No Fear

by Heather Allen

  “Greylan Pace, what the hell are you doing here?” Her face changes to worry. “Did something happen to my niece?”

  I shake my head. “No Juno. She’s fine. We just…we had a disagreement and she took off this morning. I thought she might be back here.”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from her since she left yesterday. So you’re telling me that you don’t know if she’s really fine.” Juno is impatient.

  I’m at a loss. I feel responsible for what happened, and now no one knows where she is.

  “I’ll check her house,” I suggest, because I don’t have any other options.

  She crosses the room and grasps my arm as her stare narrows. “No, you stay here. I’ll go. Knowing her, she won’t want to talk to you even if she’s home.”

  I sink into a chair, realizing she’s probably right. The last thing Christina would do is open the door if I was on her doorstep. She’d only open it to slam it in my face for effect. I screwed up in a major way, but I had to stop it. My head falls into my hand and a whiskey appears on a coaster before me. I look up and the brunette is smiling. “It’s on the house. You have a reputation around here—fighter, bartender, nice guy, a hard act to follow. By the way, my name is Savannah.”

  I take her hand for a moment before tossing the liquid down my throat. Juno passes through after getting her keys from the office and leans into my ear, “Grey, don’t get drunk. I might need you.” I nod in assent and turn to look her in the eye. “Just make sure she’s safe, please. I need her friendship now more than I’ve ever needed it.”

  Sorrow covers her face but she shakes her head, understanding.

  Savannah fills my glass and begins talking about the bar. I nod and give one word responses but my head is somewhere else, thinking about Christina. Did she really think things would change between us? As far as I know, she still thinks I’m with Mollie. She should still think I’m with Mollie. I never told her otherwise. Unless…maybe someone told her something. Suddenly I feel like things are spinning out of control. For so many months I was able to juggle the demands Luciano put forth: lose fights and make it believable. In return, I got paid well and they promised not to tell anyone in my circle about the deal I had made.

  The air disappears as the enormity of this settles. I’m not sure I want to continue with the fight. Jackson said a while back that there were two people in the world—fighters and those who tag along for the ride. Right now I don’t feel like either. I’m a fake, fooling everyone important to me and lying to myself.

  Juno steps back into the bar a couple of hours later. It’s refreshing to see her. This Savannah chick isn’t the best company. She looks worse than when she left. I jump up asking, “What is it? Did you find her?”

  She places her hand on my arm, urging me to sit back down. Her head moves in a slight nod. “I did. She’s home, Grey, but she doesn’t want to see you.”

  My head hangs but I stand abruptly. “I need to see her, Juno. We just had a misunderstanding.” I move to walk out, but her hand lands in the center of my chest.

  “Grey, I’m going to have to step in. I told her it wasn’t a good idea to go and see you, but she didn’t listen. Now she has to deal with things. I’m sorry, but she’s been through too much. Let her get her head straight, and then you two can see what to do. Right now, I think it’s better if you don’t see each other.”

  I’m about to protest, but I know she’s right. Christina probably feels like crap, especially if Juno warned her before even coming out to Vegas. I nod in agreement, but she doesn’t move her hand. She asks, “You promise that you won’t go over there?”

  “Yeah, I promise. I have stuff to take care of too.”

  “Good.” She seems satisfied and removes her hand from my shirt. She pats my arm before heading to the back of the bar. I’m about to reach for the door when I hear her scratchy voice call my name.

  “Grey?”

  I turn in question.

  “If you do decide to stay, there’s still a place for you here.”

  “Thanks, Juno.”

  I walk out into the stagnant air. Even though it’s after dark, I have a tough time getting a breath of fresh air. This might be caused by things closing in. I hail a cab home but decide I still need a drink. I’m dropped at Mark’s, a bar down the road that I frequented with Christina in the past. Mark is behind the bar when I slide onto a stool.

  “Well if it ain’t Greylan Pace, our very own MMA star.” A smile follows but I can tell it’s forced. He sets a glass before me and pours a whiskey. My hand encircles the glass but I’m suddenly not thirsty. How the fuck could I be so insensitive to Christina?

