Seth

 

I bound down the stairs with an extra spring in my step. Not only did I have a fantastic night with Olivia and even manage to avoid an argument about Jackson, but this morning, Darryl and I are going down to the MGM Grand to get a feel for the arena. I’ve fought there before, but Darryl thinks seeing the place I lost at last time will boost my times. I’m tagging along not because I think it will help keep Don out of my head, but because I want to see the cage I took Olivia against. I want to see the cage that changed my life for the better and then for the worst. It’ll help me decide if this is what I want anymore. Last night, I couldn’t sleep. I was up staring at the ceiling, trying to find the right way to tell Darryl and Jackson that I want out. I don’t want to fight anymore… I want to be like Rick. I want to run a gym and help others. I don’t want excess stress. I don’t want to keep putting my body in the firing line all for money and a room of bloodthirsty strangers to clap at me like I’m some kind of animal. Mostly… I want out for the sake of my family, the family that I think I’m ready to start.

 

I tighten the strings to my pants and pull up my hoodie. My sneakers squeak on the last stair as I step onto the carpet. Before I meet up with Darryl, I want to go for a run and time myself, keeping it off the books and away from judgmental eyes.

 

“Are you off?” Jackson calls from the kitchen. “I was going to cook breakfast to make up for last night.”

 

I stroll into the room and sure enough, Jackson has all the ingredients for a mean breakfast out on the counter. My stomach grumbles at the sight of the bacon. Fuuuuck. I haven’t had bacon in weeks. He flicks on the stove top and swipes his arm across his forehead, keeping his head down, angled away from me.

 

“I figured I should apologize for what happened.”

 

I pull out a nearby stool and drop into it with a chuckle. “By cooking breakfast in the same kitchen you had your dick out in? I’m sure Olivia is going to find that very appetizing.”

 

He shakes his head before looking at me. A dark, black bruise circles his left eye and his lip is split. The last time I seen his face so busted was when he was dating Amelia… the shit she’d make him do ended with him fighting his way out ninety-nine percent of the time.

 

“Jesus Christ, what happened to your face?” I ask, pulling a slice of rye bread off the large white plate in front of me and ripping it in half.

 

“Nothing,” he says, cracking an egg and pouring its contents into the frying pan. “I paid one of our old stomping grounds a visit, that’s all.”

 

I laugh, stuffing a piece of the bread into my mouth. “You signed up, didn’t you?”

 

He shrugs. “Something like that.”

 

It feels like a lifetime ago now, but Jackson and I used to fight in these messed up underground clubs for cash. We weren’t old enough to join any real tournaments so we went low-key and participated in a few rounds every now and then, grabbing extra cash here and there. The one in Las Vegas was underneath Lucky’s Bar. Jackson and I have never lost a fight there. When I stopped showing up, Jackson didn’t. He was going through a really dark phase with Amelia and participated in any fight any club would let him in. It was his way of expressing his frustrations… it was his way of coping with their fucked up relationship.

 

“And you got your ass beat?” I wonder aloud.

 

He frowns, clearly offended. “Me? Get my ass beat? Get the fuck out of here. I’ve never lost a fight.”

 

“What about the time—”

 

He throws an eggshell at me and I duck out of the way as it sails over my head and crashes on the tile.

 

“Piss off, I was sixteen, and in my defense he got me with pepper spray.”

 

“Whatever you say, man.” I shake my head. “But if Selena is driving you back to these places, be done with it. I don’t know what you see in her, anyway.”

 

Jackson smirks at me, his green eyes darkening a fraction. “You haven’t seen her naked.”

 

I smile. It’s a typical Jackson answer. It’s always physical with him. God forbid a girl have a kind heart. “No, I guess I haven’t.”

 

Before Olivia, I would’ve used that saying myself. But I know now that a woman’s worth is not measured by the look or shape of her body. It is measured by her heart, her compassion, and her strength. All of these things you can’t see on the outside, naked or not.

 

He cracks another egg and then another one. “She’s a difficult person to be with,” he says. “She’s strong willed, passionate, and has a lot of heart.”

