CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Slow Death
SHEPLEY SAT BESIDE ME ON A BENCH IN A SMALL BUT well-lit room. It was the first time I wouldn’t walk out into a basement for a staged fight. The audience would consist of the shadow people of Vegas: locals, mobsters, drug dealers, and their arm candy. The crowd outside was a dark army, exponentially louder, and far more thirsty for blood. I would be surrounded by a cage instead of people.
“I still don’t think you should do this,” America said from the other side of the room.
“Not now, baby,” Shepley said. He was helping me wrap tape around my hands.
“Are you nervous?” she asked, uncharacteristically quiet.
“No. I’d be better if Pidge was here, though. Have you heard from her?”
“I’ll text her. She’ll be here.”
“Did she love him?” I asked, wondering what their dinner conversation consisted of. He was obviously no preacher man now, and I wasn’t sure what he expected in return for his favor.
“No,” America said. “She never said so, anyway. They grew up together, Travis. He was the only person she could count on for a long time.”
I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. “Did she text you back yet?”
“Hey,” Shepley said, smacking my cheek. “Hey! You have Brock McMann waiting for you. Your head needs to be in this one hundred percent. Quit being a p-ssy and focus!”
I nodded, trying to remember the few times I’d seen Brock fight. He’d been banned from the UFC for sucker punches and a rumor that he’d accosted the UFC president. It had been a while, but he was a notoriously dirty fighter and pulled blatantly illegal shit just out of sight of the ref. The key would be to not get in that position. If he locked his legs around me, it could go downhill pretty fast.
“You’re gonna play this safe, Trav. Let him attack first. Kind of the same way you fought the night you were trying to win your bet with Abby. You’re not fighting some varsity wrestling reject. This isn’t the Circle, and you’re not trying to create a show for the crowd.”
“The hell if I’m not.”
“You’ve gotta win, Travis. You’re fighting for Abby, don’t forget that.”
I nodded. Shepley was right. If I lost, Benny wouldn’t get his money, and Abby would still be in danger.
A tall, large man in a suit and greasy hair walked in. “You’re up. Your trainer can join you on the outside of the cage, but the girls . . . where’s the other girl?”
A lined formed between my eyebrows. “She’s coming.”
“. . . they have reserved seats on the end of the second row on your corner.”
Shepley turned back to America. “I’ll walk you there.” He looked to the suit. “Nobody touches her. I will f*cking kill the first person that does.”
The suit offered a ghost of a smile. “Benny already said no distractions. We’ll have eyes on her at all times.”
Shepley nodded, and then held out his hand for America. She took it, and they quietly followed me through the door.
The announcers amplified voice echoed through huge speakers placed at each corner of the vast room. It looked like a small concert hall, easily seating a thousand people, and they were all on their feet, either cheering or eyeing me suspiciously as I walked out.
The gate to the cage opened, and I stepped inside.
Shepley watched the suit seat America, and once he was satisfied that she was okay, turned to me. “Remember: play it smart. Let him attack first, and the goal is to win for Abby.”
I nodded.
Seconds later, music blared from the speakers, and both the motion and volume from the stands exploded into a frenzy. Brock McMann emerged from a hallway as a spotlight in the rafters illuminated the severe expression on his face. He had an entourage that kept the spectators at bay while he bounced up and down to stay loose. I figured he’d probably been training for this fight for weeks if not months.
That was okay. I’d been beat up by my brothers my whole life. I’d had plenty of training.
I turned to check in with America. She shrugged, and I frowned. The biggest fight of my life was minutes away, and Abby wasn’t there. Just when I turned to watch Brock enter the cage, I heard Shepley’s voice.
“Travis! Travis! She’s here!”
I turned, desperately searching for Abby, to see her running down the steps at full speed. She stopped just short of the cage, slamming her hands into the chain-link to stop herself.
“I’m here! I’m here,” she breathed.
We kissed through the space between the fence, and she held my face in her hands with the few fingers she could fit through. “I love you.” She shook her head. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”
I smiled. “Yeah, I do.”
“Let’s do this, Romeo. I don’t have all night,” Brock called from the other side.
I didn’t turn around, but Abby glanced over my shoulder. When she caught sight of Brock, her cheeks flushed with anger, and her expression turned cold. Less than a second later, her eyes returned to mine, warming again. She smiled an impish grin.
“Teach that a*shole some manners.”
I winked at her and smiled. “Anything for you, baby.”
Brock met me in the center of the ring, toe to toe.
“Be smart!” Shepley yelled.
