Rags 2 Pitches: A Secret Baby Sports Romance

  I know that you can forgive me.

  I am sorry.

  I know that you will give me a second chance.

  Thank you, Lord.

  I love you.

  And I know that you love me.

  In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

  Amen.

  I sighed as I stood up, feeling better than I had before I had kneeled. Even in the darkness, I’d felt safe and warm - until Hannah entered the room. She didn’t even turn on the light, but I heard her voice, harsh and coarse, “We’ve got a fight to win.”

  I wondered how she knew that I was still in the room. I could have left. I could have run away.

  I sighed as I thought about it. She was probably standing outside and thinking that the reason I wanted her to leave was so that I could escape.

  That was the problem. I knew that even if I had run tonight, she could find me. I had no leads like I did before. No one to change my identity until I won this fight. Willy had put a bet on me, and I would use that to leave. For now, there was no one to help me escape. Hannah would find me one way or another.

  Just the same way Dad had, back at Stanford.

  This was my only chance to be free from both the demons in my life.

  I had to win.

  I had found sanctuary in my prayers, the same way I had so many times before. It had put a darkness over me as I left the room. The moment I shut the door, it was as if I had turned my back on my fears. A light was shining over me that would lead me to victory.

  Not only would it enable me to win.

  It would make sure that I won.

  No matter what.

  Chapter Nine

  Chase

  The guys were cheering as we drove on the highway and singing the whole way as if we were on our way to a bachelor party or something, not some fucking underground black market fight. Shit, I wanted to stop them from singing, but I had to join in.

  Pretending seemed to be the new thing that I had adopted lately.

  I’d pretended that I believed it when my dad and stepmom told me that Kayla had run off with some guy in Chicago. I questioned it for a brief moment, but from that moment onwards, I pretended like I believed it. Not only for their sanity, but for my own.

  The memory of the camera footage, of Kayla smashing up her phone and taking as much money as she could that night, never went away. She’d looked up at the camera as she did it, as if on purpose. As if she wanted us to know that she had gone.

  Gone, not by force, but because she wanted to go.

  I didn’t understand why the private detective had said that she had run off with some guy in Chicago.

  Maybe he had seen her, and that was the lie that she wanted us to believe. Maybe that was the only reason she could give us to explain why she left.

  I pretended that leaving Stanford behind was the best thing that I had done. Maybe if I had stayed, she would have seen what she’d done was wrong and come back. Maybe Kayla did come back and saw that I had gone and then decided to stay away.

  The longer I spent with my stepmom, the more I started to wonder who she really was, and why they had moved to Dallas from Ohio.

  Yet, there was no way that Dad would question that too. He was a man of the world. Fuck, he was an oil tycoon who had worked and travelled all over the world. He must have known it was a fucking lie.

  But whenever I mentioned it, he would fob me off with the line, “Let the past stay in the past, Son.”

  That was the part that annoyed me. That was the thing that really rocked my fucking boat.

  Why the hell was Dad pretending that he didn’t want to know?

  That was when I realized he wasn’t pretending. He was so smitten and in love with my stepmom that he’d really put it to the side. He must have checked up on her before he signed on the dotted line and married her. He must know the truth. Maybe he was hiding it from me.

  Maybe he was protecting me after I confessed my relationship with Kayla.

  One thing I knew: pretending had been my forte, and it was becoming second nature.

  ***

  I joined in just to show that I was in the spirit of things. I drank some bourbon that Miles had tucked safely in my hands a couple of times while I was at the wheel. Illegal, but for some reason I didn’t particularly care. Reg talked about the weekend as if it would be the best birthday ever. I played along for my best friend. I had to put my feelings aside and concentrate on someone who wasn’t Kayla.

  “Chase, just park here, man,” Reg blurted out. He would think that. The neighborhood just was not the type that I would even choose to drive my Mercedes in, let alone park it in.

  Shit, now I understood why he’d wanted me to drive. I felt naive, like a fucking virgin thinking that the damn fight would be held in Manhattan or someplace like that. It was in downtown Brooklyn, the heart of the ghetto, of course. Where else would the damn thing be held?!

  I kept on driving around, ignoring Reg’s request as he shouted, pointing to the curb, “It’s not an issue! Seriously, we’re late!”

  Like I really gave a damn.

  Like a fucking clock, Miles had to chime in too. “Chase, we’ll miss the fight if you keep circling around.”

  “It’s my damn car. I want it to be safe. Why the fuck are we here?” I stopped and tried to control my temper. I took one look at Reg and remembered exactly why we were there. For his birthday.

  “I may as well leave the doors open, Reg. The street’s too quiet and dark. I bet the moment we’re gone, so is the car.”

  I smiled, hoping my charm would take away from the little outburst that I had just displayed. Reg ignored it as he pointed to the next block.

  “Look, park down this street. That’s where I normally park,” he instructed, and it gave me comfort knowing that he normally parked down the same street.

  I really didn’t feel like leaving my car here.

  “Guys, hop out. I’m going back to find a parking lot and then park there. I’ll call you when I’m done and then we’ll meet up.” All they were worried about was missing the damn fight. I was more anxious about leaving my car.

