by Claire Adams
“The game is up, Simon,” said Everett calmly. “And you've lost. Drop the knife, drop your gun, and get on the floor with your hands behind your head. This is an arrest.”
“You can have the drugs, superhero, but I won't be parted from her again,” Simon growled, his eyes wide and white with a madness I hadn’t seen the depths of before. “I won't! Nobody can keep us apart!”
“I'm warning you, Simon, drop your weapons and get on the ground! Do it now, do it right now! If you do not comply, I will be compelled to use deadly force! This is your final warning!”
“If I can't have her,” Simon hissed. “Nobody can. And if we can't be together in this life... I guess we'll both have to journey to the next world so that we can be together there!”
He lunged for me with his knife, aiming to stab me through my heart, but a single booming crack resounded through the room, and the blade stopped just inches away from my chest. Simon's eyes froze cold on me, and a trickle of blood ran down his forehead from the gunshot wound in his head. He collapsed onto the floor, dead.
Everett holstered his gun and ran over to me, and started undoing the ropes that bound me to the bed.
I tried to hold it in, to come across as brave and unaffected, but the moment he placed his hands on each side of my face and looked me in the eyes, tears immediately overcame me, and I threw my arms around him and hugged him tightly. “You came for me,” I mumbled into his neck between sobs.
“Of course I did,” he said as he hugged my back. “You’re safe now.”
“B-but, what about Liza?” I asked as I pulled back and looked at him.
“I know you saw the text, but you couldn’t have seen all of it. If you had, you’d have seen that nothing happened. Liza was the specialist who came to take care of Jane. She also happens to be the woman I told you about who cheated on me in college. That text was her wanting another chance. I told her that could never happen for many reasons, but mostly because my heart belongs to someone else.”
Our eyes locked and I immediately knew how stupid I had been. “I'm so sorry, Everett,” I sobbed. “I'm so sorry.”
“It’s alright, beautiful; you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all,” he whispered, caressing my cheek as he wiped a tear away. “I love you. I don’t ever want you to doubt that. I will always come when you need me.”
He pulled me to him, and for the first time since my father had died, I truly felt loved and protected.
EPILOGUE
Vivienne
“It's hard to believe it's been more than two years since you moved in across the street from me,” I said to Everett, watching through the window as the newest family in the neighborhood directed a delivery team delivering a red couch into their home.
“I can’t believe you’re stalking the new neighbors,” he joked.
“Well, technically it’s still my house. Maybe I want to know what they’re taking into it,” I jabbed back at him teasingly.
“They’ve been living there for almost a year. You’ve been in the house several times since then. Nice try, Nosy Nancy,” he said with a laugh.
I smacked him in the arm. “I’m just glad they seem to be fitting in well here.”
“They are, aren't they?” he remarked. “Doesn’t hurt that they have a six-year-old for Jane to play with too.”
“Yeah, well, I’m also glad they get along so well. It's great for her to have a friend the same age in the neighborhood.”
“It really is,” he agreed. “Kids these days don't do enough of that. When I was growing up, there was a whole crew of neighborhood kids. We used to play football or baseball in the street every afternoon, or go climb trees, or all that other good outdoor stuff. It was great for me, too; gave me the chance to get away from the house. Wasn’t the happiest place on Earth.”
I turned and slipped my arms around his waist. “Well, despite everything you went through as a child, you didn’t turn out so bad,” I teased.
“You must not think I’m too bad. You did agree to marry me.”
“You have a good point. Then again, maybe I didn’t really have too many options,” I jabbed back.
He hugged me tightly. “It’s true. You settled. I don’t know what you were thinking.”
I smiled sweetly up at him. “I’ll tell you what I was thinking. I was thinking that you are very likely the best man I've ever met, to be honest.”
“See, now you’re just trying to butter me up, aren't you?” he laughed and gave me a kiss on my neck that sent a delightful shiver down my spine.
“You know, as much as I want to take you back to our room and have my way with you, isn't it about time for us to pick Jane up from Stacy's house?” I asked.
He glanced at his watch. “You're right; we did say we'd be there at five. Guess you’ll just have to make it up to me tonight. Come on then, let's go.”
I grabbed my purse, and we headed out of the house and locked up.
We drove for just five minutes to the house where Jane's friend from her first-grade class lived and parked outside then walked up to the door and knocked.
A bubbly blonde woman opened the door and smiled. “Mr. and Mrs. James,” she said. “I'm Bianca, Stacy’s mom. I’m so glad to finally meet you! Stacy has been having such a good time with Jane.”
“Lovely to meet you, too! I’m Vivienne, and this is Everett,” I said introducing ourselves. We had met her husband a few weeks earlier, but Bianca always seemed to be away on business. “Jane always talks about how much she likes Stacy, so I guess those two have been getting along like peas in a pod.”
“Ah yes, they certainly have been getting along well,” she said.
“Is Jane ready to go?” Everett jumped in.
