any idea how much these last few days have meant to me? “It’s asking a lot.”
He pressed his lips against her forehead. “Thank you.”
“For the sex?” she giggled playfully.
“For giving me the best time here I could’ve hoped for. For coming to the fight even though you didn’t want to. For saying yes to going out with me. For the date. For caring enough about me with the car accident. For being there when I needed you after the contract meeting. For being there with me and Olivia.”
“So…the sex was great, huh?”
Owen gave a smile that melted her heart as he brushed her nose with his own. “I’ll be back to film for that arsehole when I can. I’d love to keep in touch and see you when I’m in town?”
No way. Not to go through this again. Clean break. That’s what’s needed. Just say it’s not a good idea. “Sure, I’d love that too,” she eventually replied.
The next moment, or so it seemed, her alarm was going off. The one she always had set for work. It took a few seconds to realise he had done what she asked. He was gone. She felt, even now, it was the right thing to request, but that didn’t stop the silent, hot tears streaking down her cheeks. She wiped at her nose and caught with her peripheral vision a glint to her right. There, hanging on her desk light, was Owen’s red ‘V’ medallion. Under it, was a note.
I’ll be back for this. May it bring you good luck, or at least, make you think of me during dark times.
Love,
Owen
She scrunched the note gently, brought it into her chest, and took the medallion into the same embrace. As stupid and ridiculous as it was, her crying meant she didn’t need any trinket to remind herself of him. He had given his good luck charm away, just for her. She had nothing to give him except the one thing she had never given him permission to take, but he made off with it like a thief in the night before she even knew what hit her. He had taken a piece of her heart with him.
Chapter Seven
Two Months Later
“Yes, we are.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Yes, we are.”
“You can, but I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
Fiona would not take no for an answer. For the last hour, she had been hounding Tegan to join her for a night out. To be fair, although annoying, Fiona was only trying to help. And she had been asking for this for some time. Tegan always managed to delay her, but time, it seemed, had run out. Tegan cleared her table and returned the mugs to the washing station, Fiona close behind.
“Babe, I’m honestly not feeling the best.”
Fiona took the mugs Tegan had in her hand and placed them down into the sink for her. “You haven’t been feeling well for weeks. This isn’t good for you. I know it’s hard, but you gotta get over him. And this is me saying this…”
“Babe, it’s not that. It was hard for a few days, but I’m fine now. He messages every now and then. He’s training now anyway. Really, I’m fine. I’m over him.”
“Great, then that means you can come out tonight.”
Tegan sighed. “But, babe—”
“They are having a big showing of the championship fight tonight. Half priced drinks and free nibblies? C’mon, don’t make me go by myself. Whoever wins tonight will be who Owen faces if he wins his match. I took you to your first fight and look what happened?” Fiona finished with a bright flurry of her hands, then humped the air hard.
Tegan smiled back and agreed, yet both knew her enthusiasm was non-existent. She had no interest in watching a match without Owen in it, but the prospect of seeing who the champion would be was a small incentive.
And maybe, in some bizarre way, seeing the match would help her feel closer to Owen. Feel that, even so far away, they were still connected. Because, despite her claims to Fiona, she wasn’t over him. An extended one night stand it may have been, but she didn’t know if she’d ever be over him. Did she even want to be?
“Where are we going?”
“Where else do young, hot chicks go for a good time? We’re off to T.”
* * *
Tegan had been to the club T a few times over the years but not in some time. Though the line to get in was just as long as she remembered, the place had a different vibe to it. Decked out in posters for the main event and the lower card matches along the walls of the club.
Fiona was right; this was a big event. Thankfully, there was no need to dress up to the nines. No heels to be seen. Fight fans were lining up adorned in all kinds of clothing merchandise for both fighters. Tegan, at first glance, thought the numbers probably favoured Diaz.
“Hey,” said a guy in front of them, proudly showing off his Ricky Chozen Championship shirt, giving the air of trying to pass the time. “Who are you guys going for?”
Fiona unzipped her puffy jacket to reveal her answer: an oversized Team Gasnier shirt which she twisted at the bottom into a knot. The guy laughed. “Hate to tell you, but the pretty boy ain’t fighting.”
“Hate to tell you, but Chozen’s time as champ is numbered. Diaz will kill him. Hopefully, not literally.”
They were interrupted by a sudden outburst from outside the line. As a couple walked down the line, the man saw Fi’s shirt and yelled, “Go Gasnier!” And they high fived as he passed.
“If Ricky gets up tonight,” the Chozen fan continued. “I reckon him and Gasnier will be a better fight than Gasnier and Diaz.”
“Nah. Sorry bud. I want Gaz to fuck Diaz up,” Fiona said.
