Chapter 39
Kas
There are only so many times you can tell someone it’ll be okay until your words of reassurance go unheard.
I swing into a parking spot between Dash’s car and Bill’s van, braking a little too hard. Mari’s body lurches against the seat belt and slams back against the seat. She’s unreactive to it, just as unresponsive as she was on the journey here.
I flex my grip on the steering wheel and exhale aggressively. “We’re here,” I say.
I stare at the side of Mari’s face, and she sniffs quietly while looking forward at the gym doors. The gentle slope of her nose crinkles when she squeezes her eyes shut.
Unlike last night, it’s not in pleasure.
“I don’t want to go inside,” she whispers.
“We have to go inside.”
When Mari makes no effort to move, I get out of the car and open the door for her. She pries her eyes away from the gym’s entrance and to my outstretched hand. With a slow and controlled breath, she takes it, and I reluctantly let go with a gentle squeeze when we reach the doors.
Davina is already mid-lecture, her hands waving with wild abandon at Bill and Dash.
I’m surprised Bill even turned up.
“I just love how we are all taking it upon ourselves to bring some excitement to Kas’s fight,” Davina beams passive-aggressively.
She barely acknowledges me and Mari as we walk in. Dash looks at me and shakes his head as if to say “it’s not looking good.”
“No, seriously. At the cost of our rapidly plummeting reputation, great job!” Davina’s left eye twitches, barely clutching onto her last piece of sanity. “Raise your hand if you have been in a physical altercation in the past four weeks. Not including professional fighting.”
Mari tucks her chin into her chest when she raises her hand. Dash rolls his eyes as he lifts his and Bill follows. Both men share a look of understanding; it’s so uncharacteristic of them that I have to flit between them to make sure I’m seeing things correctly.
“Out of the five of us on the team, three have been in fights. Three!” Davina throws up three fingers.
Dash clears his throat. “It’s on brand.”
“It could be worse,” Bill mutters. He’s barely uttered a word since the steroid spectacle.
Davina’s eyes narrow. “Could it? You had to bail Dash out of jail a few nights ago because of his little drunken street brawl.”
Ah, that explains the look.
“That was a valuable bonding moment for Bill and me. I lost my phone, and he was the only number I remembered.”
If looks could kill, Davina would be charged with Dash’s murder.
“Mari, what are the socials looking like?” Davina asks.
“Umm ...” Mari presses her lips together. “Bad. I’ve had to disable comments on all of Kas’s posts. They’re spamming needle emojis,” Mari says.
She looks like she’s about to burst into tears. If one appears on her waterline, I’m calling this fight off.
Davina nods. “Because they’ve seen the leaked documentation of Kas’s drug test. Even though it shows Kas was clean, the notes section stating that they witnessed Tren bottles being removed from his bag is pretty fucking damning.”
Of course the results were clean because I haven’t touched the stuff in almost ten years. I’d also be surprised about the documentation leak if I wasn’t aware of the type of unprofessionalism running rampant within the association.
“I should’ve taken more notice of the girls filming me in the bathroom,” Mari says. “I should’ve caught this whole thing earlier.”
“Try not to dwell on what we could’ve done differently,” Davina says.
Dash points at Mari. “No, because why didn’t you catch the video last night?”
My brows raise at his attempt to shift the blame to her.
“I—”
“She was asleep,” I interrupt Mari. “You seriously don’t expect Mari to be on a twenty-four-hour social media watch, do you?”
Mari’s chest heaves with a relieved sigh. Dash doesn’t need to know what we were doing all night.
“Is that not what her job is?”
Something about Dash’s comment doesn’t sit right with me. His insinuation that Mari’s job is her incessantly scrolling through social media undermines how much she’s done. Her social media handling is why Bill’s stepkids have noted an increase in membership sign-ups and why I’ve gained so many supporters recently. And without Mari, Dash wouldn’t have become a micro-influencer over the past few weeks.
“You know her job is more than that,” I say.
“No, Dash is right. I should’ve been able to spot this whole thing a lot earlier.” I meet Mari’s watery eyes. “I’m sorry, Kas.”
“Don’t blame yourself, it’s not your fault,” I defend.
Dash points at Mari. “See, she agrees.”
I shake my head and exhale a mirthless laugh. “What’s your job, Dash? Because as far as I’m concerned you’re meant to be my training partner, yet you’re either a no-show or violently hungover,” I say.
“Alright! That’s enough,” Davina orders.
