Clash Page 3

  I hoped that my face didn’t give away how I was feeling. He was going to be in town in two days for the fight I was helping him train for and he hadn’t even bothered calling me? What the fuck? “Well it was nice meeting you Devon. I have a client waiting out front.”

  “Nice meeting you too,” he said. “I hope to see you at the fight on Friday. I can use friendly faces in my corner.”

  I smiled and hoped that it reached my eyes as I turned to go back out front. Was Paul just using his sister as an excuse to not see me anymore? Could he really be that big of a coward? I wanted to doubt it. I know he was worried about Marie and Victor. I know that….

  “I’m sorry Tanya, here we go,” I told my client when I got back. I tried to tuck my thoughts about Paul away while we worked, but they kept sneaking back in. Before I knew it I was worried about his strategy. He’d been practicing his ground game because Devon was known for his boxing skills. What if he was going about it all wrong? Devon’s moves…what I saw of them with Greg, were good. He planned on going in there and taking Paul out in the one way Paul had expected to do to him. Even if I could get ahold of him, it was too late now. Shit. It was his own damned fault anyways for not calling me.

  When Tanya and I finished and she had gone in back for a quick shower I went up to talk to Victoria. “Hey Vic, have you seen Paul Delport this week at all?”

  She shook her head and was typing something into the computer at the same time. When she looked up she said, “He hasn’t even paid his dues yet this month. That’s not like him. I haven’t seen him in over a week.”

  “Okay. I was just curious. Devon Rafter is in the back. He said the fight is still on Friday night.”

  “Yeah, about that. Sam got tickets for us all again if you want to go.” Did I want to go? I really wasn’t sure. I was saved from having to answer at that moment because Justin walked in the door.

  “I’ll talk to you about it later, Vic. Hi Justin.”

  “Hey Jessie. What’s up?”

  I walked with him a ways from the desk before I said, “I wanted to tell you again how much fun I had last night. I also wanted to apologize…See, I kind of started seeing this guy but then he left town and I’m just not sure where we’re at. I didn’t want to start something with you until I knew…it just didn’t seem fair…”

  He smiled. Putting his hand on my arm he said, “Don’t worry about it Jessie, it’s really okay. I had a great time and I’d like to do it again sometime if you would too. If not, I’ll live.”

  Geez! Perfect stinking man. I’m ridiculous. “Thank you. Who are you working out with today?”

  “I was going to go it alone…but if you have time?”

  “Of course I do.”

  ******

  I managed to suck up my anxiety for the next two days and not let it get the better of me. I had decided to go to the fight. I don’t think there was ever any real question as to whether I would or not. I rode with Sam and Debbie and Debbie chattered most of the way there so at least I didn’t really have to make conversation. Everyone was curious about where Paul had been and why he hadn’t been coming around the gym. There were all kinds of interesting theories, but I didn’t weigh in on any of them. I was curious myself what he had been doing since obviously he was moving forward with this part of his life at least.

  Once again, Sam had gotten us great seats. The cage was right in front of us and I debated whether having such a good view was a good thing or a bad thing. I glanced around as the other seats filled up as well. There was electricity in the air that was almost palpable. The crowd was fired up and ready for this fight to start. They were loud and while we waited I heard at least three separate opinions about the fight. The consensus seemed to be that Paul was going to get his ass kicked. I wasn’t sure if I was still mad at him or not, but I was sure that I hoped they were wrong.

  When the announcer stepped into the middle of the octagon with the referee and announced Paul’s name, I held my breath. I watched as he not so much as walked as he did strut down the center aisle. He looked completely focused and the upheld palms and fists went completely ignored as he brushed past them. He stepped inside the cage and suddenly appearing to realize there was a crowd watching him he did a three-sixty and lifted a gloved hand up in greeting.

