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“Hey look, I’m not saying I’m glad she got hurt. I’m saying they’re fighters. She stepped into the ring with The Champ. You punch a shark, you get swallowed. Whole. Everyone is still talking about this match months after the fact. Not even the Gasnier and Diaz match got this much attention post event. Where Nash has ultimately failed, though, is by not declaring a rematch. No one gave a shit about this fight before. Now the world wants to see it.”
“So, are you saying Nash owes it to Beckinsale or the fans to give one?”
“Nash owes it to herself. She and Beckinsale would get a huge payday, the fans would get onboard, and best of all, Nash could put to rest all this nasty attacking going on. Fans have had enough. They want better quality in her matches. They got it and now she doesn’t want another bar of Beckinsale. Now look, in my opinion, there isn’t a snowball’s chance in hell Nash is intimidated by a rookie. Let’s be honest. She probably doesn’t want to have a murder charge on her hands next time. But by denying a return bout, she’s fuelling the flames of doubt and critics. They want a warrior.”
“And what have they got?”
“Right now? A wimp.”
Veronica closed the screen. Never in her career had she let insults and jibes annoy her. This was different. They hurt.
They didn’t understand. How could they? She had thought it best to not explain, that she didn’t have to explain.
She jumped as a window behind her shattered. She placed a shaking hand to her chest and looked behind her couch at a solid brick that lay on the floor. Around it was a taped note with huge letters.
‘PSYCHO CUNT.’
She should call the Police. Her trainer. Her agent. Anyone. But she found herself unable to move, save for crumbling to the floor, hands over her nose and mouth, trying to stifle her crying.
She had surrounded herself with luxuries and pretty things. Things she had earned after years of training and sacrifices. But it was true what they said: money could buy you anything except that which you truly desired. And, right now, what she truly desired was someone who cared. She wanted a friend.
It was so dark Ruben couldn’t see his own arms and legs. Two in the morning, sitting cross-legged on a cold, dew covered cricket pitch down the road from the house. He struggled to his feet. The three, now empty, long neck bottles of beer tumbling from him. He stumbled, almost aimlessly searching for the water fountain he knew was close but couldn’t see.
He found it just as his phone buzzed with a message. ‘Where are you?’ sent from Chris. He sent a reply of ‘walking’ and left it at that. Things had been so shit between them lately; it wasn’t even worth talking anymore. All they seemed to accomplish was more arguing. The last thing he wanted was more grief because of the alcohol he’d consumed.
Chris had to know, he wasn’t stupid, but hadn’t said anything.Fucking pain in the arse,Ruben thought, bending towards the fountain, splashing his face and rinsing his mouth. He made the short trek home with minimal trouble, only having to steady himself once or twice. He took care to be as quiet as possible with his keys but found the door was open. He crept in and found the inside quiet and dark. All were asleep. He ventured into the bathroom and the shower, after which he rubbed a good amount of toothpaste in and around his teeth, attempting to further mask the scent of alcohol.
He placed his clothes in the hamper, burying them under those already on top of the pile. On his way to the bedroom he shared with Chris, he stopped by Ava’s room. He peeked inside, finding her asleep though not soundlessly. A painful sounding crackling wheeze escaped her with every breath. Her chest rose and fell quite steadily though it was hard to imagine her not finding it difficult to breathe, in some way, thanks to the damage in her throat.
He reached out with a shaking hand, wanting to comfort her, even in sleep, but he couldn’t make contact. He felt unworthy of touching her. No matter how much time passed, no matter how much alcohol he consumed, nothing would ever truly numb the guilt that weighed on him. He would give anything to have his time over again, but he couldn’t. All he could do was make the best of the here and now, and part of that was vowing to stand by Ava and never letting her in the Cage again. He failed to protect her once. It would never happen again.
21
“OK, babes, open your eyes...”
Ava knew what to expect when she looked down at her leg but smiled nonetheless. Still wrapped in bandages, but now splint free. She had finally been admitted to hospital to have the bloody thing removed. For the first time since arriving home a month ago, she felt like she was on the mend. Even this white, sterile room didn’t seem so bad with that feeling in mind.
“Doc says this will stay on for a few days, but then you’re free and clear,” Ruben said.
“For rehab,” Chris joined in. His tone was upbeat and yet at the same time solemn. It was good news, but she wasn’t in the clear just yet.
Ava swallowed and concentrated. “O... okay.” Her voice was nothing more than a ghostly croaking wheeze, but it was getting there. Slowly but surely. A whisper that could only be heard if in complete silence. But she could speak, and as long as she spoke slowly, very slowly, the pain was just manageable. Jasmine wrapped her hand around Ava’s, silently telling her not to strain herself.
Ava looked down at their hands. She didn’t pull away, and she couldn’t deny the growing closeness, but something still felt off. It had been over a week since her slip on the runway, and they still hadn’t finished their talk. Mostly because Ava didn’t fancy having a deep and meaningful conversation via texting. But the time had come.
Ava caught Chris’ attention and gestured for him and Ruben to go for a walk as politely as possible. He nodded and caught Ruben by the arm, helping him up as he said they were going for coffee.
Once alone, Ava turned to Jasmine, carefully thinking about her words as her throat burned just from the few she’d managed earlier. “Can we talk?”
Jasmine nodded as if knowing this was coming. “Absolutely.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Does it seem like Chris and Ruben are having troubles?”
Jasmine looked taken aback at the question. “Well, not really. But I don’t think I’ve paid that much attention to be honest. I’m guessing you do?”
