by D. C. Ruins
"Ah, the groupies," Connor said, sighing with mock-wistfulness until Lana punched him lightly in the bicep. "Those were the days." He laughed and ducked her next swing, then caught her arm and hauled her into his side, planting a loud kiss on her. "Just kidding, baby. You know you're the apple of my eye."
"Apple of your eye?" Lana repeated wryly, unable to hide a smile. "No wonder you never get the girls, saying shit like that."
Drew couldn't help laughing at them, trailing slightly behind as Connor insisted on walking with both arms wrapped around Lana's waist. They were met outside by a stretch Hummer limousine.
"What the hell is that?" Lana asked.
"Hey, you guys!" a loud voice called, and Carter Steele leaned out of the opening door. "C'mon. Let's go see our boy get it in!"
Drew eyed the extravagant vehicle before catching a look of annoyance on Connor's face. She knew if Heath were here, he'd throw his hands up and insist on walking rather than ride in the outrageously over-the-top luxury transportation. Connor seemed to be of a similar mindset.
"Hotel shuttle would have sufficed just fine," he called back, a slight edge in his voice.
Carter shrugged cheerfully. "This is how the big-time do it, bro. Get in!"
Connor sighed but pulled Lana after him, and Drew trudged after them. She let Carter help her inside, ignoring the little grin he gave her as he gestured to a leather seat.
"Sleep well?" he asked pointedly.
"Not well enough," she shot back.
He smiled and shrugged. "I don't make the rules," he said mildly.
"So how's he doing?" Connor asked.
"Good. You know how he is. The strong silent type. More like moody. Anyway. He's doing fine."
The ride to the Niagara Center was short and Drew thought the limo would stop in front at the main entrance where floods of people were gathering, waiting to be let inside, but it drove around to the back of the center. She started to relax a little, glad they seemed to be able to bypass any real crowds.
Her relief was short-lived and dismay filled her when she saw there was a horde of people at the back entrance.
"Press entrance," Carter informed them. "Well, press and groupie entrance. Security can't keep 'em away technically, they can only keep 'em back. They know this is the place to be since all the fighters come back this way."
"Why are we allowed to come through here?" Lana asked.
Carter shrugged. "It's also the friends-and-family priority entrance," he replied. "You can get to the dressing rooms and to the entrances to the floor, for ring-side seating, much easier this way." The limo pulled to a stop and he reached for the door. He looked at Drew. "Brace yourself."
She stepped out after him and waited for Connor and Lana to follow. In the next instant she was overwhelmed with shouts for their attention. Connor was instantly recognized and security stepped forward to help their little group past the small but seething crowd.
Somehow, she found herself separated from the group as three reporters converged on her and shoved tape recorders and microphones in her face.
"Who are you?" one of them demanded. "Are you with Carter Steele?"
"What?" Drew said. "No! He manages my boyf –"
"Heath Riley," another reporter interrupted. "He manages Heath Riley. Are you Heath's guest?"
"Something like that," she responded, trying to step away from them and rejoin her group. She couldn't even see them anymore; only several tall security guards.
"Are you his girlfriend?" the third reporter demanded. "Heath Riley has a girlfriend?"
"Drew!" she faintly heard Connor call. She ducked away from the reporters and tried to push through the crowd.
"Where the hell do you think you're going?" an angry female voice said. Drew glanced over her shoulder and saw another group of women. "If we can't get in, you damn sure can't!"
"You that desperate for the dick?" another woman asked, laughing.
Drew glared at her and turned back around. She locked gazes with a guard.
"Please," she called. "I'm supposed to be in there."
"That's what they all say," he replied. "Nice try, though. You might want to come at me with a tight dress next time."
"Keep moving, Mr. Steele!" she heard. She tried to peek around the security guard.
"Carter!" she shouted. He glanced over at her, then turned away quickly. She watched him call out to a leggy blonde and trot after her. "Carter!" she screamed again.
"Oh, now she actin' like she know folks," another woman said, and several voices laughed at her.