  Next, it was Devon’s turn. He came out looking like Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. He was almost dancing and throwing out punches. He shorts were white again and his dark olive skin was so shiny under the harsh lights that it looked like someone had poured oil over it. He bounced into the cage with a grin and unlike Paul, played to his fans. He jogged around the octagon blowing kisses and waving as the announcer read off his stats. It was an impressive list.

  The announcer finally got out of the way and the two fighters were called out to the middle. The ref did his thing and the men hit their gloves together and went right into it. They began to rotate around each other, each one no doubt strategizing in his head. Paul threw the first punch, a jab from his right side, aimed directly at the side of Devon’s head. Devon proved he had lightning reflexes. As one hand came up to block Paul’s punch the other shot around and landed on the side of Paul’s face. I winced as his head swung around at an awkward angle. He staggered back, but was quick to right himself back up on his feet. He moved around a bit, looking like he was still trying to regain his footing and surprised Devon with a roundhouse kick that landed on the other man’s left flank. Devon stumbled, but only slightly…otherwise he looked unfazed.

  That was when I think Paul decided to take a big chance. He took a step forward. The step alone had power in it and Devon wasn’t expecting it. Paul grabbed his arms and to keep from going down, Devon threw his forehead forward, slamming it into Paul’s. Paul didn’t seem to loosen his grip at all as they danced around together in a circle. Devon had a hold of Paul’s arms now and they were each trying to get the upper hand. The crowd was screaming, some for Paul and some for Devon. I saw Paul’s foot move out to the side and he did a quick sweep, knocking Devon off his feet. They went down together hitting the mat with a thud. They were both scampering, trying to get up on their knees. Paul was on his first and as soon as he was, he threw an elbow that Devon rolled out from underneath. As Paul’s elbow slammed into the mat Devon, on his knees now, jumped onto his chest. Paul didn’t stop moving and I saw his knee come up and connect with Devon’s ribs. The other fighter rolled off and tried to scramble back to his feet, but before he could, Paul was on his back. The bell rang then and both men went back to their sides of the octagon. Paul had definitely won that round.

  The ego part of me wondered if he knew I was here. The stubborn part of me wanted to say that it didn’t matter. He didn’t call and tell me he was going to be here, so why should I care? I did care though and I wondered what that said about me. When they went back out for the second round the look on Paul’s face was nothing less than pure determination. He came out fighting, looking like he planned on winning this in as few rounds as humanly possible. Devon looked determined as well, but he didn’t seem to have the same fire in his eyes as Paul did. They exchanged a few punches and kicks before once again; Paul managed to sweep Devon off his feet. This time as they fell, Paul grabbed him from behind so that they would go down with Paul on his back. He had his left arm around Devon’s neck as they hit the mat with his elbow just above his trachea.

  Paul reached out with the hand around Devon’s neck and grabbed hold of his own right arm. Squeezing the bicep he forced his hand down so that it was behind Devon’s head and brought his elbows together. It was a picture perfect example of a rear naked choke hold. I was proud of him.

  The only problem I could see was that Paul was struggling to get his legs in place. He was trying to get his shims under Devon’s knees so that he could use them as hooks to control his legs but Devon wasn’t going to easily give up the only part of his body he was still controlling. He used the power in his legs and hips to lift them almost completely off the ground. It was ri
sky because as they slammed down into the mat, Paul’s arms could have as easily tightened across his trachea as they could have slipped off. It took Devon three tries and it looked like it may be the last one he had in him as he slammed down hard and Paul’s hand slipped just enough to give him the wiggle room to slip free. He was still gasping for air, but that at least gave Paul a chance to get back on his feet. As soon as Devon was on his, he showed the crowd how he’d gotten his stellar reputation. He unleashed a series of punches and jabs and kicks on Paul that nearly took him back down to the mat before the buzzer finally sounded. That round went to Devon. Paul looked exhausted, but thankfully so did his opponent.