  My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out in hopes that Christina had a change of heart, but Meyer’s name flashes across the screen. I tip the glass back and hit the answer button.

  “Meyer, what’s up buddy?”

  I can tell I caught him off guard, because he hesitates a moment. “Dude, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all day. Where are you?”

  For a moment I consider messing with him, but it won’t accomplish anything. He’s not worth my time.

  “Meyer, I came home. I have some things to take care of.” I hope he gets the hint and leaves me the fuck alone.

  “Uggg, Grey, you can’t be in Jersey, you’re lying…please tell me you’re lying.” His words are more ragged as he finishes. Good, serves the douche right.

  “Afraid so, BUDDY!”

  “Do you not get anything?” he huffs. “Grey, they will go through with their threats.”

  Now I’m pissed off at the conversation. I put a finger to my empty glass and a redhead sidles up behind the bar. My head starts buzzing. She picks a bottle from the counter behind her. As she turns, her tits peek out of the white tank with ‘Mark’s’ splayed across the front. When I look up into her green…no, not green…brown eyes, a smile spreads on her bright pink lips. She pours, signaling me to tell her to stop. I tap the glass as Meyer shouts into my ear, “Greylan, did you hear me? Mollie, think of Mollie; do you want anything to happen to her?”

  I focus on the girl in front of me who is still standing there, staring me down. Meyer’s words hit me. Mollie, it’s not Mollie in front of me; she looks nothing like Mollie. I avert my gaze so that she’ll move away, and I bark into the phone, “Threat, Meyer? That seems to me like a word you like to toss around to scare me. I’m not sure I believe you anymore. Mollie?” I laugh out loud, “What the fuck do you think? I couldn’t give a shit what happens to her. She’s Luciano’s daughter; why would he hurt his own daughter?”

  The line is silent. I wonder if maybe he hung up, finally done with me. But his tone takes on a more serious air—at least serious for Meyer. “Greylan, they don’t mess around, believe me. I’ve had to learn the hard way.”

  I look around. The bartender is at the other end of the counter, staring at me. My lip lifts in a crook, but I quickly glance away. The red hair is messing with me.

  “Meyer, I am so fucking tired of your stupid statements that don’t mean shit. That’s what got me into this mess in the first place. Just say what you mean and move on or I’m going to hang up on you again.”

  Before he can respond, I add, “I’m about ready to move on and it might not include fighting. You’ve screwed me out of that future. So consider this your one opportunity to convince me that I’m making the wrong decision.”

  His speech slows as he enunciates each word. “Grey, you don’t want to make any rash decisions. Please just think about it. Are you drinking? Please just wait until tomorrow to decide. Can I call you in the morning to talk about this? I’ll come clean about everything. Can you just trust me on this?”

  What the hell? I consider telling him off for good, but the idea of getting all the stuff he’s kept from me is enticing. What’s one more night?

  “Meyer, just so we’re clear, I don’t trust you. Never will I put any confidence in you again. But I’ll give you until tomorrow. After that, I’m done. No more
fighting, no more cage.”

  I hang up on him before he can renege on his promise. The girl slides back in front of me. She leans over, giving me a better view of her chest as she fills my glass with a double shot once again. I look up from her tits and she asks, “So, Greylan is it?”

  I nod. She pushes her hand out. “The name is Bridgett, nice to meet you.”

  I take her hand in mine and I let it all go. Whatever the fuck I’m going to find out tomorrow or whether I’ll get to talk to Christina—none of it matters. I slam the glass back again and ask, “What time are you getting off?”

  She looks across the room. “It’s your lucky night. I’m off in thirty minutes.”

  My lips move up in what could pass for a smile and I tap my glass again. She smiles, shyly filling it to the top.

  ***

  Thirty minutes later to the exact second, I’m following Bridgett out to a silver Volkswagen Beetle. For some reason, this car goes with her shiny personality. As I fit into the passenger seat, she turns, asking, “Your place or mine?”

  “Yours.” I don’t offer an explanation. I don’t need to get close to anyone else.