Drew felt a confusing mixture of rage and anxiety start to build in her. Now she was feeling hands pushing at her back, shoving her against the security guard, who was turning to glare down at her. Did they not see her get out of the limo with everyone? Why wouldn't they let her through?
"I'm with them!" she insisted, pointing vaguely in the direction Carter, Connor and Lana had gone. "They're probably still there, waiting for me. Can you please check?"
"We had security move them along," the guard replied. "Sorry, miss. We can't allow you back there."
"I drove here with them!" she said angrily.
"I didn't see you before," he said skeptically.
"I'm here with Heath Riley," she said, hating having to resort to using his name. "He's fighting in the tournament."
"Yeah, I know who Riley is," the guard said, rolling his eyes. "Half these groupies out here are for him. I never heard nothin' about him havin' a guest."
"I am," Drew pleaded. "I came with his brother and his brother's wife. And his father. And his manager! Just let me through, please."
"How you know him?" the guard said, folding his arms and looking at her in disbelief. "You can't be no girlfriend. I never got your name."
"Just ask Carter," Drew said, growing more agitated as the swell of jeering voices behind her rose. "He was supposed to put me on some list or something!"
"Well, Steele is long gone now," the guard said. "We took Connor Riley and his wife that way. Steele went the other way." He gestured into the arena over his shoulder.
Drew clapped a hand to her forehead, trying to calm herself before she exploded. How the hell had things gone to shit in the matter of seconds? Someone had to have seen her get out of the limo; why was no one speaking up?
Suddenly, she lost her footing and almost fell over when a foot sharply kicked her heel out from under her. She tottered violently until the guard grabbed her arm.
"Get your ass back there where you belong, you dumb bitch!" one of the women shouted at her.
Drew lurched forward as she was suddenly pelted with an extremely hard object; a frozen water bottle was hurled violently into her back at short range before crashing to the cement. She was shocked at both the gesture and the immediate pain it caused against her tender flesh; she felt like she'd just been hit with a baseball. She whirled around to see who had thrown it, intent on slapping them to the ground, when the guard grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
"Hey, knock that shit off!" the guard bellowed at the women. "Try that shit again I'll have your loose asses locked up! Then ain't none of y'all gettin' none tonight!"
Drew's chest was heaving with rage when the guard turned back to her. "Listen, I don't believe your story for one second, but are you all right?"
"Just call Steele!" Drew shouted, jerking her arm free. "Call Heath. I'm telling you, I'm with them! This is bullshit!"
"I've got Steele on his cell now," another security guard with an earpiece said with a sigh. "Hold on." He listened for a moment. "He's coming down now with Riley."
Relief washed through her, but it was short-lived as the women nearby just screamed at her more. She felt shaky and angry; she couldn't believe she was dealing with this. If this was any indication as to how the rest of the tournament was going to be, it wasn't off to a good start.
"I don't know who this hoe thinks she is," one of the women called. "Bringing her ass to the front of the line like she's run
ning shit."
"She ain't shit," another woman said with a laugh.
"Bring your ass back over here, honey," a third voice called out. "I got somethin' way worse than a bottle of water for you."
"Shut the fuck up!" the security guard bellowed at them. "Every last one o' you. You're fuckin' lucky I can't call the cops over here to arrest your asses. Someone say something else. I will mace all of you, right now, just for fucking pissing me off!"
"Drew!"
She heard his voice and turned quickly. Heath stood just behind the barricade, dressed in his tournament shorts and a hastily thrown on ribbed tank top. He looked furious. She hurried toward him, ignoring the rise in noise as both the groupies and the reporters immediately started shouting to him, demanding to know who Drew was and if she was his girlfriend. Every sound was threatening to crack her nerves but she focused on his angry face and rushed toward him.
"Riley, this you?" a guard demanded, catching her by the shoulder just before she reached him and pressing her back.
"Yeah. Now get your fuckin' hand off her," he snarled, reaching out to take her by the elbow.
