Chapter 20
Emma
I should want to go to Las Vegas to support my boyfriend, but I'm nervous. I mean, I do want to go. Because I want to be with him and support him, and to see him in his element. He's willing to accept all my idiosyncrasies and dueling quiet yet wild nature, I need to accept this part of him too. The fame, the people.
I've been blissfully removed from it, but the closer we get to the next fight the more I realize I'm in for a rude awakening.
He fields a lot of calls from sponsors and from the endorsement deal he just took on. His schedule is hectic, and I realize it still will be after the fight, regardless of what he says. His career, really, is only just getting started.
I pack a small bag and before I head downstairs, call Alice one last time. I'm staying with Rafi tonight and we're going to the airport with Stetson and his Coach Max, flying to Vegas In the morning.
"Whaddup you lucky bitch!" Alice says on the first ring.
"Hey. Thanks again for doing this, I really appreciate it." Alice is covering for me for the next three days, and I'm taking her shifts next weekend. The schedule makes it inconvenient for the both of us because, no matter what, we're both working eight days in a row with the changes, so she's doing me a solid.
"Please, it's totally fine, I told you! I wish you asked me to cover for you more so you could go out and do cool shit. Well, maybe I don't, haha! But I'm happy to anyway."
"Okay, well, I don't think you'll need anything from me. The Arabican blend is low, just keep that in mind, the shipment won't be in until next week."
"I think I can handle it. I've only been working there for years. And, you know, it's coffee."
"Ha-ha. I'm not used to this."
"I know, I'm only teasing. But don't think about the coffee shop. Think about the fact that your boy toy is about to win a super huge fight and make millions!"
"You know I don't care about that."
"I know, I know. Still, have fun. Get out there. Relax. WIll you be hanging with Stetson while Raze is doing his thing?" She and Stetson sort of had a fling but it seemed to have fizzled out just as fast. I thought they were kind of perfect for each other, but then again, what do I know?
"Yeah, I'm under his wing and in the background. It doesn't help that Stetson is famous in his own right. Ugh, I feel like I'm going to be sick."
"Relax. Do you have everything you need? Toothpaste? Razor? Sexy lingerie?"
"Uhh, check, check, check…" I don't tell her the lingerie I'm bringing is a little over the top. Rafi will love it, I think. Maybe it's too much, but so what.
"Then you're good. Have fun, don't think about coffee and I'll see you Monday. Love you," she makes a kissy sound into the phone and I reply in kind. A text on my phone tells me Rafi is downstairs so I grab my bag and head down.
* * *
I don't know what I was expecting. Again, I knew I wasn't prepared, but it wasn't this. We step out of the SUV that picked us up at the airport after pulling up to the hotel on the Vegas strip and there are cameras everywhere. I'm wearing overalls and a tight crop top t-shirt underneath. I'm dressed like a teenager, but Rafi doesn't flinch. Not at my obvious discomfort, and not at the cameras that begin shooting the second he steps out of the car.
He just reaches back in and grabs my hand, confident and warm, and leads me into the hotel. People are shouting his name, asking him questions about his opponent, if he's nervous, and then—who's that with you?
I didn't think this through. But does it make a difference? I mean, I don't want my private life out there, but I would exchange it if it meant I had to give up Rafi, right? And this is part of his world. I know from experience that all of this attention is just because we're at a nationally televised fight, and the rest of his world is less invasive when we're out and about in normal life. Still, it's a lot to take in.
I try not to pay attention to the reporters taking my picture which might send me into a full blown panic attack, instead looking down at the ground, squeezing Rafi's hand. He pulls me along, Stetson right behind me, and his coach at the front as we make our way into the hotel. I'm relieved to find the reporters weren't allowed to follow.
A hotel worker grabbed our bags and we follow him to a set of elevators, not even needing to check in at the desk. We reach the top floor and all pile out, following the hotel employee to a series of doors. Coach splits off after confirming a press conference meeting time, and Stetson does the same, though his instructions have more to do with me.
"Keep her safe today," Rafi reminds him before his door shuts, and we make our way to the last room at the back. The man in uniform opens the doors and leads us into the largest hotel suite I've ever seen. It's huge, with a sunken living room and fancy pristine furniture. It doesn't look anything like the usual stock art-filled, or generically decorated rooms you usually see at hotels.
"Is it unsafe?" I finally ask after gawking at the room, once we're alone, remembering Rafi's weird instructions to Stetson.
"No, there's just a lot of reporters out there. I don't want them to bother you."
I nod in understanding.
We'll be staying here for the next two nights. Unfortunately we won't get to spend a lot of time together, he has meetings back to back and has a photo shoot for his muscle tape endorsement deal, then a press conference later today and another tomorrow before the fight. We'll have dinner together tonight, but that's likely the most time we'll spend together until after the fight is over.
Rafi ends up spending the next hour on the phone dealing with work-related things so I pull out my laptop and do some work of my own. I finished editing another story and post it on my website. I'm glad I kept them short, it made it easier to test the waters to see how they fare.
