Chapter 21 Rayzor
Ihadn’t been able to think since finding out her ass was outside other niggas. I’d been trying to push that shit to back of my mind. I couldn’t. The pictures I got of her less than an hour ago had me seeing red. So I had to make a nigga feel it.
I felt my opponents’ ribs crack.
He held his guard, but the next shot split– leaving him open.
Vague- the Heavyweight from Chicago. Plenty of shit-talking at the weigh-in. Promised to make me a bitch. Hand me a loss. Tried to get under my skin.
I wasn’t afraid.
He stumbled, his toe scraped across canvas. It was too easy. His confidence faded– he knew what was coming. This wasn’t about the belt. The more I hit, the more I saw her face. That ache didn’t fade. It sharpened. Shoulder. Ribs. Stomach, Face. Jab for jab.
Vague was about to get what I couldn’t give to the nigga that thought he could be around Eris.
He tried, but I was quicker and precise. Jaw. Temple. Throat. He stumbled against the ropes, locking himself in a danger zone. He knew when I saw it in his eyes.
Rib. Rib. Chest. Jaw.
His head snapped while spit and blood sprayed.
The crowd erupted.
The bell cut through the noise. Ref barged between us, hand on chest, yelling for space. I kept my eyes on Vague. He was incoherent. I smirked.
I backed up, lunges burning but the fire still burned.
The crowd chanting my name.
They thought this was my claim. Truth was, I didn’t feel shit. I felt empty.
Going back to my corner, cutman rubbed my shoulders. Cornerman gave water, towel and replaced my mouthpiece while the trainer talked strategy to bring in the win.
It was all blur.
The bell chimed. It was time to go back in.
Vague was still weak but standing strong as he threw another hit. A quick jab to my jaw, and he tried to follow up again, but I blocked it.
Hit to the shoulder. Jaw. Rib. Then head.
He tumbled like a tree– knees going first. Knees went then the rest crashed into mat.
The ref slid in, yelling for him to get up.
The crowd roared.
He pushed himself up with weak limbs. Couldn’t get past his elbows.
The crowd chanted again.
I stood over him.
He panted.
My eye closed shut.
“I ain’t got it ref,” he said before his head dropped.
“1…2… 3…”
The bell rung.
The ref shot up, lifting my arm in the air.
“The reigning heavyweight champion, Rayzor!”
The arena was on its feet.
The bright lights blinded out the crowd. The claps and cheers were so loud, I couldn’t hear myself think. Out of my peripheral, I saw Vague’s team helping him up over to his corner. His shoulders hung, head down, staggering to walk.
I subtly nodded.
He accepted his defeat even though he didn’t like it. He respected it.
The world moved slow after being belted.
I scanned the crowd, wanting to see her face, slick hoping it was there, but I knew it wasn’t there. And not seeing it was confirmation. Damn.
My team and crowd hyped me up.
The interviewer came into the ring talking, congratulating me before post interviewing. I didn’t hear her, didn’t see her. Mentally I wasn’t here. This was a win in Vegas, but I’d lost some real shit back home.
After the fight, we hit the club. I stayed for an hour, then opted for the hotel’s bar instead so I left. Vegas was still alive, but it was quiet here. I was able to fade from the world and be alone with my thoughts.
“Congratulations are in order,” the voice said, smooth and familiar.
I froze.
It was Naya. I hadn’t heard from her in years. That was a time in my life when shit had ups then it went down. It wasn’t her. That was on me. I didn’t blame her. We tried pushing through the waves, but shit got dark. She started to resent, nag and faded, and so I did I.
I turned to her.
“Surprised to see me?” She giggled.
I shook my head, pulling the glass to my mouth and downing the remains.
I slid the glass down the bar, letting the bartender hit with me another one. Ain’t no way she should be here.
“What you doing here?”
“I came to support a once special person in my life.”
I slightly nodded but didn’t say nothing.
I could hear the aggravation when she sucked her teeth.
“Are you going to let me talk and not say nothing?”
I shrugged. “I mean, what you want me to say?”
“Thanks for coming to see me since you fucking ghosted me.” She ranted. “I even messaged you on socials. I texted you. The numbers still the same. Nothing.”
I inwardly chuckled. “Yeah, aiight.” I chugged the rest of my drink, left a tip on the table and got up.
She grabbed me. “Wait, Courtland. Where you going?”