“Don’t be a cunt, Kas,” Dash says, his eyes narrowing at me.
We stare at each other with anger simmering within our gazes.
“Dash, what has gotten into you?” Davina asks.
“Kas is accusing me of being a deadbeat training partner.”
“Because you are. You claim you’re ‘making the most of the trip.’ It’s just an excuse to do nothing. If you’re here to work, at least act like it,” I say.
“You’re not my boss,” Dash snarls.
Bill steps forward with a scowl. “You know what, Dash? Every day I see Kas grow from the boy he was when he entered my gym into this phenomenal fighter. He’s tested clean, and he’s a crowd favorite. You haven’t grown since. You’re unfocused, immature, and downright difficult.”
Hurt flashes in Dash’s gaze and I catch his bottom lip tremble for a second before he bares his teeth. “You can’t talk considering you stormed out of here when the steroids showed up.” Dash glowers at Bill. “And I haven’t grown? Kas is so one-dimensional that the only interest he gets for this fight is from the rest of us embarrassing ourselves. Kas should be out there defending us, not letting his team become laughingstocks responsible for fixing our reputation.” His eyes land on Mari for the last few words of his rant.
Mari peers up at me and for a fleeting moment, a little divot forms between her brows. My heart stutters pathetically. She’s probably trying to assign each of Dash’s words to me, recounting every touch and interaction we’ve had to see where his lie holds some truth.
I slide my focus back to Dash and he’s shaking his head at me.
“I can’t control what people say about us. I can’t control what anyone does. Am I responsible for you getting arrested?” I ask.
Dash’s baggy vest billows against his body as the AC blows air that is way too cold for a group of people not working out.
His eyes narrow into slits and his finger points at Bill. “Bill’s wrong, you haven’t grown. You’ve just coasted around since your mom died by banking on being a good fighter.”
Dash’s words are thick, viscous, and laced with the intent to hurt. It swamps me and drowns me until the world around me is muffled.
“Dash, get out,” Mari says through the high-pitched ringing in my ears. “That’s too far, you’ve taken it way too far. Don’t ever talk about Kas’s mom like that, that’s disgusting.”
Bill and Davina also say something, but at this point, I can’t hear anything. My eyes feel like they’re vibrating in my skull and my knuckles burn. Dash’s avoidant, guilt-filled eyes do very little to prevent me from snuffing out the flames on my fists with his face.
Dash was there at my lowest when I first joined BD GYM. He saw what my mom’s death did to me. I know he remembers seeing me break down in the changing rooms whenever he was working late and yet, he stands here and doesn’t just lie between his teeth, he uses her death against me.
I swing a harsh right hook to Dash’s cheekbone. He stumbles back, unable to straighten before I land another punch to his face.
“Hey, hey, hey!” Mari shouts, her voice climbs higher with each yell. “No fighting outside of the ring!”
Dash defends himself at first, hitting back until he stops and accepts my beating. The pungent smell of alcohol permeates the air with each of his labored breaths.
Of course he’s still drunk.
A splash of cold liquid coats my body, along with the thunk of an empty plastic bottle against my head. It does nothing to distract me from my fury.
“No, don’t call the cops,” Mari says.
Her voice stands out against the frantic yelling of the others as I straddle Dash when he falls and lay hit after hit until he finally covers his face with his forearms. The voices of Bill and Davina filter in through the rage and out of nowhere, Mari bulldozes me off Dash with her entire weight. It sends us both sprawling onto the gym floor.
Mari pants as she props herself up with a forearm. She looks toward Dash’s bleeding face and then to my blood-coated knuckles. I can tell the sight has made her nauseous by the way she presses her fist to her mouth.
The sadness in her eyes triggers a flood of regret. I turn to see the forlorn face of Bill, then the horrified face of Davina with her phone pressed against her ear.
“If you weren’t going to let up, I would’ve had to call the cops. Can you believe that? Calling the cops on my own fucking team!” Davina shouts. Her voice has a broken tone to it as if she’s yelling past tears trapped in her throat.
“I deserved that,” Dash says from the floor. “I don’t know why I said that ... I didn’t mean that shit.” He presses a hand to his face and pulls it away to check the damage. “Fuck,” he breathes and releases a sob.
“What the hell is going on?” Davina asks. “Why are we so dysfunctional?”
