Rags 2 Pitches: A Secret Baby Sports Romance (13 page)

Kayla

After Hannah left, the room turned cold. I looked around in the dim lighting and hoped that this would not be the end. That my life would not end in the ring or with Hannah seeing to it that I was punished for not winning the fight.

What the fuck was I thinking?

I don’t know where I would be if it wasn’t for Willy. He’d stood by my side when the going got tough. Hannah and I had an agreement, a verbal one, that she would help me in my time of need. In return I would fight; she’d seen my skills and I’d managed to convince her that I would win the big one.

The finals.

If I did, she could keep up her lavish lifestyle and her gambling habits. I remembered one time, she got confused: “Come with me to the casino, Carolyn.”

She asked after I just got finished training at the gym. I didn’t think much of it at the time, until I went into the showers and saw that it was approaching midnight. Sometimes, I got so ahead of myself that I would stay in the gym too late, with only one thing on my mind.

Winning the next fight.

“Sure,” I said, and then she handed me a dress. It was as if Willy was my knight in shining armor, he appeared from no where and said, “Carolyn is just meant to fight and train. Nothing more.”

I stood, confused. Hannah pouted like a spoiled child, grabbed the dress and left.

“Willy, what did she want?”

He sighed as he said, “She wanted to try and sell you to one of her poker buddies in exchange for more money to play. She has been losing a lot lately.”

As if I was a whore.

A profession that I had considered as a means of survival, and one that I had turned my back on. Yet, Hannah was happy to sell me to the highest bidder without a second thought.

I knew that I could turn to Willy. He would always help me out, putting Hannah in her place. I wondered at times what the basis of their relationship was, but sometimes in this business it was better not to ask questions. Besides, with Hannah and her strange ways, the incident had taught me that Willy was someone I could trust. But as curiosity could get the best of me at times, it would cross my mind from time to time that he might be her dad.

Maybe, but then it made no sense because at times she spoke to him as if he was a lowlife, the worst person in the world. But she expected him to be around all the time. If she didn’t see him in the gym or around the apartment, she would curse him.

It was almost as if she couldn’t breathe without him. She would panic beyond belief if he was gone.

“Where the fuck is he?”

I always knew who she was referring to, but I would make a simple phone call and he would either call her or come to her side.

Didn’t he know that she couldn’t survive without him?

Maybe he was oblivious to it?

I just hoped that one day Willy would tell me. My mind was drifting, trying to think of something that didn’t concern me, just to distract myself. To make the fear go away.

***

Maybe my stubbornness and desperation had gotten the better of me and made me think that I could do it. Flashbacks of Natalie in her previous fights that I had seen, and even the ones Willy told me about, told me that I was being ambitious. But there was so much more at stake if I stayed. I could have waited until next year.

I’d been afraid that Hannah might grow bored of me by then and try to get rid of me the way she had her previous fighters; by throwing me out on the street or, even worse, killing me.

No, I had no choice. Hannah had hinted more than enough times that I was costing her more than she’d thought I would, and that my recovery times were turning into a hole in her profits that she could no longer sustain.

What she really meant was that her gambling habits were spiraling out of control. I had followed her to the casino a few times and lately she had the habit of losing rather than winning. That was what got me nervous.

She was taking her frustration out on me in every way she could.

I had made this choice because there wasn’t any other to make.

As I took a deep breath and turned off the light, I remembered the reason I came here tonight. The reason that I had said that I could do this.

I didn’t want to leave the room until I’d done the one thing that I felt the desire to do so badly: pray.

I used to find comfort going to church when I first ran away from Stanford. Going there weekly used to help me deal with what was going on with my dad. The police offer, who served the public and was sworn to protect them. But behind closed doors it had been a completely different story. He didn’t protect us - no, he took out his frustrations on us.

He’d lost his partner after a bust went wrong, and that was when he’d started to drink. It wasn’t obvious at first. He would order a couple of shots at dinner when we went to a restaurant. We didn’t know that he had been hiding a bottle in every part of the house.

When we found out, it was too late.

His frustration had turned into anger.

That anger was taken out on Mom and I.

As I kneeled on the cold, wooden floor, I started to pray.

Dear Lord,

In my heart I pray, but I know that you have not heard from me in a while. It’s because I’m ashamed. You know of what we did. I was only a kid, Lord, and I hope that you can forgive me.

I learned in church, when I used to go to Sunday school, that you’re a compassionate God. A loving one.

You must have forgiven me, because I’m still alive tonight. Well, for now, anyway.

I just need the strength Lord. The strength to do all that I planned with my life. But, the problem is I just seem to keep making mistakes.

I had to stop. I was crying uncontrollably. My hands were shaking and I felt bad, and really sad for asking for something that I didn’t deserve. I was telling him upstairs that it didn’t matter what I did. Just give me the strength to beat the shit out of another human being.

I started to get confused about my path. It felt so simple when I was young and naive and thought that the world was one big rainbow - until my dad smacked me for forgetting to turn the tap off, even though I hadn’t even visited the bathroom that afternoon when I’d come home from school.

The smack had turned into a punch when I didn’t eat all my food at dinner.

Mom had decided to take me out after school. We’d already been to McDonald’s that night. But when he came home and saw that he was eating alone, he was pissed. He made Mom dish some food out for us. I struggled to finish my plate. I was only ten and didn’t have a great appetite. Most of my friends were eating full meals. I still got full just eating a Happy Meal.

Thinking about the past, about what I had done, and what the heck was going to happen tonight, I was all messed up. I took another deep breath. Everyone deserved a second chance. Everyone.

Including me.

I’d had a rough start in life and it’d got easy for a while when Mom remarried. Even though she wasn't officially divorced. Yet, I was back in that corner. The live-or-die situation once again.

I was only twenty-one, but my body had experienced tons of bruises, cuts, and pain. Most people live until fifty and never experience what I had gone through.

Part of me felt as if there wasn’t really a God.

Would he really let me suffer the way that I had?

Would he not show compassion and give me that second chance?

Everyone deserved a second chance. Including me.

Sorry, Lord, I lost my way. Please forgive me and give me the strength to beat her. To do the right thing for once in my life. I know what I have to do.

I need to win, Lord. You know I do.

Because everyone deserves a second chance.

Everyone.

You are a compassionate God, a forgiving God.

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 laughed 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.