 

“But?”

 

“But she doesn’t get it. She doesn’t understand why I am the way I am.” He tosses a dripping eggshell into the plastic bag on the counter. “She doesn’t leave me alone. There’s a constant flow of questions that fall from her mouth, questions I’ve been pushing to the back of my mind and haven’t answered myself yet. Do I still love the other girl? Do I still think about her? Would I dive back into that relationship if I was given the chance?”

 

“Would you?” I ask, clenching my fist, ready to slam some sense into him if he answers it wrong. Jackson’s green gaze falls to my face.

 

“I don’t know. Selena is the only thing that makes me think clearly. Her feelings are the only thing stopping me from answering Amelia’s calls and responding to her texts.”

 

“Why?”

 

His shoulders square. “Because I fucked her up. I’ve changed her… I’m her Amelia and I can’t leave her knowing that I’ve wrecked her for anyone else. What I’ve done to her—what she’s let me do to her—it wouldn’t be fair to leave.”

 

My chest tightens and the sudden urge to defend Selena settles on my shoulders. “You can’t drag her along, Jacks. If you don’t love her, let her go. She’s given you an ultimatum. Be a man and give her a fucking answer.”

 

“I’m not like you, Seth. I can’t settle down and play happy families. I need excitement. I need constant thrill spearing through my chest or I cease to move.”

 

“So that’s it? Instead of taking control of your own life you’re going to ruin the lives of others?” I shove my stool back and rise to my feet. Jackson barely flinches. He’s one of the few people I can’t intimidate. “You know what you do, Jackson? You sit and you sulk, hiding behind your mask. This isn’t you!”

 

“Seth?” Olivia’s voice rings out through the kitchen, but I ignore it. Jackson needs to hear this.

 

“You haven’t been yourself for a long time. Before you met her you were un-fucking-stoppable! You did what you wanted. You had dreams and ambitions. Now what? You sit around and wait on me. I’m living your life, Jacks! I fight the fights you want to be in. I have all of this fame and money—the wife and the house—I have all of the things you wanted and the things I claimed I never did.”

 

His green irises darken as his fingers grip the counter so tight they turn white.

 

“That’s right, asshole. You may have forgotten your ambitions, but I haven’t. I remember the person you were and you need to start remembering too, because once I’m done fighting Don, I want out of this superficial life.”

 

His brows furrow, his face pinching into a glare.

 

“If you want to be ringside—if you want to feel the wire of a cage and be amongst screaming crowds, then you do it, because I don’t want this anymore. I’ve lived my dream and I hate it.” I turn to Olivia and am relieved to see her in black sweat pants and a tank. “Put your sneakers on. We’re going for a run.”

 

Her sleepy, green eyes widen. “A run? Now?”

 

Before I answer, she disappears from the room and I look back at Jackson.

 

“You need to wake up and decide what you want.” My voice is lower when I speak this time and Jackson refuses to look at me. “You’re happy with Selena, the happiest I’ve seen you in a long time, and whether or not that means anything to you I don’t know, but cut it off if you only plan on wasting her time. Selena may be a pain in my ass and I might not like her much, but Olivia does, and that’s enough for me to know she’s a good girl deep down and she deserves better than you.”

 

I storm from the kitchen and head down the hall. Olivia is waiting by the door, her eyes now wide and alert. There’s a worried curve to her eyebrows, but I’m not about to dive into what happened in the kitchen with her. There’s too much to it. To understand means she has to learn all about Amelia, and unfortunately, Jackson is the only one who truly knows that story.

 

“Breakfast for one, then?” Jackson shouts after us and I slam the door.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

When I drop Olivia back to our room, it’s empty. The kitchen is clean and Jackson is nowhere to be seen. In my chest, I feel something I don’t feel very often: bad. I feel bad for attacking him and then leaving, but he needed to hear it. While we ran, Olivia and I didn’t talk. She let me process everything that happened this morning on my own. The steady pant that fell from her lips was all the support I needed.

 

“I’ll see you later,” Olivia calls as she bounces up the stairs, inbound for the shower. “Have fun.”

