Chapter Fifteen
Kya
I showed up at the boxing gym early the next morning. I knew it was pushing too hard, but I hoped the coffee and donuts would soften my ambush. If previous mornings were a good indication, Fenton should have still been asleep in the back room.
"Left me a note, rented a private gym. Sorry, miss, that's all I can tell you," the owner of the gym said.
I drummed my fingers on the notched wooden bar he used as a check in desk. "A private gym? Are there a lot of those in Vegas? Which one?"
"It wouldn't be very private if I knew, now would it?"
There was something strange about the way the gym owner's eyes shifted over my head and swept along the front windows. He seemed nervous, as if he expected a bolt of lightning to strike him, even though the sun was shining.
"Why did Mr. Morris switch gyms? Did something happen?" I asked.
"No, nothing happened. Fighters are like that. Maybe he thought there was bad mojo here or something," the nervous man said.
If that was Fenton's reason, I was starting to agree with him. The gym owner made me nervous and I left quickly. Maybe the man just did not want to talk to me because I was the reason Fenton was acting erratic. I hadn’t exactly been calm and predictable myself.
The only constant was my terrible attempts to sign him to the endorsement deal. No matter what I did, I could not separate the inevitable pleasure of his company with the contract I wanted, no, needed him to sign. My behavior was unfair to him as a client and as a date. Date? No, Fenton was more than a casual date. Those were not casual kisses we had exchanged on the couch.
I blushed, thinking about how easily I had thrown aside our business, the entire point of the evening, and let myself get carried away by how he made me feel. Melting and open, electric and consumed, Fenton's mouth on mine had kindled a response from my body that I could not control.
He must have felt as overwhelmed as I did because he was the one that suddenly broke away. His face was a storm cloud, all the friction between us charging him up, despite the fact he had refused my offer. He did not have to refuse. He could have stayed. That confused expression as he left made my heart soar; there had to be more between us.
Maybe that was why out of all the casinos in Vegas, he chose the Tropicana. I got out of the cab to hear a commotion in the main lobby. Fenton was leading a massive entourage through the casino to one of the bars. Did he hope that I would see him, join him?
I pushed my way into the throng and felt a thrill when his laser blue eyes caught sight of me. He turned away and continued berating a reporter and trash talking Mario Peretti.
"Like I said, it was a lucky punch. I hear he wasn't so lucky at his fight last night. No consistency," Fenton said.
"And, you'd say you're a consistent fighter?" the reporter asked.
"Yes. One misstep doesn't change my record." Fenton glanced over me again and then threw his arm around a ripe redhead. "Maybe you should go and do a little research before asking any more questions. I don't have time for you to try out headlines on me without any real substance." He used his free hand to shove the reporter away and strutted off with the redhead plastered against his side.
I ignored the desire to storm away and sulk. Instead, I followed the crowd into the bar and pushed my way to the tight circle around Fenton again.
"You really are a glutton for punishment, eh?" Kev Casey said. Fenton's manager snaked an arm around my waist.
I did not struggle even as my stomach clenched. Kev was repellant, but he guided me right next to Fenton. I went so far as to put my hand over Kev's shoulder and delighted in Fenton's immediate frown.
"Now, don't look like that, Fenton," Kev said. "We need her. Now that you've gone full diva on me and rented a private gym, it might be time for you to consider Ms. Allen's deal a little more seriously."
Fenton released the redhead though she clung to his arm. "Ms. Allen has never managed to fully articulate her pitch."
"We can go over the contract any time you like," I said. "You know where my suite is when you're ready."
"I'm ready," Kev said. "How about we head up to her suite and make it a private party?"
The redhead nodded and tried to slip under Fenton's arm again. He unpeeled her and crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't need her or her fancy suite."
"Then, how exactly do you plan to pay for that private gym?" Kev asked.
"It just so happens I met two other endorsement agents today. I thought you might like them, too," Fenton said. He waved to a tall, striking woman with straight brown hair and her curly haired, curvy friend.
"Bethany Smith and Alice Meadows," I said.
"Oh, you know them?" Fenton asked. His smile was wicked as beckoned the two women over.
"They work exclusively for a big time shoe company. Shoes that you don't, or would ever, wear. They're for basketball," I said.
"What's wrong with that? If they're willing to pay me, I can wear them outside of the ring," Fenton said.
I swiped my hair back. "I warned you about the bigger brand names. They have tricky contracts that can drop you for any little thing. Like getting kicked out of your hotel suite," I said.
"Well, let's just say I like their approach better so far," Fenton said. "No mix-ups or mixed messages."
"Is that what you think?"
