Chapter 9 Rome
ROME
Dude. . . have you gotten to chapter ten yet?
I haven’t gotten to chapter two yet.
—Text from Ryker to Rome
“Okay, let’s go over this again.”
I crack my neck as I stand in front of Hudson, legs spread wide and arms crossed over my chest, fucking spent after the first damn day of camp. I shit you not, this is how we started training today, and according to the clock over the front desk, this is how we’re ending it too.
“We’re eight weeks out from the fight. I want your ass here five to six days a week, two to three sessions per day.
We’re looking somewhere between five to six hours.
We can lean more five than six if you take care of your cardio at home.
And I swear to God, Rome, when I say cardio, I do not mean your flavor of the week. You hear me?”
“Loud and clear, Hud.” Wonder if he’s going to give me the breakdown every day. Kind of like a countdown to the fight.
A fighter to my left lets out a loud whistle, and I turn, not sure who I’m expecting to see.
Definitely wasn’t expecting my cousin and agent, Olivia St. James, to be walking through Crucible.
She sticks out like a sore thumb in a tight black dress, with her dark hair pulled back and twisted into a knot.
Her lips are turned down, and her five-inch shiny red heels look as much like a weapon as they do a fashion statement.
Warning bells go off in my head.
Livvy is fucking pissed.
And she’s looking at me.
“You.” She points at me, then at Hudson. “You too. I need you both in your office.”
Hudson shakes his head, smiling with outstretched arms. “What you meant to say was Hi Uncle Hudson. You look so handsome today. I missed your face.”
Livvy grumbles as I snicker, and she throws up her middle finger as she walks into Hudson’s open arms. Five-inch heels or not, she still looks small next to him. “Hi, Uncle Hudson.”
“How are you, Olivia?” he asks as he hugs her, lifting her off the floor.
“I’m fucking pissed, and I’d rather discuss why in your office.” She doesn’t squeeze him back, just waits for Hudson to put her down before nailing me with a withering glare. “Now, move. This can’t wait.”
Liv moves in front of us like she owns the gym, and I guess technically she will, one day.
Crucible is her father’s. But even having grown up here, she still looks out of place.
Too polished, too grossed out by sweat. Liv spent the majority of the last decade outside of Kroydon Hills.
First in college, then law school, then working for a big-time sports agent in New York before she came back home a few months ago.
Not sure whether she’s staying yet, but whether she’s in this state or on Zoom, she’s the best damn agent I could ask for. A fucking shark.
One who walks right into Hudson’s office and waits for us, leaning against the wall, her arms crossed in front of her much like mine were minutes ago, only with her posed that way, my balls shrivel.
She looks like she’s ready to stab someone with the heel of her damn shoe, and I’m a little worried it’s me.
“I thought we were meeting Thursday, Liv.” Hudson drops down into his chair and wakes his computer up with a shake of his mouse, then moves closer to the screen and finally gives in and lifts his glasses up without actually putting them on.
“Calendar says Thursday morning. Care to tell me what changed?”
Liv looks right past him to me. “Please, for all that’s fucking holy, Rome, tell me you didn’t make a sex tape.”
“What?” I ask before I process her words, and my stomach sinks.
My father drilled a few things into my head growing up.
Always check to make sure the chamber is clear when you’re handed a gun.
Don’t ever point that gun at anything you’re not willing to destroy.
No. Means. No.
Walk on the outside of a lady, so you’re closer to the street.
Always bring her flowers.
Don’t send dick pics.
And never fucking let yourself be put on tape.
I don’t have a sex tape.
No way.
No how.
Just no.
“A sex tape, Rome.” She looks almost bored as she says it, and I sit down, my legs shakier now than they were the entire six hours we worked today. “You and a woman, naked. Fucking.”
“Olivia,” Hudson chokes, but Liv only looks at me as she crosses the room and pulls up a photo on her phone. It’s grainy at best, and there’s absolutely no way to make out who the people in the black and white screenshot are. But there’s also no doubt what they’re doing.
“Please tell me you weren’t this stupid, Rome.” Her voice hardens, and my jaw clenches. “I thought we were working on cleaning up your image. Not wrecking it.”
“I’ve spent the last year cleaning up my image and keeping it that way.
I didn’t wreck anything. I don’t have a sex tape, Olivia.
