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“No, cancel them,” I said. “Every single one. I have someone who can help me with this.”
“Who?” Ralph asked.
“Yeah, who?” Madeline looked worried. “We’re cutting it pretty close.”
“I’m aware.” I stepped back. “I’ll fill you in after she agrees to this.”
“How do you know that this ‘she’ will help you, Travis?” Ralph asked.
“Because she doesn’t have a choice.”
SEVEN
PRESENT DAY
TRAVIS
Midnight
Las Vegas, Nevada
Hot streams scalded my back as I stood in the shower.
I’d been standing in here for over an hour, contemplating how to get what I needed from Tatiana. If there was any woman who could convincingly act her ass off, it was her.
There wasn’t much room for negotiation, no space for “maybe later,” because despite how things had ended between us, we both believed in keeping promises.
I never broke one with her; I knew that she’d never break this one with me. (Well, minus the one when she swore she’d never leave me. I was still learning to deal with that one.)
Turning off the water, I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed to the kitchen.
I picked up my favorite bourbon and took a long swig.
My phone buzzed on the counter.
Text from Ralph:
Who is the woman you have in mind, Travis? I’ve called you six times…
Text from Madeline:
I’m still planning to audition alternatives in case your woman—whoever she is—doesn’t work out.
I set my phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode and carried the bourbon into my bedroom.
Through the windows, Sin City’s lights beckoned me to come out and play, to have a reckless night on the town like I used to, but I resisted their pleas.
Pacing the floor, I guzzled the alcohol until it burned my chest. Then I opened a hidden photo album on my phone titled ‘She Doesn’t Exist Anymore.’
I vowed to delete it year after year, but I never fully committed. On my worst days, opening it and reliving the best moments of my past was the only thing that reminded me that I once had someone outside the octagon.
I entered the passcode—the date I first met Tatiana, and hundreds of images and videos appeared onscreen.
Tatiana skated toward me in an empty arena, slept naked against my chest, and kissed me while we walked in a private park. In other shots, we swam naked in a hotel pool, laughed in a rainstorm, and sipped slushies at an off-road 7-Eleven.
When I reached the worst part of the album, my bottle of bourbon was empty.
There were screenshots of two text messages that still set my heart aflame to this day.