  We pull up to a ground-floor apartment facing a courtyard with a fountain. I follow her through the door and she turns explaining, “Just so you know, I don’t usually bring strange men home with me. Mark, though couldn’t stop talking about your fighting career, and he was so enamored with you, like you’re a celebrity or something.”

  I don’t care why the hell she let me come here or if she brings a different guy home each night. I move into her space and pause, looking down at her. She smiles, placing her hands on the waist of my jeans. That’s all I need. I move her gently against the wall and lift her legs around me. I lose all thoughts, concentrating only on kissing her and taking off her clothes. We move to the bedroom, and I push into her like this could be my last fuck. Maybe it is; I don’t care. As she calls out, red flashes before me and I yell, “Oh, Mollie.”

  As I climax she smiles, whispering, “I’ll be anyone you want me to be.”

  When I come down, my head sinks to the mattress as I realize how fucked up I really am.

  Chapter 5

  Light peeks into the room, waking me up from another shitty dream in which Meyer and Mollie are making a deal with Theodore James, sealing his fate. I shake my head as warm breath spreads over my arm. I look over to see the chick from last night. I can’t remember her name, but I did call her Mollie. Maybe I need to go and see a shrink again.

  I slide off the bed, my head pounding from all the alcohol I ingested. Fuck.

  My phone rests on the floor near my pants. I pick it up and get dressed. As I leave, I don’t look back before closing the door with a click. I call a cab and listen as Meyer’s words become more panicked with each message. He obviously thinks I’m good on my own threat to quit fighting. The more I think about it, I become convinced it might be the only way out of all this shit. If I’m not fighting anymore, they can’t hold me to any contract.

  When I get out of the cab at my apartment, I see why Meyer was so freaked out. He’s passed out on the front stoop, his head in his arms, resting on his knees. I kick his foot, shaking him awake. He jumps, his hands bracing on the concrete, a glare moving over his face.

  “Fuck, Greylan. What the hell?”

  I don’t wait around. I pass him walking to my apartment. He leaps up to follow. “Where the hell have you been? I told you I’d explain things today.” He rattles on.

  As we enter the living room I turn, tired of his voice already. “You didn’t tell me you were coming here. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Whatever you have to say, say it and get out.”

  He collapses into a chair in the living room; his hands move through his hair. I get some aspirin and a bottle of water before settling on the couch across the room from him. Silence spreads and I’m not sure he’s going to give anything up. I’m tempted to throw him out. I don’t have time for this shit. But actually, as I realize, now, I have nothing but time. I’m back to the beginning again in so many ways. My body sinks further back.

  I stare across at him, not giving him any indication that I’m going to make this easy.

  He lets out an exaggerated sigh.

  “He found me, Luciano did. Remember the fighter in the news who lost it and killed a man in the cage? I don’t remember his name, but he was their golden boy. Until he lost it, they were set.”

  I mumble, “Dane Jepson.”

  He nods. “Yeah, that’s what his name was. It was years ago. Anyway, after that he was worthless to them. His head wasn’t right so they dropped him. I guess I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. I had a meeting and I talked you up. They wanted someone new that was going to the top. I convinced them that you were their boy. If I would have known back then, Grey, you have to believe I never would have even talked to them.”

  My head is beginning to ache. I want to pound him for believing in me back then. If he wouldn’t have been so sure of my abilities, we wouldn’t be where we are today.

  He continues, seeming defeated. “They needed a new golden boy. I was so sure of the plan. They wanted insurance that you would go along with it. I told them that I could guarantee you would be okay with it, but I guess that isn’t the way they work. They knew what they were doing when they put Mollie there with us that night. I was thankful they left Trinity alone, so I convinced myself that the plan would work. You were always such a good person; I knew you would step in and help. But it all went to shit and then you went to jail.”

  His voice cracks as he says, “They had insurance on me too. They always knew where your weak spot is. My mom was sick but holding on, maybe even getting better. I thought she might even beat it. But after you left, I ran. I didn’t know they would make good on their threat; she was old and would never hurt a fly.”

