Chapter Seven
Ryder
Yet again, it’s another meeting and another crappy manager only looking to “keep the playing field even.” I’ve been through five different interviews since letting Ricardo go, all who are more concerned with coasting at the level I’m at than helping me move forward.
Is everyone scared of working, or what?
If this keeps up and more managers continue to act like this, I may just have to get down on my damn knees and beg Z’s manager to take me on.
At least I know that he’s willing to put in the work it takes to actually improve your client.
You’d think they’d want me to level up, more visibility—more matches.
More matches—more money in their pocket.
Walking out of the high-rise building, I immediately head to the soft pretzel stand I spotted on my way in.
The amazing smell of baked dough and melted butter has had my mouth watering for the last hour.
Now, it’s finally time to savor the salty concoction.
I haven’t had a fight in over a week, and I’m tired of sticking to my meal plan for nothing.
I don’t even have anything booked in the coming weeks, thanks to well, not having a fucking manager. No one wants to take a chance on a free agent, or give out information to someone who may or may not be an impersonator. My name carries a tiny bit of weight, but over a phone line, it means shit.
Frustration has begun to take its toll as my mind spins with facts, names, and pretzel toppings.
When I get home, I think I need to hit the gym for a bit.
I’m not sure if it’s this particular situation or the fact that tomorrow is Bear’s anniversary, but I need to pour these emotions into something.
My thoughts have been about Bear a lot the last few days.
When Max confessed to Zane and me last night that he thought he saw her…
I swear I heard my heart shatter. The raw devastation in his voice, the way his eyes sank back and his throat bobbed when he told us she was just gone again.
I want nothing more than to go to him, to hold onto him and make him feel better.
If the roles were reversed, and I was in his shoes, I don’t know what I would do. If the illusion of her being there would help or hinder me more. Just watching the sorrow as an outsider had my heart wanting to crumble into a thousand pieces, breaking in the face of Max’s pain.
Addy and the others were a grade above me growing up.
I’d had a crush on Addison since what felt like the day I could walk, but I never thought I’d be able to snag her.
She was older, smarter, and had a heart made of gold and diamonds.
She was everything I aspired to be, everything I wanted to portray.
That girl was on a pedestal that wouldn’t lower in my eyes.
Reigning from her throne over us peasants like the radiant queen she was.
When they went ahead and started middle school and I was left behind, I started thinking WWAD whenever I got myself into a situation I couldn’t figure out.
What Would Addy Do?
It became my go-to line of questioning, until the day she went missing.
When none of their bodies surfaced in local searches, my initial reaction was relief.
There was still a chance, some small glimmer of hope that she’s still alive and in hiding.
But after numerous years of searching, my relief had all but disintegrated.
Giving way for anger and agony to take over.
The fights help. A way to release the pent up energy and emotion in a controlled environment, but my WWAD never returned. It’s like the longer she was away, the more my brain forgot how to be the boy I was. No longer about care and compassion and instead, aching for another fight.
As much as I’ve always wanted Addison to return to us, to be safe within our grasp, I’m terrified she'd be ashamed of who I’ve become.
Thoughts of her walking away from me, too embarrassed to be seen with someone who now takes pleasure in fighting.
Who gets a sense of euphoria when bones break and blood spurts, they cripple me at night.
More often than not, I wake in a cold sweat, beads of dew dripping down my neck and chest, sticking to my skin.
The haunting nightmare of Bear’s disappointed face, still fresh in my mind.
It’s not just me either. Zane and I are both the same, fighting is all we know. It’s become almost an obsession, every thought spent recalling what to do better, every free moment heading to the gym. It’s why this dry spell I’m on has me itchin’ and twitchin’ like a cow being attacked by flies.
Can take the boy outta Texas, but ya can’t take Texas outta the boy.
Max and Kade have found their ways of releasing emotion, and I’ve tried both, I really have. But it never ends in my brain turning off and my head calming down. Usually it ends in more frustration, and sand in places I’d rather not remember. They’re the calm and we’re the storm.
Completely lost in my thoughts, I mind-lapsed and forgot I had to catch the bus.
So, when I look at my phone to find I have three freaking minutes to get to the stop—I run, kicking myself internally.
The moment I round the last corner, I can see my transport up ahead.
It’s stopped, loading a bunch of passengers and I think I could make it.
Picking up speed I bee-line for the doors, but it starts to pick up speed just before I get to them.
Still running, I flail my arms violently, chasing after the moving vehicle with a quickly diminishing speed. I thank my lucky stars when I catch the driver's attention, and he slows to a stop.
“Lucky the traffic’s light today, son,” the elderly driver says as I climb onboard.
With a snub of a chuckle, and payment for the ride, I thank him again and make my way to the first available seat.
I don’t want to hold anyone up more than I already have, and after that sprint, I feel like I may collapse if I’m too picky.
The hard plastic of the chair does little to ease the aching in my quads, but at least sitting I won’t fall over.
Me
This one is a no as well
Kade
Shit! That sux man! Want me to send some more?
Me
yea guess so
Zane
Sorry bro, I can talk to Mike again if you want?
Me
All good, man. If I need to, I’ll reach out to him myself
I shake my head, lowering my chin to my chest and closing my eyes, while I wait for the contacts from Kade.
I know he’ll deliver another handful he’s found and I’ll have to start this damn process all over again.
The bus doesn’t seem as crowded as it normally does for this time of day, and for that, I’m grateful.
I hate nothing more than getting on and having barely any standing room.
You feel like an uncooked spaghetti noodle, still stuck in the back but one good blow from snapping in half.