I leaned over to whisper in Brock’s ear. “I just want you to know I’m a big fan, even though you’re kind of a prick and a cheat. So don’t take it personally when you get KTFO’d tonight.”
Brock’s square jaws worked violently under the skin, and his eyes lit up—not with anger, but with stunned confusion.
“Be smart, Travis!” Shepley yelled again, seeing the look in my eyes.
The bell sounded, and I immediately attacked. Using every bit of force, I let the same fury free that I’d unleashed on Benny’s goons.
Brock stumbled backward, trying to position himself to guard or kick me, but I gave him no time, using both of my fists to run him into the ground.
It was an extraordinary release not to hold back. Relishing the pure adrenaline ripping through me, I forgot myself, and Brock dodged my blow, coming back with a right hook. His throws had a lot more bite than the amateurs I went up against at school—and it was f*cking awesome. Fighting Brock brought back memories of some of the more serious disagreements I’d had with my brothers, when words escalated to an ass whipping.
I felt right at home trading punches with Brock; in that moment, my rage had a purpose and a place.
Each time Brock’s fists landed a blow, it only served to amp up my adrenaline, and I could feel my already powerful punches picking up more steam.
He tried to wrestled me to the ground, but I planted my feet in a squatlike position, stabilizing myself against his desperate movements to throw me off balance. While he thrashed around, my clenched hand made contact with his head, ears, and temple numerous times.
The once white tape around my knuckles was now crimson, but I felt no pain, only the sheer pleasure of unleashing every negative emotion that had weighed me down for so long. I remembered how relaxing it felt to beat the hell out of Benny’s men. Win or lose, I looked forward to what kind of person I would be after this fight.
The referee, Shepley, and Brock’s trainer surrounded me, pulling me off of my opponent.
“Bell, Travis! Stop!” Shepley said.
Shepley dragged me to one corner, and Brock was pulled to the other. I turned to look at Abby. She was wringing her hands together, but her wide smile told me she was okay. I winked at her, and she blew me a kiss. The gesture reenergized me, and I returned to the middle of the cage with renewed determination.
Once the bell rang, I attacked again, this time taking more care to dodge just as many times as I threw a punch. Once or twice, Brock wrapped his arms around me, breathing hard, and tried to bite me or knee me in the balls. I’d just push him off and hit him harder.
In the third round, Brock stumbled, swung or kicked and missed. He was running out of steam fast. Feeling winded myself, I was taking more breaks between swings. The adrenaline that had once surged through my body felt tapped out, and my head was beginning to pound.
Brock landed a punch, and then another. I blocked a third, and then, ready for it to end, went in for the kill. With my remaining strength, I dodged Brock’s knee and then swung around, planting my elbow straight into his nose. His head flew back, looking straight upward, he took a few steps, and then fell to the ground.
The noise from the crowd was deafening, but I could only hear one voice.
“Oh my God! Yes! Yay, baby!” Abby screamed.
The referee checked Brock, and then walked over to me, lifting my hand. Shepley, America, and Abby were all let into the cage, and they swarmed me. I picked up Abby and planted my lips on hers.
“You did it,” she said, cupping my face in her hands.
The celebration was cut short when Benny and a fresh batch of bodyguards entered the cage. I set Abby on her feet, and took a defensive stance in front of her.
Benny was all smiles. “Well done, Maddox. You saved the day. If you have a minute, I’d like to talk to you.”
I looked back at Abby, who grabbed my hand. “It’s okay. I’ll meet you at that door,” I said, nodding to the closest door, “in ten minutes.”
“Ten?” she asked with worry in her eyes.
“Ten,” I said, kissing her forehead. I looked to Shepley. “Keep an eye on the girls.”
“I think maybe I should go with you.”
I leaned into Shepley’s ear. “If they want to kill us, Shepley, there’s not much we can do about it. I think Benny has something else in mind.” I leaned back and slapped his arm. “I’ll see you in ten.”
“Not eleven. Not fifteen. Ten,” Shepley said, pulling a reluctant Abby away.
I followed Benny to the same room I had waited in before the fight. To my surprise, he made his men wait outside.
He held out his hands, gesturing to the room. “I thought this would be better. So you could see that I’m not always this . . . bad man that maybe I’m made out to be.”
His body language and tone were relaxed, but I kept my ears and eyes open for any surprises.
Benny smiled. “I have a proposition for you, son.”
“I’m not your son.”
“True,” he conceded. “But after I offer you a hundred and fifty grand a fight, I think you might want to be.”