Hearing my name from her lips brought a familiar sting. My name didn’t sound the same coming from her. That’s the old me. Nobody knew that part of me but a select few. Sometimes I wished they didn’t. I shed a lot of skin throughout the years. It’s hard to know what used to be.
I glared. She snatched back.
“I ain’t got time for this shit, Naya. What you want? Ticket back home? Bread? What?”
She scoffed. “Damn. That’s how you do me?”
“I’m just trying to figure out why the fuck you come all this way for a fight for a mothafucka that don’t even talk to you.”
“You did at once. I remember when that’s all we did was talk.” She hesitated. “Then I remember a time where you couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“Oh yeah?” I paused.
Dragging my eyes from her bone straight hair down to her hips that were about to bust of the fucking seam of the dress. She wore some gold strapped heels, then I doubled back up to her moisturized breasts that were damn near jumping out the top.
Naya’s always been a thick mothafucka. Some even called her fat, but she wore her shit well back then. Since the last time I saw her, she’s put on a few more pounds, not in a bad way though.
“That’s been a long time, though.”
Then I remember she approached Eris.
“You approached my wife with some bullshit a while back.”
“Your wife?”
“Fuck you doing, Naya. You ain’t show up for nothing.”
She looked around. “And where is said wife?”
I left it alone.
“Exactly. I knew she couldn’t hang with the real you, but I can– always have.”
“Get the fuck on.”
“But, I want to help you celebrate that win… in my own way.”
Rolling my tongue across my teeth, “Oh yeah. How’s that?”
She slowly stood. The Chair scrapping the floor.
She ran her hand down her curves. “Whatever you want or need you know I got you.”
I started walking, letting her words linger. That’s a past I can’t outrun. Sometimes I wonder if it’ll stay gone.
“Come on,” I told her.
It didn’t even fucking matter what I thought or felt.
I woke up stretched out, muscles tense, head pounding. Everything was a blur after the fight. I went to grab my phone and it wasn’t there. Then I felt around on the bed and noticed Naya wasn’t there.
I grabbed my shorts, slipped them on and dragged across the floor.
The walls were silent, and the light from the living room area of the room pulled me in.
Naya was dressed and seated with my recruiter Celine from six fucking years ago looking guilty. Next to them was a mothafucka in a suite I couldn’t recognize.
My antennas went up. Shit wasn’t making sense. It felt like a set up.
“What the fuck–”
Then the mothafucka who had been following me around in the silver whip popped up from the other side of the door. I rushed the mothafucka, hemming his ass up. His clothes smelled like cigar smoke.
“Didn’t I tell you it was on sight next time, mothafucka?”
He lowly chuckled, showing his yellow teeth.
“Rayzor,” Naya called out.
Not Courtland, but Rayzor.
“Rayzor. We came for you to see things our way, but…” the nigga in the suit stated.
I tilted my head in confusion.
“You might want to take a seat Rayzor,” Celine commented.
“Sit.” Naya patted next to her calmly.
Too calm for me because this shit was feeling like a setup.
My eyes zoomed across the faces of everyone in the room while I had this nigga’s shirt in my hands. I wanted to take his ass through the wall.
“Where the fuck my security? They just letting random mothafuckas in my shit,” I mumbled.
My chest heaved up and down.
The man glanced down at his Rolex, adjusting his jacket. Celine was standing against the wall behind him, all eyes on me. All wearing smirks in the middle of chaos.
“Who the fuck is this nigga?” I rhetorically asked.
“For you to have won big, you’re ungrateful,” he stated.
“Rayzor, please,” Celine exclaimed.
“They have something you might wanna hear,” Naya said.
The man held up his hand. Naya’s mouth clasp shut like he controlled her.
“You know these mothafuckas?” I asked Naya. “It don’t matter. Get the fuck on.”
He uncrossed his legs. “You shouldn’t be so quick to throw people out.” He crossed them back again the opposite direction. “It’s unbecoming. And it’s very impolite to do that to the person that put you in this position.”
I froze.
Fist balled. Face scrunched.
I stepped forward. “Nigga, what? Say. If you a fan and put money on me, you got your bread from my win. But ain’t a mothafuckin’ soul put me nowhere but me and these…” I showed my fists.
He stood with everyone behind him.
“Ask Theresa.”
My heart sank at my mama’s name.
“What?!”
“Ask her, or are you two still on bad terms?” he smirked.
“I can keep your secret if you can keep mine,” Naya giggled.
I rushed them all. Pushing through, getting to the nigga.
The lights went out as lightning struck through the dark room.