My thoughts are wandering, taking me out of this bus and staring outside the window in a glazed over daze.
The signal tweets for the next drop-off location and a woman makes her way to the front.
As she passes, a hint of lemon and lavender hits my nose, assaulting the smell receptors with its sweet yet tangy aroma.
It can only be from the one woman, and I look her way.
She’s got legs for fucking days and a nice, round, perky ass.
Maybe that’s what I need to take the edge off… a night of wild, raw, erotic fucking to lessen the tension I’m feeling.
I’m still watching the woman walk off the bus, my head turning over which would be the best way to get laid.
I could always call one of the ring girls.
Lord knows they are always down for a casual hookup, and I know a few have been lingering around me more in the recent weeks.
Multiples seem to pop up whenever I attend one of Zane’s matches, hanging off me like leeches with tits.
Even the mere thought of having to peel them off me like last time spurs an incoming headache.
My eyes close and I once again lay my head against the seat, my fingers rubbing at my temples hoping for some relief.
When the heavens don’t seem to be on my side and it doesn’t work, my head lolls to the side.
Every single thought, both rational and irrational, flies out of my head in a single file line as I look out the window and have to do a double take.
No. Fucking. Way.
The woman standing on the sidewalk, the same one who just passed me on the bus, is her.
It’s Addy. I’m so positive I would even let Zane kick me in the nuts if I turned out to be wrong.
She’s fighting with her hair, throwing it up on the top of her head to get it out of the way.
But the way her emerald eyes glisten in the sun, the way her tongue sticks—
Hey wait a minute, why am I moving?
The bus lurches forward, taking off again to continue its route, which has me not so gracefully pushing my face against the window trying to hold on to the glimpse of her. Her hair is still as black as a raven's wing, her body tan and toned—it’s gotta be her.
Without blinking I swing around, smashing my palm against the button to get off as our wonderful driver was just about to pass the next stop.
Muttering unintelligible curses under his breath—reminding me to check the age limit for drivers with Miami Metro—he steps on the brakes.
I race to get off the bus, ignoring the man's lectures on proper etiquette when signalling for a stop, and with a chaste smile in his direction, run back down the sidewalk. I’m only one stop ahead, she couldn’t have gotten that far.
There are no other buses on this road that I can see, and she didn’t seem like she was in a hurry.
Labored breathing is all that can be heard as I duck and weave through the Miami crowd. My eyes are checking every corner and alley for that mop of black hair nesting on top of her head. It’s been less than five minutes since I lost sight of her, where could she have gone?
My legs take me further and further down the street, pedestrians passing by with looks of worry and disdain.
No doubt curious as to what drugs I must have taken to be acting this frantic.
A few of them ask if I’ve lost my mind, and it’s disheartening to think that I might have.
But if there’s a chance, even a small one, that our Bear is here… that she has returned…
Another ten minutes of searching there’s no results, with the exception of my increasing frustration.
I know it was her. She was on the bus, she passed right beside me and I could smell her perfume.
Now more than ever, I know yesterday was not an illusion.
It’s not possible that both Max and I are going mad…
at least not right at the same time. My phone chimes, multiple messages coming through from Kade in our private thread.
At least another half a dozen agents to call and book appointments with, but they’re now the last thing on my mind.
Me
Guys, I think Max might be on to something… I don’t think it was an illusion he saw yesterday
Zane
What are you talking about?
Max
You saw her too?
Me
I swear, she just got off the bus I’m on. Like so positive, I’d let you turn my balls inside out
I tried to chase after her, but I lost her in the crowd
Kade
Are you actually suggesting that both of you not only saw her… but neither of you could find her minutes after spotting her?
Zane
Kade’s right there’s no way both of you could see her and lose her in minutes. It’s probably just stress.
There may be a good chance he’s right, and it could be stress that’s playing with our minds.
Max and I have been under the most amount of stress out of the four of us.
Even though we all lean on each other, Max and I seem to understand each other on a deeper level.
A stronger connection that has formed between the two of us from being the underdogs of the group.
No matter what stress we’re under now though, there’s a feeling low in my stomach that I can’t seem to shake, telling me this is real. She’s not imaginary or a stress-induced illusion. She’s really here, in Miami and within our reach.
I told the guys we could talk about it more once we all got home this evening. Tomorrow is already going to suck enough as it is, and adding these sightings into the mix is only going to increase the suckage. Luckily, we’ll all be at home instead of being mopey buttheads surrounded by other people.
That’s one thing we all agreed on almost immediately.
On her day, every year without fail, we all take the day off and spend it together.
On the third anniversary of her disappearance, the year she would have been eighteen, we all spent the day at the beach in our home town—the last place we were all together.
Six years after, for when she should have been twenty-one, we bought her dream car, that damn purple Jeep.
The only vehicle she ever had her sights set on.
Year eight, we got matching tattoos of a bear cub as a way to honor and remember her.
Mine sits on my upper arm, proudly displayed for all to see whenever I’m without sleeves—which is a lot.
Max has his on his back, Zane, the left side of his chest. The three of us are, to no one's surprise, covered in ink.
So getting another piece was a no-brainer for us.
A way to have a piece of our missing fifth friend that we could carry with us everywhere.
It was Kade that surprised us when the idea got brought up.
He jumped at the opportunity, practically pushing us out the door to go get it done right away.
That day he was the first one in the chair and meticulous as the artist placed the stencil against his calf, making sure he had it exactly where he wanted it.
To this day, it remains the only piece of art on his body.
And he has sworn to the high heavens, it will stay the only piece.