“Just buy her some of that milk-free, whey-free, hazelnut chocolate spread she likes,” Jana says. “I’ve got to go. Do you want me to bring anything back for you?”
“Only if he’s an easy millionaire who doesn’t believe in prenups,” I tell her.
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled, but you know I’ve got first dibs on that shit, so you’d better hope he has a friend for you,” she responds, walking to the door, but stopping before she opens it. “You two did it, right?” she asks.
“Me and Mason?” I ask. “No. We never even kissed.”
“Might wanna let the guy throw you one before you stop answering his calls for good,” she says. “There’s a reason he’s so popular and you, sweet, kinda prudish roommate of mine, deserve a nice night.”
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I laugh and Jana’s out the door.
I pull out my phone and check my messages. There aren’t any from Mason.
This whole thing is a little strange.
I wasn’t even interested in him at first; I was just trying to do to Jana what she’s been doing to me for the last five years. Mason and I started to hit it off at Sherry’s, but after he took me to that fight, that was supposed to be it.
After hearing Jana going on and on about him, though, I can’t help thinking I should have given him another chance.
It’s probably moot, anyway. He’s probably already moved onto someone more enthusiastic about his hobby.
Besides, he and Jana used to be a thing. I give her a lot of grief because most of the time she’s somewhere in the neighborhood of intolerable, but, for the moment at least, I’m choosing to believe there’s more to our friendship than proximity over time. Whether her feelings for Mason are nothing more than sexual or there’s more to it than that, it’s probably not a good idea that I try too hard to be too involved with my roommate’s former beau.
Then again, she did give me her blessing. Maybe she didn’t put it in those exact terms, but I seem to remember something like that.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and find the number. My thumb hovers over the screen for five seconds, then ten. Really, I just don’t know enough about Mason to have anything like the confidence to make a firm decision about him either way.
The fighting is never going to be my cup of tea, but maybe Jana’s right: Maybe there is something more to him than all that. It certainly seemed like there was when we were at Sherry’s.
I press the button and the line starts to ring.
“Yeah?” the voice answers.
“Hey, Mason,” I say. “It’s Ash. You wanna get together and talk?”
Good god that sounded lame.
“Ash?” he asks.
Yep. He’s already forgotten about me.
“Never mind,” I tell him. “I think you just answered my question.”
“I’ve got a few,” he says.
“What?” I ask.
“Questions,” he says. “You just took off that night and I haven’t been able to get ahold of you. I figured the fighting was just too much for you.”
“It was,” I tell him, “but I’ve come to understand that that’s not necessarily all there is to you…” I’m butchering this. I’m absolutely butchering this.
“Yeah…?” he responds.
Why is this so weird?
“I just thought, if you want, I could explain why I just left that night, or maybe you could explain why you’re so into the fighting,” I tell him. “Not that you owe me an explanation,” I add. “You know what? I shouldn’t have called. Sorry to bother you.”
“Hold on,” he says.
“What?” I ask, just wanting this to be over already.
“Just take a breath,” he says. “Relax. Go to your peaceful, quiet place a second.”
“My peaceful, quiet place?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Mason responds. “It’s a meditation thing. Just put your mind on the most relaxing and beautiful surroundings you can imagine. It helps calm the nerves.”
I’m not sure if I’m actually supposed to do that or not, so I just don’t say anything in response.
“Ash?” he asks. “You still there?”
“Yeah,” I answer.
“We can talk if you want,” he says. “But I’ve gotta tell you, I’m not a huge fan of the way you just took off and then ignored me. You can be a pretty cool person,” he says, “but I’m not really in the mood to be jerked around. So, if you’d like a few minutes to really consider whether or not you really want to talk, I think that might be a good plan.”
“Someone values their personal time,” I scoff, not sure what else to say.
“Personal time’s important,” he says. “If you’re interested in seeing where things can go with us, I’m all for that. We seem to get each other pretty easily, and I don’t know about you, but that’s pretty rare for me. At the same time, though, if what I do is too much for you or you just aren’t that interested, I think we both need to respect that and not drag this out. What do you think?”
What do I think?
“The man-whore thing,” I say, “is that true?”
“It’s an exaggeration,” he says, “but I have had a pretty active social life. I don’t think I’m a man-whore though, and honestly, I’d prefer if we could drop the term.”
“Okay,” I answer and then there’s protracted silence.
After a minute, the sound of Mason’s voice startles me. “Ash?” he asks.
“Yeah?” I return.
“I don’t know if you’re thinking things through or what,” he says, “but I do have some stuff to do right now, so if we could—”
“You want to get together this weekend?” I ask and immediately, I’m clenching my fists, mouthing the word “crap” over and over again.
We do connect, that much is true, but can I really deal with the fighting?
“Sure,” he says nonchalantly. “What’d you have in mind?”
I guess we’re going to find out.
Chapter Five
That Sense of Belonging
Mason
I’m a little sore coming up to the door of my modest abode.
Manny, my fight trainer, and I have bit hitting it a little extra hard since I told him about the tournament. He even filled in a few missing details.
According to Manny, the prize money is all going to be donated by a former underground fighter turned MMA pro as his way of giving back to the community that served as his launching pad.
Manny doesn’t know who the mysterious donor might be and, frankly, the whole thing sounds like the kind of answer someone gives when they don’t know the real one, but it’s a nice story, if nothing else.
I guess it really doesn’t matter if Manny’s version of things is true or not. It’s just as possible that someone stands to make money from taping the fights and posting them online. Nobody seems to know directly who went to Madison and set the whole thing up, but the tournament’s existence is real enough.