by Jones, P. A.
“Forty-one.” I counted one more round. It took me about around five minutes to complete one.
“Hey, babe.” Gerome came running in and kissed me on my cheek. He’d started doing that here and there the last two months. But I ignored it unless he was pushing it on. But till now, he’d acted like a gentleman. “Guess what? We got Maxim onboard.” He was wearing a white shirt and blue trousers. He looked a perfect gentleman in those clothes.
“You didn’t tell me he was Tristan.” I raised my brows. I didn’t like that he’d hid it from me.
“I didn’t know that, Nikki. Trust me, I didn’t expect him to be Maxim. Heck, I didn’t expect to see him again in my life. I thought he ran off when we first met.” He looked innocent. “And you never told me what really happened six months ago, anyway.” “None of your business,” I replied. I didn’t want to tell him how I felt around Tristan. He was gone for two years and he never told me what he did in that time, so I kept quiet about Tristan. “How is he doing?” I asked. I wanted to know more about him without sounding desperate.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
“Umm…”
“Okay, let me ask you one question seriously.”
“Ask, don’t try to bite me.”
“Do you still love him?” He made a serious face. But then he couldn’t control it and started laughing. “Sorry, I just couldn’t control seeing the emotions on your face.”
“How did you…? You jerk.”
“Okay, sorry, but I really mean to ask that.”
“Why, Gerome? Why do you want to know that?”
“Because I saw it in your eyes, the way you looked at him when we first met. I never saw that for me after coming back. Do you still love him?”
I didn’t know how to answer. “I don’t know. Why are you complicating it further? I just asked how is he doing.”
“He is doing great with his…” He stopped and bit his lips.
“With? Tell me, Gerome? Complete the damn sentence.” My voice rose. My curiosity was on high.
“I shouldn’t be bitching about this to you, but I found his secretary, a petite blonde, very close to him. I thought they had a more than professional relationship.” He paused for a second.
My heart already started bleeding. My guess was true; he was with Trisha.
“I guess you don’t kiss your secretary every time you laugh. I found it weird, and maybe they are not together, it’s just their thing.”
“No, it isn’t. They’ve known each other from years ago and I suspected that.”
“I’m really sorry to break this out to you, Nikki, but I couldn’t hide it from you.” He came closer and held my hand. “Anyway, he said he would get back to me in couple of days, but I’m sure he will say yes.” He smiled innocently.
“Can we hire someone else?” Working with Tristan meant crossing paths with him and I didn’t want that. I should let you go, Tristan. Maybe I wasn’t the one for you. My heart was crying and I was barely holding myself together. I didn’t want to cry in front of Gerome.
“If we could.”
“Did he recognize you?” I asked.
“Yes, he did. He asked me if I’m your husband. I said yes, as we are married. Did I say anything wrong?” He looked in my eyes; I saw the innocence deep inside his eyes. He was telling the truth. “I’m worried about our business, Nikki, and I don’t want to see you in trouble. If he is the chance we could get out of this, then I’m ready to take that chance. I’m sure you would have done the same for Stephen.”
“You’re right. I hope he agrees to work with us.” I prayed to God to make Tristan say yes, not because I wanted to meet him, but I wanted to keep Stephen safe from harm. “If he cared for Stephen, he would say yes.”
“He will. I’m one hundred percent sure. We should celebrate this.” He walked to Dad’s private collection quickly.
“I’ll pass. I already had a couple of drinks.” I walked out of there, calm and confident in front of Gerome, but inside, I was crying out in pain. I’d missed that guy for past last six months while he spent his time with his bitch. How could you do it, Tristan? Why did I trust you?
“I hate you, Tristan Scott. I hate you.” I broke down on my bed. I couldn’t take it anymore. I’d lived the last six months with a slight hope of getting him back, but he’d changed. He wasn’t the Tristan I loved. He’d turned into something else. Gerome was way better than him. At least he loved me unconditionally. I cried, cursed him and then sometime in the night I slept, but still he invaded my dreams with his charm. I hated him so much, but still he was the man of my dreams, literally the man in my dreams. Why did you refuse to help me that night in the club? I wished I’d never let him in my life.
Chapter 4
Tristan
“We are doing great.” His words echoed in my mind once again. But they were not like flowers; they were painful, like someone was pouring liquid mercury in my ears. Gerome was standing in front of me. Blood flew to my hands and I punched him again and again, like his face was a punching bag until his it tore up in blood. Even then, I couldn’t stop; my rage continued growing and I kept hitting him.
“Do you still believe you are doing great?” I roared.
“We are doing great,” he said like a broken record.
“You son of a bitch…..” I squared his face with my elbow. There was nothing that could stop me that day.
Every inch of his face was dripping with blood, like his face became a net and the liquid flowed through every hole.
“We are doing great.” He laughed, showing his white teeth's. I punched him again, but he continued laughing and repeating his words.
“You won’t stop, will you?” I hit him again, but I was getting tired after hitting him continuously. Still, he continued repeating those words.
“Sir.” A voice shook me. I looked behind me; nobody was there.