“You might love him, but you gotta know that Gasnier’s biggest weakness is Diaz’ strength. All Diaz has to do is get him on the ground. Then he is finished. Fight’s over.”
Fiona gave an impatient puff of air through her lips. “Owen is too smart to let that roided’ up glob of cock snot get close. Did you see his fight with Jose De Silva? De Silva has the best ground game in the entire division. But what happened? Gaz’s focus was off the charts. Gaz never let him get close. Splitting him open with punches. Death of a thousand cuts until he dropped him like a turd. Whoever wins tonight is just keeping the belt warm for our boy.”
&nb
sp; “So, your friend likes him too?”
“Well she should, she was riding him like a bronco for three days.” Fiona shrugged.
Tegan only then became aware they were talking about her. She turned to see the guy laugh off her comment, then address his friends.
“Really?” she asked under her breath.
“How else was I gonna shut him up? He didn’t believe me anyway.”
The line dissolved after twenty or so minutes, Fiona getting weird looks from time to time from people passing by. Apparently wearing a fighter’s shirt that wasn’t appearing on the card was some kind of unspoken crime. When they finally got to the entrance, Tegan was surprised as they were almost rushed in, but then she saw why.
The bouncers had seen the Gasnier shirt, and like fans of a football team, they called them closer. Bison and Tyson, according to their badges, showed off their Gasnier wristbands to Fiona, who proudly wiggled hers in front of them too. The bands had been selling for a dollar at Owen’s fight for a charity he supported. Seeing the three of them laugh and chat like old friends made Tegan sorry she hadn’t bought one.
Fiona waved goodbye and thanks to them as she led Tegan inside, saying loudly, “Only a matter of time baby. Just a matter of time. GASNIAHHH! Woo!”
Some in the line behind them jeered her words, but some yelled in agreeance. All in fun, yet Tegan couldn’t find any enjoyment in any of it. The longer she waited in line, the more she heard his name, the worse she felt.
She followed Fiona into the club, coming out into a sea of colour and lighting. Four huge TV screens had been placed above the dance floor. One in each corner, giving the people inside every chance to get a view wherever they sat or stood. They had gotten in about halfway through the second to last match. Tegan paid no attention to it, trying to find a spare seat. Somewhere.
She heard glass breaking and turned to see a man with two women in a booth. He had been watching the fight and had obviously disagreed with the result, smashing his glass to the floor. Several people near him had jumped out of the way, but there were a few that were touching their legs, checking for fragments.
“Oi!” came a voice through the crowd. A lean, athletic, brunette woman, who looked like she meant business, approached the booth. “Out.”
“Fuck off,” he replied.
“I love it when you talk dirty.”
Then it was Tegan’s turn to jump back. The brunette took the drunk down with a mere sweep of her leg. His shoulder twisted and his arm went high in the air.
“Now, what was that?” she called out over the noise of the patrons and the yelling of his female companions. “You’re gonna leave quietly with no bullshit, did I hear that?”
The man under her clenched his teeth and nodded furiously.
“Good! That’s what I thought you said. Door is that way,” she said, letting him up and pointing to the exit. The man, red in the face, moved towards the exit, but his friends continued to make trouble. Screaming at the brunette that a lawsuit was coming.
“Yeah, yeah. Tell your sob story walking. Out!”
Tegan found herself suddenly locking eyes with the brunette, who had just then realised she was so close. “Hi! What can I get you?”
Tegan slowly, uncertainly, pointed to the booth.
“Sure,” said the brunette brightly, quickly clearing the glasses and resetting the table. “Welcome to T, guys. I’m Michelle. Holla if you need anything, or the bar is right up there. Drinks are cheap for the next ten minutes or so. Help yourself.”
Both Tegan and Fiona watched Michelle leave before sitting down. “Anyone else want to marry her?” Fiona asked, watching her go.
“Get in line,” Tegan replied.
“OK. First shout is on me, what ya’ havin’?”
“Can I just get a lemonade?”
“Seriously? Nothing else in there?”
Tegan’s stomach gave a tiny turn as if to reinforce her request. She hoped the fizz would help settle it. “Yeah, babe. Just that.”
Fiona left, and Tegan turned her attention to the nearest TV screen. The main event was minutes away.
“Welcome, from wherever you are watching around the world, to Fight Night. The biggest, most prestigious prize in the sport is being offered up tonight. The Heavyweight Championship of the world, being defended by the current holder, Ricky Chozen…”
The mention of his name brought a small smattering of support from the people around Tegan. “...and the former holder, Brent Diaz.” This mention drew a much larger round of applause. “John, how do you see this one going?”
“Thank you, Dave. Yes. Well, it’s definitely one of the most unique title fights in history, I would say. The first time, ever, a current champion faces off against the previous champion when the latter was never beaten for his belt.”