Fenton gave me a deeper look, but the two women joined us and pulled his attention away. "We heard you like tequila, Mr. Morris, so we took the liberty of ordering a bottle. The good stuff, no need for body shots unless that's what you're in the mood for," Bethany said.
"Hello, Kya. I almost didn't recognize you out of linen button-ups and off the tennis court. Must feel kind of strange," Alice said.
"What's strange is a company that makes basketball shoes looking for an MMA fighter to endorse their product," I countered.
"We make shoes for everyone. Everyone needs shoes," Bethany said. "Not everyone needs vitamin supplements, do they Mr. Morris? Do you take vitamins?" She squeezed his bicep and batted her eyelashes.
"Speaking of shoes," Alice continued. "Our company made a pair especially for you. Completely original, custom designed. Come try them on."
They led Fenton to a V.I.P. booth. Waiters cleared away the small table so they could make a big scene of revealing his custom shoes. Alice knelt to help slip them on, her generous cleavage attracting more attention. Bethany poured him a glass of tequila and held it to his lips.
I waited until he stood up and roped his arms over the two women. They started off on a lap around the bar to try out his new shoes. I deliberately crossed their path and pretended not to realize I was in the way. When Fenton cleared his throat I made sure to hold eye contact as long as I could.
"Not really your style," I said.
He glanced down at the shoes and then back up at me. "Who cares?" Both he and my rival agents laughed.
Fenton finally broke away from the other agents and mingled with fans. I endured the awkward attentions of a young Mixed Martial Arts fan as he waited for an autograph.
"I love how he just does what he wants. That's like me, you know?" the ruddy young man said.
"I can imagine," I said.
He launched into a story about standing up to his manager at the restaurant where he worked. I nodded and kept him jostling closer to Fenton. When it was almost my young hopeful's turn, a rotund man jumped in front of him. We were both surprised by the man's grace.
"Ling Pho Lounge, tonight," he said to Fenton.
Fenton nodded. He signed my young friend's cocktail napkin and turned away without even looking at me. I had to recapture Fenton's attention. He circled back through the bar and settled into the booth with Bethany and Alice again.
If I could not get Fenton to look at me, at least I could get him to notice who I was with. I scanned the bar for the man most likely to make Fenton jealous. At the bar stood a tall man in black pants and a tight black t-shirt. He was passable handsome with short, cropped brown hair and a semi-vacant look. He nodded at whatever his friend in the suit was saying. I decided to introduce myself.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I squeeze in here? I've been trying to get a drink, but it’s so crowded," I said. I smiled up at the man in the black t-shirt.
The man in the suit looked me up and down with narrowed eyes and a slow smile. "Buy her a drink or I will."
"No, please, I don't want to interrupt," I said.
"I'd like to," the tall man said. He sounded as if he did not talk much. "He's always going on about work."
The man in the suit flicked a quick look at the bartender and my drink appeared in seconds. The man in the black t-shirt scooped it up for me. I realized he had nice brown eyes, sort of sad, too soft for the hard muscles and sharp angles of the rest of him.
"Thanks," I said and meant it.
His smile never had a chance to appear. Fenton was in his face the moment we stepped away from the bar together. Though he was taller and just as hard-bodied, the man in black took one small step back.
"She's with me," Fenton said.
"Didn't seem like it to me," my companion argued.
"Or me, either," I said.
"Kya, I need you to come with me now," Fenton said. He reached out a hand without taking his eyes off the taller man.
"I'm sorry," I said to the brown-eyed man. "I have no idea what his problem is."
He looked down at me and I saw the flash of sadness there again. "I do and it’s only going to get worse."
"Not before I do some serious damage to you and your friend over there. Now, turn around and leave," Fenton said.
He stood with his shoulders thrown back, his arms raised away from his body, fists coiled, but not yet clenched. Fenton was a step away from fighting the other man and I had to stop it.
"Excuse us, please," I said. I grabbed Fenton's arm, but he did not budge.
"You're leaving. Both of you. Now," he said.
The tall man shrugged his shoulders and looked over at the man in the suit. The narrow-eyed man finished his drink and nodded. They both headed toward the exit.
As soon as they were gone, Fenton dragged me into the back hallway of the bar. He was breathing heavily, muscles still coiled.
"I'm sorry. I just didn't want to see you get taken in by those other agents. I had to do something," I said.
"This was about work?" he asked. His voice exploded in the small hallway. "You were trying to get my attention to pitch your contract? With that man?"
"What was so wrong with that man?" I asked. "He was a perfect gentleman. I didn't see him running around signing women's breasts and trash talking every male in his vicinity."
"Get it through your head, Ms. Allen," he said. "I'm never going to be the buttoned-up client you are hoping for. You're not really interested in me, and I'm done with you."