“Tate, that was some fight my girl!” Tate’s father Nick cheers with amusement as he pushes his way through the room.
Tate lights up, and I can’t help but smile for her. “I knew you had it in you kid. Look, your sister wasn’t feeling so well so she’s outside in the car but I wanted to come tell you how proud I am.” He gives her chin a love tap with his hand. “You got that south paw from your old man.”
Her eyes fill with tears, and I want so bad to comfort her but I don’t. I let her have her moment.
“We should get going,” Debs states after Nick leaves the room.
“Yeah, lets go. I’m exhausted,” Tate mutters, grabbing her gym bag.
“Let me get that,” I insist, grabbing her bag, because Debs is fucking worthless when it comes to compassion.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Tate
Standing in front of the hotel window I stare out at the night with a bed sheet wrapped tightly around my body. The city continues to move and live even at the late hour. A couple crosses the highway, holding each other’s hands as they race and laugh across the busy streets. I smirk, wondering what is going on their lives. What secrets they’re holding, what problems they’re trying to overcome. Maybe they have none. Maybe they’re completely happy and stupid.
I press my sore hand against the cold glass, the heat from my palm fogging the window.
My heart is telling me not to take the fight, but my head is telling me to take it. My parents’ house comes into mind and my heart aches. This is my only chance at keeping the house. Even if I lose, it’ll be enough to help. My whole life I’ve been told how I need to act like a lady, and girls don’t fight.
I can’t give up now, not when I have a lot more motherfuckers to prove wrong.
She said I can’t tell Camden.
I roll my eyes, I know that’ll never work. Once I get the money he’ll ask how I got it, and I can’t lie to him again. Lies breed more lies.
My head falls, unsure of what to do. If I tell him about the fight, he won’t let me do it. He’ll tell me it’s too dangerous, or unprofessional. I wonder if this was like the fight he was in when he was stabbed.
Warm arms wrap around my waist, startling me.
“I can hear you thinking, why aren’t you sleeping? Are you hurting?” His voice husky and tickling my ear I can tell he wants me.
I turn in his hold, and cup his face with my hands, the sheets still around my body.
“I’m a little sore, but I just can’t sleep in hotels.” I don’t completely lie.
He kisses my nose. “Come on, let’s get back to bed, we have an early flight back home.”
Climbing into bed with him, I lay on his chest like he likes. He quickly falls asleep, and I grab my phone off the end table and find Debs’ contact info. My fingers hesitating over the keys for just a second before finally typing:
I’m in.
If anyone can do this, why not me?
Chapter Twenty-Six
Tate
Looking over the NDA my head spins. Party A, and provisions all sounding the same.
“Do I get a copy of this?” I ask, thumbing the pages that seem to go on forever.
“Yes.” Debs huffs giving me more papers to read and sign. “Just make sure you keep it in a vault or locked up. Silvia is not joking around when it comes to disclosure.”
Sitting back in the gym’s chair I exhale looking over the papers again.
“This seems sketchy, illegal even. Does the MFC know about it?” I look up at Debs who is biting her nails.
“I don’t know, who cares. It gets you to the top and us rich,” she quips.
I hate her outlook. There is more to the game than getting rich.
“What about respect?” I ask.
She eyes me like I’m crazy, and that’s how I know we are of a different breed. After this fight, I think I need to find another coach.
The doors to the gym open, blowing posters along the wall everywhere.
Someone’s here.
Quickly I push my copy of the NDA and rules in my gym bag and stand.
“When is the fight?” I whisper, my body temperature rising that we might get caught talking about it.
“Three weeks. We’ll catch a flight to Nashville, TN.”
“Three weeks! That is not enough time for me to heal in between fights.” I can’t help but raise my voice. Debs glances out the office door, noticing Cate sorting her vegetables for her morning smoothie. Debs shuts the door and arches a brow.
“Look, I know just about as much as you do. Luckily for you you’re not too banged up so three weeks should be fine. My guess is they make it quick between signing the NDA and the fight so you don’t over think it and back out, and less time for you to open your mouth,” she informs, her hand still on the office door.
I rub at my forehead anxiously. Why am I not backing out of this? So many red flags are waving, but for some reason it’s not enough for me to back out.