William speaks when Nico is done and his voice finally makes me remember that he’s in the room. I hope I wasn’t drooling while his client was speaking. I try to focus on William as he talks, but my eyes keep wandering back to Nico, who catches me each time. I see an ever so slight twitch at the corner of Nico’s mouth each time, secretly acknowledging that I’ve been caught.
William is able to refocus me by drawing me into a conversation about how the Weiland case could apply. Nico wants out of an endorsement contract he is in because the manufacturer uses child labor. The fact that the man is willing to give up what amounts to a multi-million dollar contract for such a noble cause makes him even more sexy to me.
After almost an hour, William looks at his watch and begins to wrap things up. Nico asks me my opinion on his case and I tell him I need a copy of the contract and some time to do a little research on the company before I can give an educated opinion.
William nods and stands, “Are we on for Thursday, maybe we can discuss it further then?”
“Umm, yes.” I catch Nico looking between the two of us. I think he is observing our interaction.
Nico shakes my hand again and my heartbeat speeds up at the simple contact. He doesn’t release my hand right away. Instead he uses his other hand to motion between William and I and asks, “Are you two a couple?”
I respond no at the exact same time that William responds yes. I look to William and then to Nico, who is still holding my hand from our handshake, and I think I catch a glimmer in his eye that matches the smirk on his face. He’s amused at our answer and I don’t blame him. He finally releases my hand and I find myself oddly disappointed that he’s not touching me anymore.
I turn to William and find he is still looking at where Nico’s and my hands had been joined. His face looks conflicted and confused and I feel badly for the disrespect that I’ve just shown him. He lowers his voice to me, “I’ll see you Thursday?”
I nod, thinking it best to have whatever conversation needs to be had between us in private. I stand at Regina’s desk as the two men walk out the door. Nico looks back at the last second and smiles at me. William never looks back.
***
I toss and turn all night, unable to get the picture of Nico Hunter out of my head. The man is sexy as hell and it bothers me that I can’t control my thoughts. It feels like I only fell asleep ten minutes ago when I wake up to the music blasting on my phone alarm. I drag my half-sleeping body into the shower and let the cool water pour over me in an attempt to force myself awake. After a few minutes of self inflicted torture, I adjust the temperature on the water and close my eyes to relax into the warmth. It hits me then. My eyes dart open, trying to force out the picture that appeared from the darkness of my memory without warning.
Nico Hunter. Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter. I was there the night that he killed a man. It was the one and only fight I’d ever gone to. And it all comes flooding back. I referred to the fight as the cage fight, but now that I think about it, it was called MMA, mixed martial arts.
My stepfather is a retired policeman. Sometimes he works security at sporting events, a lot of retired cops do. He had been given two tickets to a big MMA championship fight, and offered them to me. I wouldn’t normally go, considering my past and how I feel about watching people pummel each other, even if it is consensual. But my little brother Max is a huge fan of the sport and I got suckered into taking him. I just couldn’t say no to the excited twelve-year-old who momentarily forgot he was supposed to act cool and was jumping up and down like he did when he was four.
The fight didn’t last long, two rounds. I remember it clearly. It was probably less than ten minutes in total. The pre-fight festivities lasted an hour longer than the actual fight. Our seats were good, only about 10 rows back from the center of the ring. I remember flinching every time one of the men threw a punch, yet I couldn’t turn away. I close my eyes and watch instant replay of those last seconds. Most people think having a photographic memory is a blessing, but in my case it’s a curse. Yes, I remember lots of figures and words, but I also remember all of the bad things I’d rather forget.
It’s as if I flipped on a video and hit play right as those last few seconds play out. I see Nico throw the punch, and then I watch in slow motion as his opponent’s head turns to the side with the force of ten men. He drops to the floor, his head limp and rattling around before it even hits the canvas. The screaming crowd becomes silent and the medical team rushes into the cage seconds after it all happens.
As horrible as it is, seeing that all play out in my mind isn’t what haunts me. It’s the still of the fighter dropped to his knees when he realizes the man isn’t getting back up. He’s shattered. I can’t take my eyes from his face as I watch him break into a million little pieces. I should’ve felt sorry for the man that just lost his life, but I don’t even look his way. I’m fixated on the man who will never be the same. Never. I know it. I feel connected to him for a stopped moment in time.