by Paige Notaro
"Well come back any time.” I tried to smile, but the scent of fried chicken was so strong I just ended up drooling.
We ate as urgently as we'd had sex. I'd seen Andre eat massive meals after practice, but he tore through most of the four cartons he'd bought himself. It made me feel kind proud. I was tougher than a fight.
Then, I remembered how battered this last one had left him.
I traced the inflamed part I'd seen the night before through his t-shirt. We'd roughed it more than once in the heat of coming together, but now he grimaced at my gentle touch.
"Do you need to go to a hospital?"
"It's nothing. Just need a little rest, baby." He stroked my hair. "Though doing without it is ok too."
"But you have to..." I looked at the clock. "Oh my god, it's two. Don't you need to go practice?"
"A day off to recover is fine," he said.
"I don't wanna be the reason you get hurt in a fight again."
He turned my face up to his. "That ain't what's happening here. You're the reason I fight now. It may be the first time I’ve had a good one other than my own ego."
This was supposed to cheer me up, but it made me feel sour. "I don’t want to be the reason. I’d rather you didn’t fight at all."
"Well too bad, cause I want to keep taking care of you," he said. "I want to have the power so I can get you back to safety. Whenever you're ready."
He meant back to the US.
I cupped his hands. "I think I feel just fine here for a while."
That brilliant grin lit up his face. "Glad to hear it."
We went back to our food but the bit of breath had broken our stride and given our stomachs time to recognize they weren't starving any more.
Andre started to get the dishes, but I jumped up and pressed him back to his seat. "I got this," I said. He had done so much for me. I had to repay him every little way I could. This wasn’t serving him. It was taking care of the man I loved.
Just like that, I knew that’s what it was. Love. Choosing to be someone’s support whether they could help you back or not. I peeked back at Andre and smiled. He looked confused, but he echoed the look back warmly.
By the time I'd finished, Andre had gone and perched on the couch, peering lazily back out the tinted window. I nestled myself on top of him and tried to follow his gaze. We were looking at the American side of the border, at the hills that rose to the side of downtown El Paso.
"See something?"
"Not really. Can only see it at night for the most part."
"See what?" I remembered our first night together up on the roof. “Oh the star.”
He nodded. "It's my guiding light. It used to be my only hope."
"Oh yeah?"
"It wasn't all glamour before you showed up in my life," he said. "Not at all really. I won’t say I didn’t party it up, I did – a lot. Too much. But there were nights I would sit here and feel trapped in a crystal cage. I used to look up at the real stars, you know, to make myself remember how small all my problems were. But then I saw that blue star, and it stuck so much more."
"Does it look special?" I tried again to see what was so remarkable about that meager outline of lights.
"Nah, it's just a giant blue star. It comes on every night. Just gives me hope that there's a better future out there. A more meaningful one, if I can just wait it out to reach it."
His eyes were off elsewhere, maybe back in Atlanta. I wondered what would make a plain blue star so special. Especially one so close he could walk up there and touch it any time he liked. All he had to do was walk a few miles, past... the border.
"You’re not allowed back in the US at all, are you?" I said.
He shook his head slowly.
"Something happened to you there?"
"Something happened to someone else." His voice softened. “Because of me."
His hands clenched and unclenched. I remembered how fast they could fly and suddenly the answers were right in my face. "Something happened in a fight."
He looked at me, waiting for me to finish the thought. His face had never seemed as so lifeless as it looked now. "You hurt someone," I whispered.
"That ain't it and you know."
"You... killed someone."
He looked away. "Yeah."
"During the fight?" I asked, my heart pounding.
"When else?"
I almost sighed in relief. "That's a risk right? He knew."
"He was a kid."
"A kid..."
"Well, technically. He was 17 – a minor"
"I don't understand. How were you fighting a 17 year old?"
"The fight wasn’t exactly legal. Atlanta's got a lot of places like that which aren’t well regulated. Either no one checked this kid for ID or he had a decent enough fake. I did it myself when I was underage.”