“Sir, are you all right?” The voice appeared out of nowhere again. What’s going on? Am I seeing a ghost?
Somebody touched my shoulder this time.
Without turning around, I grabbed his hand and pulled him in front of me. My left hand was ready to punch that bastard in the face, but instead, he fell on my body, square in my chest.
I woke up in sweat like I’d just run a marathon. A servant was lying on my chest. His pupils were literally coming out of his eyes and he was trying to get away from my grip.
“What are you doing here?” I pushed him away. My cheeks flushed with heat, every vein on my head was popping out. I was angry at someone, but I had been sleeping. How could I be angry at someone?
“You were shouting in your sleep, sir. I thought you having a bad dream so I thought to wake you up. Shouting people are a bad omen for us. I’m sorry, sir.” He stood there with his head down.“It’s okay, you can go now,” I said and laid back on my pillow. What dream I was having? I had very foggy memories. But that dream should be very bad, because it made me angry. Angry like six months ago when I was just getting out of the beating done by those boxers. It also brought memories of how I entered the underground league instead of a professional league.
Six months ago.
“Here is your coffee, Tristan.” Trisha handed me a hazelnut coffee. I’d never tasted that before a few days ago, but Trisha came in my house and things changed. She was a splendid cook and she’d taken very good care of me for the last ten days.
“Thanks, Trisha, but you don’t have to do this for me,” I said with guilt. She wasn’t my girlfriend or relative, but she was taking care of me like a mother would take care of her child. She was bringing me coffee, lunch, dinner—she was even taking care of my medicines.
“I should thank you a thousand times for saving my life from my cousin.”
“You needed me then. It’s not a big deal.” I never thought it was. I just did it in the act of helping my employee.
“Then this is not a big deal either. You are injured and I’m just helping you with the food, nothing else
.” A cute smile covered her face.
“But you are looking after the bookstore as well,” I said, sipping the tastiest coffee in the world. The smell of hazelnuts bought me the strength of thousand horses. I was ready to kick someone's ass. Maybe I could go and punch that bouncer again. How would he feel when I kick the crap out of him?
“Why are you laughing?” Her brows cocked.
“Am I?” I asked, and then noticed I was actually laughing without noticing it myself. “Nothing, just thought of beating the crap out of the bouncers.”
“No more fights, Tristan. Look what they have done to you. I thought they broke something in you, but thank God you are fine.”
“And ready to kick someone's ass. I’m all right, Trisha,” I said.
“No, you are not going back there. Promise me,” she said with deep care visible in her voice. She was wearing a white t-shirt and blue denim jeans. She looked very cute in those clothes, like a college kid.
“It actually saved me.” My facial muscles tensed as I remembered the cut around my neck. “You see this cut?”
“Yes. I always wondered how you got that nasty cut.”
“I used to participate in professional MMA championships a few years back.”
“And you got it in a match?” she asked innocently, but her eyes were flowing with the curiosity. “How is it to fight in a match?”
“Not exactly in a match.” I smiled. “After the match.”
“I didn’t understand you.” She tilted her head to the left. I noticed when she was trying to concentrate on something she did that.
“I’d won a match that night. I was happy, drunk, wasted and a jerk. I didn’t know what I was doing back then. I got a girl and slept with her.”
Her face opened in awe. “And her boyfriend did this to you?”
I grinned. She was thinking too much. “No, babe. I woke up with a blade on my neck that morning. It was a mom who was holding a knife on my neck.”
“Oh, because you slept with her daughter? That’s very bad of you.” She made a teacher’s face.
I couldn’t control myself and laughed out loud. “No, because two days before I’d slept with her mom.”
I didn’t find it funny at that time, but now thinking about it made me laugh. “Those were the funny days, action day and night.” I winked at her.
She turned her face away. I could see her cheeks going pink. “You were a naughty boy, then,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry. I’ve changed now, big time.” Two girls in my life had changed me big time. First Emma; I never expected her to come to L.A. and then Nikki. I never expected I would find a pretty girl like her in NYC.
“When did it happen? Six years ago?” she asked, still looking away, sipping her own coffee.
“Nope, four years. I’d just been getting into the MMA. But after that, I learned few things.”
“And what are those?”
“Never sleep with a mom and her daughter. It gives you a cut.” I chuckled.
“You moron.” She threw a key at me. I caught it in the air and put it back on a table.
“A good lesson, still.” I continued laughing.
“What now? Your injury seem to be fine and you were thinking about going back there,” she asked. “Do you really think you can go back in that brutal world again?” she asked innocently.
“Yes, I need to get back there. My time is not over yet. I can do it easily.” Confidence had filled my lungs and my mind. My hands were dying to kick someone’s face.
“I bet you can.” A sweet smile covered her face. “But is it that simple? Being out of the action for so long and then going back again?” A simple care in her eyes made my heart flip.
“I don’t know. I need to check with someone in NYC. Maybe I’ll call my coach. Yes, that’s a good idea.” I took out my cell. My eyes flashed on Nikki as her face appeared on my display as I slid it across. My breath stopped for one moment. I remembered I took it when she was lying down near my small pool. She asked me why I was taking the picture, but I never answered her. It was for my phone screen, to stop my heart every time I looked at it. Unfortunately it was actually going to stop my heart like this one day.
