Defying the Odds (15 page)

“I quit,” he told Rick simply. “As soon as I’m done with my contract, I’m retiring.”

Rick let out a nervous laugh and patted Clay’s bicep once more. “You’re just uneasy. It’s prefight nerves.”

“I’m not nervous,” Clay assured him. “
Either I
win or I lose; I don’t really give a shit. I’m done, Rick. I’m not fighting anymore. I’ve been on the circuit half my life. I’m done with the circus.”

“We’ll talk after the fight.” Rick balled up his fist, doing a fake jab and dodge. He lifted his leg, kicking at Clay’s bare shin with his fancy shoes. “You got ’
em
, right, Powerhouse?”

He shook his head in
reaction,
feeling like Rick had just spit on a sport that had been a lifestyle and an art form to Clay since he was a kid. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m getting you pumped.”
Another fake punch, this time tapping Clay’s jaw.

Clay turned and headed for his bedroom, knowing he was about to say or do something he might
not
regret. Didn’t these assholes have their own rooms? Why
were they all
camped out in Clay’s suite?

Clay paused at the open door to the bedroom, hearing Wyatt talking in a low voice.

“I’m telling
ya
, I’m reviewing the video now.
Wellings
is on his game;
ain’t
no
way of denying it. The octagon’s fresh for him. He got a first-round knockout two weeks ago. Clay’s been underground for months. He’s not hungry like
Wellings
. We’re in trouble.”

Clay frowned, his pride prickling. He couldn’t give a shit about everyone else, but Wyatt losing faith in him hit pretty low below the belt.

“I
dunno
.” Wyatt sighed, jerking Clay back into the conversation. “If he can get him to the mat, he’s got a chance. This guy is sprawl and brawl all the way. Clay’s taken down plenty of ’
em
before, but his head’s not in the fight. I don’t think he gives a shit. There’s no fucking drive; he’s been training on instinct since—”

Wyatt huffed, making it obvious he’d been interrupted, and then sounded exasperated as he barked, “What the hell am I supposed to do ’bout it, Jules? Don’t
ya
think I’m the last guy in the world who should be coaching him on love? I
ain’t
exactly succeeded at it. Why can’t you do something ’bout it? Aren’t you naturally supposed to know how to fix this shit due to the parts God gave you?”

There was a long pause before Wyatt groaned. “Christ, please don’t start. Okay, fine, you’re right, women’s liberation, blah, blah, blah. Can’t you just, I
dunno
, lie or something. Tell him his girl’s changed his mind, get him through the fight and—”

Clay chose right then to walk in. If he listened to any more, he was going to break Wyatt’s nose a second time, and he’d rather not. He’d felt sort of guilty about it the last time. He looked to Wyatt, who still had the green-tinged bruising from the injury across the bridge of his nose and darkened smudges beneath both eyes.

Wyatt winced as he looked up at Clay. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Clay scowled. “I
ain’t
gonna
get crushed by a cocky bastard like
Wellings
, so you can stop crying on the phone to Jules and getting her worked up.”

“You
wanna
talk to her?” Wyatt held out the phone with a hopeful look on his face.

“Nah.”
Clay didn’t want to talk to anyone. He wanted to lie down and take a power nap before the weigh-in. “I’m closing my eyes.”

Clay walked to the bed and fell
facedown
on the comforter. He hated everything about where he was at that moment. It was almost hard to believe he used to live and breathe to fight. It hadn’t been about the money, though the money was nice. It was about the art of battle and the wild rush of adrenaline that came from being in that cage with nothing but skill, strength, and endurance to help him be victorious. Now it was about getting it over with. Fighting had lost its thrill, and that was a pretty damn good indication it was time to retire.

“I ordered a massage.”

“Don’t want it,” Clay mumbled into the comforter. “Cancel it.”

“You’re tense. It’s obvious.”

“Then order me a blowjob.”

“Are you serious?” Wyatt asked as if considering it. “’Cause I’m sure that can be arranged. You wouldn’t even have to pay for it; there’s a whole shitload of groupies who—”

“Fuck off, Conner.” Clay reached up and grabbed a pillow. His feet hung off the bed, but he didn’t care. “How am I supposed to nap with
ya
yapping at me?”

“Aren’t you
gonna
talk to Jules?”

“Nope,” Clay said simply, wondering why everything needed to be told twice to Wyatt. “Tell her I’ll see her tomorrow.”

“She’ll be running late. You probably won’t see her till after the fight.”

“So I’ll see her after the fight.”

Wyatt was quiet for a long moment before he whispered into the silence of the room. “I do have a lot riding on this fight, you know? Both of us do.”

Clay huffed in defeat and held out his hand blindly, knowing that was Wyatt’s warning that he was about to get sentimental. When Wyatt put the phone in his open palm, he brought it to his ear. “I
ain’t
gonna
get killed, and I’m
sorta
insulted you’re
believing
it.”

“I don’t believe it,” Jules said, sounding honest. “I just
wanna
make sure your head’s in the fight.”

“It’s not,” he replied because lying wasn’t one of his strong suits. “But I’m sure I’ll hold my own anyhow. I’ll see you tomorrow after the fight.”

“Fine,” Jules grumbled, sounding nervous and exasperated. “And I don’t
wanna
see you all dented and damaged neither. I
wanna
see you in good condition.”

“Fine,” Clay agreed and then added, “Bye, Jules. I love you.”

