I tucked the black cat under my arm. The black cat tattoo was entwined in the skin art all over my back, bits and pieces from my life. Somehow, Kya knew the cat meant more to me than my first motorcycle, the first cash I won fighting, or my first pair of boxing gloves. She had seen straight through all the skulls and roses, the stone angel and guns and picked out the one thing that summed up my entire childhood.
My mother's sweet black cat, Lucy. That cat lay on her bed, purred, and kept her warm, until she passed away.
"Don't believe what people say about black cats, Fenton," my mother had said. "Luck isn't real, good or bad. It's all up to you."
I carried Kya's gift with me to the fight the next day.
"A mascot, I like it," Kev said. "Let's bring the black cat to the ring, let it get in Maxwell Lewis' head."
I smiled. "Go team."
There was a commotion outside the locker room. Kev yelled at someone outside the door. "No one's coming in. No one!"
"Who was it?" I asked.
"Not Kya Allen, if that's what's got you worried," Kev said. "She told me she's watching it on the big screen in the casino."
I jumped up and down and tried to stay focused.
Kev continued. "I just figured you didn't want a whole reality show swarming around before you head out to the ring."
"Sienna?" I asked.
"Yup. Said she'll catch up with you after the fight. Just let me know if you want me to take her off your hands."
Kev then launched into an entire storyline of what he would do with Sienna and how the cameras would have to stop rolling almost immediately. I welcomed his normal drone and got myself pumped up for the fight.
"You ready for this? You're ready for this," Aldous said.
"I am. And when this one's done, let’s sign that endorsement deal. It’s time to take things to the next level," I said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kya
Maxwell Lewis was hard. He answered every move Fenton made with a lightning fast combination. The two fighters hardly broke apart. Instead, they locked together time and again. I watched through my splayed fingers.
The giant screen in the booking lounge was overwhelming. It made every heavy hit reverberate off the walls. All around me, people drank and cheered, chatted and laughed. I could hardly breathe. Fenton was fighting at the top of his game, but Maxwell Lewis was an even match.
I was torn between wanting to run to the arena and see everything, every kick and spin and chop, and wanting to retreat upstairs to the suite and bury my head under a pillow. It was impossible not to worry about Fenton, no matter how invincible he looked in the ring.
At least this time he's wearing gloves and there's a ref, I thought. No more bare-knuckle boxing.
I watched the odds rise and fall depending on the moves the fighters made. Fenton was the top choice, but Maxwell Lewis was looking good. Watching the statistics flash next to the live fight was almost too much. I turned to run down to the arena.
"And he's down! Fenton Morris has done it. Total knock out!" the announcer roared.
My knees went weak, and I found a seat just as everyone else leapt to their feet. The celebrations and lamentations quickly spread out of the booking lounge and into the casino and bars. Soon, there were only few stranglers left to watch the post-fight action in the ring.
Fenton's left eye was swelling and his lip was cut, but he wore a huge smile on his face. I leaned back in my seat and tried to catch my breath. He had won. A huge weight was off my chest. I hoped now that we could move past all the mistakes I had made and start over. He was on his way to the title fight and whether or not we worked together, I wanted to be with him.
My breath caught in my chest again. I wanted to be with him? The man that made passionate love to me twice and then invited a stripper up to the suite? Was I completely insane?
There had to be more to the story. There had to be some way we could clear the air. Still, I did not breathe as the ringside reporter shoved a microphone in Fenton's face.
"Some people are saying you've redeemed yourself after the disastrous fight with Mario Peretti. What do you have to say to that?" she asked.
"I have to thank my team, the people that make sure I am fighting at my best," Fenton said. Kev and Aldous joined him. Kev held the black cat I had given Fenton over his head like a trophy. Fenton laughed. "They are the ones that help me make my own luck."
I was right about the black cat tattoo, so maybe I was right about Fenton Morris himself. There was a good guy underneath his act. Maybe there was a simple explanation to what happened between us. I left the booking lounge and headed upstairs. The least I could do now was plan a celebration for him.
A quick conversation with the casino concierge and a DJ and caterer arrived at the suite within minutes. Hotel staff helped me rearrange the furniture, create space for the party, and hang a congratulations banner across the wide picture windows. When everything was set, I stood under the banner and waited.
It was impossible not to admire the view and feel my heart soaring. There was something about Las Vegas. I loved the glitz of the Strip and the nearby starkness of the desert. I loved the chilly wind of the evenings and the hot beating sun during the day. And, I loved that underneath the facade were real people. I wanted to be one of them. I wanted to be part of this fabulous town.
"Great minds think alike, Ms. Allen," Kev called from the doorway. He marched in leading a long string of party guests. "Crack open the champagne and let’s get this thing started."
"Oh, thank God," I said. "I just realized Fenton might have decided to go out on the town."
"The man likes to party in private, especially to celebrate a win," Kev said.
"You mean he might actually be himself tonight?" I asked.
Fenton's manager laughed. "Oh, so you like the real Fenton? I figured. I never would have guessed it at first, but you two seem to be a good match when you're not busy messing it all up."
I accepted the glass of champagne. "Well, maybe tonight can be all about celebrating and nothing about work."
"Damn fine idea," Kev said. He popped another bottle of champagne as more people crowded into the suite and started to party.
"Who are all these people?" I asked.
"Gym staff, restaurant servers, valets, cab drivers," Kev said. He shrugged his shoulders.
For all his big talk and disgusting jokes, Kev was a good man. Everyone that helped him or supported Fenton in even the smallest way had been invited to celebrate.
"You're a class act, Kev Casey," I said.
"You flirting with me?" he slipped an arm around my waist.
I laughed and shoved his arm away. "Sorry, I've got some networking to do."
"Oh, so you're thinking about settling here in Vegas? I meant to talk to you about that. Opportunities abound. I bet your agency would love a foothold here," Kev said.
I blinked and could not hide the huge smile that spread over my face. "My boss would love that."
"Yeah, I got the feeling you weren't rushing back to Chicago. Sometimes a place just grabs you, like it’s got its own gravity and you realize you've just been floating along until you find it," Kev said.