“No, King.”
“How did your clothes come off?”
“Oh my god, babe! Do you not trust me? I took them off as I was getting into bed—Miko was in the bathroom. Nothing happened last night between him and me. OK?”
“OK, OK…I just needed to make sure,” he said, reaching for his laptop. He clicked on the computer a couple of times, then handed it to me.
“Open the folder called NYE Fight.”
I put the laptop on the table in front of me and followed his instructions.
“Inside, you’ll find all of the pictures that were taken of me this week and the interviews I did. Well, the pictures that I let them take of me; they also took a lot I wasn’t aware of and I don’t have those.”
“I’ve seen this already,” I said.
“Yeah, but I want to be sure you see it all, and understand what portions of this I was a part of. The folder next to it, called Fake, includes all of the articles I found that are bullshit. You’ll notice that you can match up the some of the pictures in the Fake folder with the ones in the New Years Eve folder—they just photo-shopped whatever they wanted the end result to be. Anything aside from the New Years Eve folder is a lie. There’s nothing going on with me and Layla, I promise. Whatever claims she made last night were bullshit.”
I took a moment to look through the folders’ contents, and saw a folder inside called ‘Ava’. I clicked on it, and found all of the articles that had me as the subject—the one from our first night in Vegas when Miko sat next to me at dinner, and the fight with Layla was well documented. The worse part was the title: “Temp Arm Candy Getting Schooled by the Queen”. I should’ve known that little tiff was just another piece of the marketing pie. Catfights are big sellers.
“Oh shit.”
King looked at the screen to see what I’m looking at. ”Yeah, that’s how I found out I needed to get to you. I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“Me too,” I said, dripping with bitterness. King kissed the side of my head, but moved back away to give me space.
I thought I’d check out the current state of things, so I opened the MMA site to see if any of the pictures that Layla showed me last night ended up there; they didn’t. I guess the cease and desist order was fully executed now.
“King, I’m sorry for not trusting you enough to talk to you. But please understand my position. She had pictures, she had details about you and us, and what she said made sense to me.”
“How could she say anything that would make you trust me less? You know me, Ava. She doesn’t know shit.”
“How was I supposed to know that? I honestly thought some of what she said she got from you. It just made sense.”
“What could she say that would make sense?”
I stopped myself from talking—this was too embarrassing to tell him. I know my insecurities won’t be a surprise to him; I’ve joked many times that he was going to bore of me, but he may not have thought I really believed it.
“What was it?” he asked again.
“She told me you had bored of me and now wanted a real woman, not a teenaged girl. It’s always been my biggest fear with you—that I’m too young, and that you would realize it someday.”
“That’s never going to happen. I know we have a few years between us…”
“Five. Almost five.”
“I know. But our connection is deeper than years. Even if our age difference ever causes us problems, I’ll be patient and wait for you to grow up a little. I’m not going anywhere.”
Tears continued to fall out of my eyes and I grabbed another tissue to catch them.
“Look, four and a half years seems like a big deal now,” he continued. “But when I’m thirty-five and you’re thirty, we won’t notice a difference in age at all. There’s no one else for me, Ava. I know that. We just have to get through the next decade.” He smiled in a way that reached his eyes. Seeing the sincere smile on his face was the best thing I’ve seen all week.
“So maybe my rash actions last night are due to my immaturity. But my run-in with her just set me off. She played on my innermost fears—maybe without even knowing it. And those pictures—I questioned them at first, but she was convincing. It was too much for me to rationalize it all away. I’m sorry,” I said, embarrassment filling me.
“You have nothing to apologize for. Last night wouldn’t have ever happened if I put a stop to this earlier on—this has gotten out of hand. I’m the one who’s to blame, not your age.”
“But I acted erratically. If I would have just talked to you last night, we probably wouldn’t have had to go through all of this,” I said waving my arm toward the smashed vase and flowers.
“True. But this is how you reacted…and I’ll take you however you come.”
We both sat in silence and my tears started to run dry. I knew there was so much more to say, but I couldn’t gather the strength to put my feelings and thoughts into words. I was emotionally and physically worn out.
“Princess, can I ask you a favor?”
I nodded.
“Please don’t cut me off like you did last night. I almost went crazy trying to get this straightened out with you. Will you please just trust me enough to know that I may just have an explanation that’ll make it all go away. I don’t care if you scream at me, or throw things, or whatever you need to do…just don’t shut me out.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. This is how I am; I shut down when I’m faced with something hurtful. After my run-in with Layla, I was devastated and humiliated—I couldn’t let you in. I thought that if I did, only one of two things would have happened: either you would break up with me and tear my heart apart, or you would lie to me to keep me with you—I even thought you may want a dramatic breakup on fight night. I didn’t think there was another option.”
“I know; I get it. But you know I’m not a rash man; cheating on you is not going to happen. You are my first—and hopefully only—love, Ava. I’m not going to be the one to fuck this up. I won’t ever treat us like something trivial.”