Dash stands and steps forward. “It was my fault. I got angry, I haven’t slept, I’m drunk—”
“Aside from the potential doping rumors, publicized criminal history, and a general online smear campaign, the only thing that could be worse is if I go into labor and will no longer be around to save your asses. If our team crumbles completely—which it has—what do we do?” Davina asks.
The gym is rendered into silence.
Panic oozes from Mari at the mention of Davina potentially not being here. It’s strange because I’ve seen her comfortable under Davina’s wing, nodding along to explanations about the inner workings of combat sports; it’s like the possibility of Davina going anywhere has never really occurred to Mari.
“I think I’m done,” Davina concludes.
“What? No,” Mari whispers.
“What?!” Dash shouts louder than Mari. He winces and licks the cut on his lip.
“No,” Mari whispers again.
I don’t respond because, like Davina, I’m pretty much done with the fight too.
Davina releases a sad laugh and looks up while blinking rapidly. Not in thought, but in the way you do when you want to prevent tears from falling. “I love you guys, but my god I feel like I need to sedate you.”
“No,” Mari repeats.
Bill remains silent. A discreet nod from him tells me he agrees with Davina.
“There’s only so much I can do, and I know it might be hard for you guys to tell, but I’m really fucking good at my job.” Davina ends her sentence with another melancholic chuckle.
“What are you talking about? Of course you’re good at your job, you’re—”
“I’m really fucking good at my job,” she repeats, interrupting Dash. “But I am exhausted .” She motions to her stomach. “The fight stuff I can handle, but I am not physically equipped to take on this much fallout from our team. We were meant to be tight.”
Mari steps toward Davina. “But—”
“I’m throwing in the towel, waving the white flag, whatever you wanna call it. I am done.” Davina finishes her words with a dismissive wave of both hands.
“What?” Mari asks, her voice reaching a pitch I didn’t know was possible. “You can’t—”
“I’m happy for you guys to do it without me if you don’t want to pull out. I can put some provisions in place and Bill can—”
“I don’t want to deal with this either,” Bill interrupts. “As I keep saying, I’m too old for this.”
“How would we even fight without you two?” Mari asks.
“We don’t,” I answer.
She snaps her head to me with an open mouth. If we have no team, I’m not too hung up on dropping out. I’ll continue with my local fights and just forget this one was ever going to happen. Hopefully, the publicity from the smear campaign garners enough memberships to keep the gym going.
I press my lips together and push aside my damp hair from whatever liquid someone threw at me when I was on Dash. “This fight has destroyed reputations, relationships, and health. A few weeks ago, it seemed to be something that was in our best interests and as time goes on, I don’t think it is.” I point in Bill’s direction. “Bill has checked out emotionally since the steroid ordeal, Ward and his team have caused injury, and Dash is killing himself trying to convince everyone that my fight is worth the chaos. The truth is that it’s not worth it.”
It’s difficult to ignore the vague disappointment that penetrates my body.
“But this is all my fault, I wasn’t around to try and get rid of the accounts. Why are you giving up so easily?” Mari says to me. Her eyes are desperate, begging. “I want to see you win, I want to keep supporting you, Kas.”
“It’s not your fault, the whole thing just isn’t worth it,” I repeat through the cracking of my heart.
“But we’ve worked so hard. You’ve got fans now, there are still people that are supporting you, I’m supporting you. You’re just going to throw it all away?”
The eyes of everyone burn into me. Mari’s question is good, and my answer would be different if not for the dark mark that mars her cheek from her fight with Olive. I refuse to make things worse.
“If dropping out of the fight is considered throwing it all away, then yes.”
Even though she’s stepped away from the fight, Davina looks unhappy with my decision. “It’s still possible to do this without me and Bill,” she says.
Dash scoffs. “Do it without you both? Are you insane?”
Without them, it does feel like the foundation holding up the team has disintegrated from under us. It’s one thing doing the fight, but without a complete team?
“It’s over,” I say.
Bill’s bushy eyebrows subtly knit together and Mari blinks three times in quick succession.
Dash gets up in my face. “Seriously?”
“Back up,” I warn. “I don’t wanna beat your ass again.”
“I can’t fucking believe this. Fuck!” Dash says, stepping back. He places his hands behind his head as he paces back and forth.
“It’s late, but I’ll contact Ward’s agency in the morning to give you guys today to think about this,” Davina says. “Then I’ll step away from the fight.” Mari nods mechanically and Bill’s cheeks puff before releasing a large lungful of air. “And for the love of god, someone please take Dash to the emergency room.”