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Owen and his father exchanged another glance and seemed to have the same reaction. Why not? What did they have to lose?
20
Owen approachedthe apartment with his father in tow. Tegan and Fiona were sitting, perfectly content, inside, sharing a private joke. Owen kissed Tegan on the cheek and sat down. He took his time and explained what happened at the cop station.
“Wow, she dropped the charges, huh?” Tegan asked.
“Weird that. Stupid bitch probably got some sense knocked into her.” Fiona added, filing her nails.
Owen could’ve sworn, by the tone of their voices, none of this was a surprise. Women’s intuition or something else? He didn’t know. Yet he put it out of his brain as he had important things to discuss. “While you’re both here, we have something to ask you, Fiona.”
“Me?” she asked.
“Yes, you,” Robert said. “We want to know if you’d consent to joining us.”
“Sure, where are we goin’?”
“No.” Robert answered. “Coming on as a consultant.”
Fiona creased her brows; she wasn’t understanding.
Owen, though, made it crystal clear. “I’d like you on Team Gasnier. Officially.”
Fiona held her mouth open.
“You’re not just my biggest fan. You have great insight. You’re not tainted by this system. You think outside the box. You’re honest and loyal. You’ve done so much for me, so much for us, recently. You notice things even I don’t. I need your help.”
“But... why?”
“Because I don’t think I can beat him without you.”
Fiona was saved having to answer by Tegan. “And you don’t have to babysit me anymore.”
Fiona looked from one to the other and then back again. Pausing, she then said, “I want my own TG jacket with my name on it. Don’t skimp on the sparkly cursive writing either. Make sure they spell it right. FiFi.”
“Anything else?”
Fiona didn't answer with words, wrapping her arms around his shoulders instead and holding on for a long time, before saying, "Thank you..."
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes...” she sniffed.
Fiona snapped up and wiped her eyes, pointing to Owen and then Tegan. “Right, first thing. You two. No fucky-fucky.”
“You said that already.” Tegan pointed out.
“That was coz I was jelly as fuck. Now? We are in training. Got it? You,” she said, pointing to Tegan. “Keep em’ closed. Think of sewage. All the time. You, marathon man,” she said, looking at Owen. “Think of Diaz’ hairy, stinky, syrup dripping, flaccid baboon cock. Time to go to work. Now look, you fucked up after your fight. You let him bait you. I know why. I get it, and I love you for it, but you fucked up. Now he knows if he pushes your buttons enough, you’ll snap. You watch at the press conference. He’ll say even worse shit to you. So, from now on, we gotta defend against that.”
“How do you propose we do it?” Robert asked.
“As much as I love you O, your press conferences are shit. They are designed to create buzz for your fights, but you never use them that way. You never insult anyone. You never out sass your opponent. You’re respectful and courteous all the time. It’s annoying,” she said, blowing a strand of hair from her face. “So... here’s what we are gonna do. I’ll speak for you.”
“You’ll speak for me? How will that help?”
“We take his power away. I’ll fire back for you, putting on a show. Buzz will be generated. We will get ticket sales.”
“Again I ask: how will that help?”