“What fights?” I asked. I figured he would try to say that Abby still owed him. I had no clue he’d try to offer me a job.
“You are obviously a very vicious, very talented young man. You belong in that cage. I can make that happen . . . and I can also make you a very rich man.”
“I’m listening.”
Benny grinned wider. “I’ll schedule one fight a month.”
“I’m still in college.”
He shrugged. “We’ll schedule around it. I’ll fly you out, and Abby if you wish, first class, on weekends, if that’s what you want. Making money like this, though, you might want to put a hold on the college education.”
“Six figures a fight?” I did the math, trying not to let my surprise show. “To fight and what else?”
“That’s it, kid. Just fight. Make me money.”
“Just fight . . . and I can quit when I want.”
He smiled. “Well, sure, but I don’t see that happening anytime soon. You love it. I saw you. You were drunk with it, in that cage.”
I stood there for a moment, mulling over his offer. “I’ll think about it. Let me talk to Abby.”
“Fair enough.”
I SET OUR SUITCASES ON THE BED AND COLLAPSED BESIDE them. I’d mentioned Benny’s offer to Abby, but she wasn’t receptive at all. Then the plane ride home was a little tense, so I decided to leave it alone until we got home.
Abby was drying off Toto after giving him a bath. He’d been staying with Brazil, and she was revolted with the way he smelled.
“Oh! You smell so much better!” She giggled as he shook, spraying water all over her and the floor. He stood up on his hind legs, covering her face with tiny puppy kisses. “I missed you, too, little man.”
“Pigeon?” I asked, nervously knotting my fingers together.
“Yeah?” she said, rubbing Toto with the yellow towel in her hands.
“I wanna do this. I want to fight in Vegas.”
“No,” she said, smiling at Toto’s happy face.
“You’re not listening. I’m gonna do it. You’ll see in a few months that it was the right decision.”
She looked up at me. “You’re going to work for Benny.”
I nodded nervously and then smiled. “I just wanna take care of you, Pidge.”
Tears glossed her eyes. “I don’t want anything bought with that money, Travis. I don’t want anything to do with Benny or Vegas or anything that goes along with it.”
“You didn’t have a problem with the thought of buying a car with the money from my fights here.”
“That’s different, and you know it.”
I frowned. “It’s gonna be okay, Pidge. You’ll see.”
She watched me for a moment, and then her cheeks flushed. “Why did you even ask me, Travis? You were going to work for Benny no matter what I said.”
“I want your support on this, but it’s too much money to turn down. I would be crazy to say no.”
She paused for a long time, her shoulders fell, and then nodded. “Okay, then. You’ve made your decision.”
My mouth stretched into a wide smile. “You’ll see, Pigeon. It’s going to be great.” I pushed off the bed, walked over to Abby and kissed her fingers. “I’m starved. You hungry?”
She shook her head.
I kissed her hairline before making my way to the kitchen. My lips hummed a chipper tune from a random song while I grabbed two slices of bread and some salami and cheese. Man, she’s missing out, I thought, squeezing spicy mustard onto the bread slices.
It took about three bites for me to finish, and then I washed it down with a beer, wondering what else there was to eat. I didn’t realize how spread thin my body felt until we’d gotten home. Aside from the fight, nerves probably also had something to do with it. Now that Abby knew my plans and it was settled, the nerves went away just enough for me to have an appetite again.
Abby padded down the hall and then rounded the corner, suitcase in hand. She didn’t look at me when she crossed the living room to the door.
“Pigeon?” I called.
I walked to the still-open door, seeing Abby approaching America’s Honda.
When she didn’t answer, I jogged down the stairs and across the grass to where Shepley, America, and Abby stood.
“What are you doing?” I asked, gesturing to the suitcase.
Abby smiled awkwardly. It was immediately obvious something wasn’t right.
“Pidge?”
“I’m taking my stuff to Morgan. They have all those washers and dryers and I have a ridiculous amount of laundry to do.”
I frowned. “You were going to leave without telling me?”
“She was coming back in, Trav. You’re so freakin’ paranoid,” America said.
“Oh,” I said, still unsure. “You staying here tonight?”
“I don’t know. I guess it depends on when my laundry gets done.”
Although I knew she was probably still uneasy with my decision about Benny, I let it go, smiled, and pulled her against me. “In three weeks, I’ll pay someone to do your laundry. Or you can just throw away your dirty clothes and buy new ones.”
“You’re fighting for Benny again?” America asked, shocked.
“He made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.”
“Travis,” Shepley began.