“She is, she is. Let me go get her. Would you two like to come in for a while?” Bianca asked.
“I'm afraid we can't, we have a few things that we need to get back to at home,” I replied.
“I understand. But, we would love to have you all over sometime and get to know you guys a little better. I can already see the girls are going to be great friends,” she announced.
“Absolutely,” I agreed. “We'll make a time when we can all get together.”
“Great. Well, I'll go get Jane now,” she said. “I'll be back in a minute.”
We waited on the porch while she went inside to fetch Jane.
“She seems really nice,” I said to Everett.
He smiled. “She does. We'll have to take her up on that offer to hang out sometime.”
Bianca returned with Stacy and Jane in tow.
“Say goodbye to your friend now,” Everett encouraged Jane with a smile.
Jane hugged Stacy like they’d been friends forever. “Bye, Stacy,” she said. “I enjoyed playing at your house with you. You should come to my house soon.”
“Can I, Mom?” Stacy looked up at her mother with a shy smile.
“I’m sure we can work that out,” Bianca assured her daughter.
“Good,” Stacy turned her attention back to Jane. “I like you! You're my best friend.”
“Aw, isn't that so cute,” I remarked, squeezing Everett's hand.
I reached down and took Jane's hand.
“Come on now, Jane; I’m afraid we have to go. You'll be able to see Stacy again tomorrow at school.” We waved goodbye to them and headed down the steps.
“Yay!” Jane said with a big grin. “I like playing with Stacy.”
We walked out to the SUV, and Everett chatted with Jane as we got into the car.
“So, you had a good time there, huh sweet pea?” he said.
“Yeah, Daddy! We played with her Barbie dolls, and she has another doll that's like a real baby! Its eyes open and close, it can even cry! You got to hold it really careful, or it'll cry, just like a real baby!”
“That's good, that's good,” he said as he drove. “And did you just play with dolls all afternoon, sweet pea?”
“No, we also colored. Stacy has some pretty coloring b
ooks.”
“That sounds like fun. You didn't play video games or anything like that?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Stacy's mom says she can't play on tablets or cellphones or play video games. But it's okay, I think; I liked playing with dolls and coloring.”
Everett shot me a sideways glance and a wry smile. “I think we should definitely encourage this budding friendship, huh?” he remarked. “Sounds like they're good people.”
I chuckled. “An electronics ban doesn’t make them good people,” I said. “But they do seem to be on the same wavelength as us when it comes to raising a child.”
We pulled into the driveway and we all piled out of the SUV.
Jane jumped out and immediately looked across the street and saw her friend playing on the porch of his family's house – my former house.
“Hey, there's Jason!” she exclaimed. “Can I go play with him for a while?”
“But, sweet pea, you've just spent the whole afternoon playing with Stacy,” Everett said.
“But I'm not tired yet!” Jane declared.
I took Everett's hand and squeezed it suggestively. “Let her go, honey, there's still an hour or two of daylight left... And I can think of something nice we could do in the house once we're all alone.”
Everett grinned, picking up the hint immediately. “Well … okay, sweet pea, you can go and play with James for a little while.”
“Yay!” she said and ran toward the street, stopped and looked both ways for any cars, and then sprinted across. She immediately sat down next to Jason, who was playing with toy cars and trucks on the porch. His mother looked across the lawn and saw us, offering us a friendly wave.
“I'll keep an eye on them, don't worry!” she shouted across the street.
“Thanks, Liv!” I shouted back.
“Alright, my handsome husband,” I purred to Everett. “Why don't you and I head inside and see what sort of things we can get into to pass the next hour or two?”
He sneakily squeezed my butt with one of his strong hands. “I can think of a few things that you might find especially...entertaining,” he remarked with a grin.
“Oh, of that I have no doubt!” I shot back as I pulled him to the couch for a make-out session.
“I love you so much, Viv,” he whispered into my ear as he pulled me into his lap. “So very, very much.”
“And I love you, my amazing husband,” I replied, kissing him slowly and deeply.
I’d been trying all day to find the perfect time to tell him the news, the news that I had only just found out that morning.
“Everett,” I said, taking his hand and placing it gently on my belly. “I've got a little surprise for you.”
“Oh yeah?” he said, clearly not getting the hint. “And what's that?”
“You know how Jane is always asking for a little brother or sister to add to our family?”
“I do,” his eyes widened, and he tilted his head slightly. “That would be amazing,” he said, his tone a little lower as if maybe he was catching on.
“Well, right under where your hand is now... he or she is growing.”
“You're serious?” he said, his voice full of surprise. “I'm about to become a dad – again?”
“You are,” I confirmed.
“That's the best news I've had all year! And I am the luckiest man alive!” he stated, kissing me then pulling back and resting his head against mine.
“How about I show you just how lucky you can be?” I said, and then led him to our bedroom to celebrate our news.