The guard quickly complied, lifting his hand immediately. Before Drew could figure out how to navigate the hip-high barricade in her tight jeans and heels, she suddenly felt her breath whoosh out of her lungs in surprise and vertigo assaulted her as Heath grabbed her around the waist and bodily picked her up, swinging her over the barricade like she weighed nothing more than a child. Her feet had hardly touched the ground before he immediately swept her away down a long concrete corridor.
Carter trailed behind them, sensing Heath's rage. Heath was silent, but the way his hand locked around her waist and his tightly clenched jaw let Drew know he was infuriated. She winced a little as his hand pressed down unknowingly on her developing bruise from the water bottle. He looked down at her, seeing it, and his eyes narrowed. She swallowed, feeling a little intimidated. He turned her around a corner sharply and she almost tripped again but he swept her along, holding onto her firmly until he came to a long hallway lined with doors. He stopped in front of one with a sheet of paper taped to it that bore his name and turned the handle. He pushed the door open and Drew saw that it was a small dressing room. He shoved her gently inside and stepped in after her. Drew had enough time to register that John, Lana and Connor were in the room, all looking agitated and worried. Their faces relaxed when they saw her, but Drew turned to look at Heath.
His brow was creased with fury and his jaw was still tightly clenched as he turned around, holding the door. Carter tried to step in after him but Heath blocked the door.
"C'mon, man," Carter said in a wheedling tone. "It was an accident."
Heath opened his mouth and snapped it shut, glaring. He finally spoke. "You had one fucking job," he said, his voice deadly low. "One. You were supposed to look out for my family."
"Mistake, man," Carter went on. "We lost her in the crowd, I thought she was with Connor and Lana, I didn't –"
"You didn't give a fuck!" Heath raged. "You left her to deal with those fucking assholes so you could go chase some ass for tonight. Do you know what could have happened?"
"Heath, look, I'm sorry," Carter said. "Drew—we're cool, right?"
"She gets the best of the best, right?" Heath asked, his voice quiet and dangerous.
"Heath –"
"You're fired," Heath bit off. "Get the fuck out of here." He slammed the door in Carter's face and resumed pacing.
"Drew, are you okay?" Lana asked. "We tried to come back for you but the guards kept moving us this way. We just got here and told Heath you were left behind."
"Carter wasn't even looking for you," Heath muttered. "When I got out to the entrance he was just coming back from the other way, talkin' to some chick." He shook his head and glanced at Drew. "You good?"
"I-I'm okay," Drew said, not wanting to say otherwise. Her nerves were rattled and her blood pressure was up; her back ached with the onset of a bad bruise from having the water bottle thrown right at her at close range. But none of that would help him calm down and focus on the fight, so she forced a smile for him. He didn't return it, and instead, his eyes narrowed.
"Heath, you sure that was smart, son?" John asked quietly from the corner. "He's a good manager."
"Fuck Steele," Heath replied. "I asked him to do one thing which was take care of my family. If he can't do that then he doesn't have my best interests at heart, so fuck him."
John nodded, studying his son before he glanced at Drew. "You okay, sweetie?"
"Yep," Drew said brightly. "Just fine. All's well that ends well." Heath was openly glowering at her now, so she shifted uncomfortably.
"All right. See, Heath? Drew's good. She's fine. Why don't you three go take your seats, get a drink or something and I'll work on our prize fighter here –"
"I want to talk to Drew alone," Heath said evenly. "Can you guys wait outside, please." It wasn't a request.
Once they were alone, Heath shut the door behind them and turned back to Drew. She foolishly felt like she was in trouble for something.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Which part?" she asked hesitantly.
"All of it. How did you get separated from them?"
"I was following Carter and I got separated in the crowd. Then these reporters surrounded me and it took a second to get away from them. By the time I made it through the crowd to the front, I'd lost everyone. Then the guards treated me like I was just a groupie, and then the groupies were trying to start shit with me…" She trailed off and shook her head, taking a deep breath. "But it's okay. Right? You came and got me."
