Chapter 44
Kas
Mari’s laptop screen moves stiffly back and forth as if being altered by an invisible force. The image of me being captured by her webcam jerks around until I’m perfectly centered on the screen.
“There,” Mari says.
Her head pops up from behind the laptop and she retracts her arms, plopping back into her chair on the opposite side of the conference table.
I’m waiting patiently to be interviewed by Benny Moretto, a sports journalist and host of his program The MMA Powerhouse . Thanks to my lack of importance compared to the other main card fighters, I only had a total of two interviews for media day, this being the second and final one. Bill decided to watch it with Davina in her hospital room while the rest of the team handles it here.
Dash snaps his gum and leans forward to look past Mari. Both of them watch the muted interview being projected onto a pull-down screen at the front of the SFL conference room. I focus on the video call on the laptop screen, straightening when Benny changes the topic to me.
If reluctantly accepting Davina’s push to do this video interview weeks ago wasn’t hard enough, Mari has implemented one very difficult rule for me to follow: Look like you want to be here.
It’s hard to look like I want to be here considering Benny is a shit-stirring host that inserts questions to get fans and viewers riled up to the max. It’s a great opportunity to get some publicity via his show, but goddamn, I’d rather be doing anything else than feed into this toxic side of the sport.
“Kacper is joining us live from Vegas. Hello, Kacper, or should I say, ‘The Unfriendly Ghost, ’ ” Benny says, adjusting some bulky headphones over his slicked-back hair.
His desk is filled with MMA memorabilia, from fake belts to little bobble-headed figures of the fighters that preceded me. The setup is like those live news interviews where I’ll be on a big screen beside Benny while he reports from a desk in front.
With a subdued sigh, I wave at Mari’s laptop and get sucked into the interview. Benny asks the typical questions about training, how I will adapt to SFL standards, blah, blah, blah. He breezes over my drug test leaks; I can only assume it’s not interesting because I was clean and Mari’s public statement on my social media shut down any speculation.
Benny carries on asking fight-related questions, occasionally making jokes about “street interviews” and “restroom fights.” My answers are curt and sometimes embellished with a little more detail for the sake of “looking like I want to be here.”
“Let’s talk ladies,” Benny says.
Mari and Dash roll their eyes from above the laptop screen. I match their reaction with a disgruntled curl of my lip. Like most media outlets, there’s a lot of interest in knowing my private information. Mari says that because I’m so closed off, media channels with the latest intel about me bring in clicks, whatever that means.
“What about ladies?” I ask. I look up at Mari like a haunted doll, stiff and disturbed. “I’d prefer to talk about sports,” I add.
I need the interview to stay on topic, or things will get messy with my inability to form acceptable answers on the fly.
Benny laughs like I’m joking, but I’m being deadly serious. I don’t want to talk about ladies.
“You’re unmarried, no kids. Is there a lucky woman that will be supporting you on Saturday? We’ve seen the fan edits of you and your social media manager.”
I take an uncomfortable sip of water and Mari silently mouths something I can’t quite interpret. Benny is stirring the pot. I can sense it in the coy questioning he’s doing to goad specific answers.
“Do you have better questions?” I ask, running my nails along the links of the chain around my neck.
“The only reason I’m asking is because I was contacted by a disgruntled gentleman about a relationship you destroyed.”
I drop the chain to my chest and lean forward curiously. I’ve destroyed a relationship? Dash, maybe. But me? I’ve only really interacted with my team.
I reach forward to grasp my bottle of water again and a small batch of nerves make their presence known in my stomach. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t understand, hm? Isaac, please, introduce yourself.”
My hand falters around the cool plastic water bottle and the liquid inside spurts out of the top when I clench my fist too tight. Mari blanches, Dash’s mouth drops open, and I’m seconds away from taking Mari’s laptop and bashing it against the table until its only discernible parts are a few lettered keys.
My screen splits into three, and instead of me and Benny, Isaac’s there. Like I saw when picking Mari up, he has short blond hair that’s several shades lighter than Dash’s. Much to my annoyance, he doesn't look like some disgusting, unsightly creature that lives in the sewers.
“Kacper,” Isaac croons. “I bet this is a nice surprise.”
When Mari said she peaked in high school, I assume Isaac did too. His childish smirk and puffed chest hold an air of confidence that hints at a person with former teen glory—if his audacity to appear on my interview didn’t suggest that already.
Isaac smiles at the camera and angles it downward to show off his bloated six-pack. “My name is Isaac, and I am the ex-boyfriend of Kacper’s social media manager, Mari.”
“What the fuck is this?” I ask.
At first, Isaac’s background looked fake with a palm tree in the back, then I remembered Quinn mentioning him being away on vacation.
“Isaac here claims you’ve destroyed his girlfriend’s view of him,” Benny says.
Mari pinches the bridge of her nose with ringed fingers and closes her eyes. She whispers a few panicked words to Dash, and I attempt to answer Isaac while trying to decipher what she’s saying.
“Destroyed, how?” I press, keeping my eyes on Mari.
She fans herself and takes her bottle of water with shaky hands. The strap of her tank top slips off her shoulder when her body hunches in defeat.
