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Six Nights Before the Rematch
Manhattan, New York
“Answer this damn door.” I rang Tatiana’s doorbell for the umpteenth time. “Answer it right now.”
Even though the lights inside weren’t on, I was convinced she was lying on her living room couch, taking great pleasure in ignoring me while New York’s rain drenched me to the bone.
“I only need two minutes.” I rang it again. “Just give me two minutes.”
The door never swung open.
The lights never came on.
The only thing that changed was the pattern of the rain.
“What the hell are you doing in front of my house, Boy?” Someone with a scratchy voice spoke from behind.
I turned around and saw an older man holding up a cane. He looked seconds away from striking me across the face with it.
“I believe you’re mistaken, sir,” I said. “My wife lives here.”
“No,Ilive here. And if you don’t leave my property within the next ten seconds, I’ll have to handle you personally.”
He puffed out his chest like he really wanted to fight me.
“Don’t make me start counting, son,” he said. “I’d hate to whip your ass in this weather.”
I would've laughed if my heart wasn’t aching so damn much.
“My apologies, sir,” I said. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been living here?”
“Since last week.” He let down his guard a bit. “A wonderful young lady who once coached my granddaughter is letting me rent it for as long as I want.”
“I see…” Pain assaulted my chest. “Do you have any idea where that woman is living now?”
“Shouldn’tyouknow that?” He raised his eyebrow. “Didn’t you say she’s your wife?”
“Right.” I left his steps and called Madeline.
“Yes, Mr. Carter?” she answered.
“I’m staying in New York for a few more days until I find Tatiana. Let everyone on my team know.”
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” Ralph was suddenly on the line.
“Completely.”
“Your fight is in six days.” He hissed. “Six. Fucking. Days.”
“We can always reschedule it, if I haven’t found her before then.”
“You have a highly-publicized, pre-fight ritual that’s due to start tonight.” He acted as if he hadn’t heard my previous words. “You will get your ass back to Vegas by this afternoon, and you will focus on fighting the man who is currently holding a press conference and talking shit about you. You will get focused, and after you win, you can work on fighting for your marriage. Clear?”
I said nothing.
“Are we fucking clear, Travis Dante Carter?”
“We’re clear,” I relented. “I’ll fly back around three.”