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THE FIGHT
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Claire Adams
Chapter One
Fenton
The bells and buzzes of the slot machines reminded me of the game shows my mother used to watch. Not that she ever had time to sit and watch television. It was the soundtrack to dinner, dishes, laundry – all the things a single mother did when she got home from a double shift. There were no jackpots or double bonuses for my mother. No giant checks or sudden floods of gold coins. I thought about the charity ward at the hospital, with those same game shows on the tiny television mounted in the corner. The casino floor depressed me.
Then, as always, I thought of my father – how he could decide one day that he could walk away and never look back. He must not have had a conscience or a spine. It took hard work to have a family, harder work to keep it. Maybe they were too young when they started, too poor. All I knew was I would never be him. I'd take the punches he taught me to throw and I would fight my way to the top.
I stopped at the video poker machines and turned around. The damned casino was a maze. I was supposed to be near the entrance, not halfway to the wedding chapel. It was unreal how every row of flashing screens funneled me towards food, alcohol, or matrimony. I peered over the rows but could see no clear path, except towards the Vegas-style altar. Neon lights, stereo bells, and a worn aisle that used to be white.
I spun back the way I had come and saw a flood of powder blue and white. A wedding party in retro tuxes and wide, fluffy skirts blocked the way. They paused to have a picture taken with an Elvis impersonator, too short and swarthy. While the groom hooked his lip up and pointed to the sky, his groomsmen padlocked a fake iron ball to his ankle.
They were too young, but maybe the groom had money. Or maybe her daddy had a bank account she could access during the lean times. Or maybe I was witnessing the makings of yet another divorce statistic. She laughed, swatted away the groomsmen, and held up the ball and chain like a trophy. Cameras flashed again and the happy couple laughed. He sneaked in a quick kiss and she smiled against his lips, her bouquet of cheap carnations crushed between them.
"Oh my God! You're that fighter! The one on the poster in the elevator, and the lobby, and the giant billboard outside," the bride cried as she escaped her groom's embrace.
"The one you've been drooling all over," a bridesmaid said.
"We all have," another bridesmaid smiled.
Fluffy skirts surrounded me. The bride grabbed my arm and wriggled as close as her double-fluffed white dress allowed. "Fenton Morris," she said.
"His eyes are as blue as the posters," the shortest bridesmaid said.
"Don't let me keep you from your happy day," I said.
"Come on, Trish, our turn's in ten minutes," the groom said.
"Yeah, Trish, don't be late on my account." I gave the arm she had looped through mine a squeeze. "What would your husband say if he saw us together?"
"Technically, I am still single," Trish said.
Her groom looked me over and swallowed hard. Then, he remembered his posse of groomsmen. "Don't make me fight him for you, honey."
"Oooh, that would make a great picture!" Trish let go of my arm and clapped.
Her husband-to-be took a ridiculous stance. I could have knocked him flat without taking a step. Trish threw her hands up in mock terror. I gave in and held a fist near my smile long enough for the camera to flash.
"Thanks, man. Good luck in the big fight," the groom said.
I decided the hell with navigating the impossible casino floor. The next bank of slot machines led me to a bar. I ordered before I sat down.
"On the house, Mr. Morris," the bartender slid me a beer.
"Suite comp?" I asked.
"Personal opinion," the bartender said. "I'm not a big fan of that Mario P
eretti. Too much show and not enough fight."
"Thanks," I said. "All I want is the fight."
"Exactly why you've gotten this far this fast. No hype, no branding, no flash. Just fast combinations and a killer instinct." The bartender poured us both a shot of whiskey.
"Suppose you see a lot of fights working here," I said.
"Almost makes it worth it." He leaned his elbows on the bar and scanned the crowd.
A man with a fanny pack had broken from his bus group to grab a quick drink. The umbrella poked his eye as he tipped it back. A couple with matching rotund waistlines perused the happy hour specials. A clump of young men ordered too much and drank too fast, about to lose all the cash they came with in one night.
"Next one's on me."
Kevin Casey, my slime ball manager bellied up to the bar. The bartender frowned, but went to get the gimlet Kev ordered.
"Guess I'd be surly, too, working here," Kev said. "That's why I've got you, right, Fenton? Fight our way to the top."
A quick jab to his throat and he'd be gasping for air and flopping like a fish on the casino floor. I curled my hand around my beer instead. Kev was worth the irritation, because he got things done. Somehow, he disgusted everyone, but still lined up the best fights, the top suites, and the sweetest deals.
"Speaking of my bank account," Kev said, "how about you sign off on a few endorsement deals while we're here?"
"Why are we always talking about your bank account?" I asked.
"‘Cause my happy bank account means your career is healthy." Kev took his gimlet and sipped from it with a loud lip smack.
"I don't fight better with someone else's name on my shorts," I said.
"Not better, but smarter. You gotta work this thing for all it’s worth right now," Kev said.
He was right – his most irritating habit. I would make a hell of a lot more money fighting with sponsors and slapping my name on any product line that came along. The two heavyweights of my thoughts slogged around the ring again – make a lot of money versus do it all alone and keep my name for myself.