59. Chapter 56
Chance
W hat JJ had spoken about the entire drive into Darlington Harbour, I couldn’t even say. I couldn’t even describe the plain chicken breast I’d had for breakfast this morning, or how good the third litre of water I had in my hand felt going down.
I hadn’t spoken to Sunny since that night outside the abandoned barn. I felt empty, like a piece of rubbish rolling around in the wind. And part of that had nothing to do with the scarcity of sugar and energy in my body.
I was three days out from the biggest fight of my life, and all I could think about was her .
Mari.
Sunny.
Her .
Instead, I was standing with Al, my best friend, and the human embodiment of evil.
She always insisted on being in as much of my press as possible, feeding me lines to thank her for and everything.
Right now, I couldn’t even argue. I couldn’t even remember the fucking things she wanted me to say.
I felt so wobbly, so full of nothing. Every breath of air felt thick and heavy.
“Y’okay, buddy?” JJ asked.
“Yeah, mate,” I replied, looking over my shoulder to Talia fixing her makeup with the stupidly expensive gold compact she bought from my first ever cash purse from the UFL. “Sunny here?”
“She’s out with Marilyn and Paige.”
“Paige?” I asked. The more I could ask to keep JJ talking, the less I had to. And—the less chance Talia would come and interrupt. She and JJ had had … confrontations before. She wouldn’t dare try anything here where someone could be pointing a camera towards her.
“She does a lot of the gym’s photography and videography. You’ll know her when you see her.”
I doubted my eyes would be searching for her in a crowd.
“Dylan?”
“One of the seccies just came and checked he was part of our party, so he’ll be here soo—speak of the devil.”
“How we doin’, boys?” Dylan towered me by about two inches, but I was the bigger of us two.
Well, not right now. Right now, I was a plastic bag blown up with two puffs of air.
“Fucking fantastic, D-dog!” JJ cheered, launching himself at my brother. “Good to see you again!”
“JJ,” he said, patting him on the back to signal him to let go.
“JJ,” he said again.
“J!” I snapped, whacking him on the back. He dropped immediately.
“Ow! The fuck was that for?!” he whined, rubbing his back. “Thank god you’re here, Dylan. He’s been so cranky.”
“Gee, I wonder why,” my brother said before turning to me.
“Chance!” a feminine voice called.
A glance over my shoulder told me it was the chick from Knock’s who was always running around with a big, red camera in her hands. Clutching a phone in one hand and her camera in the other, her hands had those same triangles, circles, and diamonds on them.
But that one glance couldn’t tell me why my brother had gone as rigid as a rock beside me.
“Sorry to bother!” she chirped, slowing to a stop in front of me. “Mind if I get some pre-face-off photos?” She beamed a full-face smile before running an inked hand through her hair.
“Sure—”
“Paige?” My brother interrupted.
That beaming, happy, kind face of the woman in front of me morphed into a scowl. Her eyebrows pinched together, fizzing out the light that had been in her eyes just moments ago. “Prince Disgusting,” she hissed. “I would ask you how you are, but we both know that I don’t fucking care.”
Hearing a girl wearing a green and white floral skirt and a bright pink vest swear at my brother might have just been the best thing I’d ever witnessed. I tucked the memory away in my mind. Later. I would enjoy this later. When I didn’t feel like hot, steaming garbage.
She stormed off, and I failed to contain my laughter. Less than half a second later, JJ joined me in holding our stomachs from laughing too hard.
“Jesus, Dyl. What did you do to that poor girl?”
“I-I-I just—” he stuttered.
“I-I-I just,” JJ mimicked. “Jesus, Deedee. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone talk to ya like that without copping a smack from ya.”
“You good?” Dylan asked me, ignoring JJ’s comment. I may have been depleted, may have been feeling like a steaming pile of horse shit, but even I could see the haunted look that had fallen onto my brother’s face.
I flicked my head over to where Talia was standing, taking photos of all of the signage with my name on it.
Dylan groaned, muttering a not-so-quiet curse on the end of it. “Want me to take care of that?”
At my brother’s words, JJ immediately squared his shoulders.
“Just leave it. I don’t have the energy to deal with the fallout of that.”
Understatement of the century .
~
Five and a half hours, and a fuckload of media presences later, I was standing side stage waiting for the announcer to call me up onto stage for the face-off with Randy.
My stomach was so empty, I was teetering on a fine line I could feel would turn into a cramp at any second. I had no salt, no sugar, no food on board. I was so depleted that I didn’t even feel hungry anymore.