  He stutters, tears escaping as he admits, “They killed her, Grey. My mom never had a chance because of me.”

  My breathing stops with his words. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This is shit you see in the movies. It doesn’t happen in real life.

  “Meyer, I’m sorry.”

  He shakes his head. “Maybe she wouldn’t have made it. I don’t know. So many times I’ve convinced myself that she was dying anyway.”

  Anger pulses in my words. “Tell me how that works out for you.”

  He stands and starts pacing across the room. He stops and his voice rises. “It’s shit, Greylan; you know that. I practically fucking killed my own mother. I can’t get out of this and neither can you.”

  He leans in, his eyes unwavering. “Do you see why you can’t quit? There are too many people they can hurt.”

  I want to throttle him. That is my first reaction, but then I wonder. “Why Mollie, Meyer? Why do you keep asking me about her? She doesn’t mean shit after what you two did. They can do what they want to her.”

  He moves away, shaking his head. “It’s kind of complicated. They know about Trinity, but their hands are tied because of Parker. He would never do what they ask if anything happened to her, so she’s kind of like their guarantee for him to perform.”

  “You were a hard one. There was no one else. But Luciano saw how you and Mollie interacted, and he knew she was in it with you. I’m not sure he was happy about it, but his partners made the decision. She fell, and it worked in their favor with his daughter.”

  “I still don’t think he’d hurt his own daughter.” My middle turns at the thought of Mollie getting hurt. As pissed as I am, she’s still under my skin as much as I don’t want to admit it. I’ve tried so hard to dispel everything related to her, but I’m not sure it’ll ever go away.

  Meyer looks at me pointedly and asks, “Would you risk it, Grey? Would you take the chance and allow the possibility that she might get hurt?”

  I shake my head in frustration. As much as I don’t want her anymore, I could never let something terrible happen to her. Meyer is right. I can’t stop like I thought I
could, and if they find out about Christina…

  I look up. “Did you tell them about Christina?”

  He shakes his head sadly. “No, but you coming here isn’t a good idea. They’re probably watching to see if they can find more leverage. Luciano knows you’re unpredictable.”

  And my world suddenly gets smaller in that instant. There is no way I can make good with Christina. My heart aches with that thought.

  “Okay, Meyer, book us a flight back. I still hate you, but I understand.”

  Chapter 6

  The entire way back, through the flight and the car ride¸ I refuse to speak to Meyer. He tries harder than he ever has, but I’m done. I’ve turned it off. I’ll do as they ask, but I don’t have to like it or make it okay, like Meyer seems to need me to do. After his story about his mom, it hit me. He can’t cope if things in his small world aren’t right. So he creates reasons for why it’s all right. It’s sick, and he’s more fucked up in the head than I am.

  As we pull up to the house, he turns, asking, “You won’t leave again, will you?”

  I shake my head slightly before exiting the car. The heat beats down as I climb the steps and walk into the darkened house. The remnant smells of bacon linger in the air, reminding me of the whole scene with Christina. Somehow I have to make things right, but not while people are looking over my shoulder.

  I step into my room and grab my gym bag before leaving the house. Meyer calls out one last time—spastic, like he’s a drug addict needing another hit or something. “Grey, don’t leave, okay?”

  I turn to face him. “Dude, I won’t leave. Just quit asking.”

  He slips into the house and follows me out onto the porch, nervous still; but I suppose he’s satisfied that I gave him a firm answer. Whatever.

  Walking into the gym, I scan the room for Frank, intent on heading to the opposite side of the room from wherever he is. Today he’s missing but Chris Williams, the other half of the duo, closes in as I walk toward the locker room in back. He’s definitely not the Luigi to Frank as Mario is. He doesn’t remind me of anyone having anything to do with owning a gym. He’s slim, dressed in jeans and a plaid, grungy shirt. His glasses continuously fall down his nose, so he constantly adjusts them. My guess is Frank talked him into the venture and now they’re stuck. He calls after me as I pass the office. “Greylan, can we talk?” His tone is apprehensive.