  The third round began almost identically to the last. They circled around each other, throwing punches and jabs and I could see Paul glancing down at Devon’s feet every few seconds, plotting out when to take him down. He was moving slower this round; the fatigue was apparent in his face as the sweat rolled off of it and splashed to the floor. He finally got ahold of Devon and tried sweeping him off his feet again. Devon twisted loose and stepped back too quickly for Paul to catch him. When that happened I realized suddenly that Paul’s pretty blue eyes were no longer in the cage…they were focused on me. As much as I wanted him to notice me…I wanted even more for him to refocus on the fight. Devon noticed his momentary lapse of focus. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough.

  Devon wrapped his arms around Paul’s chest and took him down to the mat, hard. He had his knees on either side and was just about to come down with a hammer when Paul twisted his body enough to catch hold of Devon’s arm. Devon was still on top of him, but Paul hadn’t let go of his arm and the more he tried to move, the tighter of an arm lock Paul ended up having on him. Before long, Paul was in the dominant position and Devon’s arm was twisted back at an unnatural angle. It looked like it was about to snap off in Paul’s hand. The crowd was ridiculously loud now and Devon had to be thanking God that the ref was paying attention because he certainly couldn’t have heard the tap. The poor guy looked like he was in agony, like it took every ounce of energy left in him as he lifted his free hand up off the mat just enough to drop it back down twice. He tapped out, he was done. Paul let go of him and stood up. Devon’s trainer was tending to him now and the referee was holding Paul’s arm in the air as they announced him as the winner.

  Paul’s last name echoed through the building both from the microphone and the chanting of the excited crowd. His manager opened the cage door and as Paul stepped out with a huge smile pasted across his face, he was rushed by hordes of people taking pictures and thrusting paper, notebooks and even body parts at him to sign. He looked a little dazed and I wasn’t sure if it was from the fight or all the lights going off in his face. He tried to stop and sign a few autographs but his manager took hold of his arm and propelled him forward. I watched as they stopped at the back where a podium was set up and the manager told the reporters that had gathered there he would be available for a “few” questions. The reporters were all yelling at him at once and the manager pointed at them one at a time and they asked their questions. They were all along the same lines…How does it feel? Where do you go from here? Paul answered them all, still with the huge smile on his face.

  “Mr. Delport, you’ve been named by several people as the biggest threat to MMA champion Trent Jones, what do you think about that?”

  “I think I hope he’s been eating his Wheaties because I’m coming…”

  The next few questions were about Trent Jones and Paul answered them all with confidence. I could tell when he’d had enough though. He looked at his manager and the man said, “I’m sorry ladies and gentlemen but that’s all for now.” His manager stepped back towards the locker rooms but instead of following him, Paul stepped down towards the reporters and began moving forward through the crowd. He looked like he was coming towards me but I didn’t want to get too excited until suddenly I was in his arms and his mouth was covering mine. I parted my lips and let his tongue seek mine out and we kissed like no one was watching. When he finally pulled back and we were both struggling for breath we realized we were being jostled by the crowd.

  “Maybe we should move some place a little less crowded.” I smiled and nodded and he took my hand, leading me with him to the back.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Once we were in the back in a little room near the lockers, Paul kissed me again. This time when we came up for air he said, “I missed you.” Those simple three words…and the kiss melted the ice that had begun to gather around my heart.

  “I missed you too!” We kissed again and he said, “I’m going to hit the shower really quickly. Will you go celebrate with me then?”

  “Yeah, I’d love to.”

  I went back out front and visited with my friends who had gathered outside talking. Debbie and Victoria were both giving me the “look.” It was the one that said as soon as we had a chance, they wanted to know what was going on with me and Paul. I felt like I couldn’t stop smiling. Either the electricity in the air had affected me as well, or it was just having Paul back. When he came out front he was dressed in a white t-shirt and jeans and he looked good enough to eat. He draped his arm across my shoulders as he said hello to everyone.

  “Great job, man. Where the hell have you been though? We almost put out a missing person’s on you?” Greg was only half kidding. They had all been really worried.

  “Thanks. I had some family stuff to tend to. It was last minute.”