“You fought grown men when you were a boy?” I asked.
“I guess,” he said. “But how many grown men you seen bigger than me?”
I shook my head. He was like a second sofa I was sitting on.
“I’ve been bigger than most since I was 14,” he said. “This kid weren’t quite so large, but you wouldn’t doubt he was 18 if he insisted. Age is just a number, you know. Not everyone’s the same place at the same age.”
Some people were far behind. I might look 19, but I barely felt like an adult. “Yeah, I get that.”
His mood brightened before slipping under another dark cloud. “The kid wasn’t bad, but I was already good, you know. I’d been fighting for two years and I had a good couple inches on him. So by round 2, he’s beat. I get his guard down, start walloping his chest, and-,” he snapped his fingers. “His heart gives out. Just something wrong with it. They got guys standing by with paddles, but they couldn’t do shit. He's gone."
He was trying to wave it off as an accident, but I could tell from the tightness in his eyes that he hadn't quite convinced himself. I sank deeper into him until he returned from the darkness.
"Anyway, no one knows he ain't 18, so they have some guys drop him off at the local ER and peel out. I get sent home, everyone lays low. The second they make an ID on the body though, see he's 17, all shit breaks loose. See the police know about the rings, but they’ve usually got bigger fish to fry. The city decides to make this case into an example. They go after the guys who dropped him off with a freaking SWAT team. Use them to get back to Leroy - the guy who ran the whole ring. And Leroy, he sells me right the fuck out. Says it was just a street fight gone wrong and for some reason, he names me anyway."
"Why would he blame you?"
"I dunno. I did kill the guy. But hell, my fights were already starting to be half the reason he got rich to begin with. I was..." He chuckled softly. "They said they were seeing me before I got pulled out to the UFC circles. There were recruiters who were starting to rag on me. I was just waiting for the right offer, you know. I was good."
"You are good," I said. "You're amazing out in the ring."
"Yeah well, what I got for it was a charge of manslaughter. I get word the police had an arrest warrant for me. Our mom was sweet as syrup but her generosity sure as hell hadn't made her rich. I knew there was no way a poor black kid was gonna fight that charge. I couldn't even tell her. Dennis knew, and he says he let her know before the cops showed up looking for me, but I couldn’t…."
His eyes glistened. I stroked his cheek, and he leaned into my hand.
"I ran.” He sighed. “I was just gonna go off to the boonies. Our underground fights attract a lot of criminal elements though and Atlanta is a big city for the cartels. One of the Lieutenants from the Juarez one had been watching that night. He got in touch and made me an offer to fight down here. I took it. Next thing, I knew, I was smuggled out."
“Smuggled?”
He saw my interest and grinned. “Yeah, black bagged and brought over, just like you.”
I looked back at the star I couldn't see. "What happens if you try to cross?"
"I'll be a
rrested. Tried. Charged with fleeing the law? I dunno. It's manslaughter. One day the statute of limitations will wear off and I'll get back. But not anytime soon."
"Well, you're doing pretty well for a fugitive. And you still get to fight."
"Not against anyone that matters." He glanced around. "The suite is nice and all, but it's nothing compared to what I could have had."
I stroked his chest. "You'll have it one day."
"Na, there's a short window to make it. There's no MMA guys who burst into the scene in their 30s. Even late 20s is pushing it."
"How long do you have to stay here?"
"Another 2 years, at least. Longer, if I want to play safe." A faint trace of his smile peppered his face. "You know the funny thing?"
"What?"
"I was just a few months over 18 myself. If all this happened just a few months back, then I wouldn't be an adult. I probably wouldn't be hit with more than a couple months in juvie. I wouldn't have run here."
His body went still. I didn't know what I could say to that. Sometimes life dealt you a bad hand. I had it worse than many, but there was something to be said for being dealt all bad hands. It meant you were used to getting another. And when a good one showed up, like Andre had for me, you could appreciate it.
But to see the light and be driven into the darkness? It would be like going back to that safehouse and waiting for Mr. Tarly. I shivered.
