by Claire Adams
Half the crowd cheered and half howled with rage.
"I know that ladies love a man with self-control, with focus, with the ability to see things through to the very end," Peretti said. He shook off the security guards and roamed around half the circle, encouraging the crowd to choose sides. "It’s not my fault if Fenton's woman wants the same thing."
I cringed when the wall-sized photograph reappeared. Fenton fought off his security guards and got right back into Peretti's face. Peretti held the microphone away, but the rough tone of Fenton's voice made his message clear.
"You'll have your turn," Peretti said, leaning back to speak into the microphone. "And when you do, you better apologize to your woman. She's gotta be unsatisfied if she came to me."
Fenton lunged and knocked the microphone from Peretti's hand with a sharp slice of his hand. The crowd cheered and the security guards swarmed the two fighters again. This time, when they ebbed back, it was Fenton who had the microphone.
"Some people become fighters because they think the lifestyle looks cool," he said. "I didn't become a fighter, I was born fighting. I had to fight for everything. I had to fight to keep my family together. I had to fight to keep my sister safe at school. I had to fight to keep food on our table. What I never did was fight to keep my focus. I wanted better from day one, and I'll be damned if I let some strutting scum distract me from that."
The crowd heckled him, egging him on, hoping for more trash talk or maybe another sneak preview at the fight.
"I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti's skills as a fighter. I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti at all. He doesn't matter to me, the title does. I know Vegas is confusing, there's hype all around. But I guarantee tomorrow, Peretti's hype isn't going to follow him into the ring. It'll be just us, and the better man will win."
"What about your girl?"
"You just gonna let him take your woman?"
"Come on, Morris, you can't take that lying down!"
The crowd heckled him more, and the wall-sized photograph of our kiss appeared again. Peretti bounced around with his fists in the air then blew air kisses at the crowd. Then, he directed the spotlight toward me.
Kev tried to help me duck away from it, but the hot light blinded me. The crowd around me surged back and then forward. Hands shoved me toward the open circle where Peretti and Fenton waited. I lost grip of Kev's hands and was pushed along, helpless until I was in the open.
Peretti bounced over and reached out to embrace me. Without thinking, I batted away his hands and spun to avoid him. The crowd went wild. The spotlight still blinded me, and I tried to find Fenton. Suddenly, a strong arm locked around my waist. Peretti was pushed far away.
"Only a weak man would use a woman," Fenton said. "My reputation might be tarnished, but nowhere in the long list of my misdemeanors and conflicts is there an accusation of treating a woman badly.
I wrapped my arm around Fenton's waist, glad for the solid feel of him in the sea of ogling faces. "Actions speak louder than words," I said.
"Say it again, darling," Fenton told me. He held the microphone in front of me.
"That photograph was a dirty trick. Peretti's all trash talk and tricks. Actions speak louder than words," I said.
Fenton's loyal fans erupted in chants and applause. It felt good to stand arm-in-arm with Fenton, even though I knew we had not yet come together.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kya
The music started again, and before I could turn to Fenton, he was disappearing into the crowd. He said something to a security guard in passing and the large man helped me off the dance floor. I was deposited near the bar and decided it was a good time for a drink.
"Order one for me, too," Kev said. He leaned on the bar to peer into my face. "You did alright on mic. I'm sure the fans wanted you to extol Fenton's sexual prowess and call him a god, but, you know, what you said worked."
"Did Fenton practice that speech?" I asked.
"The one about his upbringing and focus or the one about how to treat women?" Kev asked.
"Either, both. Wait, have you heard them both from him before?" I asked. My hand trembled as I picked up my drink.
"Fenton has spoken out against domestic violence, but he normally doesn't talk about his family life," Kev said.
I slumped into my stool. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
"Come on, Kya. It’s like I told you; it's all part of the show."
" I thought you meant his reputation, not our relationship," I said.
"Well, they might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi thinks you'll make it," Kev said.
"Excuse me, Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the Desert Post and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim, young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.
Kev handed him a business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."
The young man smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted over a bar stool to give him room.
"I'm sorry, I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.
"Sure you are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and, who knows, it might be good for Fenton."
"How long have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.
"A few days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.
"Have you always been attracted to 'bad boys’? Or was it Fenton that approached you."
"Fenton approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.
"And, do you feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my face.
"Those are all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to slander," I said.
"So, you're saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"
"It’s a natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the truth."
The reporter wanted to ask more, but I turned to Aldous. "Is this your wife?"
Aldous stepped in front of the reporter, effectively shutting him out from further conversation. "Tia, I would like you to meet Kya Allen. Kya, this is my lovely wife, Tia."
"It is so nice to meet you, Kya. I've heard a lot about you," Tia said. She was older, mid-forties, though it was impossible to tell from her flawless olive skin and shining black hair.
"You've heard about me?" I looked at Aldous. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."