  “Hell no! I wouldn’t even think about doing that,” Miles blurted out. “Those parking lots have the worst reputation.”

  “Shit, Miles is right. You’ll come back after the fight and they’ll tell you something like they never parked your car,” Reg agreed.

  I started to get angry. Fuck, why the hell did we come here if the fucking neighborhood was a problem?

  “Your car would be top of the list. Trust me. You are better off parking here. I park here all the time.”

  I looked up the street. Maybe Reg had a point. I saw that compared to the other cars on this street, mine wasn’t exactly expensive. I noticed a Bentley in front of me, and to the right was a Porsche. Wow, maybe this was a good spot. Anyway, the guys should know, they hung out at these things a lot more than I did.

  The guys quickly changed the subject as I parked, and then Reg waved his tickets, excited about finally seeing the finals. He had been to a few shows and he’d always wanted to go to the finals, but the tickets were hard to get.

  “This is the fucking big one, Miles. Shit, I still can’t believe I got tickets!” They were like little kids being left alone in the candy store with no shop owner. Their eyes lit up as they got out of the car. I laughed to myself thinking that, in a few years, Reg would be a lawyer and Miles a doctor.

  The legal and medical professions would be in shock, knowing they had let the doors open to a couple of clowns.

  “Seriously, Chase, you won’t regret it,” Reg cheered, and Miles encouraged him.

  “When you see those women, you’ll understand what it’s all about.”

  Maybe, but I doubted it. We were walking towards some building, which I assumed was where the fight was being held. It was so damn quiet, not only on the street, but around the building. Then again, what did I expect? A big sign saying ‘Illegal Fighting’ on it? I lau
ghed to myself.

  “What’s funny?” Miles asked as Reg knocked on the door on one side and then said, “Quick, we need to go to the other side.”

  I followed him like a little puppy, wondering if this was all some sort of kids’ game, like the one we used to play when we were boys. Those who wanted entry into our secret club had to come to the tree house that my dad had built at the end of the garden. The challenge wasn’t only to knock on the door with the secret password, it was to get through the secret cameras that were on the grounds. If they weren’t caught then they were in, but we always set up the boys that we didn't want in our club for a fall. They weren’t going to be allowed into our club. We always made sure they got caught on camera.

  We ran to the door. Miles was a bit slow. I caught up with Reg quite easily. The way he was hyperventilating, I wouldn’t have been surprised if Miles had finished the bottle of bourbon.

  I was shocked to see a woman chewing gum, asking to see our tickets. If anything, she was a version of Barbie. I was expecting a big, tall goon who wanted to beat us up if we didn’t have our tickets. Or I was thinking there would be some code to enter the building.

  Not a girl wearing pink and chewing gum.

  My nerves calmed down seeing her. I looked at her legs. The muscles and curves alone showed that maybe she could kick our asses if she wanted to. The light shone on us as if we were part of some peep show. Reg didn’t hesitate giving her our tickets. She counted them and then she looked at us, including Miles, who had just caught up and was holding on to his knees for dear life.

  She nodded and then she knocked on another door five times, and it slowly opened. I held on to my breath, unable to speak, expecting to see the goons that I thought would be on the outside of the door.

  The second door opened and it was a whole new world. One that I hadn’t expected. I saw the lights flashing on and off. People were talking and holding drinks in a hallway, as if they were going to a concert or something. There were ladies dressed casually in jeans and others in dresses. There were a few men in suits, but the majority of them were dressed like us.

  Casual, in polo shirts and pants, they looked like ordinary people. Then I laughed to myself. So did the others as we went through the door. Reg and Miles saw some people that they knew and, without hesitation, they left me standing like a jilted bride. I smiled at the girl, who not only was wearing pink, but had matching hair.

  “Go on in that way.” She pointed in the same direction that Reg and Miles had just gone. I felt like a lost lamb as I took slow steps in that direction, and the outer doors were immediately closed. That was when I saw the goons.

  And I laughed as I spotted the bar at the end of the hall where everyone must have been getting drinks from. The whole place was nothing like I had expected. I’d thought it would be some dark, seedy place with pimps and mobsters hanging around. Then again, I didn’t know the crowd very well. They could have been that type of crowd. But some of them seemed too sophisticated to be those types of people.

  ***

  “These are the best seats in the house.”

  Reg had said that to me when he bought the tickets, on the drive here, and even when we arrived. As we sat down, I wondered what made them the best seats in the house. The ring was a lot bigger than I thought it would be. It took up most of the space in the place that must have been a warehouse before. The stone benches around the ring had leather cushions placed on them to distinguish the different seats. There was dim lighting around the ring, so it made it hard to see who or how many people were in the arena. As soon as we hit the bar, the flashing lights faded out and we were escorted to our seats.

  The fighting ring looked like a big cage. I wondered if it was like that for the mens’ games, or if it was done like that for only the women’s fights.

  Either way, I didn’t want to ask. If I asked one of the guys, they might think that I was interested and I really wasn’t. I just got a little curious studying a place that I’d never thought I would visit.

