Chapter 3 Nico #2
Two hours later, I’m making my way outside for some fresh air. Lucas and Alexander are still inside throwing back shots. Lucas, because it’s his job to entertain, and Alexander, because he’s a gigantic human being.
Finally outside, I pull in a deep breath as I lean against the brick wall. As much as I hate to admit it, I did need this tonight. It didn’t solve my general restlessness, but it softened the edges.
I’m still leaning against the wall, my eyes closed, when the voices from inside get louder as the restaurant’s door opens beside me.
“Nico. Whoa, how you doing, man?”
I peel my eyelids open and turn my head to see who called my name.
It’s Tyler Hatchett, another MMA fighter in the Philly circuit. He fights out of another gym, and he’s a different level and weight class than me, so our interactions have been limited but amicable.
“Tyler.” I nod politely. “I’m good. You?”
He lets out a heavy sigh. “Better now that I’m out of there. I’ve got a date to get to.”
I huff a laugh and melt back into the wall. “Oh, yeah? Who’s the unlucky lady you have to pay for that?”
That earns me a laugh in return. “You have no idea how spot on you are.”
Head tilting, I train my full attention on him again. “What does that mean?”
He chuckles as he places a cigarette between his teeth.
“Relax. More people do it than you think.” When I only stare at him, bewildered, he lights the cigarette and inhales before explaining, “It’s not that bad.
The high-end ones are like a match-making service: they interview you, figure out what you want out of it, then match you with the right girl.
It’s easy. And there’s no pressure, no games, no expectations.
Way better than dating, if you ask me.” Taking another puff, he waves the cigarette around.
“And you have that fight coming up, don’t you?
So you don’t want the mind games that come with dating right now anyway. ”
It takes me a second to find the words. I never even would’ve thought of hiring a…a prostitute? Escort? What’s the difference?
“Isn’t that illegal?” is what I end up blurting out.
Tyler chuckles once more, clearly amused by how taken aback I am.
“No. Not really. It’s an escort agency. They’re just setting up dates, that’s it.
Doesn’t even have to include sex.” He digs around in his pocket for a moment before pulling out a business card and extending it to me.
“Don’t believe me? Give them a call. They’ll explain everything. Put your sweet little mind at ease.”
I don’t know why I take the card, but I do. And I stare at it numbly as Tyler blows out a final puff of smoke.
“Alright, I’m out of here,” he says, putting his cigarette out on the sidewalk. Then he grins and claps me on the shoulder. “Don’t look so scandalized, Price. They already debunked the ‘no sex before a fight’ rule. Go get your glorified orgasm.”
I’m still staring at the business card when Lucas sticks his head out of the restaurant.
“Hey. You coming back? I think I finally got Alexander drunk. He’s two seconds from wearing the sombrero one waitress keeps trying to put on him.” He glances down at my hands. “What’s that?”
I hurriedly shove the card in my pocket. “Nothing. Just…ran into an old friend.”
Lucas nods thoughtfully. “Ah. That’s cool.” When I don’t move, he quirks an eyebrow. “So…you coming?”
I shake the bizarre thoughts from my mind and grab the door handle. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m coming.”
But that card burns a hole in my back pocket, and in the back of my brain.
My apartment is entirely too quiet.
Water bottle in hand, I sink onto my couch with a groan. After a long day of training, every muscle in my body is sore. I’m exhausted. I should be passing out the second I get home.
But I don’t. I never do. Because my mind won’t stop spinning.
I meant what I said to my brothers. At my age, shouldn’t I have already found the point of life? I mean, I love fighting, but realistically, it’s going to be a very short period in my life. It’s a short period in every fighter’s life. What do I have beyond fighting?
Guilt sits heavy in my stomach at having these thoughts during a fight camp. I’m grateful for the fight Lucas got me, and this is probably the worst time to be spiraling, but…I can’t help it.
I drag a hand down my face with a sigh. Is this what a midlife crisis feels like? Maybe I should’ve been more honest with my brothers about what’s going on in my head.
About my recent thoughts of retiring.
Maybe I should take that trip with them. I need a change of scenery, if nothing else. Because once I’m past the fight, this feeling is only going to grow.
And just like it has for the past two days, my conversation with Tyler comes back to the forefront.
The curiosity has been eating away at me. Is it true what he said about escort agencies being common? I’ve never thought about them outside of TV shows, but he made it sound like professional athletes use them all the time. And not just for sex. Are they really like a glorified matchmaking service?
I take another sip of my water. Should I call them?
If it’s legal, and the boundaries are set for both parties, then it’s just a no strings attached hour with a woman, right?
That’s not a date. There’s no expectation for a future, no need for games—it takes out all the parts of dating that have been stressing me out.
It removes the potential for a genuine connection, too, but that’s off the table leading up to this fight anyway.
Have I really reached the point of wanting to hire company? Am I really that lonely?
Fuck. Maybe.
I pull the card from my pocket where it’s already worn down to a creased piece of paper. It’s just a phone call, right? Worst case, I’m skeeved out and rip the card up.
Right?
Ah, fuck it.