Jules paused for a long moment before she whispered, “I love you too, Clay. You’re the last family we got. You’ll remember it, right? That little waitress
ain’t
the only one worth surviving for, okay?”

“Okay.” Clay felt a little warmth seep back into his heart. A thread of life tunneled through the pain. He might be surrounded by leeches
who
used him as a big, mean paycheck, but there were still two people in the world who saw more than dollar signs when they looked at him. “I got it handled. I’ll live to scowl another day.”

Jules laughed. “You better.”

When Clay hung up, he tossed the phone aside and then tilted his head to glance at Wyatt, who stood there looking worried. He winced as he studied Wyatt’s bruised face. He was a yapping, pushy pain in the ass, but he was still Clay’s best friend and he loved Wyatt like a brother.

“I’m sorry ’bout your nose.”

Wyatt raised surprised eyebrows. That was the first injury Clay had ever apologized for, and there had been
many
. “Are
ya
getting soft on me, Powers?”

“I
dunno
.” Clay closed his eyes, remembering Melody naked and sprawled out on her bed wearing nothing but Christmas lights. He found himself missing her with every fiber of his being.
“Maybe.”

“That
ain’t
good.” Wyatt sighed. “That
ain’t
good at all.”

* * * *

The lunch rush was busier than usual. Melody figured it was Christmas being around the corner. People were starting to panic over their shopping and spending all day out and about. Eating at Hal’s was quicker and easier than eating at home.

“You sure you got my shift on Christmas Eve?” Mary asked her in concern. “It’s just that my mama always does a big thing and—”

“I got it,” Melody assured her as she waited for her tickets to come up. “I wanted to work. I need the money.”

“You’ve been working doubles every day,” Mary said with a look of disbelief. “You can’t be needing money
that
bad. I feel terrible ’bout Christmas Eve.”

“Don’t feel terrible. It’s good.
Works out better for me.”
Melody turned to look under the register for the spare box of straws. She grabbed a handful and stuffed them in her apron. “Besides I’d just be sitting in my living room all by my lonesome otherwise.”

“You could spend it with Powerhouse over at the
Conners
. The three of them are a sad bunch on the holidays. Not a one of ’
em
seems to know what to do. None of ’
em
had a mama round growing up and it sure shows—Oh hey, Jules!”

“Hey.”

Melody peeked past the register from her crouched position on the floor to see Jules leaning against the counter. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a sensible ponytail today. She had a big pair of designer eyeglasses pushed up on her head. She wore an expensive-looking black business suit beneath her
peacoat
that was cut and tailored to her long, lithely muscular body. One eyebrow was arched at Mary, light eyes narrowed in an intense lawyer glare Melody found more than a little alarming. Between the two Conner siblings, Jules was definitely the more intimidating.

“I was
sorta
hoping you didn’t hear all that,” Mary said with a wince.

“If wishes were fishes,” Jules said with a sad shake of her head. “Don’t worry ’bout it. You got it spot-on; holidays
ain’t
our thing.”

“I thought you’d be at the fight,” Mary said, a blush of embarrassment staining her cheeks. “You’re always there.”

“I’m heading out now. I just had a few cases to wrap up, stuff that couldn’t wait.” Jules leaned past the counter, looking down at Melody. “You got a minute?”

“Um,” Melody started, knowing she was hiding from Jules, who wasn’t just one of Clay’s best friends but also had a pretty, pressed, extremely intelligent air that left her feeling uncomfortable.

“Melody, you’re up.”

Saved by the bell!

Melody jumped up and turned to the window as Hal put plates on the metallic deck. She grabbed them, doing a precarious balancing act, lining the hot plates up her arms. She ignored both the burn and Jules as she walked around the counter.

“It’ll only take a minute,” Jules called out. “I’ll wait.”

Melody got the message. Jules planned on standing there until Melody listened to what she had to say. She wasn’t thrilled with that, but she was a little too busy to worry on it too much. She delivered the food to table four, then refilled the drinks at table six, and bused table five when they left. She was on her way to greeting new arrivals when Jules grabbed her arm, her grip firm, her small, manicured fingernails brushing against the bare skin on Melody’s bicep.

“I
gotta
catch a plane,” Jules told her, making it obvious she wasn’t taking no for an answer. “And I just need a moment.”

Melody heaved a sigh, looking to her tables and the new people waiting to be seated. Then she glanced at Mary, who was walking around the counter with plates in both hands. She gave the other waitress a look of consummate pleading. “Mary.”

“I got it. Take a ten-minute break. This is probably as slow as it’s
gonna
get,” Mary said with a smile, turning to the family waiting. “Help yourselves to a booth by the windows. I’ll be there to get your drink orders in just a sec.”

Knowing this was her only chance, Melody followed Jules out of the dining room to a quiet corner in the hallway that led to the bathrooms. Melody leaned against the wall, the lull in work causing the exhaustion to slam into her. She blinked heavy-lidded eyes, trying to hide her desperation for sleep because she knew Jules would likely report back to Clay. She didn’t want him worrying about her, especially when he had other things he needed to stay focused on.

It was amazing how heavy her body felt with fatigue. The stress of trying to save up enough money to leave Garnet before Justin found her took its toll. She was fighting a six-day-long tension headache and an ache in her back that came from constantly being edgy and on guard. Resisting the need to slide down the wall and quit fighting, Melody just waited quietly for Jules, who was digging in her purse.