"I think we have a lot in common," Tia said. She shooed Aldous over to talk with Kev and sat down next to me. "Aldous and I met when I was around your age. He was on the boxing circuit. I, believe it or not, was dating an accountant who tried to save himself from being boring by going to boxing matches."
"I don't think I can see Aldous having a wild streak, but I bet he was an amazing boxer," I said.
"Yes, very clean-cut and very fair. That's why he was never a fan favorite and also why he's such a great coach," Tia said. "He's been with Fenton so many years, they are starting to feel like family. So, when he mentioned that Fenton wants to settle here in Vegas for a while, I was overjoyed."
"You wouldn't mind moving?" I asked.
"Not at all. If it means I see my husband every night instead of a few weeknights here and there throughout the month," Tia said. "I should thank you for putting the idea in Fenton's head."
"Oh, I'm not sure it was me," I said. I looked across the room to where Fenton danced wi
th three women.
"Give yourself some credit," Tia said. She patted my hand.
Even as I watched Fenton draped with women, my heart was buoyed up by the thought that meeting me had encouraged him to find a home base and try settling down. I clung to thought and nurtured it into a small spark of hope.
I held on to it all throughout the promotion party, even though Fenton never spoke to me. He only glanced my way a few times. I waited until I saw him leave the nightclub and then I took the very long way back to my suite at the Tropicana. My stomach was in knots as I approached the door, only to discover it was worse than I had imagined.
Fenton was gone. The second bedroom was completely packed up and a maid was stripping the sheets.
"Did he say where he was going?" I asked.
She shook her head. "But the porter said his stuff was going to the MGM Grand."
My hand was on the door handle when there was a soft knock. I pulled the door open to discover Sienna. It was shocking to see here without the blinding orbit of her television camera crew. Instead, it was just her, the long blonde hair tied back in a neat ponytail and her blue eyes soft without the heavy dose of eyeliner.
"Is Fenton here?" she asked.
My chest burned. "No. He wants to be alone the night before a big fight," I said.
Sienna was not surprised at the bite of jealousy in my words. "I just wanted to tell him thank you. If you see him, will you let him know I said so?"
"Thank him for what?" I asked. I squeezed my eyes shut and raised my face to the ceiling. When I opened them, I looked back at Sienna. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, I get it. And it's not what you think. Just tell Fenton thank you," Sienna said.
She looked so slim and lonely as she headed back to the elevators. "What, no camera crew?"
Sienna turned back to me. "I took the afternoon off. I needed a little time to recoup – I mean, relax."
"Well, if you want to relax off camera, why don't you come in? Once the maid's gone, I'll have an empty suite. There's a bottle of wine." I held the door open.
The reality star hesitated, looked at the elevator, and then at the open suite door. "Sure, why not. I could use a glass of wine."
The maid had tidied the second bedroom until it looked as if no one had occupied it in weeks. I kept looking at it as I opened the wine and almost spilled all over the white rug.
"Here, let me do that," Sienna said. She expertly handled the wine opener and had two glasses poured in seconds. "I used to be a waitress; it’s a necessary skill if I wanted good tips."
"You were a waitress?" I asked. "I always assumed you had a trust fund or something."
Sienna smiled. "Exactly. That's what I want everyone to think." She slumped back on the couch.
"It gets a little tiring playing the part?" I asked.
"Yes. You get it. You can't be a successful female sports agent without playing a certain part," Sienna said. "Yours is good, subtle."
"Thanks, I guess. Though, I think I'm going to drop the act." I sipped my wine.
"Me, too," Sienna said. "I think it’s getting in the way of my relationships. I mean, I can't really find anyone genuine if I'm not acting like my genuine self."
"Is that how you feel about Fenton?" I asked.
"Don't be stupid," Sienna asked. "Our acts go perfectly together, but even that ended up not working because he's so into you." She finished her glass of wine and got up. "I think it’s about time I try out my obscenely huge hotel room tub without the lighting guy adjusting the soap bubbles."
I walked her to the door and waited until her elevator descended. Then, I grabbed my purse. I had to see Fenton and the glass of wine had quieted down all my rational objections just enough for me to go right away.
I made it all the way through the lobby of the MGM Grand before I was stopped by Dana Maria.
"You can't be bugging him the night before the title fight. He left the party early to be alone," she said.
"Dana Maria, I'm glad I ran into you. I've got to tell you I'm sorry we never hit it off. I really admire you, even if I say all the wrong things," I said.
"Had a little wine tonight, Kya?" she asked. Dana Maria adjusted her sequined tube top and smiled at me.
"Just enough to say things I mean."
"Good. Then, you can tell me why you won't leave Fenton alone."
I wandered over to lean against the glass wall of a souvenir shop. "I can't. I don't want to. I don't know. All I think about is the last time I saw Fenton and the next time I'll get to talk to him. I wonder how he's doing and if he ever thinks of me."