 

I close the door and head down the hallway. I stuff my hands into the pockets of my black hoodie and pull my shoulders in, ducking my head. A tiny old lady seven feet away catches my attention and I look at her from underneath my hood. Her eyes rake me with judgmental fear, and as I pass by on the way to the elevator, I smile and nod at her. She turns away much quicker than I expect for someone her age and hurriedly swipes her keycard. Her door opens and she throws herself inside, slamming the door behind her. I arch a brow at her closed door. She’s very judgmental for an old lady who’s staying in Vegas. Little did she know (or care to know) I’m the kind of guy that would help her cross the street or carry her bags if they were too heavy. I laugh under my breath.

 

It’s the little things in life.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

I take in the arena all lit up and polished from the back row right down to the cage. If there’s one thing I’m going to miss, it’s the feeling of it all—the excitement my job brings out in me. There’s a swirl of apprehension in the pit of my stomach and it makes me revert back to my decision to quit… post-epic sex will do that to a man, you know, mess with his brain.

 

Do I truly want to quit? Can I exist without my passion? Can I function without it? The questions build up in the back of my mind—an all you can ask buffet.

 

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Darryl asks, smiling widely at the open space in front of us. His voice pulls me from my thoughts, thankfully taking me away from the questions that fill my skull and threaten to explode from my ears. I take in the arena, more importantly, the cage. Its thick black wire sends heat surging through my body and I picture Olivia’s perfect porcelain skin against it.

 

I nod, placing my hands on my hips. “She sure is.”

 

It’s nice being with Darryl. I haven’t seen him much, not outside of training, anyway. His wife is in Vegas to stay for a few weeks and they’ve been spending quality time. That or he’s avoiding me because we haven’t been getting along much recently.

 

“I heard about the club last night. It’s all over the internet—even in the paper.”

 

With my hands in my pockets, I trot down the stairs, slowly making my way to the massive cage in the middle of the room.

 

“Yeah, well, it was quite the spectacle. He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass right then and there.”

 

Darryl snorts. “You didn’t have to. Olivia did it for you.”

 

I smile and don’t even try to hide it. Darryl stops walking and leans against a plastic chair lining the stairs. I let my eyes roam the arena before coming back to him.

 

“Do me a favor and avoid the paper for the next couple of days. You’re not going to like the stories they’re spinning.”

 

Of course they’ve found a way to make last night the biggest issue in Vegas.

 

“What’s it say?”

 

“According to everyone else, Olivia is banging both you and Don.”

 

My fists clench and I laugh once. “I bet Don is loving that one.”

 

“I can guarantee it, and he’s going to use it to get further into your head. You need to be more careful, Seth,” he says, folding his arms. “He can take everything from you.”

 

I scoff. “He can try.”

 

He shakes his head, raking his hand over his face. “It’s not often I lecture you, but it’s very important that you listen to what I’m about to say.”

 

I take a step back and lean against the plastic chair opposite him, opening the floor up for him to speak his mind.

 

“Matt Somers knows what he’s doing. He’s been in the game for a long time and he knows exactly what generates money. There are three things that sell tickets in this industry; sex, rivalry, and grudge matches. Who do you think is spinning the stories? He knows you can’t stand Don, he knows Don wants to bang your wife, and he knows it barely takes a glance from Don in your direction to make you want to kill him.”

 

“So what do you want me to do?”

 

“I need you to learn how to walk away. I need you to learn how to tolerate assholes and not give this company the information it needs to make money off you.”

 

“How? How do I stop Don and Matt from getting inside of my head?”

 

“Firstly, you drop the alpha-caveman ‘mine’ shit. Don’s brain works like a child. If you tell him ‘no’, he only wants it more. Secondly—and most importantly—you train hard, eat, sleep, and live well.” He pauses and blinks at me, making sure I’m taking it all in. “And lastly, you stay home.”

 

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip in thought. When I stay home, I have the dreams, the dreams of Don and my father. When I’m out and about, I exhaust myself until I’m too tired to even dream. I prefer that.

 

“I can’t stay home. I’m busy.”

