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Over the last week, I’ve all but driven myself mad with waiting for the courts to call and let me know when to come back. I did as promised and called every day to check in. I thought about calling Kai, a friend from back in the day. He lives in town still and is one of the best lawyers I know, but I’m not ready to talk to anyone about what happened. It’s not my brightest moment. I shouldn’t have let Ezra provoke me the way he did.
The way I see it, I got myself in this predicament, and I need to get myself out. There’s no way around it.
Instead of taking a flight which would have been quicker, I drive myself back to Vegas and stay the night in my loft. It looks as clean as it did before thanks to the cleaning service I use.
This morning, I’m to meet with a mediator according to the clerk I spoke with. I dress in a pair of charcoal gray slacks that I always hate wearing. I think the last time I pulled them out was . . . fuck, I can’t even remember. Probably my buddy Zane’s wedding.
Yeah, that’s it, and that was over a year ago.
I match a black button-down with the pants and leave the top two buttons undone. I hate feeling like I’m being choked. I grab a pair of dress shoes and slip them on before grabbing my wallet and keys. I run my hands through my hair once, making sure it’s not sticking up and head out the door.
It takes me thirty minutes to maneuver through morning traffic. By the time I get to the courthouse, I barely have enough time to get inside, but I make it. At the sight of Ezra standing with his lawyer, I have to keep myself from balling my hands into fist when I see the smug look on his face. I want nothing more than to knock it right off, but if I do that, I won’t be able to come back from that, not being in a courthouse.
“Mr. Dyer?”
I turn at my name being called to find a pudgy old man wearing glasses standing nearby. His attention focused on me. “Yeah. That’s me.”
“Right then, I’m Mr. Williams, and I’ll be the mediator for this case. If you will all follow me.” He motions for us to follow him.
Without saying a word or looking in Ezra’s direction, I follow Mr. Williams into a conference room and sit where he indicates for me to do so. The doors are closed, sealing us in, and I clear my throat, waiting for the old man to start speaking.
“We all know what we’re here for today, and I will be meditating the process,” Mr. Williams says and looks in my direction. “Mr. Dyer, the defendant’s lawyer requested that we go this route to keep from going directly in front of the judge. Do you agree with resolving this without going before the judge?”
I take a moment to think of what he’s saying, and I kick myself for not talking to Kai or asking him to come with me. I figured I could handle this on my own, now I’m not so sure, but regardless, I’m going with it to get this shit over. “I agree to resolve this as quickly as possible.”
Mr. Williams nods and proceeds to explain how this will all work and looks to Ezra’s lawyer, who slides a paper across the table to me.
“My client and I have spoken, and he’s willing to drop charges if you are willing to take this deal,” the other man says firmly. “In addition, we’ll assure you this stays out of the media.”
I pick up the paper on which he’s speaking and read over it. I want to ball it up and throw it in their faces, but if I do that, this goes further. They want me to pay a quarter of a million to Ezra and in return, all charges will be dropped. They’ll also keep this from going to the media.
Placing the paper on the table, I look from the mediator to Ezra’s lawyer, ignoring the other man himself. “I do this, and nothing else will come of it? Your client will stay away from me?”
Ezra’s lawyer looks at him and gets a nod before they both return their attention to me. Ezra looks smug and knows he’s got me.
“My client will indeed stay away from you so long as terms of the agreement are met,” Ezra’s lawyer confirms.
I nod and think about it for a long moment before agreeing. “Fine, I’ll agree and will pay the amount which he’s asking for so long as he never comes near me again. Give me the banking information, and I will contact the bank before leaving here so that I may be done with all of this.”
Thirty minutes later, I’m leaving the room thousands of dollars less, but lucky enough to have this taken care of. Now, I can get back to my routine and preparing for my next fight.
I head back to the loft, more than ready to get out of these clothes and into something far more comfortable. As I park in the underground parking garage, my phone rings. I pick it up to see my manager is calling.
I swipe my finger across the screen and answer, “Hey, Martin, how’s it going?”
“Why the hell didn’t you tell me what the fuck was going on with Ezra?” Martin demands right away.
“Wait, how do you know about it?” I question, my gut tightening. I didn’t want anyone to find this shit out.
“Considering I received a call from the boxing commissioner first thing this morning asking if you’d been arrested for assault a week ago, I think it’s best you start talking, Reese,” Martin grumbles, and I feel my stomach twist.
“Ezra got to me, and I punched him hard enough to break his nose,” I retort and go on to explain the rest of what happened, including this morning at the courthouse. How I’d agreed and paid him a quarter of a million to keep this from going any further.
“Well, it seems they’ve fucked you, Reese . . . in more ways than one,” Martin remarks. “Where are you? I’m gonna come to you.”
“Just got back to the loft.”
“Right, I’ll be there in just a bit, don’t go anywhere.”