I finished reading a book on the plane that was sent to me by a romance-only publishing company and start going through the highlights I made in the book. Almost everything I do, reading included, I do on my laptop. I have an e-reader if I'm heading to the beach or my beloved hardcopies when I'm chilling at the park, but for the most part, especially since I need to make so many notes, I read on my computer.
There's a knock at our hotel room door and Rafi, who's still on the phone, gets up to answer it. He lets in Max, followed by another man I don't recognize, wearing a blue pinstripe suit with a bright yellow pocket scarf. Rafi nods at the both of them, they must know each other. I'm grateful we're in a hotel room with a living room because I don't know how I'd feel being crowded by strange men in my personal space.
The guy in the suit walks right up to me and sticks his hand out, "Hi there! You must be Emma, I've heard so much about you," he gives me a bright, blinding white toothy smile.
His suit is tailored and while he looks like a nice man, he's a little too shiny for me.
"Hi, it's nice to meet you…" I say quietly, and he fills in the blank for me. Jim, Rafi's agent. Rafi's mentioned him before, so I at least know something about him.
"Will you be seeing the sights while you're in town? I can recommend a great steakhouse on the strip, a show, or whatever you're into, we can find. You just let me know."
He finishes the sentence but doesn't really seem like he cares about the answer. "Oh, umm, I'm not sure. I don't know, I was just going to wait with Stetson until Rafi's done."
"Emma, Stetson will take care of you today, don't worry. When Rafi is wrapped up, we'll get him right back to you," Max assures me, already aware of my timid nature. I give him a small smile and the agent, having finished with me, is back to crowding Rafi.
He finally gets off the phone and they tell him he needs to do a weigh-in before he eats lunch, which is in an hour.
"Well I'm pretty hungry so let's get that shit taken care of." He comes over and leans down to give me a kiss. "Stay with Stetson okay? He'll swing by the room in a bit to grab you for lunch, but if you want to go anywhere before then, just call him." I nod in understanding and he kisses my forehead and we all say goodbye.
The rest of the day is a whirlwind. Stetson picks me up and we go for a long walk outside the hotel, which of course is also a casino. The air is oppressive, even though it's fall, it's still uncomfortably hot. There are loud sounds, bright lights and strong smells everywhere and I feel completely overwhelmed.
I'm a lot more comfortable in Stetson's company now that I've spent so much time around him, and he can sense my discomfort, so he grabs my arm and drags me into the next restaurant we pass, regardless of what it is.
Unfortunately it's tex-mex, but at this point I'll take anything.
Rafi's fight isn't until tomorrow and I'll be lucky to have dinner with him, so Stetson and I proceed to order terrible cheese-covered food and several margaritas.
As suspected, Rafi texted us both to let us know everything is off schedule and he won't make dinner and that we should eat without him. He's apologetic, but I assure him we're fine. I knew this was likely to happen, I can't monopolize all his time, certainly not when we're here for the sole purpose of his career.
After consuming several margaritas, we walk off the buzz, and I find all the lights and noise a little more bearable. It's kind of pretty, in a way, watching the sun set and all the lights making the desert glow. I don't miss the way some women pause and offer Stetson appreciative, suggestive smiles, and it makes me feel bad he got stuck babysitting me. He could be off with any number of scantily clad ladies.
He's even recognized several times by fans, both men and women, who stop him and ask for his autograph. There are a lot of MMA fans in town right now because of the fight, and Stetson isn't that far behind Rafi on the circuit. We wander around well into the evening and after finding out Rafi won't be back at the hotel until almost 10 pm, we decide to grab dinner.
We get a table at the hotel bar, which has security on staff, so reporters and rabid fans aren't allowed through the doors. We get seated near the front left of the restaurant, not too close to the entrance but close enough that every time the door opens, the sound in the room shifts, like a vacuum. There's loud chatter and every other person that walks into the restaurant I overhear saying things like, I heard Raze is staying here, he's so fucking hot, I'm going to track him down, give him the night of his life… It's constant and distracting, even though, deep down, I know it's all just fodder.
Something hits my foot and I shake off the distraction.
"Don't worry about them. Fans are always there. We exist in different worlds. To them, we're special. We're not, you know that. We're just normal people. But when someone is on screen, especially someone like Raze who's the literal best in the country at what he does, it makes us seem otherworldly."
I give a small nod, still feeling self-conscious about all the women who come to his matches. If the last one, which was only in Santa Cruz, had twenty-thousand people, this one must be way bigger. The women are all gorgeous in skin-tight bandage dresses, perfect hair, perfect make-up. I look down at my tie-dye oversized t-shirt and cut-off jean shorts. I should have dressed nicer.
At least I brought a dress for the fight tomorrow.
Still feeling a little down and coming off my afternoon buzz, when the server comes by I order a tequila shot and another margarita on top of it. I expect Stetson to object but he orders the same.
I get drunk. I can still walk, and I know my name. But my words are slurring for sure. I'm aware of this only because when my phone rings repeatedly, I keep trying to say, "Rafi's calling me," but his name for some reason is hard to pronounce.
"Yeah, what up bro?" Stetson answers my phone. I giggle, because even though I'm a huge lightweight, I'm happy to see Stetson is a little drunk too. Makes me feel less like an idiot. Granted, he did steal my tequila shots because he didn't want to get a broken nose again, whatever that means.