Yay. Fight week.
“And now, the number one contender, Chance Riordan,” the announcer said.
My hearing muffled over as I walked out onto the stage. All of my energy poured into keeping my shoulders back, my chin up, and that fucking smirk on my face.
From the way Randy was shifting slightly from foot to foot, I could tell he was doing the same.
The referee for Saturday’s fight signalled me to my mark and Randy to his. He reeked; the smell even more pungent when he stepped into my space.
“I’ve fuckin’ got ya, Riordan,” he snarled, his stupid smirk on his face.
I laughed. I laughed long and hard. So long that Randy’s face morphed into a scowl as he shoved at my chest.
I’d seen it coming, knew he wanted to be first to put hands on me. So I’d planted my feet, not even staggering when he shoved at my chest. I stood tall, playing pretend like I did with Sunny.
Pretended like making weight was easy.
Pretended that I felt strong and powerful.
Pretended I was capable of fighting this cunt right here and now.
Multiple seccies and stage people separated us then, though I quickly pushed them off. Breathing felt thick and heavy, like a fucking chore. The less people taking up oxygen around me, the better.
“Would the fighters please take their seats.” The interviewer stood on a podium, Randy and I on either side of him. Someone in the front row opened a muesli bar. The crinkling wrapper sound drilled straight into my ears and the smell of sugar hit me like a fucking truck.
~
Question after question we were asked.
“What are your plans for this fight?”
“How do you feel about your training?”
“How do you feel about your opponent’s training?”
My head pounded, hypoglycaemia well and truly underway. I could practically feel the calories falling off me.
“Chance, a little birdie told us you have someone special to dedicate all of your hard work to?”
I hadn’t seen her before. But at the question, of course I found her.
She stood along the side of the crowded room.
Her beautiful curls were pulled on top of her head, though the same strays fell around her face.
A black T-shirt dress fell loose around her frame but was pulled around her waist by a thick black belt.
Across the chest, in big orange letters, was the Knock’s logo.
Those mile-long legs finished with a pair of plain black heels that made her legs look even longer.
She’d done her makeup for the occasion, but she clearly hadn’t caked it on like Talia—
Shit .
There was something I was meant to say here.
“I wouldn’t have been able to do this without the support of my wonderful, loving wife, Talia.”
The crowd let out cheers of applause and appreciation. Love was something everyone could relate to.
But I didn’t feel it, not when I spoke of Talia.
I felt it for the woman at the back of the room, with the face filled with devastation. Her eyes were on mine, even though she was more than fifty metres away. I could practically feel the hurt radiating off of her.
My mouth started to move when her feet headed for the door.
“Wait!” I shouted, standing to my feet.
Where did this energy come from?
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. That one stray curl I liked to brush away fell over her forehead.
“Bray,” I addressed the interviewer. “I’d like to change my answer.”
The man nodded me on. The crowd had gone deathly silent, and I could feel the steam coming from Talia’s ears brushing up against the back of my neck.
“The only thing I have Talia to thank for, is for giving me a reason to leave her.”
Gasps bounced through the crowd, followed by friends hushing them down, eager to hear more.
But all I could focus on was Sunny. She’d turned back towards me, hands folded over her chest as one reached up to cover her mouth.
“If she hadn’t done all she’d done—if she hadn’t hit me, kicked me, and tore me down—I would never have left Darlington Harbour.
I would never have moved out to Soggla, where my best friend and new martial arts family were waiting for me.
And I never would have met the real love of my life. ”
I paused, glancing around the room at the crowd hanging off my every word.
No going back now.
“My name is Chance Riordan. And I’m a victim of domestic violence.”
Talia screamed.
The crowd was murmuring, yelling all kinds of things.
JJ and Dylan could have been swapped out for the clown carnival game, their mouths were open so wide.
And Al? Al gave me a single approving nod.
“No! You liar! You—”
“Enough,” I growled, holding a hand up to her as she approached.
She froze in her spot.
I turned to where Randy was sitting, clearly enjoying the moments he didn’t have to use extra energy.
“I’ll see you in the ring.” I turned back towards Talia. Those piercing, ice-blue eyes had an avalanche tumbling down a hill inside of them. Collapse of the world she knew, of the control she’d thought she had. Fear and panic at the nightmares she’d built collapsing around her evident on her face.
“And you?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but I beat her to it.
“I’ll see you in court.”
This room was too loud, so I went where I knew it would be quiet.
Straight to Sunny.