“Don’t you guys start on me, too. If I’m not changing my mind for Pidge, I’m not changing my mind for you.”
America traded glances with Abby. “Well, we better get you back, Abby. That pile of clothes is gonna take you forever.”
I leaned down to kiss Abby’s lips. She pulled me close and kissed me hard, making me feel a little better about her unease. “See you later,” I said, holding the door open while she sat in the passenger seat. “Love you.”
Shepley lifted Abby’s suitcase into the hatchback of the Honda, and America slid into her seat, reaching over to pull across her seat belt.
I shut Abby’s door, and then folded my arms across my chest.
Shepley stood beside me. “You’re not really going to fight for Benny, are you?”
“It’s a lot of money, Shepley. Six figures a fight.”
“Six figures?”
“Could you say no?”
“I would if I thought America would dump my ass over it.”
I laughed once. “Abby’s not going to dump me over this.”
America backed out of the parking lot, and I noticed tears spilling down Abby’s cheeks.
I jogged to her window, tapping on the glass. “What’s wrong, Pidge?”
“Go, Mare,” she mouthed, wiping her eyes.
I jogged alongside the car, slamming my palm against the glass. Abby wouldn’t look at me, and absolute terror sunk into my bones. “Pigeon? America! Stop the f*cking car! Abby, don’t do this!”
America turned onto the main road and pressed on the gas.
I sprinted after them, but when the Honda was nearly out of sight, I turned and ran for my Harley. I dug my hand in my pocket for my keys as I ran, and leaped onto the seat.
“Travis, don’t,” Shepley warned.
“She’s f*cking leaving me, Shep!” I yelled, barely starting the bike before revving the throttle into a 180, and flying down the street.
America had just shut her door when I made it into Morgan Hall’s parking lot. I nearly laid my bike over coming to a halt and failing to root the kickstand on the first try. I ran over to the Honda and jerked open the passenger door. America’s teeth were clenched, ready for whatever I might throw at her.
I looked to Morgan’s brick and mortar, knowing Abby was somewhere inside. “You gotta let me in, Mare,” I begged.
“I’m sorry,” she said. She put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space.
Just as I raced up the steps, taking two at a time, a girl I hadn’t seen before was walking out. I grabbed the door, but she blocked my way.
“You can’t come in without an escort.”
I pulled out my bike keys and jingled them in her face. “My girlfriend, Abby Abernathy, left her car keys at my apartment. I’m just bringing them by.”
The girl nodded, unsure, and then moved out of my way.
Leaping up several steps at a time in the stairwell, I finally reached Abby’s floor and her dorm room door. I took a few deep breaths. “Pidge?” I said, trying to be quiet. “You gotta let me in, baby. We’ve got to talk about this.”
She didn’t answer.
“Pigeon, please. You’re right. I didn’t listen to you. We can sit down and discuss this some more, okay? I just . . . please answer the door. You’re scarin’ me to death.”
“Go away, Travis,” Kara said from the other side.
I pounded on the door with the side of my fist. “Pidge? Open the f*cking door, dammit! I’m not leaving until you talk to me! Pigeon!”
“What?” Kara growled, opening the door. She pushed her glasses up, and sniffed. For such a tiny girl, she had a very severe expression.
I sighed, relieved that at least I would be able to see Abby. Looking over Kara’s shoulder, Abby wasn’t in my direct line of sight.
“Kara,” I said, trying to stay calm. “Tell Abby I need to see her. Please.”
“She’s not here.”
“She’s here,” I said, quickly losing my patience.
Kara’s weight shifted. “I haven’t seen her tonight. I haven’t seen her in several days, actually.”
“I know she’s here!” I yelled. “Pigeon?”
“She’s not . . . Hey!” Kara said, shrieking when I shouldered past her.
The door cracked against the wall. I pulled the knob and looked behind it, and then in the closets, even under the bed. “Pigeon! Where is she?”
“I haven’t seen her!” Kara shouted.
I walked into the hall, looking in both directions, and Kara slammed the door shut behind me, followed by the click of the bolt lock.
The wall felt cold against my back, and I suddenly realized I didn’t have a coat on. Slowly sliding down the concrete block wall to my ass, I covered my face with my hands. She might have hated me at the moment, but she had to come home sometime.
After twenty minutes, I pulled out my phone and shot her a text.
Pidge, please. i know ur pissed, but we can still talk about this
And then another.
Please come home.
And another.
Please? i love you.
She didn’t respond. I waited another half hour, and then sent her more.
im @ Morgan would u @ least call me to let me know if ur coming home 2nite?