“Destroyed because she blocked me.”
I pin Isaac with a look of hatred. There is no way he genuinely believes the bullshit he’s spouting.
“You sound pathetic,” I say.
I’m leaning into this argument, taking full advantage of talking to Isaac. I don’t care if Benny set this up because I now have one very important goal of getting Isaac to leave Mari the fuck alone.
Isaac scoffs. “Pathetic? My girlfriend blocked me because of you.” Referring to Mari as his girlfriend fills me with vitriol, it bubbles in my gut and slithers up my throat.
“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct. “She lives with me now. Don’t contact her again, you jealous fuck.”
My jaw aches with the tension of my clashing teeth.
“She lives with you?” Isaac asks. The pixels that make up his face go from white to red in seconds. “Lives with you?!”
Mari stares at me with her mouth agape and ignores whatever Dash is whispering to her. Isaac’s cut from the call when he begins to rant off a trail of expletives too excessive for Benny’s channel.
Benny clears his throat with a close-lipped smile. He glances to his right at something off camera and nods hesitantly. “Now, Isaac also decided to share a photo with us.”
He clears his throat again. The projection of the official broadcast shows a picture of an empty apartment.
Mari gasps and slaps her hand over her mouth. When she removes her hand to whisper to Dash, I watch the movement of her lips. That’s Isaac’s apartment, my apartment .
My vision glosses over with a red mist and my breathing becomes labored with fury as Mari buries her face into her hands.
“Isaac said that he gathered a couple of friends to get rid of Mari’s things while he is out of the country. It’s all unrecoverable,” Benny says. A flash of remorse crosses his face as he explains, and his eyes find the cue card in his hands. “Isaac claims that it’s Kacper’s fault and that, I quote, none of this would’ve happened if Mari respected me enough not to fuck the guy she’s working with while still living under a roof I pay for,” he reads.
Mari’s shoulders quiver. I can’t tell if she’s crying or not, and neither can Dash based on the way he tries to peek between her hands.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
Isaac has gotten rid of Mari’s stuff. He’s definitely gotten rid of it because Quinn hasn’t moved anything yet.
Beneath the conference table, I pinch the skin of my arm so that I don’t spiral into a whirlwind of rage.
“Put Isaac back on,” I demand.
I don’t know if Benny replies because Mari shoots up from her seat and hightails it out of the room. I watch her through the glass window as she disappears down the hallway toward the gym, and I waste no time slamming the laptop shut to go after her.
“What the fuck?” Dash’s voice trails after me.
Mari manages to walk while madly typing on her phone, barely looking up when she pushes through the gym doors into the parking lot.
“Mari, wait,” I say, sucking in a sharp breath when I step outside into the sweltering Vegas heat.
She whips around to face me. “I shouldn’t have blocked him. I should’ve just put up with him,” she rants.
Her eyebrows arch sorrowfully, and she looks away when she wipes her eyes. My fingers itch to erase the mascara she’s dragged across her face. Her dark brown cheeks glisten with tears and her lips tremble.
My heart shatters because this could’ve been avoided if I had just acted faster. The plan for this weekend was crafted to perfection; Quinn chose the best spare room at mine and Devon’s. I wanted to drive Mari back home after the fight and watch her react to a fully furnished room with all of her belongings placed perfectly under our roof.
“Put up with that? No, fuck no,” I say, uncaring if I sound abrupt.
Dash watches us from inside of the gym and I shoo him away with a deft wave of my hand. He takes the hint, retreating all the way into the back of the gym and out of earshot. It’s just Mari and me in the middle of the almost-empty parking lot, plus a few cars intermittently driving past on the main road beyond.
Mari wanders to the corner of the lot next to my car and lowers herself onto the curb with a frustrated shriek. She places her elbows on her knees and her head into her palms before tilting it back and puffing a defeated breath to the scorching sun.
“God ...” She laughs through her tears, a sad, weak chuckle. “This is such a mess. Goddamn, Isaac.”
The mention of Isaac from her sends blood storming through my veins. “I’m gonna ...”
I withhold saying every violent, illegal thing I want to do to Isaac by fixating on Mari’s beaded necklace. It loops her neck and rests on her heaving chest; the coloring matches the bracelet on her wrist fashioned with similar beads. The letters Q and M sit front and center with a little bead in the shape of the heart sandwiched between them.
I bet it stands for Quinn and Mari.
Quinn and Mari.
I straighten and shake my head to remember the message Quinn sent me a few days ago:
I already moved some of her valuables out when she left for Vegas and Isaac was on vacation. I snatched them up the second he left. I love my spare key :)
I love Quinn’s spare key too.
“Mari—” I begin.
“He joked about this, you know,” she interrupts.
I crouch down in front of her and place a palm on each of her bare knees. She chokes out another dejected laugh and looks away from me with an almost imperceptible flush under the deep brown skin of her cheeks. I squeeze her knees, and it encourages her to continue.
“When you picked me up and we were packing the car, the joke I mentioned was Isaac threatening to do exactly this. I blocked him because I couldn’t tell if he was joking, and I thought that I would never have to see him again after he told me he was extending his vacation.”