A bell rang, and then we hear someone say “Room service” when the elevator opened.
King smiled at me reassuringly before he yelled “come in”. The cart of food and drinks was wheeled into the room, and the waiter began unloading the items onto the dining room table, telling King he’ll send someone up to take care of the accident, referring to the smashed vase of flowers. King looked at me and smirked.
“Bloody Mary?” King asked.
“Yes, please. Very spicy.”
King made me the Bloody Mary just like I like it, and sat next to me on the sofa as he ate breakfast. I wasn’t hungry, but I nibbled on strawberries while reading the article about the fight I had with Layla last night.
They included some of the conversation and over-exaggerated responses. After talking to King, I see that they are doing whatever they can to keep the story going, but without outright lies.
That explains why Layla showed me the fake pictures on her phone—she wanted a reaction out of me and they couldn’t post those pictures online. But the article still wasn’t good—it made me look exactly how I felt. Insecure, crazy, and pathetic…all rolled into one.
We continued to talk about last night, and this week overall. When he was done eating, I snuggled into him. All I could think of, while sitting in his arms, was how much I needed him. My life would be fundamentally changed if I weren’t with King.
Not only would I be without my boyfriend, but I don’t think I’d know who I was anymore. I never want to know what that’s like, and twelve hours ago I started to get a whiff. It stunk.
A shiver went down my back as I remembered how crushed I felt last night, how my heart stammered and my breathing hitched. I love this man to my core, and I now know that I am undeniably at his mercy.
“The feeling’s mutual,” he said.
“What?”
“You were thinking about how shitty last night was, right?”
>
“How’d you know?”
“I just know,” he said as he squeezed me closer.
King and I spent another hour or so talking. But when the pain we both were trying to get over was reduced enough, we faced our reality: it’s fight day.
After taking a shower and dressing, I went back to Miko’s room to return his bathrobe and pick up my purse and clothes—all of which I left there when King carried me from his room. Tori and Dylan had left by then, and Miko seemed slightly unhappy that King and I reunited.
“Miko, you know now that those pictures were fake, and I’m sure you can imagine Layla lying, so why would you think I’d still have broken up with King?”
“Because it’s not just the pictures from last night; it’s this whole week. It’s him allowing Giorgio’s crew to make a mockery of you and publicly humiliate you. It was only when you got pissed that he even cared.”
“It wasn’t exactly like that. I mean, he didn’t really pay attention to the marketing until I pointed it out.”
“All I’m saying is that you shouldn’t have had to. He’s so overly protective of you, then he comes out here and doesn’t even care to keep tabs on things. I don’t know; it just doesn’t seem right to me.”
“I know. But it makes sense to me, so can we just drop it?”
“Yeah, sure. So how much does King want to kick my ass right now?” he asked, half joking.
“He hasn’t said anything, but I imagine it’s pretty bad,” I said, smiling.
“Well, give him a message for me. I was just being your friend last night.”
“Oh, he knows.”
“OK, as long as you’re happy, Ava, I’m happy.”
Chapter 12
When I returned to our room, King asked if he could go to the gym—it’s fight day, and he has his fight-day activities to start. I encouraged him to get started; I wasn’t feeling back to normal yet, but only time with King can repair what’s left to fix. I know today is not the day for that; and I have hope that our life will return to normal just after this fight is over. I guess I can be patient for one more day.
So I sent King on his way and decided to go to the pool. It was another warm day in Vegas and I wanted to soak up more sun while spending a fun, thoughtless day by the pool.
On my way outside, I sent a text to my girls and stopped by the concierge, asking if I could book a massage for this afternoon and a blow-dry for this evening. Tonight was the big event. I could either cower in our room and wait for King to return, or I could go all out and face Layla and the press. I decided on the latter.
By the time I laid down on the chaise lounge at the pool, the concierge sent me a text confirming my appointments. I breathed a sigh of relief; I knew I needed both.
The massage was meant to relax me—I had a feeling that tonight was going to be stressful—and the blow-dry is so that I was sure to look my best. I know that there’s a high possibility of being in that MMA magazine and—at minimum—Layla will be there.
I timed everything perfectly; the massage was in two hours so I had just enough time to get rid of this hangover and have something light to eat beforehand. And afterward, I would have a couple of hours to get ready before heading over to the arena where King’s fight is taking place.
My friends started showing up one at a time, and after everyone arrived I explained the details about where things stand with King. I was still feeling pretty crappy about last night, and in general. And I couldn’t stop myself from looking at every MMA-related site that I thought might have something about the fight on it.
I wasn’t disappointed. Today brought a new one: a pic of the three of them with Layla facing King and his hand on her hip. My stomach turned.
Then I looked closer—it wasn’t even King’s hand. The tattoos are way different than his and the article never mentioned him by name. In the light of the day, after our crazy night last night, this was comical to me. But I still sent a text to King’s lawyer so he could get it taken down. It was gone a half hour later.
