by Xander Hades
“Oh, for God’s sake. Rocky! Put that away. Get over here!”
Val broke off and stared at a tall man staring at her. It was downright unnerving. Like looking at a very old Magnum P.I. from her grandmother’s DVD collection.
“Murray!” Rocky said. “Ah… this is Val….”
“Not now, Rocky. We have a problem.”
Chapter 7
Rocky watched as a sour-faced man walked into the room behind his manager. It seemed unfair that two such people could exist in the same place and at the same time. It was like twin black holes pulling the life from everything that came in their path.
“Rocky Veliz?” They said his name with an “I” sound as in “lie” or “tile.”
“Veliz,” Rocky, pronouncing the “eeeze.”
“Oh, pardon,” the man said, nodding once. “My name is Nathen Smalls, I am a detective with the LAPD,” he reached into his rear pocket and pulled out a wallet with a badge tucked inside of it. “I would like to ask a couple of questions if I may?”
“Shouldn’t he have a lawyer?” Val asked, suddenly between them, a pint-sized barricade, positively bristling with indignation.
The policeman shrugged. “He’s certainly welcome to one, but he’s not under arrest.” He shook his head and took out a notepad from another pocket. “There are hundreds of witnesses out there and video recordings saying it was a staged fight.”
“What’s all this about?” Rocky demanded from Murray.
Murray took a deep breath. His mustache drooped. He drooped and for the first time since Rocky knew him, Murray looked old. “That man you fought today, Tony Metruco… he died at the hospital.”
Rocky blinked. Again. He tried to dispute it, to deny it, but he was sure he’d heard it wrong. It wasn’t possible. That stupid “what” that people say when given bad news that always sounded so false on the screen… that was the mind trying to accept a reality too outrageous, too bizarre to fit with everything they’d ever known. It came from his lips now.
Val’s eyes grew wide in shock, her hand covered her mouth as though trying not to speak. Murray just stared at him, like the policeman did, the tragedy of the night written on his face.
“I…”
“Oh, I know, I know,” Detective Smalls waved off whatever Rocky was about to say, “it was an accident, that’s rather certain, though we don’t yet know why he died. But there will be an autopsy and coroner’s inquest… we’ll soon find out. In the meantime, it’s been established that you had no former knowledge of the man and therefore didn’t hold a grudge, and, like I said, there are plenty of witnesses that can testify that this was a staged fight….”
The man continued to talk, but his voice became a background noise and Rocky let the sound go past him while he tried to grapple with the idea. He’d seen death before, in his early years, certainly, but that was… different. That was a violent world, but this – despite the fighting, this was supposed to be a little exhibition match, it didn’t mean anything.
Rocky pulled himself back and answered the man’s questions, there weren’t that many. “Have you made a general announcement?” He asked, pointing to the door.
“No…” the detective said slowly. “Why?”
“My friend Diaz, he tried to save this guy, worked on him tirelessly. Those people out there think he’s a hero, and he was, it wasn’t his fault how this all turned out. I don’t want to take that away from him, not tonight.”
The detective considered this in silence as he closed his note pad and gave Rocky his card. “You give that to your friend and make sure he calls me in the morning!” He said finally, his voice firm, unyielding. At least, he was going to give that much. “I’ll see if I can’t round up a few witnesses without giving out any information, alright?”
“Thank you, Detective,” Rocky said, shaking his hand gratefully. “I really do appreciate that.” The man nodded and took off, Murray stepping in. He stared at Rocky, but tilted his head to Val, a question in his tired eyes.
“Oh, sorry,” Rocky said, his mind still half on his encounter with the policemen. “Murray, this is Val, Val, this is Murray.”
“This is the girl from the biker rally?” Murray said, though he made no move to shake Val’s hand. In fact, he just kind of stood there a moment, staring at her like he was trying to figure her out. Trying to figure out what it was about her, or about Rocky that had brought her all the way out to L.A. and just how much she was going to screw things up for him. At Rocky’s rather pointed look he finally turned to her and extended his hand. “Well, welcome to L.A., miss, I’m just sorry you had to come out to see this.” His voice lacked a certain sincerity. Maybe it was the night, and the worry about what had happened to Tony, but Rocky didn’t like it and resolved to say something when Val wasn’t present. No one treated his girl like that.
“I was a witness, too…” Val said, looking uncertainly after the police officer who was talking to someone near the door. One of the waitresses, it looked like. “I mean, if they need to ask me anything.”
Murray waved her off. “Hell, they have more witnesses than cops, right now. They aren’t the problem.”
“Who is?” Rocky cut in, his voice maybe a little sharper than necessary.
Murray shot him a look, and he saw for the first time that the shit storm brewing was aimed as much at him as Val. If Murray hadn’t been happy before the fight, he was positively steaming now. “The MMA. I told you that you needed to stay under the radar for a while. If you didn’t need the money for that center you run, I would have had you cooling your heels for a month. I only ever got you this so you could keep the lights on. Now, with this guy getting killed, the MMA is going to notice.”
“But he didn’t do anything wrong!” Val burst out, and she grabbed at Rocky’s arm as if to somehow anchor herself. He could feel her short nails digging into his skin.