My breaths grow agitated and uncontrolled, lungs aching with the effort it takes to keep those breaths from merging into a frustrated cry.
I shuffle forward and move my hands from her knees to her jawline. My thumbs fight a losing battle trying to catch her tears as they fall from her lash line.
“I knew he hated you, and I knew he hated me working with you too. I just didn’t realize how much,” she whispers.
Guilt floods through me and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.
“None of this is your fault,” I say. “You’re not responsible for the way Isaac acts.”
She fidgets with her phone case. “He felt threatened by your presence in my life. He thought that the only reason I got this job was because I fucked you, and he thinks that you pulled me away from him and encouraged me to ignore him.”
The guilt grows. If I had known Isaac hated me that much, I would’ve put this to sleep weeks ago instead of leaving Mari to deal with him. I didn’t outright tell Mari to ignore Isaac, but there’s no way I didn’t play a part in this whole thing.
Mari’s eyes bounce between mine, attempting to decipher my emotions lingering just below the surface.
“Say something,” she urges.
“I reacted harshly at the thought of you going back home to Isaac, I was angry when he called you after the club, and I pushed you to consider moving to mine. I used those things to fuel this relationship.”
Mari makes a choked noise that borders on a scoff. “You didn’t know how bad Isaac was, and you didn’t push me.”
“For weeks, you were working your ass off while your ex was threatening to throw away everything you care about because you were here with me.” I nestle my finger into my chest.
“That wasn’t because of you!” she stresses with wide eyes and gritted teeth. “Isaac knew nothing about us, nothing. His assumptions ended up being right, but he never knew what was happening between us. He made it up in his messed-up head!” Mari’s hands flail as she motions around her tight curls. “He was barely tolerable. Seconds before I got into your car, I was figuring out how to get away from him—with or without you.”
My car reflects the early afternoon sun on its metallic body and Mari places her hand just above her brow bone to lessen the glare.
“But it’d be a lie to say that I didn’t play a part. Did you feel comfortable distancing yourself from Isaac because of the trip? Because of me?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t a bad thing!” Mari’s eyes turn glossy and pleading. “I don’t regret any of this, I wouldn’t change us.”
“I despise seeing you hurt, I hate it when you cry, and if I could do anything to prevent that, I would. You know that.” My voice cracks with frustration and her brown eyes narrow with a similar emotion.
“It was never preventable. You can’t prevent everything, Kas.”
I swallow and drag my focus to the main road. I hate that I can’t prevent everything, I hate it so much that I can’t fathom the idea of not preventing this mess.
“This could’ve been avoided if I just backed off a little,” I mutter.
“And you would’ve done what? Not kissed me?” Her question clings to the air between us because we both know the answer. “I chose to come to your door when I couldn’t eat at Isaac’s, I chose to kneel in front of you to do more than just kiss. I did a lot of initiating. Do you think I wanted you to back off? Because I don’t think I would’ve let you.”
My heart thumps its way into my throat and our gaze is severed when a default ringtone emanates from her phone. Quinn’s name flashes on the screen.
“I need some time to sort this out,” Mari says.
With one teary glance at me, she stands and dusts her behind as she walks away to answer her cousin.
I chew the skin of my lips, nibbling on the words threatening to leave them. Mari makes me want to beg. Her teardrops are like little pleas, each one whispering for me to do something to put things right.
She doesn’t understand that even if Isaac’s actions aren’t my fault, I feel responsible for her sadness because I have to be the person that puts a smile on her face. I want to see the apple of her cheeks lift with joy and her perfect nose scrunch up when she laughs at my horrible attempts at being funny.
I tense when my phone buzzes from within my pocket. On the screen is a message from Quinn and I glance at Mari and back to my phone. How is Quinn multitasking?
Quinn: I haven’t told Mari that I have her prints and valuable stuff because the last time I tried, she got upset and told me to back off. My mom has seen the whole interview and she’s stressed.
I reread Quinn’s message. Isaac hasn’t just fucked up; he’s already damaging the health of Mari’s auntie.
Quinn: I don’t know what to do.
Me: How much of the other stuff is replaceable?
The irreplaceable stuff was my initial concern. Quinn’s reassurance of it being safe means that together, it’s possible to replace the rest of Mari’s things. I just need to act fast, preferably before we get home.
Quinn: I mean ... everything? Clothes, some camera gear, furniture, plants, that kinda stuff.
Me: Let’s replace Mari’s things. Your family can help, so can Bill’s stepkids, just let me know how much money you need.
“Mari!” I shout across the lot. She jerks her chin and presses her phone against her chest.
“Yeah?” She responds with a quiet sadness that makes my heart ache.
“You’ll live with me, right? After all of this is over, you’ll make my home yours too?”
Mari nods her head before I finish my question.
“Of course,” she says in a relieved exhale. She thumbs her necklace and continues nodding. “Absolutely.”
Her agreement washes me with relief.
Quinn: Heard that, I’ll start buying stuff asap. Can you send a pic of the front and back of your card? Thanks K-dog. :D