"Yeah, she's fine. We're at the hotel restaurant downstairs just waiting on your ass." I think I hear Rafi yelling in the background. I smack my lips together, but my lips are numb. Most of my face is a little numb.
Stetson says something else but I'm pinching my cheeks and not paying attention when he wraps his hand around my arm and pulls me to stand. "Come on, Raze's ready to beat my ass for getting you drunk."
I attempt to pout but when I realize I get to go upstairs and see Rafi and I grin devilishly. Stetson laughs at me but guides me out of the restaurant and over to the elevator banks. We get up to the top floor and walk down the hall, the hideous repetitive print on the carpet making me dizzy. Why do all hotels have such ugly carpet? This is supposed to be a nice place and still, it's horrible.
I feel like I might be sick, but if I look up to where we're going, the bright lights make me wobble. Shit. Stetson knocks on a door and it abruptly swings open, revealing an angry-looking Rafi on the other side.
"Raaaffii!" I yell excitedly and jump into his arms. He holds me easily and I decide right then and there that I love being cradled. I let out another stream of giggles.
"What the fuck man, you got her wasted!" He yells.
"Yeah, that was an accident. I didn't realize she's such a lightweight. I even drank half of the drinks she ordered."
"It's true, he kept stealing my tequila," I whisper conspiratorially, but it sounded more like, 'stru, hestowl my keela.' Rafi carries me over to the chaise lounge section of the couch that sticks out and sets me down. I smile and curl up on the soft velvet-like material. "So soft," I whisper.
Stetson laughs and Rafi tells him to get the fuck out.
There's a shadow over me, blocking the light. I frown and open one eye, which unfortunately is all I can manage.
"Hey baby," I say, and though I was aiming for sexy, it came out more old-saloon-french-brothel.
A smile cracks through Rafi's rigid expression and he sighs and shakes his head. "Come on, boozehound, let's get you ready for bed."
He pulls me to a stand and we both participate in taking off all my clothes. I reach for him but he keeps moving my hands out of the way. I'm too distracted and drunk to pay attention and I end up just following his lead, through our bedroom and into the en suite bathroom.
He reaches into the stand-up shower and turns on the water, testing the temperature and helps me walk in. I stand under the spray for a few minutes and I didn't realize how badly I needed this. All the smells from the strip, the greasy food, the fruity perfumes from all the people around us, both men and women. All of it had seeped into my clothes, my hair, my skin.
I stand under the spray for several minutes before I start to feel slightly more coherent. Still pretty buzzed. I remember I'm not alone and look over and see Rafi leaning against the bathroom counter watching me, arms across his chest, one leg crossed over the other, a serene expression on his face. He's wearing workout shorts and a sleeveless shirt, both baggy. Stuff he'd normally go running in around our neighborhood.
He smirks but doesn't make a move.
"Aren't you going to join me?" I ask, my words more steady.
He just shakes his head no, slowly, firmly, but he's still smirking.
I pout, reaching for the shampoo and start washing then conditioning my hair. I grab the soap and start soaping up my body, taking extra care in areas that are totally unnecessary. Like sudsing up and squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples and pulling them into peaks.
I look back to see if he's changed his mind. He hasn't moved positions but there's a familiar tent growing between his legs. "Are you sure?" I ask, rubbing my hands down my body, slowly, watching his eyes follow the movement.
"Can't," he grinds out.
"Why not?"
"Coach says."
Oh. Shit. I'm a jerk. He's not supposed to have 'sexual relations' the day before or day of a fight.
I give him a small smile and nod in understanding, standing back under the spray to rinse off, then I turn the shower off. Squeezing out the excess water from my long brown locks, I take the towel Rafi offers. I dry myself off as best I can before stepping out, brush my teeth, put on some lotion, and do all my bathroom nightly routine things, and he just stands close by, watching me.
"Thank you. I feel better."
"I've never seen you drunk before. It's pretty cute. A lot of giggling…" He teases.
"Are you mad I got drunk?"
"No, of course not. I was just worried that you weren't here when I got back. It isn't like you to go out, but no I'm not mad. I'm glad you had fun. I'm sorry I wasn't there."
I kiss his cheek and though I'm still a little buzzed, walk more stably out of the bathroom, clad in towels, one wrapped around my hair, the other around my body.
"It's late. You need sleep." I tell him and pull back the covers before climbing in. I lay the towel from my hair over the pillow so I don't get the pillow soaked and lie down. He nods, takes off his clothes and climbs in bed next to me, tugging me close.
We kiss and it's comforting. But as it always does, our kiss becomes heated and even though we're both tired and he needs to sleep, his hand slides down my body. He roams as far as my lower abdomen before I stop him.
"Babe, I'm the one that can't get off."
"No. If you can't, I can't. I'm with you Rafi, I support you."
For some reason this deepens his kiss, but his hand wraps around my waist and stays put. Resting his forehead on mine, he looks directly into my eyes. "I love you Emma."
"I love you too, Rafi."
And then, somehow, we manage to fall asleep.