Andre gave me a squeeze. "So now you know. Things aren't all bad though. I was here to meet you."
"To save me," I said.
"Yeah, I guess," he said. "Does it make up for taking a life?"
His eyes peered up long and soulful, his full lips barely apart. He was asking me.
How was this even a question? "You killed him by accident,” I said. “You saved me on purpose. There’s not a single thing wrong with you soul."
I cupped his face and sank into it for a long kiss. The tension melted out of his muscles and he pressed back into me. His body hardened with a new emotion and I felt myself soften below to receive him.
Later, much later, the elevator door chimed and footsteps clopped down the hall.
"Yo, Maria's busy," Dennis said, his voice booming out through the room. "I got food though."
I heard a couple more footsteps and then they stopped. I opened my eyes and saw Dennis wide-eyed far above where we lay spent on the living room floor.
"We're good, bro," Andre's bare-chested voice rumbled from my side.
"Yeah you are." He shot us a wink. Then he turned around and went right back into the elevator, leaving us to each other.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Georgia
All good things come to an end. When I woke up in the bed the next day, Andre was nowhere around. We had been up half the night practicing on one another but I guess it wasn’t enough of a substitute for the gym. I remembered the feel of those muscles tight and hard against my soft curves and smiled to myself. It was fine. I would end up appreciating his training just as much as he did.
No one was waiting for me – they must have assumed that Andre and I still had things to do. The apartment sat vast and still as I ate cereal. Cushions and blankets lay in odd places like the room had been visited by a ghost overnight. It all felt like another lifetime ago, but there was new warmth that spread through me whenever I so much as thought Andre's name. Whatever had awakened in me and led us to this mess still possessed me whole. I belonged to him. Each time I thought about that simple fact, my heart beat a little harder.
I left the stillness for the streets. I hadn't been out in a day. All of the last one, I’d spent locked behind tinted glass, smothered under Andre's body. It might explain why the world looked so colorful and vivid now. The chorus of car horns and the sharp yells of people at work ran together like music. Every flower stand I passed smelled as sweet as if it was right under my nose. Even the faint odor of garbage seemed complex and mysterious. I passed a market - no, a bodega - that I had walked by every day the last week, but now the sight of all that fresh fruit brought me to a standstill. The fat woman working the counter asked me if I wanted something.
I wished I could tell her that I finally had everything I needed.
I drifted into the bar a half hour later. Maria was tending, overwhelmed and I felt the first pinprick of anxiety thinking that I was completely disrespecting her turning up so late. She saw me though, and her eyes lit up. A man was trying to order, but she shoved her waistcloth on the bar and came out and wrapped me in a tight hug.
I was too stunned to do much other than groan.
"Are you ok?" she asked playfully. "Did I hit a sore muscle?"
"No," I said. "I was just confused. About why we're hugging."
"This is to welcome you to the family," she said, squeezing my hands in hers. "From this day we will either be like sisters or enemies. There can be no in between anymore."
"That's kind of serious."
She nodded gravely. "It is. So treat Andre right. And of course, I will make sure he is good to you too."
She looked sternly at me. It all felt fast and intense, but what crept through me was relief. I didn't just belong to Andre. I truly belonged to all these people now. The ones who had taken me in and took care of me in every way they could.
They belonged to me too.
That set me straight. My eyes felt wet, but I blinked clear and nodded. Maria's face erupted in a smile.
"I'm so glad you are here," she said. "Come on. It's a good day for the bar, too."
I put on my little apron and began taking orders. After a week and especially after that greeting, everything felt familiar. The place still stank like beer and seemed to be in a dim haze, but I felt more at ease serving locals than the tourists. One of them commented on my highlights. I checked later and saw that some of the dye had come off my blond hair. Andre must have wrung it out last night. The idea pleased me, but I'd have to maintain it more regularly. I couldn't risk anyone coming here and recognizing me if I was going to stay longer. It wasn't just me it would endanger anymore.