"Oh, Jesus, girl, you've got it bad," Dana Maria said. She pulled me away from the wall and led me back out the front doors. "Now, let me tell you the truth."
"Please. No, wait, do I want to know? It’s bad, isn't it?"
Dana Maria shook her head. "The truth is I like you. And, I like you with Fenton. I like the way he looks when he talks about you, even when you've annoyed him."
I grabbed her arms, smearing her body glitter. "Really? You're not just messing with me?"
"And, what I like most of all is that you do what is best for Fenton, even if he doesn't like it. You kept on at him about the endorsement deal, even when it hurt your chances with him. So, now you have to do what's best again. Leave him alone until after the fight," Dana Maria said.
"But he's mad at me. I didn't believe him when I should have," I said.
She stopped me from going back inside. "It's good. Let him be mad. He always fights better with a little anger."
Dana Maria put me in a cab and sent me back to the Tropicana. I practically danced all the way back to the suite, even though it was empty. When I woke up in the morning, the quiet was strange, but I was excited. It was the day of the title fight and I was going to see Fenton.
There was a knock at the door and my heart leapt. I tried to calm myself down but the wild hope that it could be Fenton made it hard to breathe. I rushed to the door, only to feel a cold rush crash over me.
Jackson McRay leaned on the doorframe. "I was hoping to catch you alone, Kya."
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Fenton
I woke up in the same suite I had at the MGM Grand before they kicked me out. I half expected Kya to be curled up next to me. I held still for the onslaught of nightclub memories. But it was different nightclub. The fight promotion party. The memories rushed back.
Kya in a light purple dress. It caught the light, changing colors. I had to force myself to look away from her hundreds of times. Almost as many times as I saw the picture of my opponent locking lips with her. I flung myself out of bed and stomped into the main room.
"Good morning. Breakfast shake on its way," Aldous announced. "Please tell me you slept well. You don't look it."
"It's just weird," I said. "Like déjà vu. The last few days could have been a dream and here I am right back where I was."
Aldous handed me the green shake. "So, would you change anything?"
"I'd skip seeing Kev in that 70’s low-cut shirt," I said. "A man as white as him should not try to pull off a medallion."
"Yeah, that gave me nightmares, too," Aldous said. He grimaced, but forced himself to drink the same healthy concoction he made for me. "But, seriously, would you have changed anything?"
"I know what you're getting at. I'm not falling for it," I said. "I knew as soon as your wife got here you'd be all hot to matchmake."
Aldous gave me his best innocent look. "Me? Never. I just want to make sure you don't have any regrets. It’s time to look forward, strategize. Visualize your fight, but more importantly, visualize what's on the other side."
I sat down at the glass dining table and choked down more of my shake. "Me staying in the basement of your new Vegas house," I said.
"Tia would kill me," Aldous said. "Try again."
I shut my eyes. "Home base. Roots. Strength. Going out to fight and coming home to get stronger."
"Perfect. That's it. Think about t
hat home base. What you need there. What there gives you strength."
It was Kya. Copper curls in the sunshine. Her green eyes crinkling at me from the next pillow. "Alright, coach, good talk. Now, let me choke this down in peace."
Aldous sat down across from me. "You know the more you share, the more solid the visualization."
"Leave the poor man alone, Aldy," Tia said. She leaned over and kissed her husband's cheek. "He doesn't need to tell us the obvious."
"Thanks. Wait, what's obvious? No, I don't want to know," I said.
Tia rolled her eyes and smiled. "You know Kya is terrified to come to the fight. She's got it in her head that she's there she'll distract you and make you lose."
Aldous chuckled. "I can speak from personal experience when I say that is possible. Though, I'm so glad I got blood all over that accountant's white shirt. Best blood I ever shed."
"I'm sure her clients want her there," I said. "She'll be there. She should be there."
"That's what I told her, but it had nothing to do with her clients," Tia said. "She and I are planning to sit together. Low and close, but a few rows back. You'll never notice."
That was good. Kya would not be in my direct line of sight. If I kept my head up like I was supposed to, I wouldn't see her. Maybe the top of her copper curls. If I looked I could spot her green eyes. I shook myself and finished the shake.
"There, I drank my super foods. I gotta check my messages," I said. I pushed away from the table and took my phone out onto the patio.
The first message was from Kev, as were the following three. He started off reminding me of MMA contacts I had met. Kev was great at giving me the details in voicemail form so I would not forget any important conversations.
Then, he veered off course. He slurred a few words here and there. But mostly, his speech was impeded by what I had seen was a sloppy grin. It had been permanent all night.
"It’s great, I'm telling you, Fenton, it's great. Just relax, just go with it. Just be yourself. What are all the other things those stupid chick flicks tell people? You know when you feel it. I know you feel it. I've seen it on you. Remember that, too," his message said.