“Really? Were you also a witness to his Sturgis fight when he disobeyed a direct command from an appointed ref? Where he turned the cage into a personal grudge match? Were you a witness to his disregard for the rules there, too, perhaps?”
Murray turned his gaze on Rocky, with a shake to his head. If Rocky had questions before as to how his manager felt about the girl he loved, he had no doubt now. He’d turned his back on her, discounting her as if she were nothing. It was Rocky now who fought to keep a control on his temper, flexing his fingers to keep his hands from becoming fists.
“That’s what they have on you, Rock,” Murray continued. If he noticed the tension emanating from the couple, he didn’t care. “It’s a lot of little things, but ignoring and assaulting a ref, that’s not a little thing. They already think you’re a loose cannon, they’ve been sure you were going to kill someone. Only I convinced them that you ain’t. Now, the very next man you fight dies.”
Rocky’s voice was hoarse, Murray’s words a punch to the gut. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah?” Murray said, his arms on his hips, looking from one to the other. “I hope so. Because if they call for a review, the fight next month is as good as canceled.” He held up a hand to Rocky’s outburst before it was even spoken. “Don’t waste your breath, I know, and I will fight for you if it comes to that, but you heard the man, there’s going to be an autopsy and an inquest. You have any idea how long those things can take?”
“But he didn’t do anything wrong.” Val protested again. She was shaking, Rocky realized. Not cold or scared, but just that furious.
“No? Maybe not. Rocky tells me you ride with a gang in Phoenix.”
“It’s not a gang,” Val said, and glanced at Rocky seeming to suddenly realize that Murray was making her a fucking liability in his career right now. “Not like you mean.”
“Right. Whatever. Tell me this. Anyone of your not-gang members get into big trouble for something he didn’t do? Did you find out that life was fair and that only people who screw up get into the shit and people that kept their noses clean were never slapped down? And his
nose ain’t very clean!”
Val drew herself up. Rocky knew that she’d seen her fair share of unfair and more. Val’s expression was hard as steel. Pissed at Murray – or at herself?
Val was a tough fighter and fearsome force. She was strong-willed, intelligent, and able to handle herself. But there was a part of her that insisted life be fair and that reveled in unicorns and candles and would probably squee at a tea party. It was what made him absolutely crazy about her. She would pull a gun or knife without blinking and still had a stuffed rabbit on her bed.
“I don’t know what’s coming.” Murray pulled him back to reality, and for the first time that night, his tone was almost human. “But don’t spend that check all at once.” He took a deep breath. “Listen, if the tape hits the fan…” He closed his eyes and waved his hands. “We’ll consider my fee for this fight as a donation to the cause. I want a tax receipt for that!”
Rocky felt some of the tension drain out of him. He actually chuckled. Yeah, that was the Murray he knew. Not that he’d forgiven him for being so hard on Val, but he’d deal with that later. “Thanks, Murray.” He glanced toward the door. The cop was long gone, the door itself shut. They were alone. No better time than the present to ask. “But I do have one question.”
“Just one? You’re further ahead than me.”
“That guy, Tony? What the hell was he doing in there?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, he walked around flat-footed, his wrists were loose, he couldn’t control his temper and he didn’t understand how to fight. Murray, this guy had never been in a cage before. What the hell was he doing on a hyped expo game against a pro?”
“Really?” Murray asked, and he lost focus while thinking. “Tell you what,” he snatched the detective’s card from Rocky and slipped it into his pocket. “I think I will see if I can watch that video with the detective. I’d like to see that.”
“Thanks, Murray,” Rocky said.
Murray was already walking out of the door and waved without turning. “Nice to meet you, there… Sal.”
“Val...” But he was already gone.
“Sal?” Her tone was dangerous. She was still mad.
Rocky came up to where she was standing and grabbed her waist. “A rose by any other name,” he said, pulling her in close.
“I’m not sure I like him.”
“I’m not sure I like him, and I work for him. Or him for me. That gets confusing sometimes. Look…don’t let him get to you. I think tonight got us all rattled.”
She nodded against him, her forehead coming to rest against his chest. “We haven’t even properly said hello.”
He lifted her chin, so that he could look her in the eyes. “So hello.”
Val smiled. She put her arms around his neck and grinned up at him. “Hey, you.”
Rocky pressed her to him and smiled. Leered. “We can be in my bed in half an hour,” he said, bending his head toward hers, lips feathering a kiss upon her forehead. Upon her cheek.
“We can be in my motel room in eight minutes,” she countered.
He held her away from him to look at her. Her words were a bucket of ice-cold water. Unexpected. “You got a hotel? Why?”
Val held up her hands in a placating gesture. “Easy boy. I wanted to shower and put my stuff somewhere. I didn’t even know if I could get near you tonight. You weren’t expecting me until tomorrow at the earliest remember.”
“Fine. But it’s temporary. You’re staying with me after this.”
She batted his nose with her finger. “Temporary,” she agreed amiably enough. “So, can you run away with me for a night?”
“Hells yeah,” Rocky said, grinning. “I just pay the bills. They don’t need me.”