"Anyone touch you?" he demanded.
"I mean, the girls pushed me around a little. I wasn't trying to get in a fight and make you look bad, though."
"Pushed you around?"
"No big deal," she repeated. "The only thing I regret is not breaking all of their noses."
"Why did you act like I hurt you earlier?"
Drew blinked. "Huh?"
"When I had my hand on you. You flinched."
"Oh," Drew said. "Don't worry about it."
"Don't worry about what?"
Drew sighed. "It's just a little sore back there."
"Sore why?"
Drew sighed again. She hadn't wanted to tell him but she could sense he was quickly running out of patience. She shrugged. "Some girl right behind me threw a water bottle into my back. It was mostly full, and frozen, and she was close range."
He reached out and closed a hand around the waistband of her jeans and pulled her forward, spinning her around. "Let me see."
He pushed her jacket to the side, all he had to do since her midriff was mostly exposed in her cropped tank top, and looked at her back. "Jesus."
"What?" she asked, trying to twist around to see it herself. She flinched again when he lightly brushed his fingers over the area. Even the slight touch made the very sore, tender skin cry out in pain. She bit hard on her lip, and he didn't miss it.
He frowned at her, then maneuvered her over to the mirror on the wall. He spun her around slightly and pulled her jacket to the side again. Drew gasped, shocked to see the area was already swollen and red, turning dark purple in some areas. She cleared her throat and met his eyes in the mirror. She laughed weakly.
"I bruise like a peach," she said. "This is not as bad as it looks."
"Oh, really?" Heath asked, and brushed his fingers over the area again, a little more firmly than before but still not remotely hard. Drew yelped in pain and jumped, instinctively trying to pull away from his touch. He moved his hand away from the bruise quickly and replaced it on her waist, tugging her closer. He glanced into her eyes then shook his head and sighed.
"I promised your dad you'd be okay, and we haven't even started the tournament yet and already you've gotten into some shit."
Drew brought her hands to his shoulders and shook them gently. "Heath, it's fine. No big deal, just some mean, hateful girls who are jea
lous." She smiled at him as he glanced up at her. "Most of them were out there to see you, I think. It really burned their butter when you came to get me." Her smile widened.
He lifted an eyebrow. "'Burned their butter'?" he repeated. "Where are you from?"
She laughed and leaned in to lightly kiss his lips. "Listen, I'm sending John back in here. I'm going to go grab a brew and a seat with your brother and his wife. Okay? I'm ready to see some ass-kicking."
He shook his head and grunted a laugh at her. "A brew and some ass-kicking. All right then." He tightened his hands around her waist and pulled her closer so he could get a real kiss. "Get out of here. I'll talk to you later."
Drew sent John back in, and followed Connor and Lana through the seeming maze of concrete hallways through the arena. They stopped to buy beer, and true to her word, Drew purchased two large pints in plastic cups for Connor. Since they were guests of one of the fighters they were able to take seats close to the ring. Drew noticed it was really more of a circular, tall black wire mesh cage.
They had just seated themselves when a press reporter ambled over to them, wearing a "Press" pass on a lanyard around his neck and holding a smartphone and a notepad. His eyes were glued to Connor as he leaned over Drew to grab his hand.
"Connor Riley!" he said enthusiastically as Connor shook his hand politely. "Great to see you! How come you're not on any of the cards tonight?"
"Hey, Marty. Wasn't quite ready to get into this one," Connor replied calmly. "I've sort of had my fill for big tournaments for a while."
"So just here to cheer your brother on, huh?" the reporter asked. "How are things between you guys?"
"Is this on or off the record?" Lana interrupted, looking at the reporter pointedly.
"Off the record," the man insisted but he wore a falsely innocent smile. His eyes slipped to Drew. "And who is this?" he asked, reaching for her hand. "Lovely lady."
Drew wasn't sure if she should answer; she was instinctively suspicious of the man but didn't want to seem paranoid. She shook his hand tentatively.