Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Josue
Even though we had made trips like this a dozen times, none of them ever felt like Vegas. What North Carolina was to NASCAR, Minnesota was for hockey, Vegas was definitely the hub for MMA. Nothing beat traveling the world, but when you were in Nevada, you felt something in the air change.
The DaCosta/Medina fight was big for Sierra.
It was big for me as her trainer/manager.
It was even bigger for House of Beast. So, there wasn't any doubt that I’d invited Héctor as my second.
Something felt different about this one.
Like it was a turning point. What happened over the next few days was going to change things. For good or bad, I couldn’t be sure.
To give Sierra the grand tour, I’d hired a driver service to have our stuff waiting for us at the hotel, while we stretched our legs, taking in downtown Vegas at its most extravagant. I'd seen it a bunch of times, so it wasn't new for me, but it was everything to Sierra.
She already looked at most things with wide-eyed enthusiasm, so seeing her expression change every time she saw something worthy of note, she’d stop to take pictures. We had a lot of ground to cover, but we indulged her every time. She was the reason we were here, after all.
“Taking enough pictures, Medina?” I taunted, making note that this was our fourteenth pit stop.
“I've never been, I want to have a lot to show Mónica when I got back,” she defended.
“Don't take up too much of your phone's memory. Otherwise you won't have any space to capture that.” Pointing to the T-Mobile Arena, as under the LED lights, flashing fight promos hosted a familiar face.
“No way!” she held up her hands to her mouth.
“Yes, way!” I countered, as none of us had ever seen a display of her that grandiose for so many eyes to see. Sierra started screaming into her hands, and I could tell she had to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.
“We have to get a picture—”
“Give me your phone,” I interrupted, assuming she wanted it of herself.
“No, all of us,” she countered, claiming it was more than just her, but a moment for House of Beast. Couldn't argue with that. Asking a stranger if they could take a couple shots, just in case we came out ugly in them—her words, not mine.
After thanking said stranger, I offered to snap some of Sierra and Héctor, caught off guard that she also wanted to take some alone with me.
Technically, I was her trainer and manager, something within themselves not inappropriate.
But the gym had figured out halfway that something was going on between us.
Just neither of us would confirm or deny.
So, it stood within reason that the way we looked at one another would be hard to hide on film. Maybe we could hide it in person, but we couldn’t hide it in a picture.
Truth be told, I was waiting until this fight was over, but…I liked where things were going with Medina. And I liked the idea of where we could go. So, I was thinking about having that conversation about whether we just kept it at fucking, or if we wanted more.
I wanted more, but I was practical. Sierra needed a coach; she hadn't needed a boyfriend.
I was sure that sex was all that she could handle if she wanted to win, but after this, I was open to explore our options.
We already meshed well in the bedroom. Yeah, we got on each other's nerves, but that was normal for a couple.
We made each other laugh—or at least she made me laugh.
She was attention hungry, but I mean, look at her.
I had no problem keeping that girl fed. I know she kept me at arm's length because she had a daughter, but when you wanted someone, you just stepped up.
Sierra had believed in me in all the ways that had mattered up until now.
I wanted to show her that I could step up in the ways she didn't believe anyone would do.
We just had to get through the next couple of days.
It felt like Héctor had taken a hundred pictures before he handed her phone back, ending with a curt, “But y'all not fucking?” a comment we playfully dismissed, organizing a ride share back to the hotel.
Our luggage was waiting for us at the front desk, allowing us to finally check in after such a long flight. Héctor admitted he was beat, and with our travel costs negotiated in our contract, I was sure that he would take advantage of the room service and then some.
“Conference and weigh-ins start at 12:30. We got a lot to do tomorrow, so let's not overdo it,” I reminded, walking backward towards my and Sierra’s shared suite.
“But y'all not fucking?” Héctor jabbed one last time before ducking into his suite. I had outdone myself with this one. This wasn't even a title fight, but at the very least, the biggest fight of Sierra's career. The hotel they put us up in had been nothing less than for a champ.
Sierra did her little tour, where she roamed across the suite to see how many rooms it had.
We weren't always going to be set up like this, but if someone else was flipping the bill, I would always fight for as close to this as I could get. Having been in her position, it did boost morale.
