They had laughed. But if they only knew where my head was really at, they might be writing their stories with a different tilt.
One guy asked me if I was worried about the fight. He noted that it was the first time in my career that I would be the underdog going into it.
“No,” I’d said. “Simmons has the belt right now so the odds makers have to list him as the favorite. It doesn’t mean shit though.”
Then I’d looked right into the lens of his camera.
“So if you all want to make your money, hit up the sports book and put everything you have on me. I’m the guy that makes millionaires. Don’t forget it.”
I took another bite of the chicken and greens. It was all I’d be allowed to eat up until the fight, save for some good clean carbohydrates on fight day.
“You feelin’ good, killer?”
It was my old trainer, Jimmy. He always got a kick out of coming along for the big fights. I liked to run my own program for the most part but he’d taken me under his wing when I was a kid. It was good to bring him into the fold the last two weeks or so leading up to a fight to help me fine tune a few things. He had a good eye for footwork and he was low key enough that I didn’t mind his company. He and Nick were the only ones I allowed into my suite during fight week.
“Feeling strong,” I said. “But I think I might go for a run or something, you know, get some fresh air.”
“No problem, kid,” he said. “I’ll make sure the hotel treadmills are open and I’ll get the room cleared out.”
“No,” I said. “I’m headed outside. Gonna jog the strip.”
“Whoa, Luke. I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Yeah man, you’ll get fuckin’ mobbed out there,” added Nick.
“On a normal weekend you wouldn’t be able to make it two blocks without the whole world tracking you down. On fight weekend you probably won’t get out of the lobby.”
“Don’t worry about it fellas. I’ll make do.”
“Okay, kid. But stay hydrated. It’s hotter than hell out there.”
I had no intention of going for a run. I was at my breaking point. It was time to call her.
My luck turned for the better when I found the elevator empty. There was a spot down by the conference room that I remembered from last time. There wouldn’t be anyone around.
My hat was tugged down low over my eyes. Normally, I wore jeans and maybe a band t-shirt, but because of the sponsorship deal, they had us dressed up in company gear for the weekend. It was worked into every contract.
Still, I thought I’d be able to get by without too much fanfare.
My good fortune continued when I hit the lobby. The area just outside the elevators was empty. That was unheard of for a hotel on the strip. Especially during the weekend.
I slipped around the corner hopped over a restricted access rope, and slipped through the unlocked door into the dark conference room. I was home free. As far as I could tell no one saw me, and if anyone did they had the good sense not to scream my name.
I took a deep breath and hit send before I could talk myself out of calling.
By the third ring my enthusiasm deflated. She was going to let me go to voicemail.
But then…
“Hello?”
“Uh, hey Bria. It’s me.”
“I know.”
“Yeah, right, so… how have you been?”
“Really? You disappear for almost two weeks and that’s all you have for me?”
“No. You know what I mean. I thought you were done with me.”
The phone was muffled for a second as she adjusted it in her hand. Then there was silence.
“Bria?”
“Do you know what happened after you left? Do you know how bad that made me look in front of my boss?”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I never meant for you to get in trouble. But that asshole… he-”
“I know.” She sounded defeated. “Thank you for stopping him…”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing happed right then. I mean, I took off just like you did, but I heard they had to take Kevin to the hospital.”
“Are you upset about that?”
“No. He deserved it. I think he is trying to press charges, but there were witnesses that saw him come at me first...”
“Fuck ‘em,” I said. “They might be lawyers, but I can hire one that will run circles around them. I’m not worried about that at all.”
“Yeah,” she said, uncomfortably.
“That’s not what I’m talking about, though. What happened with your boss? Was he mad?”
“You could say that.”
“Shit.”