Chapter Twenty-Seven
Fenton
I woke up to my head pounding and my phone ringing. Kya's bedroom door was shut. I would have slammed mine if I could stand the sound. Instead, I answered my phone.
"It’s me," my sister said.
"Where are you? I thought you were going to stay here?" I rolled over and blinked at the clock. "You're up early. I thought you would sleep in after your shift."
"Kinda hard to sleep in at my place," Dana Maria said.
I sat up and rubbed a hand over my eyes. "Are you still in your car? That's why you were supposed to be staying here. You can't keep doing that, Sis."
"It’s the best way to save money. And stop giving me advice, Fenton. I've seen your life and I gotta say, I think it’s a bigger mess than mine."
"That's not fair. You've only seen me a few times. Maybe Vegas isn't bringing out the best in me," I said.
"Don't blame the town, Fen. And remember, you can't fight everything and everyone," Dana Maria said.
"Yeah? And who should be the first for me to kiss and make up with?" I thought about our father and how he was never friends with anyone.
"I saw your picture. Maybe you should start with that girl of yours. She was ready to fight for you. You should return the favor. Anyway, I was just calling to let you know I'm alright. I'll see you around, Fen." She hung up the phone.
I could not bear to face the bright sunlight of the white decor living room. Still holding my phone, I flopped back in bed to check the damage. The photograph was everywhere. It was great publicity for me despite the probation. It was even great publicity for the golfer; he looked like the hero good guy. I wanted to spit on him. The only thing that stopped me was Kya.
If Kya had been the untouchable good girl, the Country Club Princess, before, she was done now. All the headlines and captions lambasted her. All the articles talked about her going wild, letting loose, and, my personal favorite, tarnishing her halo. She was in my territory now.
I would have felt bad for her, if I did not remember catching her with the golfer just outside my bedroom door kissing on the couch over glasses of champagne. The surge of anger burned off some of my hangover. I got out of bed and marched to her door. What would I say?
I turned and went to the kitchen to make a hangover cure. I was just choking it down when I noticed the folder and note on the counter:
I had to tell you about the offer. It is too good to pass up. I understand you want to do everything on your own and that makes sense to me. I'm the same way. That's why I am pursuing other athletes. Now there's no pressure, I'm not depending on you. Make this decision for yourself. – Kya
I opened the folder. She was right; the deal was very generous. The contract was for a surprisingly long period. It would set me up for long enough to get settled. It would help me survive the ups and downs of my MMA career.
I tore the contract to shreds.
Kya hadn’t mentioned anything about us. She had not explained why I caught her kissing Jackson McRay on the sofa. She had very carefully kept work and personal life separated. I should have respected that. It seemed the more I tried to maintain that separation, the worse my life got.
"Don't have a hangover, do you? Because I'm going to make you drink that egg thing that Aldous always cooks up." Kev let himself into the suite and joined me in the kitchen. "Jesus, what does that little scrap of paper say? Is that a new offer?"
"I'm not taking it."
Kev leaned on the kitchen counter. "You didn't think I would reach that conclusion on my own? What's with the shredding?"
"I just don't want any more distractions. I need to focus on defeating Maxwell Lewis," I said.
"Oh, right. So it has nothing to do with Kya Allen," Kev said. "I thought you two were becoming a thing."
"She's only interested in me as a client." I pointed to the scraps of contract and the note.
Kev read the note and shook his head at me. "You realize she was only doing the right thing. She owed it to you and to her clients to pass along the new offer. Takes integrity to do that even if it jeopardizes her personal interests. I mean, I guess. That's what I hear about integrity, anyway."
I chucked Kev in the shoulder and he complained about the bruise all the way down to the waiting cab. He distracted me with his normal litany of near-conquests and sexual fantasies. I had to smile. It was impossible to brood when Kev Casey was around. The ride was quick and by the time we met Aldous at the gym, I was ready to focus.
"Go team!" Kev said. He peeled off to chat with a pair of female boxers.
I started the circuits that Aldous timed. He had obviously seen the photograph, too, but my coach did not say a word. He would not say a word unless I brought it up. I worked harder. I would not be in Las Vegas training for the title fight without my manager and my coach. No matter how much I wanted to be a lone wolf, I was part of a team.
