I sat on the couch with my hand in a bowl of ice. Hammer’s skull had been like a rock, and I had beat my hand at it at least half a dozen times. It hurt like hell. Maury had already been in and given me a mollified congratulations and gruff apology for doubting me. That made me feel better until he warned me that my match in three weeks was going to be even tougher. Leave it to Maury to always be a ray of sunshine in my world.
I could barely concentrate on that, though. I kept thinking about the fact that I had called out to Lex in the crowd like there was something more definitive between us than being business colleagues. The way I called her out, it gave the impression that she was my girlfriend.
Lex wasn’t my girlfriend by a long shot. Ice Malone didn’t do girlfriends. I didn’t do anything that even somewhat resembled that kind of relationship. Those didn’t end well for anyone, most of all someone like me.
It wasn’t as if my father didn’t remind me constantly that I was worthless, or if I had been a better son maybe my mother wouldn’t have felt the need to turn to booze and pills. Of course, that last part he’d only said once. It was just a few weeks after she died, and I’d come home to find him slobbering drunk. I’d never seen him like that before, and when I walked through the door, it was as if he unleashed eighteen years on rage on my head.
He told me that my mother had to give up her modeling career for me. She had lost all of her desire to do anything once I came into the world, and it turned her cold and aloof toward my father. He had tried to make her happy, but there was something that just was never right in her head after that, and the substance abuse grew until he didn’t know where that ended and my mother began. He blamed everything that was wrong with her on me.
Logically, I knew that he lashed out at me because he didn’t understand why she had felt the need to find solace elsewhere. It was like she’d given up on both of us, and then she was gone. We never spoke of that night again, but I’d never forget it as long as I lived. Dr. Carlson said that I had intimacy issues that stemmed back to the fractured, undeveloped relationship with my mother. I actually hadn’t needed to spend thousands of dollars in therapy for him to tell me that.
I spent my whole life trying to measure up to my father’s expectations and always falling just a hair short. So after my mother’s death, I decided that I was done trying to make everyone else fucking happy. I started training for the MMA on a dare, and after a few fights, discovered that I was actually pretty good at it. Which just served to piss my father off more.
It didn’t take a therapist to tell me that I was fucked up either. My world was a blur of training, fighting, booze, and broads in an endless succession of cities across the country. I wasn’t even close to anything that could be considered relationship material. My two role models in life were more fucked up than I was. And yet, my father was jumping into the whole marriage thing again.
If he could find somebody to love him, why couldn’t I? What the fuck. Why was I thinking about love? I was definitely going to need to schedule another session with Dr. Carlson when I got back to Chicago. I had a screw loose or something. I didn’t go around banging the same chick more than once. I didn’t go to bed at night thinking about how badly I wanted to have blond, flowing locks on the pillow next to mine. I didn’t call out and give credit for my win to a girl.
And yet these were all things I’d done since I met Lex Carroll. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks. I had a thing for Lex. More than a thing. The idea of her even looking in another guy’s direction made me want to smash the guy’s face in. That thought sobered me up. Lex was special. She was focused and driven, and there was no doubt she’d be successful in whatever she put her mind to. I was a fuck-up who would probably end up on the injured list and fade from everyone’s memory before I turned thirty. Shit, I’d be lucky to hit thirty and still be fighting.
Not to mention, I’d have nothing to show for it. That’s what my dad had hammered into me. I was worthless. I wasn’t good for anybody. Somebody like Lex desired far better than a lowlife like me. I heard the knock on my door, and, for a moment, I wondered if she had come to see me. I stood up with a smile that faded as soon as I saw Marcus walk through the door with a short, curvy brunette.
“Hey boss,” he said. “I found this pretty lady wandering around the stands and thought you might like to say hello. Her name is Trish.”
I couldn’t fault Marcus. I had given him instructions that if I didn’t specially request a particular girl from the crowd, to find the most attractive and available one and bring her to me. It was my thing. I liked to get laid after a fight, and that fact had gotten around. A thought crossed my mind that made me wince. Had Lex seen Marcus collect Trish the way that he had her that night three weeks ago? I had a sinking suspicion that she had.
“Hi, Ice. I am your biggest fan,” Trish purred as she stepped closer to me. Marcus started to exit the room, but I called out to him to wait.
“Marcus, I’m calling it an early night. Can you please make sure that Trish here gets a t-shirt or something and show her out?”