Dennis came over for lunch. I felt a flush thinking of how much he'd seen of me, but his eyes passed over to Maria like I didn't exist. She kissed him deep and I could feel the ghost of Andre's lips doing the same to me. I wanted him again, but I’d just have to save my lust up for a big serving of him later.
"I'm just glad someone's getting lucky," Dennis said as we shared a plate of tortillas. "Things are getting tough out there."
"Can't find tourists?" I asked, forcing myself to pay more attention. Dennis's troubles were my troubles too now. "What about those guys from University of Alabama you said really paid out?"
“Yeah well, they got too drunk at the show. Smashed up more bottles than they paid for and the owner kept my share to make up for bringing in those clowns. I need a better class of clientele.”
"Georgia's been hustling almost every table she serves," Maria said.
"Oh you're doing spectacular, girl," Dennis said. "If it weren't for you I'd be on a downward spiral maybe. But as it is, all I can do is stay afloat, not grow like I want to. I though the market would be on the up and up, but I’m still in take-what-I-can-mode."
"Why?" I asked.
"Cartel probably. Things are stable cause the war's over, but that means they got time to stick their hands in every business owner's pockets now. Prices are way higher than they should be and higher prices scare away cheap tourists. Though given those U of A boys, that’s not exactly the worst bargain."
"Well, your family gets a lot of benefit from the Cartel too," Maria said. "It is just a natural force to deal with."
"Ah, I know," Dennis said. "But I don't want to always be under Andre’s shadow, you know?" He grinned and made a show of rolling his eyes at me. "Oh. Forgot who I was talking to."
Maria slapped his arm but I just smiled.
Andre walked into the bar late that day. He had shadows over his eyes and his skin had a red tinge like he'd worked himself raw.
My heart still leapt at the sight of him, but I wondered if he might just be too worn to get frisky at me. When he met my eyes though, his body went rigid and I knew that his workout wasn't over for the evening.
The four us had dinner at a nice Italian place. The food was good and Maria and Dennis supplied much of the conversation but I couldn't remember the particulars of it. Across from Andre, all I saw were the ridges of the body that would soon be bare to me. I saw the soft breaths of the lungs that would soon be making me scream. Andre's leg slid up mine under the table and sent a wave of heat surging through me.
A violinist came over to our table and asked if we wanted a song in Spanish. Maria clapped her hands but Andre shot him a look that sent him away without another word. We got the bill soon after.
The doors had barely shut on the elevator back at the hotel before Andre had me seated on the handle of the elevator car, his head buried in the swell of my breasts. A dark camera watched silently from the top corner of the car and I'm sure whoever was watching enjoyed how I wordlessly gaped and sighed and rolled against the smooth dome of Andre's head. We tumbled out the open doors and Andre barely had me in the hall before he ripped my pants down and spread my legs apart. It hadn't been a minute but already my thighs felt slick.
Andre shuffled out of his pants and then he was thrusting into me against the wall. I cried out everything that I had held in that day. All the lust, all the memories of his body, all the plans - tossed aside against the grinding reality of him surging up deep inside me. His hands flattened mine and it was just his legs pumping into me over and over. The naked attention on my slit brought me to a wailing finish. I writhed back over him deeper and deeper losing my body in a wall of light. Just last Friday I had been completely innocent to all this pleasure, but now I felt changed. I felt like a woman, like I’d learned something new and wonderful that put the whole world in order. This is what it was to give yourself to someone. To trust yourself, body and soul, to his will.
Andre didn't come with me in the hall though. He was far from finished.
Hours later I was curled up in his arms on the bed. He kissed the top of my wet head, and pulled me as deep into his body as he could without getting back inside. We were both spent. I had no idea how he had squeezed and pulled and thrust in me for so long. I had tried to take him with my mouth as a break, but as much as he stroked my hair and called me sweet names and groaned, I hadn't been able to finish him. He had kissed me for minutes and told me that my mouth felt amazing but then it was him again doing the work bring us to our final crushing climax.