by JB Salsbury
I school my voice and try to be as convincing as I can. “Look, I don’t want you to worry about this fight. Everything will go as planned. I’ll get another shot at the title in a year, maybe two. It’s just one fight. Okay?” The truth is I’m disappointed I won’t be destroying Del Toro in front of a live audience tomorrow. But in this situation, the prize for losing outweighs the heavyweight title.
I search the room again for my mom. We fall into silence for a few minutes until I spot a familiar smile in the crowd.
“There she is.” I lift my chin in her direction.
“Ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh.” It seems Raven’s calm demeanor was nothing more than an intermission. She’s back to bouncing.
“Joey, my baby!”
My mom rushes to us, dropping her bags and throwing her arms around my waist. At a generous five foot five, she’s been hugging me around the waist since I was sixteen. It’s been a few months since I saw her last, but she looks the same: Dark hair without a hint of gray, styled to perfection. Her fashionable clothes, pristine makeup, and designer bag making her seem younger than her fifty-three years. Yep, hasn’t changed a bit.
“Mom. This is my girl, Raven. Raven, this is my mom.”
Pulling back, she takes a side step and grabs both of Raven’s hands. “It’s so nice to meet you, Raven. You’re just as beautiful as Joey described.”
“Nice to meet you too, Mrs. Slade.”
“Please, call me Katherine.”
“Thank you, ma’am . . . um, Katherine.”
With Raven’s hands still in her grasp, my mom looks at me. “You did good, son. She’s beautiful and polite.”
“Yeah, she is.” I shake my head. “I still can’t believe you thought I was gay.”
Raven stares at me aghast while my mom shakes her head and smiles.
Dropping her hands, my mom slips her arm into the crook at Raven’s elbow. “Come on, dear. Let me tell you about the time when my Joey was four and he ran around the front yard naked pretending to be a superhero called Super Weenie Man.”
“Shit, Ma.”
Raven giggles.
“Watch that mouth, Joey. You’re in the presence of ladies.”
Grabbing her bags, I walk behind two of the three women I love the most in the world.
***
“Jonah, wait up!”
I’m heading into the training center, after dropping my mom and Raven off at my house, when Blake’s voice causes an about face. I have a quick training session and a short meeting I need to wrap up so I can get back to them for dinner.
“What’s up, Blake?”
“Dude, we got problems.”
We’re standing on the sidewalk outside the training center’s doors, and Blake looks around like he’s checking for snipers.
“Ah, shit. What now?”
“Okay, I was at Zeus’s last night and I ended up hooking up with this new girl, Sherry, or Terry . . . Mary?” His eyes go skyward as he scratches his cheek and shakes his head. “Whatever. She mentioned that a guy—”
“Zeus’s? I thought you tagged Camille last night?”
His body freezes. “Camille! I can’t believe you unleashed that crazy . . .” He closes his eyes and rubs his temples as if to organize his thoughts. His eyes open and he glares at me. “We’re gonna talk about that, but first the stripper.”
I nod, unable to manage the smile that is wreaking havoc on my face. It’s not often Blake has issues with girls.
“So, the stripper,” he continues, “told me a guy named Dominick had offered her a job as an escort. I guess she thought that’d impress me.” He rolls his eyes. “Anyway, she told me a few of the girls accepted his offer and—”
“You gonna get to the point where you tell me what the fuck this has to do with me?”
“Dude, listen. And stop interrupting. Shit.” He folds his arms across his chest, hangs his head, and blows out a frustrated breath. “I asked her who accepted his offer. She said she wasn’t sure, but that more than a few were interested.”
“So? I don’t give a shit what Dominick does. As long as he leaves Raven out of it.”
“The new girl told me she overheard a convo in the dressing room. Dominick’s hiring for a special job. One that takes place the night of the fight. At The Mandalay Bay Arena. You think that shit’s a coincidence?”
“Maybe he needs some fresh girls for all the high-rollers that’ll be hitting up the fight. Dominick has to know better than to fuck with me on fight night. I’m going to be making him a rich man.” Or, a richer man.