Pigeon I’m so f*ckin sorry. Please come home. I need 2 c u.
U know im not the 1 being unreasonable here. U could @ least answer me.
i don’t f*cking deserve this ok so im an asshat 4 thinking i could solve all our problems with money but @least i don’t run away every time we have 1
im sorry i didn’t mean that
what do u want me 2 do? i will do whatever u want me 2 ok? just please talk 2 me.
this is bullshit
im in love with u. i don’t understand how u can just walk away
Just before sunrise, when I was sure I’d officially made a total ass of myself and Abby was probably certain that I was insane, I picked myself up off the floor. The fact that security had never showed to escort me out was amazing in itself, but if I was still sitting in the hallway when the girls started leaving for class, that luck would more than likely run out.
After trudging down the stairs in defeat, I sat on my bike, and even though a T-shirt was the only thing between my skin and the frigid winter air, I ignored it. Hoping to see Abby in history class, I went straight home to thaw my skin under a hot shower.
Shepley stood at the doorway of my bedroom while I got dressed.
“What do you want, Shep?”
“Did you talk to her?”
“No.”
“At all? Text? Anything?”
“I said no,” I snapped.
“Trav.” Shepley sighed. “She’s probably not going to be in class today. I don’t want me and America in the middle of this, but that’s what she said.”
“Maybe she will,” I said, buckling my belt. I put on Abby’s favorite cologne, and then slipped on my coat before grabbing my backpack.
“Hold up, I’ll drive you.”
“No, I’ll take the bike.”
“Why?”
“In case she agrees to come back to the apartment with me so we can talk.”
“Travis, I think it’s time you consider the fact that she might not—”
“Shut the f*ck up, Shep,” I said, glancing over to him. “Just this one time, don’t be reasonable. Don’t try to save me. Just be my friend, okay?”
Shepley nodded once. “You got it.”
America came out of Shepley’s room, still in her pj’s. “Travis, it’s time to let her go. She was done the second you made it clear you were working for Benny.”
When I didn’t reply, she continued, “Travis . . .”
“Don’t. No offense, Mare, but I can’t even look at you right now.”
Without waiting for a response, I slammed the door behind me. Theatrics were worth it just to vent a little of the anxiety I felt about seeing Abby. Better than getting on my hands and knees in a panic to beg her back in the middle of class. Not that I wouldn’t go that far if that was what it would take to change her mind.
Walking slowly to class and even taking the stairs didn’t keep me from being a half hour early. I hoped Abby would show up, and we’d have time to talk before, but when the previous class let out, she still wasn’t there.
I sat down, next to her empty seat, and picked at my leather bracelet while the other students filtered into the classrooms and took their seats. It was just another day for them. Watching their world continue while mine was coming to an end was disturbing.
Except for a few stragglers sneaking in behind Mr. Chaney, everyone was accounted for—everyone but Abby. Mr. Chaney flipped open his book, greeted the classroom, and then started his lecture. His words blurred together as my heart knocked against my chest, swelling more with each breath. My teeth clenched and my eyes watered as thoughts of Abby being somewhere else, relieved to be away from me, amplified my anger.
I stood and stared at Abby’s empty desk.
“Er . . . Mr. Maddox? Are you feeling well?” Mr. Chaney asked.
I kicked over her desk and then mine, barely registering the gasps and shrieks of the students watching.
“GOD DAMMIT!” I screamed, kicking my desk again.
“Mr. Maddox,” Mr. Chaney said in a strangely calm voice. “I think it’s best you get some fresh air.”
I stood over the toppled desks, breathing hard.
“Leave my classroom, Travis. Now,” Chaney said, this time his voice more firm.
I jerked my backpack from the floor and shoved open the door, hearing the wood crash against the wall behind it.
“Travis!”
The only detail that registered about the voice was that it was female. I flipped around, for half a second hopeful that it was Abby.
Megan sauntered down the hall, stopping next to me. “I thought you had class?” She smiled. “Doing anyone exciting this weekend?”
“What do you need?”
She raised an eyebrow, her eyes bright with recognition. “I know you. You’re pissed. Things didn’t work out with the nun?”
I didn’t answer.
“I could have told you that.” She shrugged, and then took a step closer, whispering in my ear so close her full lips brushed against my ear. “We’re the same, Travis: not good for anybody.”
My eyes darted to hers, traveled down to her lips, and then back. She leaned in with her trademark small, sexy smile.
“F*ck off, Megan.”
Her smile vanished, and I walked away.