Chapter 17
Kas
Mari snores.
I could hear it from my bed on the opposite side of my hotel room and it was perfect . I struggle sleeping and forgot to pack my white noise machine for the trip. Little did I know that Mari’s high-pitched, nasally breaths would be the ideal substitute.
It’s also hard to believe such monstrous noises came from the same girl currently standing in front of me wearing a flowing, peach summer dress. She looks straight out of one of those children’s books teachers would read to me in kindergarten; the ones with anthropomorphic animals that live in a little village. She should be out foraging for berries and singing with the birds or some shit, not going to the bottom floor of a Vegas hotel for breakfast.
“I’m so tired.” Mari’s words morph into a yawn, it soon reaches Bill, and then me.
Per Davina’s schedule, we all left our rooms at exactly seven a.m. She’s been generous enough to allow Bill, Dash, and me a late start on the first day so that we could all have breakfast together as a team. Late, my ass.
We make way for other hotel guests as they enter the elevator. One businessman gives Mari a double take and it’s enough for me to conveniently position myself between them for the rest of our descent.
He can save it for the nightclubs.
Clattering cutlery fills the corridor and already, the pinging of game machines can be heard from the depths of the hotel.
“Now, Dash said he’s got us a table ...” Davina says, scanning the various tables in the center of a room framed by an expansive buffet.
Mari spots Dash first. He’s tucked a napkin into the collar of his T-shirt and is shoveling pancakes into his mouth.
“Guys, I’m never leaving,” Dash says once we reach him. He splays his hands on either side of his almost-depleted plate of food. “A free conti-fucking-nental. I love the SFL.”
“Gluttony is a sin, and you’re going straight to hell,” I joke.
Dash winks at me.
“Any fruit?” Davina asks.
“Nah.” Dash points his syrup-covered knife in Davina’s direction. “You need to get yourself some of these bad boys, especially because you’re eating for two,” he says with a full mouth.
Mari is already heading to the breakfast queue with Bill; I stay behind to ask Davina what she wants so I can get her a plate too.
By the looks of it, Mari isn’t just catching the attention of me. The preppy businessman from the elevator sidles his way beside her and offers to dish up her scrambled eggs.
“Granola and yogurt, please,” Davina says.
I head to the cereal counter, past a very oblivious Bill who fills his plate at every single dish he stops at. He blocks the pathway for fellow buffet eaters and I’m somewhat thankful the fight isn’t somewhere where we’d have to fly because going through security with Bill and his lack of spatial awareness would’ve killed me off.
Mari is stuck beside the scrambled eggs, looking eagerly for an escape from the business guy by the time I finish dishing up Davina’s food.
“The devil works hard, but married men in Vegas work harder.” Dash appears at my side; his gaze is also on Mari. The guy who was scooping her eggs has a sparkling wedding band adorning his ring finger. I was so focused on Mari, I barely noticed anything else. “I mean, you’d at least remove the ring ... brazen fuck.”
My nod turns into a surprised shake of my head. “Why are you here?” I ask.
“Getting juice. Need something to wash the pancakes down or else I’ll puke.” I tense a little at the word puke. “Actually, give me that. I’ll take Dav’s back with me. Mari needs saving.”
Dash takes the bowl from my hand and Mari looks away from the businessman again, this time catching my eye and waving at me. The guy looks mildly unimpressed to see me walking toward them. I snatch a warm plate from one of the stands dotted around the hall and flank the right of her.
“What are you getting?” she asks, ignoring the businessman.
He shrinks back a little at my presence, eyes darting uncomfortably between Mari and me.
“How’s your wife?” I ask him.
He jerks back, scoffing. “How do you know my—” I fix my gaze upon his hand. “Asshole,” he mumbles, walking away as fast as his too-tight dress pants can take him.
“What a fucking idiot,” I say.
Dash conveniently makes his way back to our table, turning quickly to use his back to collide with the businessman. The businessman’s plate tumbles to the ground and splashes eggs onto his suit in the process. I know Dash too well for that to be an accident, and his subtle wink at me and Mari confirms my thought.
“It’s seven a.m. Can’t he wait for the clubs?” Mari says, watching the mess. I gaze at the side of her face and her brows furrow disappointedly.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking,” I murmur.
After returning to the table a few minutes later with full plates, I don’t manage two mouthfuls before some kid starts hovering beside me.
“Hey, you’re Kacper, right? You’re fighting Fletcher Ward.” A friend of his stands slightly behind him, thriving off the contagious excitement. “I saw that you were traveling to Vegas from your post yesterday, I can’t believe you’re having breakfast here!”
He’s buzzing with eagerness and Mari smiles wide, obviously pleased that he’s taken notice of her social media work.
“Nice, dude, did you have a good breakfast?” I ask.
“Yes, I love your training videos. Could I get a picture? Please?”
I nod. “Sure.”
He holds his phone in front of him and looks toward me when my facial expression doesn’t change. I mirror his smile, and he captures us both in the frame.
“Thank you!” He beams and walks to a table filled with a large family all looking over and smiling.
“Cute,” Mari says.
“Cute? I’m surprised anyone wanted a photo, Kas looked terrifying and sounded uninterested. He needs media training, stat,” Dash criticizes.
“We don’t have time for media training,” Mari replies defensively.
I finish my glass of juice. “I don’t need media training, especially for interacting with humans. I’m not new to planet Earth.”
“Could’ve fooled me,” Dash mutters.
Bill releases a monstrous burp, rubbing his protruding stomach with glee. “Feels good to be back. How you feeling, Dav?”
“I feel twenty again. God, it’s been years since I was working on some sort of Vegas fight.”
“Does it ever become less intense?” Mari questions.
“With a pregnant woman and a pensioner on the team, this will probably be the calmest,” Bill says.
Mari twists her lips. “Great.”
“This PR social media shit is going to be hell,” Bill continues. “We don’t like faffin’ about.”
“Faffin’ about,” Mari echoes curiously.
Bill’s Manchester accent took me a while to understand, and watching Mari absorb his dialect is weirdly endearing. If there’s anything I’ve learned about her in a week of working together, it’s that if she’s struggling to understand something, she’ll echo it. It’s like having a parrot in the gym.
“We’re in Vegas. If you expect peace, maybe go somewhere where you can’t find someone snorting cocaine off a businessman’s cock,” Dash rants, his specifics forcing the table into silence.
“Did you see someone snorting cocaine off a businessman’s cock?” I ask.
“Yes, I did. Right outside my room, against the fucking door. It’s been one night.”
Mari laughs into her orange juice, the liquid shooting up onto her face. She blindly reaches out for a napkin that Davina easily places into her hand.
“I meant peace in the training process, it used to be a lot more private,” Bill mutters. “This is the result of that social media you kids use.”
Mari and Davina share a look between themselves.
“Right, Bill, regardless of what you like or don’t like, you need to be more positive. Team morale is at an all-time low right now,” Davina says. “We need to sort it out before the team meeting with Ward and his crew at noon tomorrow.”
I have to swallow down a groan, something Dash is unable to do because he sounds like a dying whale at the mention of a meeting.
The last thing I want to do is speak to Ward.
It’s not a great mindset to have considering this is what I signed up for. If this is how the gym has a chance at staying open, I’ll have to push through the inconveniences, even if it means holding my tongue when interacting with the biggest asshole in sport.