I had not realized it before. Kev and Aldous were more than team members. Despite Kev's disgusting conversational skills and Aldous' habit of preaching, they were my friends and family. I had never struggled to separate our personal relationships from business. We all lived what we did.
Kya was the same.
There was no reason to keep her out of my life. She fit perfectly. All I had to do was show her I was better than some Polo shirt wearing golfer. I trained hard, burning off all the other distractions. I was going to win my next fight.
I meant to go straight back to the suite and stay out of trouble, but suddenly, I was striding through the casino. I saw Jackson McRay in his light blue Polo shirt. He leaned against a video poker machine and toyed with Kya's copper curls. She pulled back and smoothed her hair down, but then she smiled at him. I had to do something. I would not cause a scene, but I would get Kya's attention.
"Oooh, Fenton Morris. I've been dying to meet you!" The voice came through a strong white light.
I blinked and discovered a camera crew surrounding me. Actually, they surrounded a leggy blonde in a short blue dress. I recognized her from all the headline websites that had featured my photograph.
"Whoa, wait. I'm not reality show material," I said.
"Oh, forget about the cameras. I'm Sienna." She pressed against me and giggled.
I had to appreciate the firm curves of her body and her blatant exploitation of my appearance in the casino. Sienna was only skin-deep and easy to figure out. I wrapped an arm around her waist and pretended the cameras were not there.
"You look like you could be a good lucky charm," I said.
"Want me to blow on some dice for you?" Sienna asked.
I laughed loudly and paraded the reality show blonde farther into the casino. Kya looked up from her video poker machine. Despite the outpouring of her winnings, she frowned at me. It was not what I intended, but it certainly had grabbed her attention. She was not the only one that could pursue other angles.
Over Sienna's wriggles and giggles, I watched Kya brush off Jackson McRay. He looked ready to punch someone until a horde of short-skirted fans surrounded him. Kya disappeared from the casino. I suffered another half an hour of Sienna draped over me and vamping for the cameras. Then, I unhooked her arms from my neck and headed upstairs.
The bright white decor of the luxury suite was lit only by the fireplace. Outside the wide windows all of Las Vegas sparkled. Kya's door was shut tight. I wanted to knock on it, but instead, I stood in front of the view. Las Vegas surprised me. I loved it. Minutes from the neon and faux explosion of the Strip was the desert. And, in between all the tourists and vacation facades, there were real people working hard. For one moment, I was content. I could stay put. The suite was silent and comfortable, Kya was in the other room safe and sound, and I felt good.
Instead of waking her up and ruining everything with words, I went to my room. There in the middle of the bed, was a stuffed black cat toy with a red ribbon around its neck. Kya had scribbled a quick note:
Saw your tattoo and thought you might like this. Who says black cats are unlucky? You don't need luck; we all know you're going to win. – Kya
I tucked the black cat under my arm. The black cat tattoo was entwined in the skin art all over my back, bits and pieces from my life. Somehow, Kya knew the cat meant more to me than my first motorcycle, the first cash I won fighting, or my first pair of boxing gloves. She had seen straight through all the skulls and roses, the stone angel and guns and picked out the one thing that summed up my entire childhood.
My mother's sweet black cat, Lucy. That cat lay on her bed, purred, and kept her warm, until she passed away.
"Don't believe what people say about black cats, Fenton," my mother had said. "Luck isn't real, good or bad. It's all up to you."
I carried Kya's gift with me to the fight the next day.
"A mascot, I like it," Kev said. "Let's bring the black cat to the ring, let it get in Maxwell Lewis' head."
I smiled. "Go team."
There was a commotion outside the locker room. Kev yelled at someone outside the door. "No one's coming in. No one!"
"Who was it?" I asked.
"Not Kya Allen, if that's what's got you worried," Kev said. "She told me she's watching it on the big screen in the casino."
I jumped up and down and tried to stay focused.
Kev continued. "I just figured you didn't want a whole reality show swarming around before you head out to the ring."
"Sienna?" I asked.
"Yup. Said she'll catch up with you after the fight. Just let me know if you want me to take her off your hands."
Kev then launched into an entire storyline of what he would do with Sienna and how the cameras would have to stop rolling almost immediately. I welcomed his normal drone and got myself pumped up for the fight.
"You ready for this? You're ready for this," Aldous said.
"I am. And when this one's done, let’s sign that endorsement deal. It’s time to take things to the next level," I said.