“I’ve got a really bad feeling about this,” Blake mumbles.
There’s nothing I can say. This whole situation sucks. The only thought that brings me peace is that, by Sunday, Raven will be all mine and we can move on with our lives. I rub my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose to soothe the throbbing headache this conversation brought on.
“Remind me when I decide to settle down to find a girl without baggage. Preferably one with no family.” He holds up his hand and starts ticking off fingers with each stipulation. “No kids, ex-husbands, psycho dads, fucking skeletons in the closet. None of that shit.”
“It’s gonna take a special girl to put up with your ass, Blake. You got no room to be picky.”
“I’m serious, man.” He points at the ground. “I’d rather stay single my entire life, banging anyone who can keep up, than take on some chick with issues. You can tattoo that on my ass if you don’t believe me.”
The serious mask on his face tightens into a scowl. “Oh, and thanks a lot for pushing that crazy bitch Camille on me last night. I got her in the elevator, just about to do her, and you know what she said?”
I shrug. I’m still pissed at that chick for upsetting Raven, but I have to give her credit for freaking Blake out.
“She said if I wanted to get up in there, I had to prove myself.” His voice pitches high. “She said I had to submit her to the ground before she’d let me fuck her. I’m looking to get off, and she wants jiu-jitsu foreplay. Who does that shit?”
Unable to hold it in a second longer, laughter bursts from my mouth.
“It’s not funny, man. It’s whacked. I had blue balls for two hours before Kerri, or whatever the fuck her name was, at the strip club got me off.”
“I can’t believe you couldn’t get a submission on a girl. Maybe they can open up a spot for you on their team. Teach you a thing or two.”
Blake’s look of disgust only makes me laugh harder.
“Oh, real nice. You’re a dick, you know that?” He stomps off and through the doors.
~*~
Raven
“So, Raven, tell me about your family. Does your mom live here in town?”
Water spews from my mouth. I choke and gasp for air.
“Oh, goodness, honey, are you okay?” Katherine hands me a dishtowel and pats me on the back.
She’s been busy making dinner and filling me in on Jonah’s milestones growing up. The subject change took me by surprise.
“Yeah, I’m good. Thank you. Just went down the wrong pipe.”
“You scared me.”
You think that scared you? Ask me again about my mom.
I’m not happy about opening the closet doors to my soul and revealing my dark secrets to the one person in the world I want to like me. But, I can’t lie to Jonah’s mom either. She’s going to find out eventually, and what will she think then? If I plan on being a part of Jonah’s life, I need to be honest, upfront. What’s that saying? The truth will set you free. More like the truth will keep you single.
She’s cutting vegetables, oblivious to the fact that I’m about to drop a bomb directly on to her sweet head. Maybe she’ll forget if I change the subject.
“So, you were telling me about your parents?”
Too late.
I’ll talk around it. That will give her enough to be satisfied, and I won’t have to tell her the ugly truth.
“My mom lives in town, yes, and so d
oes my . . . um . . . my dad.” Saying the word makes me want to spit to clean out the dirty.
“Are they still married?” Her questions are so casual and every day. Nothing more than a little small talk with the girl who’s dating her son. Boy, is she in for a surprise.
Just get it over with! It’ll be easier that way.
I bite my lip, working up my nerve. “Uh, no, they were never, um, married.”
This sucks.
“Oh, that’s too bad. What do they do? For work?” Her eyes are fixed on the task before her, chopping and dumping into a bowl.
“My mom is in sales.” Please, let that be enough. My stomach churns. This already feels like a lie.
“What does she sell?
My shoulders slump in defeat. Might as well get it over with. I check the clock on the microwave. Jonah should be home soon. I wish he were here now.
“Herself. My mom is a call girl.”
Her chopping ceases and she turns toward me, the question burning in her eyes. “Call center girl?”
I scrub my face with my hand. “Call girl.”