I exhaled deep and dialed my coach, Aiden.
“Hello.” His controlled voice reminded me of my early days of struggle.
“Coach, it’s me, Tristan. How are you doing?”
“Hey, Tristan. How are ya, champ? Long time since you remembered this old fella.” He chuckled in his odd style. It felt like being at home.
“If you call yourself old then what am I? A ten-year-old schoolboy?” He was forty-five, but fought like a twenty-five-year-old man. He’d dominated the North American MMA championships and then one day retired on his own choice.
“Are you in New York? I heard you set up some business there, kid.”
“Yes, Coach. A very small business, from the championship money.”
“If only you’d saved yourself.” He sighed. He’d always regretted my decision. But it wasn’t his choice, it was mine. “At least you are using the money for good.”
“Good news, Coach. You don’t have to regret my decision anymore. I can come back if you are ready to train me again.” I was holding my voice steady, trying to control my delivery.
“Ha, and I can go mainstream again in the forties league.” He chuckled.
“I’m telling the truth, Coach.”
“Why don’t you meet me near New York Square tonight for dinner?” he asked.
“Are you kidding me?”
“Meet me at seven sharp.” He hung up the phone and I kept staring at it for almost two minutes, until Trisha shook my head.
***
I checked myself again in the mirror; looking fit was a must for me that day. In those five minutes, I’d cursed myself for doing nothing in the way of exercise for the last few days. I felt like I’d lost all muscles in my body from the lack of exercise. Fuck, if only I could get some reps of pull-ups done.
I hailed a taxi from outside of my house at six sharp. I didn’t want to be late. I was meeting my coach after years away. He was the person who’d taught me how to fight. He taught me every punch I’d learned in my life. He made me sweat blood; he made me drop dead on the floor while training. He brought discipline in my life. I would even give him credit for my success in the bookstore business. His teaching about life had helped me a lot.
“Sir, fifty bucks.” The taxi drivers words took me out of my memories. Even the glimpse of memories of training I did heated my blood. I was ready to do it all over again. I was ready to break my bones for the MMA, I was ready to experience the thrill again. Only if he says yes to training me.
“Keep the change.” I gave him whatever came out of my pocket and ran towards the square. I’d already spotted my coach from far away. He looked the same—he was in his late forties, but he looked fitter than me. He was the epitome of his time. He’d won a double gold in international championship. I was proud that he trained me.
“Coach.” I went ahead bowed in front of him. I respected him more than anything. We shared a very strong bond and we cherished it a lot. “Why didn’t you call me when you god here?”
“For the same reason you didn’t call me in two years.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“You would have been eating dust by now if I was angry. Now move your ass. I’m hungry and I heard there is a good Chinese food joint somewhere near.”
“How do you remain fit after eating so much of this spicy food?” I always felt jealous about his form. He ate so much, but never ever gained an inch of fat on his body.
“It’s my secret. I’ll share with you on my last breath.” He chuckled.
“If you continue to be like this, I bet you will attend my son Ste…… birthday.” I was about to say Stephen’s name. It would have been a great get-together if Nikki was here. “Anyway, I know that joint. Follow me.” I took him to the nearby famous restaurant.
We settled
in, drank some soup and tried some sushi.
“Tell me, how come you are here?” I asked, eating the tastiest sushi in NYC. Even the smell was so tempting that it made me hungry again.
“Business trip. I’m working for the federation now.”
“The USA MMA federation?” That was a shocker for me. But I never caught up with MMA after I left it.
“What about your injury?” he asked while eating rice with chopsticks.
“I can never do that.” I tried to eat with chopsticks, but every time I got some rice on it, it fell down before I could raise it to my mouth.
“What about your injury?” He stopped eating and stared in my eyes.
“It’s gone.”
“Ligament tears don’t go away, Tristan, and you understand that,” he said in slow, controlled voice.
“I can show you my scans. It’s not there anymore.” I smiled. “Isn’t it great news?”
“Thought it might be, but you can’t compete in the professional MMA anymore.”
I dropped my spoon. “What? But why?” My face twisted in shock.
“The constitution says if you are out due to a stage four injury, then you can’t come back. They don’t like to risk players’ lives at any cost.”
“But…” I thumped on the table. Everybody started looking at me with weird expressions. “I’m healed and I can prove it.”
“Yours was a stage seven injury. There is no way you can come back in the official league.” He was clear and firm.
“Fuck it, Coach…but you can get me in, right? Tell me you can. You are an official now. You are teasing me, right?” A hope came back to me. He was working with the federation now. It was all his set-up to tease me.
“I figured you would say something like that. Read it.” He took out an old newspaper from his bag and handed it to me.
It was a case run by a famous MMA fighter few years back. He was injured with a stage five injury. He recovered miraculously and tried to come back, but the federation never allowed him to. He sued the federation, but the Supreme Court favored the federation over the fighter.