  Reg was seated nicely in between Miles and me. Which was good, because I wondered if Miles was drunk or had taken a little something to get him in the mood. It was no secret that for someone who complained about coming from a poor family, he had a funny way of showing it. He drank just as much as he took drugs.

  But never in front of Reg and me.

  He knew that we weren’t into that shit. Our first year of college consisted of burying some students ’cause of the shit. I knew it wasn’t worth it, and I’d vowed to never touch drugs ever again.

  I complimented Reg one more time on getting the best seats. It was his birthday. He really didn’t need to try and impress me. Because he couldn’t. Simply because I wasn’t easily impressed by this sort of thing.

  “We weren’t late. It’s about to start. Enjoy,” I said, patting him on the back. He’d seemed to forget his fears about being late as soon as he met up with his friends. Reg and Miles explained that he always saw the same guys at the fights. One of them even got the tickets for Reg.

  As they called the first contender’s name, all the lights went down and the place plunged into darkness. Then, in a flash, all I could see were the lights on the floor - and her.

  My heart skipped a beat as she lifted up her hands. It was a woman whose hair was as red as fire. I knew that frame like the back of my hand.

  Sure, she had lost a few pounds. She seemed leaner... but those eyes. I couldn’t quite see her dark eyes, but that oval face couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else’s.

  I shook my head in disbelief.

  She left.

  Ran away.

  To do this?

  Was this really her dream?

  I felt like the whole place just closed in.

  The cheers and roars fell on deaf ears as Reg whispered, or maybe he shouted, in my ear, “Shoot, that girl looks just like Kayla.”

  Maybe the look on my face confirmed my fears.

  “Nah, man, it can’t be. She’s in Chicago, remember?”

  I nodded, knowing that Reg didn’t believe the stupid story that the private detective fed me.

  If it was Kayla, then she looked scared. But not as scared as I was when I saw her opponent. She was tall and looked like a robot.

  Fuck!

  The tall, dark haired woman looked like the man that beat the shit out of Rocky in Rocky IV. The only difference was, this wasn’t a movie. This was real life. The opponent towered a good foot above Kayla.

  The opponent’s legs were the size of Kayla’s whole body.

  The opponent’s head looked like a fucking basketball.

  Thick.

  Round.

  Ready to kill.

  I’ve never, ever seen a woman built like that. This whole thing was supposed to be fun? I thought as I looked at the men and women seated next to me. I was scared to look at Reg’s face. He knew it was Kayla. He had recognized her just as quickly as I had. He was quiet about it. He was still as a statue.

  I just thought that if I was in the ring with her opponent, I would run. I wondered if that was what the cornerman was telling Kayla to do as she sat down at the side of the cage. Telling her to fucking change her mind because she didn’t have a fucking chance against this beast disguised as a woman. One thing was for sure, she didn’t need a pep talk.

  She needed a fucking miracle.

  Chapter Ten

  Kayla

  “And on the left is Carolyn Watkins. This is her first year competing in the finals.”

  The crowd cheered a little as Hannah lifted up my arms. Another new name, that I was addressed as in this new life that I had acquired. I hoped what Willy had said was true. The crowd wanted a new winner. Someone else to take the spotlight.

  Someone who actually looked like a woman.

  The fights weren’t regulated but, when it came to entertainment, there were tests after tests done to make sure that Natalie was actually a woman. People didn’t want to pay big bucks to see a man and a woman fight.
They wanted exactly what they paid for.

  I must admit, when I first saw her, I’d thought that Natalie was a transsexual. But it turned out I was wrong. Her looks were just the result of bodybuilding and lifting heavy weights.

  It felt weird being called yet another name. The one that I was used to was Kayla. I had been using it when I first met Chase, and when I lost him too. I had held on to it for sentimental reasons.

  I needed to have another name for the ring, because some girls had been chased by some of the spectators for some sick private game that they would conduct behind closed doors. Some guys got a kick out of the idea of having a girl that could kick their butt in the bedroom.

  “And on the right is Natalie Nathan, the reigning champion for four years in a row.” The crowd cheered as the dark haired hulk lifted up her hands and roared with the crowd.

  I wasn’t going to let her intimidate me.

  The crowd was cheering her, thinking she would win. Probably looking at me, half the size of her, thinking it would be nice for me to win, but figuring I was far from being able.

  Never say never.

  I repeated that to myself over and over again as she gave me a deadly stare. We stood in the middle of the arena as the referee told us the rules.

  I choked as he went through the guide. It was a bit of a joke. He spoke about things that he would disqualify us for if we did.

  No kicking to the face.

  I was sure that was how Natalie had reached the semifinals; by knocking out her opponent by kicking her in the face.

  No biting.

  Well, one thing about Natalie, she didn’t need to bite.

  Shoot, she had a body and reputation that would be compromised if she tried to bite me. Biting would be seen as cheap, and no one respected any fighter who bit. The ones that did never made it to the last sixteen, let alone the quarter-finals.

  I listened to the rules, pretending that I was paying attention to everything the referee was saying. It was the same that was said when I signed up for this fight.