  “Glad to have you back,” Sam said. “That was…I’m speechless.”

  Paul thanked him and then Greg said, “We’re headed to the Sport’s bar, are you two game?”

  Paul looked at me and the look that passed between us said it all. He turned back to Greg and said, “Thanks man, but Jessie and I have some celebrating of our own to do.”

  We got stopped at least six more times on our way to the parking lot and his truck by people who wanted autographs. When we were finally inside and alone he reached over and pulled me into him and kissed me again. “I missed you,” he said again.

  “Why didn’t you call me?” I had to ask.

  “I was getting Marie and Victor settled. I’m sorry. It’s just been a hell of a week. I almost skipped the fight but I refuse to let fear of that muscle headed ex-boyfriend of my sister’s ruin anything else in my life. This is my dream and I’m going after it.”

  “I’m glad. Does Mitch know you’re back?”

  “Yeah. I had some big guys that I know playing bouncers tonight…watching for him. I just talked to one of them; they had to throw him out early in the fight.”

  “Oh wow. I didn’t even see him.”

  “Good. I hope you never have to see the fucker again. What do you want to do tonight?”

  “It’s your night. You pick.” He kissed me again and said, “I want to spend it with you.”

  “My mother is at my apartment…”

  “That’s okay,” he said, starting the pick-up. “I have a better idea.” He drove us downtown to an area where there were some really nice hotels. I was a little disappointed, I thought he was taking me to some crowded bar or club. Instead, we drove up in front of one of the nicer ones…a five star if I’m not mistaken. He grinned at me and jumped out, handing the keys to the valet. The other valet opened my door and Paul was there to help me out. He handed the valet a twenty and said, “We’ll be staying for the night.”

  I stood silently, a little shocked as he got us a room and asked them to have a bottle of champagne brought up. He took my hand and led me to the elevator and once the door slid shut he pulled me in for a sweet, soft kiss. It was all lips and he was looking into my eyes the whole time. I was suddenly burning up.

  We got off the elevator onto the fifth floor. The carpeting was so thick and soft that I was actually sinking down to it as he led me to our room. I looked around as he slid the key card in the door. There were Louis IV chairs and Persian rugs in the little sitting area and really nice, expensive looking
vases sitting on the glass tables. I followed him into the room and when the door shut behind us he used his body to gently nudge my back up against the door. This time, he really kissed me. I parted my lips and he licked my top one before sliding his tongue in to meet mine. We languidly tasted each other as he ran his hand through my hair. I felt his fingers kneading my scalp gently and then sliding down to my neck. His other hand found mine and he held onto it as we kissed. I felt like I couldn’t breathe and I didn’t care if I died of asphyxiation right then and there.

  He slid his hand from the back of my neck across my shoulders. I felt him massage them gently and then move it down along my back. His touch with me was such a sharp contrast to that guy I had just watched fighting in the octagon a little while ago. My head felt like it was going to explode as he kissed me passionately while caressing and kneading my back through my shirt. He found the bottom of it and ran his hand up underneath it. The skin to skin contact made me shudder. His hand found its way back up to my neck and I moaned against his mouth as he caressed me there. His other hand was on the move now, sliding slowly from my hand, up my arm and finally touching the side of my face softly before traveling back down. I reached up and took his face in my hands as we kissed, moving my arms further out of the way so he could have free reign to touch my body.

  He let the hand on my back slide down until he found the top of my jeans. I felt his fingers slip just under the waistband and float across my ass. I arched into him because it felt so good. He used that motion to reach down inside the back of them with both of his hands and with a cheek firmly grasped in each one, he squeezed. I squealed just as there was a knock on the door that nearly startled me out of them.

  Paul grinned at me and whispered, “It’s the champagne.” I moved away from the door still panting and gasping for air. Paul took a bill out of his pocket, opened the door and exchanged the tip for the champagne. He closed it and turned around holding a brass bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne in one hand and two crystal flutes in the other.