I’m not that irresponsible.” I take the phone out of her hands and try to blow the image up, but it doesn’t help.
“There’s no way you can even see who that is, but it’s not me. ”
“Cite your sources, Liv.” Hudson holds his hand out for the phone, then does the same thing I did, like he thinks he’ll be able to see something I couldn’t. “What’s going on? Why do you think this is Rome?” He looks from the phone to me and back to Liv. “What do you know?”
“I don’t know anything for certain yet—”
“Liv—” I cut her off, but she holds up her hand with a fierce shake of her head.
“Don’t, Rome. I’m good at my job.” She leans back against Hudson’s desk and crosses her legs at the ankles.
“My team is good at their job. And part of that job is to have our finger on the pulse of a scandal, and I’m telling you my sources say there’s a scandal brewing, and it’s got your name written all over it in thick black Sharpie.
So I’m going to ask you again. Do you have a sex tape, Rome?
I can’t help you if you lie to me. So don’t bother lying. ”
Her tone is patronizing as hell and pisses me off because she’s made it more than obvious she doesn’t believe me. Frustration digs it’s ugly fucking claws into my skin and pulls hard. “If it were real, how exactly would you even be able to help me, Liv?”
She looks down at me over her black-rim glasses, like she’s bored with this conversation.
Well, too fucking bad. This is why she gets a percentage of every penny I make.
“I’d start by finding out exactly who leaked the tape, and if it was or wasn’t the same person in the tape with you.
It’s not as hard as you think to find that.
Could take a few days, but it’s manageable.
Then I’d go through their finances. Their secrets.
Every person they’ve wronged. Every bill they’ve been late on.
Every ticket they’ve ever had. I’d dig into their family.
Find their fucking weakness and exploit the hell out of it.
I wouldn’t just ruin them for trying to ruin you, Rome.
I’d destroy them. Their credibility. Their whole fucking family.
Because nobody messes with my family. And you, little cousin, aren’t just my favorite client, you’re my family. ”
When we were little and our giant family would go on vacations together to this private island, most of us would be screwing around somewhere, surfing or swimming or trying to score booze or a joint, but never Liv.
She was always tucked away in a corner with a book somewhere, reading or studying.
Always serious. Always focused. And always a little scary.
I guess some things never change.
Guess I’m glad she’s on my side.
“Is that good enough for you?” she pushes, and I nod. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Is there any chance you’ve made a sex tape you may or may not be aware of in the last five months?”
“That’s an awfully specific time frame, Liv,” Hudson chimes in, and Livvy pulls the image back up on her phone and shows it to Hud, who holds up his glasses again. Then he sits back in his chair and looks at me with something between disappointment and pity already taking root.
My blood fucking boils.
They think I did this.
That I was this careless with my career.
Hudson and Liv both think I made a sex tape, knowing my sponsors have been on my shit this year to clean my image up and keep it that way.
The league’s been up everyone’s ass since one of the guys went off the fucking rails last year and got caught snorting coke off a hooker’s ass in the bathroom of a club in Vegas, then led the cops on a high-speed chase an hour later, all after he’d just won a title fight.
It didn’t just look bad for him. It looked bad for the league and the sport as a whole.
I’m a lot of things, but careless with the career I’ve worked my whole fucking life for isn’t one of them.
“I. Didn’t. Do. This.” I hold my hand out for the phone again and look closer, this time taking note of the time stamp and date and breathing a sigh of relief. I really didn’t do this. Not even unknowingly because I wasn’t sleeping with anyone then.
“Even if I believe you,” Liv sighs and takes the phone back. “I’m not sure anyone else will. Not without proof, and it’s not like you have a wife or a girlfriend to back it up.”
My mouth opens before I even give my brain a chance to think it through. “Guess it’s a good thing I’ve been seeing someone for a few months, and we rarely don’t sleep at one of our places. She’ll back me up.”
She might also kill me for this, but I’m banking on her wanting to keep her secret enough to help me out with the right amount of convincing.
“You’ve been seeing someone?” Liv asks, stunned.
“Quietly?” Hud echoes. “For months? And it hasn’t gotten out?”
“It was easier to keep it quiet than to deal with our families.” Fuck, she really is going to kill me.
“And why would your families care?” Hud asks slowly.
“Because it’s Dillan Ryan.”