 

Darryl’s face pinches together with a frustrated scowl. “Doing what? The only thing you have to do is prepare for your next fight.”

 

Fair enough. “And Olivia? You expect me to force her to stay home, too?”

 

“She does whatever you want her to do. All you have to do is ask and bat those pretty eyelashes of yours and she’ll agree to never go outside again.”

 

I blow air out of my lips with skepticism. “She’s a lot more stubborn than you think.”

 

“To everyone else, maybe, but you have that girl wrapped around your glove. She’d do anything for you even if it means she misses out.”

 

I turn from Darryl and continue down the stairs. Olivia is the only one who knows about the dreams, she soothes me, comforts me with her words, and pacifies me with sex, but maybe Darryl can help. Besides Jackson, no one knows me like Darryl does. He knows how I work and he knows my next move before I even make it.

 

I hear his shoes patter against the concrete as I saunter towards the cage. It stands above me now, looming over me, teasing me. My chest tightens and my heart pounds in my ears. A faint, familiar pinch of panic seizes my chest and I grit my teeth, refusing to let it overcome me. In my dreams, this is the exact cage I get my ass beat and my body broken in. I’ve never been one to analyze the crazy shit my mind dreams up…but this time I wonder if there’s an underlying message. If I give up this life and choose a slower one with Olivia… would that make my father proud? Making my father proud means losing to Don, destroying my own pride in the process. Beating Don means I disappoint my father and give the MMAC exactly what they want. I lose something no matter which way I go… and on second thought I don’t give a shit what makes my father proud anymore.

 

“He can take everything you’ve worked so hard for, Seth,” Darryl mutters, pulling me from my own head.

 

I glance around. I’m in the cage, standing directly in the center while Darryl leans against the wire from the outside. There’s a sincerity in his eyes and I believe him. I believe that Don has the ability to take everything from me. Not because he’s stronger, faster, or meaner, but because he knows how to play dirty.

 

“I’ve been having these dreams,” I tell him, strolling to the edge of the cage. “I’m about to fight Don, the crowd is going crazy, people are shouting and cheering—you’re there, so is Olivia—and Jackson, too. The bell goes off and I start laying into Don, hit after hit… but it doesn’t affect him, and when I look up, it’s my father looking down at me with those beady, judgmental eyes.” I run my fingers along the cage, feeling the cool wire under my fingertips. “He talks to me, tells me I’m shit.” I laugh once under my breath. “You know, the usual, and as I’m talking to him, Don keeps hitting me from every direction before disappearing into thin air. Dad slaps me, disappears, and suddenly the room fills again. Everyone is shouting at me to get up and there’s a heavy pressure on my arm. Don has me in an arm bar and I can’t break free.” My fingers trail over the spot where I proposed to Olivia and I swear the metal heats under my skin. My lips twitch and I turn back to Darryl. “He snaps my arm and then I wake up.”

 

He watches me closely, his face void of any emotion, be it amused or worried. “You want to know what it means?”

 

I nod.

 

“Absolutely nothing.”

 

“Nothing?”

 

“Absolutely nothing,” he repeats with finality. “I know you, pal. I know how you get when fights draw closer and I’ll tell you the same thing I always tell you when you get anxious. It’s not a big deal. Win or lose, it doesn’t matter. If you lose, Olivia will still be here tomorrow, so will I—and Jackson, too. The same goes if you win.” A wide smile spreads over his face. “You made it to the big leagues. You beat all of your opponents in the tournament and you beat Junior Moset at this own game with an arm bar. You need to start realizing your own potential. Don is nothing. He’s just a lonely man paid by the MMAC to boost sales. They truly don’t want him to win. You are their prized possession.”

 

“Right,” I say with absolute confidence. What’s in a dream, anyway? I feel invigorated, like a new person entirely. Before I came here, I was tired and I wasn’t pumped to see the arena. Now, every cell in my being is alive and buzzing, like I’m holding onto an umbrella after a bolt of lightning has struck it.

 

I’m not done with my career.

 

I rule this arena.

 

This is my kingdom and I am the king.