Katherine’s knife drops on the counter with a clang. Her eyes are huge and her mouth moves, but no sound comes out.
I’m not finished yet. “Her pimp . . . well, he’s my . . . my uh . . . he got her pregnant.”
She adds head shaking to the list of silent responses.
“I don’t . . . or, um, never had a relationship with either of them.” I exhale a long breath.
There. I did it.
My teeth rake over my lower lip. I count the tiles on the floor. Silent seconds tick. I prepare for the speech about my being trash and no good for her son. I straighten my spine, ready for her attack on my character. Dragging my eyes to meet hers, I lurch in shock.
Her eyes are the exact shade of Jonah’s. And just like Jonah, filled with compassion. Not judgment. I relax a fraction under their gaze.
“That’s an incredible story.” Her voice is gentle and calms my nerves. “You must have been through a lot growing up. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for you.” She picks up my hand and holds it in hers. “You know what you are, Raven?”
I shake my head no, fearing that my voice will break the consoling cocoon her words provide. I’m desperate to know.
What am I?
“You’re like that single wild flower that grows from the crack in the pavement: miraculous growth with no water source or fertile soil. A person walking by would step around that flower to avoid crushing it. It’s not like the field of wild flowers you tromp through carelessly, crushing them under your feet, knowing that the next day will bring a hundred more.”
She pauses to place her hand on my cheek. “You’ve managed a life through your obstacles. It may be a lonely life, but a life nonetheless. Surviving is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s something to be proud of.”
She sees me as worthy. Not a weight in Jonah’s life, but special. A miracle.
I want to express what her words mean to me, but can’t organize my emotions fast enough. Tears pool in my eyes. I blink, and they overflow as her speech runs on repeat in my head, leeching out the poison left behind in my soul.
She brings a kitchen towel to my face and wipes my tears. Her kind smile is more than I can handle and I sob.
“Oh, honey.” She pulls me into her arms. I’m completely lost in her embrace. She holds me tight, speaking words into my hair about strength and release.
My cheek presses into her shoulder, soaking her shirt with my tears. I startle when a pair of strong arms pull me away from her. So deep in my sorrow, I didn’t hear him come in. The familiar smell of citrus and spice relax my muscles, and I bury myself into Jonah’s chest.
“Mom. What the fuck happened?” Anger laces his voice.
I can’t see Katherine’s face, but her whispered, “It’s okay, Joey” has him relaxing against me. He takes a deep breath and holds me until I calm.
“Baby?” He kisses my head and rubs my back.
I lean away from Jonah, but he keeps his arms tightly around my waist. I wipe my face, feeling exposed and embarrassed. “Sorry. It’s stupid—”
“No, Raven, don’t do that. Don’t belittle your strength with embarrassment. You have nothing to be ashamed of.” Katherine’s eyes are wet with tears.
I nod and simply say the only thing I can, “Thank you, Katherine.”
Staring at Jonah’s neck, I’m unable to lift my gaze, fearing what I might see in his eyes.
“Hey. Look at me.”
I brave a glance.
He’s smiling tenderly, bringing forth both dimples. “You okay?”
I nod.
“Right.” He kisses my lips, then the tip of my nose, and finally my forehead.
“My son is lucky to have you, Raven. I’m very proud of him, and I’m equally proud of you.”
Warmth floods my chest, flowing into my cheeks and pulling on my lips. I look from Katherine to Jonah.
“You girls have fun today?” He doesn’t take his eyes from mine. His voice is soft and I appreciate the change to a happier subject.
We hang out in the kitchen while Katherine puts the finishing touches on dinner. Jonah steals pieces of food off the counter and she slaps his hand. For the first time, I see Jonah as a boy while he playfully teases his mom. I laugh as she reprimands him for drinking milk straight from the carton. She fills him in on his sister and her husband. He laughs at the stories about his nephews getting into trouble.
I’m nothing more than a spectator to this beautiful display of family. I watch in silence as envy piggybacks my happiness.