Val grinned and lay her hands behind the man’s head and pulled him down for a long kiss.
Most of the patrons were still hovering around the bar when they left. The adrenaline from the fight had worn off into long discussions rehashing every move followed by a hell of a lot of speculation. There’d be rumors in the fighting circuit for weeks, if not months following this, regardless of what the inquest and autopsy found. Already the stories were growing more and more improbably as they slipped through the crowd. Rocky felt sorry for that detective. Getting a coherent story from this lot wasn’t going to happen.
Their progress was hampered by the fact that most of the people in the bar wanted to buy Rocky a drink. Val was pulling him to the door and the well-wishers were trying to hold him back. At first he was polite and made “thank you” noises to the accolades, but as he neared the door, he was getting more and more bemused and just wanted to spend time with Val.
Finally, he turned, releasing Val’s hand. He cupped his hands around his mouth and made a megaphone. “EVERYONE! THANK YOU FOR COMING OUT TONIGHT! I WOULD LOVE TO STAY AND CHAT WITH YOU ALL, BUT…” he pointed to Val, “I’M GETTING LAID!”
“ME TOO!” Val yelled, laughing and pulled him out of the door to cat-calls, hooting, hollering and one querulous, “Who the hell was that?”
But Rocky was out in the cool night air, alone with his girl.
This is as good as life gets.
Chapter 8
They took a cab. Rocky didn’t even flinch at the cost, though she did. She shook her head as she dragged him through the door, thinking this life in L.A. was going to take some getting used to.
“WHOA!” Rocky said as he nearly collided with her bike.
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said, half chagrined. She’d actually forgotten all about it in her rush to get him inside. They’d spent the ride over in a fair amount of making out, and she was still flushed with passion and eager to get into his pants. She looked at the bike now as though seeing it for the first time. OK, maybe she was a little obsessive. “I didn’t want it to get messed with,” she shrugged and dragged him into the room fully so that she could slam the door behind them. The last thing she wanted was management to catch wind of her parking arrangements.
Rocky glanced around the tiny room and for a moment she saw it through his eyes, the dingy wallpaper, the bedspread circa 1974. The battered furniture. OK, so she hadn’t exactly shacked up at the Hilton. “There’s clear shot to the bathroom at any rate,” he said. “But how do we…”
He was talking entirely too much. Val grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her. And then because he was already off balance, she tripped him, and they landed in a flurry of arms and legs and kisses, in the middle of the bed, which creaked alarmingly under the assault. She rolled over and pulled him with her. That a small woman could actually move someone of his size was due more to leverage and the fact that’s she’d already unzipped his pants.
She took hold of him, letting her hand reach under his shaft and cup his balls. When you have hold of those, you have control over the man. A large hand grabbed her from behind her neck and pulled her to him, moving her onto his chest. Then again…did you honestly think you were going to get away with that? Val giggled and straddled him. She bent down and grabbed his head and dropped her mouth on to his, grinding herself over the growing bulge in his pants.
He made short work of her shirt, throwing it in a perfect arc to swing from the handlebars of her bike. The bra came next and then it was her turn. She pulled the shirt off him and ran clever fingers around the rippling muscles, through the little valleys where the light from the ceiling cast shadows between them. He’d been touched there before, many times. Not in sex, but in work, in the moves that harkened back to wrestling. Her touch claimed him as hers now, taking him back from the world of the fight, and drawing him into hers. She felt his own hands on her back, moving from shoulder to waist, lifting her to a better position even as she bent, capturing a nipple in her mouth and carefully biting down, pulling, sucking, caressing with her tongue.
He didn’t seem to mind, releasing her waist that she could go her own way, tangling his hands in her hair as she arched her back and slid down his legs, kissing his belly as she went
. As she made progress down his body, he found her breasts and held them, squeezing roughly, his thumbs tormenting the nipples. When she sat on his ankles, his hands went to her face and her head, caressing her hair. His hands were everywhere at once and she loved it, pausing only to pull the belt free from his jeans, and to tear at his buttons. In a moment, the pants were open and pulled on them frantically. He raised his hips to allow the pants to slide down and she took them and the underwear.
He popped up when the pants cleared his penis. It was as beautiful as she remembered, and her fingers stroked the length of it, playing with his balls. She wrapped her right hand around his thickness and leaned in to kiss the tip. Her tongue shot out and licked him once and she giggled at the sound he made. She kissed it, pressing the spongy head with her lips and looked up at him.
Oh, he liked it. That eye contact, the playful touches had left him writhing. Moaning already a little. He loved that, that play. The little hesitations had been her own insecurity the first time they’d had sex, but he’d told her later how much it turned him on, the teases, the way her eyes met his. Now it had become part of the play, a game that left him hard and ready, until his shaft bounced in her grip and the head of the penis grew in her palm.
It looked almost painful. Val dismounted and stood at the end of the bed. She’d almost forgotten the bike parked there, so she had to stand bent over him, trying to avoid being jabbed in the back by the clutch. It had the added effect of her breasts hanging down over him. It was a look he didn’t seem to mind.