Most of my girls were happy that King and I made up—and we all shared our dramas from last night and the week overall. I talked to them about the pictures and the confrontation with Layla, and King’s take on all of this. Asli was on Miko’s side, of course…and he wasn’t so supportive.
“I know King’s not stupid, so why he would allow himself to be paraded under this farce is beyond me. It’s an embarrassment to him, and it’s an embarrassment for you. If I were you, I’d be pissed as hell that he cared so little about your reputation...”
“Enough, Miko. We get it,” Dylan said. “I’m sure King can probably defend himself better than Ava. Let’s not pass judgment in his absence.”
I was thankful that Dylan shut him down; I really don’t need any more stress to compound my already maxed out anxiety level. I gulped the rest of my water, then told my friends I was going to my massage. We coordinated our time of departure for the fight before I walked across the pool area and into the hotel. I still had an hour before my appointment, but I really needed to be alone.
I have this strange feeling that the drama isn’t over and the light-at-the-end-of-the-tunnel will take forever to reach. And that’s on top of the fact that my boyfriend is fighting tonight. I haven’t really thought too much about that; I mean, his nickname is King of the Ring for a reason—I didn’t have to worry. Until I realized that his nickname came from amateur fights—this one is different.
I checked in with the front desk at the spa and went to the sauna, keeping my towel wrapped around me even though the other women were naked. I didn’t care about them, but I’m still too conservative to strut around naked in a hot sauna amongst strangers.
I sat on the bench and leaned back, resting my head on a sand-filled spa pillow. Soothing music was flowing through the room and no one was talking. I should’ve been able to relax. I took a deep breath and focused on the steam soaking into my skin. I tried to clear my mind, but I just couldn’t do it.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t unwind. No matter what I did with my body, my mind was racing a mile a minute. I forced myself to stay in the sauna for a while, doing my best to get lost in the Zen-like music and smell of moist wood. Then finally, out of frustration, I threw my eyes open and got out of the sauna as quickly as I could.
I had another forty-five minutes to kill before the massage appointment; now I regretted coming to the spa so early. I put my bathing suit back on and went to the indoor pool and swam a few laps, hoping that would calm me. No luck.
Next I tried the whirlpool, which had the possibility to make me completely chill out. That is, until an older gentleman got into the whirlpool and was eyeing me. I sighed, and got out of there as quickly as possible.
Running out of options, I took a quick shower, put on a bathrobe and sat in the waiting area with an eye cover on and sipped on watermelon water. I never fell asleep, but I used that time to think over wardrobe options and hairstyles for tonight.
The only thing that did take my mind off things was the massage. It was an hour and a half Swedish massage and I fell asleep within the first few minutes, only waking when I had to flip onto my backside and then again when it was over.
I left the spa feeling amazing, and completely ready to take on whatever tonight had in store for me. This is the exact feeling I’d been chasing all day. I went to our suite, knowing King had already napped and woken back up.
“King?” I called, looking around in the empty suite.
“In here,” he said from the bedroom.
He met me at the entranceway and put his arms around me, pulling me close and holding my head against his chest. It felt so good—in my flip-flops my head hits the middle of his chest—I can hear his heartbeat and that always makes me smile.
“I’m all fucked up babe,” he whispered. “I don’t know how I’m going to fight tonight.”
“What? Why?”
“Because I know we’re not good. I feel like shit for letting t
his bullshit play out. I’m ashamed for making you cry. I’m an asshole.”
“Yeah, you are. But I’m cutting you some slack. You didn’t know it would get this out of hand, or that I’d be so bothered by it. You’ve never given a shit about what people say about you, lies or not, so I understand. Just please get the fight over with so we can be done with all this, ok?”
“It’s not that easy. You have no idea the size of my conscience and I can see the pain in your eyes. You’re still wounded. I can’t just tuck that away and get into fight mode. And it doesn’t help that I didn’t sleep last night,” he said, still with his voice low.
I know exactly what I need to do to make him ok—and in turn, make me ok. I need to give him what he needs to win this fight.
“King, you and I are so strong. This week might have gotten under my skin, but it can’t break us. Yes I was hurt and yes, I still am. But you have the opportunity to make that go away.”
“How?”
“By going to the arena, and proving to me that we are more important to you than anything.”
“How?”
“Kick Giorgio’s ass, once and for all. That will get him out of our lives so I’ll never have to deal with this again. And when you’ve won the fight, leave the arena with me to get things straight in the media. And finally, celebrate your win with me and our friends,” I said smiling wide.
“That’s it?”
“No, but it’s a start. A very good start. What tiny audience that MMA site has will know that you picked me, and you’ll retire from professional fighting on top. You will never be able to look back on this with regret, and you’ll have made me feel a little better.”
“I’d never regret throwing the fight, you know. It doesn’t matter to me.”
“Not now. But maybe, one day, when you’re fifty or sixty and your strength is waning, you may wish you had won the one professional fight of your life.”
Guys Like You Page 17