After a delicious meal, I excuse myself to clean the kitchen so Jonah and his mom can have some time alone. Drying the last dish and putting it away, I head straight to Jonah’s garage for some quiet time with the Impala.
With my hair pulled back, I plug the iPod into the dock and allow the music to wash through my body, taking with it the multitude of conflicted emotions tumbling in my chest.
Some of the music from Jonah’s iPod is familiar, but one song catches my attention. I read the name on the screen as “Halo” by Beyonce. It seems Beyonce knows a thing or two about my situation, as her words become my heart’s anthem. I put the song on repeat and turn back to the car to bury myself in work.
Lost in the combination of my work and the music, I jump at the sound of the door opening. How long have I been in here?
“I knew I’d find you here.” He wraps me in a hug. His body is warm and comforting.
“I wanted to give you and your mom some time alone. I thought I’d come out here until she went to bed.”
He sits on the hood of the Impala, propping his heels on the bumper and pulling me between his legs.
“My mom is in love with you.” He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “She flat out told me that if I didn’t marry you she’d disown me. I think she likes you more than she likes me.”
My cheeks warm. “She’s incredible, Jonah.”
“I’m glad you think so. You know, I was kinda hoping that someday she’d be your mother-in-law.”
My eyes flash to his and a slow smile pulls at my lips. Holy crud. Is he asking what I think he’s asking?
“Whaddya say? You feel like droppin’ Morretti for good?”
Twenty-seven
Jonah
I’m not breathing. I’m waiting.
She’s staring at me like I sprouted horns . . . and a tail.
I just asked her to marry me. Sure it wasn’t your candlelight dinner, down on one knee, shed a tear kind of proposal. But it was a proposal. I don’t know what came over me. It just came out. I don’t regret the words, but fuck. What kind of a dick asks his girlfriend to marry him in his garage? I don’t even have a ring.
I’ve known for a while now that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. I just haven’t been able to focus on that. It’s been more important that I focus on our immediate future and the fight.
But now, noth
ing’s as important as her answer. Why isn’t she saying anything?
I reach out and cup her face, running my thumb along her lower lip. “Baby?”
Her eyebrows pinch together. Not a good sign.
With a few rapid blinks, she focuses on me. “What if you win tomorrow night?”
Ah, fuck. Not this again.
No matter how many times I assure her that I can throw this fight, she’s never totally convinced.
“I told you I’d lose it. I mean it. Now leave it alone.” My words are terse and powered by irritation. I don’t mean to be rude, but fuck. I just proposed, and this is the shit she wants to talk about?
I push both hands through my hair and take a deep breath. Her soft hand brushes my cheek. I look at her, my jaw cramping and eyes narrowing. She jumps, but quickly recovers, and places a lingering kiss on my cheek.
“I believe you can lose the fight, I do. But what if I say I’ll marry you and then something happens? Something terrible, like you get hit too hard and flip the switch on Del Toro? Or what if, I don’t know, he does something to forfeit the fight? You want to marry a prostitute? You want to share your wife with the wealthy men of Las Vegas?”
I grimace at the thought. No, I won’t share my wife with other men. I’d fucking kill any man who came near her with those intentions.
Her expression goes soft and she nods. “That’s what I thought. So what are our options? We could run, take off, live out our married days moving from place to place . . . ’til death do us part.”
She brings both hands up to cup my face. “You deserve better than that, Jonah. Your mom deserves better than that.”
“I don’t want to live without you.” Emotions surge within me making my voice rough.
A single tear trails down her cheek, betraying her smile. “And I don’t want to live without you. Of course, I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Her expression hardens. “But I don’t want to talk about the future. Not until we know, with one-hundred-percent certainty, that we have one.”
So that’s a yes. Right? A maybe? Shit.
“Nothing will keep me from you. I know what’s going to happen tomorrow night. But if things don’t go as planned, I’ll take you away. Living a life on the run is better than living a life without you.” I wrap my hand around the nape of her neck and pull her face close to mine. “No one can keep us apart.”