The crowd heckled him, egging him on, hoping for more trash talk or maybe another sneak preview at the fight.
"I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti's skills as a fighter. I have no reason to talk about Mario Peretti at all. He doesn't matter to me, the title does. I know Vegas is confusing, there's hype all around. But I guarantee tomorrow, Peretti's hype isn't going to follow him into the ring. It'll be just us, and the better man will win."
"What about your girl?"
"You just gonna let him take your woman?"
"Come on, Morris, you can't take that lying down!"
The crowd heckled him more, and the wall-sized photograph of our kiss appeared again. Peretti bounced around with his fists in the air then blew air kisses at the crowd. Then, he directed the spotlight towards me.
Kev tried to help me duck away from it, but the hot light blinded me. The crowd around me surged back and then forward. Hands shoved me towards the open circle where Peretti and Fenton waited. I lost grip of Kev's hands and was pushed along, helpless until I was in the open.
Peretti bounced over and reached out to embrace me. Without thinking, I batted away his hands and spun to avoid him. The crowd went wild. The spotlight still blinded me, and I tried to find Fenton. Suddenly, a strong arm locked around my waist. Peretti was pushed far away.
"Only a weak man would use a woman," Fenton said. "My reputation might be tarnished, but nowhere in the long list of my misdemeanors and conflicts is there an accusation of treating a woman badly.
I wrapped my arm around Fenton's waist, glad for the solid feel of him in the sea of ogling faces. "Actions speak louder than words," I said.
"Say it again, darling," Fenton told me. He held the microphone in front of me.
"That photograph was a dirty trick. Peretti's all trash talk and tricks. Actions speak louder than words," I said.
Fenton's loyal fans erupted in chants and applause. It felt good to stand arm in arm with Fenton, even though I knew we had not yet come together.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Kya
The music started again, and before I could turn to Fenton, he was disappearing into the crowd. He said something to a security guard in passing and the large man helped me off the dance floor. I was deposited near the bar and decided it was a good time for a drink.
"Order one for me, too," Kev said. He leaned on the bar to peer into my face. "You did alright on mic. I'm sure the fans wanted you to extol Fenton's sexual prowess and call him a god, but, you know, what you said worked."
"Did Fenton practice that speech?" I asked.
"The one about his upbringing and focus or the one about how to treat women?" Kev asked.
"Either, both. Wait, have you heard them both from him before?" I asked. My hand trembled as I picked up my drink.
"Fenton has spoken out against domestic violence, but he normally doesn't talk about his family life," Kev said.
I slumped into my stool. "Thanks. That makes me feel a lot better."
"Come on, Kya. It’s like I told you; it's all part of the show."
" I thought you meant his reputation, not our relationship," I said.
"Well, they might both have a ways to go. That doesn't mean you won't get there. Sandi thinks you'll make it," Kev said.
"Excuse me, Ms. Allen? I'm a reporter for the Desert Post and I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions," a slim young man asked. He fidgeted foot to foot but looked me straight in the eye.
Kev handed him a business card. "No problem, kid, as long as you send your article to me before publishing. I'll vet the quotes, dot the Ts, that kind of thing."
The young man smiled, unsure if Kev was serious or not. He took the card, and Kev shifted over a bar stool to give him room.
"I'm sorry, I'm not doing interviews if that's what you think this is," I said.
"Sure you are," Kev said. "Just answer the kid's questions. It’s not hard and, who knows, it might be good for Fenton."
"How long have you known Fenton Morris?" he asked.
"A few days," I said. It was hard to believe because it felt like much longer.
"Have you always been attracted to 'bad boys?’? Or was it Fenton that approached you."
"Fenton approached me first." I took a long sip of my drink to cover my smile.
"And, do you feel threatened by his womanizing ways, his drinking, or his violent tendencies?" the young man asked. He was concentrating on holding his phone at the right angle to record my answer and did not notice the look on my face.
"Those are all grossly exaggerated. Fenton Morris is a gentleman, an athlete, and a professional. You've got him all wrong and if you try to pursue this sensationalized direction any further, you will be getting close to slander," I said.
"So, you're saying everything the public knows about Fenton Morris is an act?"
"It’s a natural extension of what his fans want," Aldous said. He towered over the young reporter and frowned down at him. "As his long-time coach and advisor, I can assure you that everything Ms. Allen has said is the truth."
The reporter wanted to ask more, but I turned to Aldous. "Is this your wife?"
Aldous stepped in front of the reporter, effectively shutting him out from further conversation. "Tia, I would like you to meet Kya Allen. Kya, this is my lovely wife, Tia."
"It is so nice to meet you, Kya. I've heard a lot about you," Tia said. She was older, mid-forties, though it was impossible to tell from her flawless olive skin and shining black hair.
"You've heard about me?" I looked at Aldous. "I can't imagine what you must think of me."
"I think we have a lot in common," Tia said. She shooed Aldous over to talk with Kev and sat down next to me. "Aldous and I met when I was around your age. He was on the boxing circuit. I, believe it or not, was dating an accountant who tried to save himself from being boring by going to boxing matches."
"I don't think I can see Aldous having a wild streak, but I bet he was an amazing boxer," I said.
"Yes, very clean-cut and very fair. That's why he was never a fan favorite and also why he's such a great coach," Tia said. "He's been with Fenton so many years, they are starting to feel like family. So, when he mentioned that Fenton wants to settle here in Vegas for a while, I was overjoyed."
"You wouldn't mind moving?" I asked.
"Not at all. If it means I see my husband every night instead of a few weeknights here and there throughout the month," Tia said. "I should thank you for putting the idea in Fenton's head."
"Oh, I'm not sure it was me," I said. I looked across the room to where Fenton danced with three women.
"Give yourself some credit," Tia said. She patted my hand.
Even as I watched Fenton draped with women, my heart was buoyed up by the thought that meeting me had encouraged him to find a home base and try settling down. I clung to thought and nurtured it into a small spark of hope.
I held on to it all throughout the promotion party, even though Fenton never spoke to me. He only glanced my way a few times. I waited until I saw him leave the nightclub and then I took the very long way back to my suite at the Tropicana. My stomach was in knots as I approached the door, only to discover it was worse than I had imagined.