“Great point there, John. We all know Diaz’ last few months so no need to go down that road again. In a recent interview, Diaz said that he still considers himself the champion, and he will unleash hell on Chozen for ‘stealing’ his belt. Now, we all know fighters pump themselves and their matches up, but he did seem serious about this.”
“I heard the same, and yes, he seems to consider Ricky Chozen a paper-thin, fake champion. Or, as the hashtags trending on social media put it, a usurper. For what it’s worth, whether a marketing ploy or not, the people have responded. A great crowd in tonight. I just have a feeling they’ll be disappointed. I can’t see anything but this fight over, and over quickly. Diaz wins, and wins by knockout.”
“Well, he is the heaviest of all heavyweights, but he has been out of action for a while, John. That could affect things like his timing.”
“Yes. But, as great a fighter as Ricky Chozen is, he does not have the ability to go toe to toe with Diaz. Diaz hits like an express train. He’s manhandled opponents in the past, and he may not get the opportunity this time, but given his strength and aggressiveness versus Chozen’s composed style, Diaz wins comfortably.”
“Well, for me, it’s a Diaz victory too, but I’m going with a submission victory in round two. Let’s head down to the ring for the entrances.”
Fiona made her way back to their table with a whole tray of shots for her and Tegan’s lone, tall glass of lemonade. By the time she had sat down, and downed her first, Diaz had entered the ring. It was only then Tegan noticed. “Oh, my God.”
The man’s physical presence was a sight to behold. Not only was he head and shoulders taller than everyone else in the ring but also twice as wide. He had a permanent scowl etched on his bald head, eyes as black as a great white shark, and a caged lion look about him as he paced back and forth, waiting. A giant, muscle-bound lion.
Tegan managed to glance at Fiona, who noticed, speaking to Tegan yet staring at the screen. “You can’t tell me he isn’t juicing. Looks like a condom full of walnuts.” It was her turn to scowl as she downed another shot, sneering at him she said, “Fuck, I hate you.”
Ricky Chozen looked like a buff schoolboy standing in front of Diaz, and Tegan scoffed. Who the hell takes this shit seriously? The ref did, obviously, as he relayed his instructions. The rules or whatever. But this was David versus Goliath, and there was not a stone to throw in sight. The fighters retreated to their sides, and the crowd, on the screen and around Tegan, exploded with anticipation. Tegan, though, scrunched her napkin as the bell sounded.
She gasped as Diaz bolted forward.
“Watch the superman punch!” Fiona screamed at the screen, presumably at Chozen. Diaz leapt high and came crashing down with a slinging overhand right that Chozen tried to block with both forearms. The strike split through his block, snapping his head back like a mouse trap.
Fiona swore and sunk back into her chair as the crowd screamed. Diaz flipped Chozen over his own body and slammed him so hard to the mat his entire body bounced. Diaz didn’t fall to the ground and cuddle like the few matches Tegan had seen. He simply went down on one knee, over Chozen, and proceeded to bash his skull repeatedly as he lay
there with his right fist. The bell sounded, and the ref, who was even smaller than Chozen, gripped Diaz by the shoulders, attempting to make him stop.
Diaz, at that moment, had the other guy by the hair. Chozen was completely slack in his arms when Diaz dropped him with a thud Tegan could almost hear, raising both arms in victory as Chozen lay there, not moving.
Tegan’s mouth hung open, fearing the worst as Chozen’s team rushed to him, blocking him from the camera’s view. The next shot, though, made Tegan’s stomach turn harder. The view switched to the camera just inside the ring, and the screen was splattered with blood. It was only a second, and someone at the Pay Per View broadcast must’ve seen it and ordered another angle switch, but the sight itself was disturbing to Tegan. Not only had that punch rocked Chozen, but it had also split him open with blunt force trauma.
Tegan looked away. She couldn’t watch Diaz’ cringeworthy smile as he was congratulated by the interviewer. Congratulated? Seriously? Chozen, who was nothing more than a crimson mass, had only begun to move just then. This was insane. Diaz was proud of what he had done. Arrogantly smug.
“Well, there you have it,” came the TV presenter’s voice over. “One of the shortest title fights in recent memory, though not an unexpected result, and we would like to add that it looks like Ricky is OK. He’s talking but being taken to hospital as a precaution.”
“Yes, indeed. Good news for him and his family. And also, it must be said, well done to Brent Diaz. Yet another dominant display, as we’ve come to expect from him.”
“Absolute powerhouse performance. Make no mistake, if this result doesn’t send shivers down the division, the way it was done well. Ricky Chozen is a seasoned fighter and Diaz made him look second rate in less than seven seconds. He gets to celebrate now, then his attention will turn to his next opponent. The winner of the Connor Williams, Owen Gasnier matchup.”
Undisputed (The Undisputed Series Book 1) Page 7