“Oh my god, there's a hot tub in this one,” she reported back.
“I don't know about you, but I would love seeing that ass in a bikini,” I flirted.
“Well, it's a good thing I packed one,” she cooed, about to walk away until I pulled her back.
“Where you in a rush to? Co’mere,” gently bringing her to me, as she instinctively stood on the tips of her feet to anticipate a kiss. She almost got away until I pulled her back in for another one. “Mmph. Those lips got me locked,” I hummed.
“Shut up,” as she playfully bat me away. She disappeared into what I had assumed to be the room that we would share, as I brought my luggage further into the hotel, trying not to think about how two days from now, Sierra was up against her strongest opponent.
Reaching in my bag to grab swim trunks, I was disappointed by the fact that she had beat me to the hot tub, robbing me of the chance to watch those hips prance around in next to nothing.
“Medina, what did I tell you about impatience? Now you gotta get out this tub, so I get to see you do that walk for me—”
“What walk?” She burst out laughing.
“You know what one,” I taunted, leaning over the edge of the hot tub. “Plus, if I didn't see you hop in, it didn't happen.”
“Josue. I am not getting out just to hop back in again, just so you can watch my ass before I go in.”
“Please, mami!” Kiss. “Once you’re in here, I don't even get to picture it. Give me something to visualize before it's sitting on my lap. Por favor*,” I seduced, wearing a dopey smile.
“Oh my god, you are so stupid,” she groaned, edging out the jacuzzi.
“Yeah, well, you make me fucking stupid,” I yelled back, slowly adjusting to the water's warmth, watching her thick thighs and sexy ass in that floral kiwi thong bottom.
“God damn, you're gorgeous. ?Cono, qué hermosa eres*!” I tapped my lap, suggesting her get comfy.
“You're so fucking extra,” she giggled, wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
“I can't help it that just the sight of you excites the shit out of me,” I grinned big. Her hands started to wander, until they settled on the tattoo near my rib, the one with the Cuban flag that matched her Puerto Rican flag one, only in color. “What?”
“Why libertad*?” Referring to the words in cursive right above it.
“Because eight years stood between me being born in Cuba, versus being born here. My life would have been so different if I’d been born there.
We probably would’ve never met. Libertad* just represents that.
Even though this may not always be the greatest country, everything about my life has led me here.
With this beautiful woman on my lap. Get over here, girl,” I teased.
“We only have about two days to christen this hotel—”
“Nice try, Medina. You’ve got a ritual, and rituals are sacred for keeping your head in the game. I’m not hitting this until you walk out a winner.”
“Oh, so you're gonna deprive me unless I win?” she flirted.
“I ain't say all that,” I corrected. “But I want to be who you reward yourself with when you win,” I said, leaning in for a kiss. “So, if that means fucking cold showers for two days, I'm committed.”
“Well…it'd be a shame if my butt came into contact with your crotch in your sleep,” she teased.
“So, you do do that shit on purpose? Mi diabla. Mi ángel. Mi loquita*,” as she kissed me. “Mi loba*,” I settled on affectionately. “Trust, just because I ain't dicking you down don't mean I ain't gonna eat it,” as I bit my lip.
“I guess I just have to start that as my new pre-match ritual,” she sighed, leaning into kiss me.
“Can't believe this is one of the first times I've been to Vegas, and it's in the fucking summertime. Seems like every fight I ever had was like two weeks before Christmas. They go a few weeks without them around that time,” my mind wandered off.
“What did you normally do to celebrate. For the holidays, I mean?” she eyed curiously.
“Sierra wasn't much to celebrate when you don't got people in your life.
Most of my family are still back in Cuba, so I didn't have family to be with.
I was so focused on fighting, I didn't do marriage or kids, so no new memories to make.
And foster care wasn't a picnic, but also the perfect way to show me that Christmas was just a day.
Didn't get anything. Didn't give anything. Just came to terms with it.”
“Aw, but everyone should get something for the holidays at least once in their lifetime,” she sympathized.
“Getting stuff is for kids anyway. I'm not resentful or anything. Was just dealt different cards. What about you? How are you used to spending your holidays?” Curious since she asked me.