Accent Hussy (It Had 2 B U) (31 page)

The chick must have ESP. That’s the only explanation why my wayward friend would suddenly call me right in the middle of my pity parade.

“Everly McGowan, idiot speaking.”

“Oh shit, who pissed on your Cookie Crisp?” Jessi asks laughing.

“You were right,” I tell her, stirring my giant margarita. The thing looked like it could cure everything for me, as it turns out, two sips and I’m already feeling worse. “You were so right . . .”

She giggles. “You’re in love.”

“It sucks. If this is what being in love feels like, they can shove it up their . . .”

“Wishing anal on people is not a very good threat, Everly. A lot of people love that position.”

“That’s not what I meant, Jessi,” I grumble.

“Okay, so you can’t take a joke tonight. Want to tell me what happened?”

“I pushed him away one too many times . . . now he’s gone, and he asked some bitch to marry him.”

Just as the words leave my lips, I hear the indicator that I have a text message. I smirk when I see his name. U.A.P.I.T.A, Unaccented Pain in the Ass. So fitting for the man who managed to somehow get under my skin.

UAPITA:
Hey are you coming to my fight tonight? Everyone is in the lobby and I don’t see you anywhere.

“He actually thinks I’m going to his stupid fight, Jessi. He texted me and asked where I was. Can you believe that? He’s engaged for god’s sake. Why does it matter where I am?”

“That’s easy, because he loves you.” She says it like there are no obstacles, that there’s no Kristene, and I have nothing to worry about. She didn’t see the sparkly gem on that bitch’s digits. It was like a damn beacon for my eyes, it sparkled so much.

“Then why did he ask another girl to marry him?”

“Maybe he didn’t. Maybe you’re just against being happy and making a mountain out of a mole hill. It could all be a misunderstanding. Where are you right now?”

“A bar in the hotel.”

“Doing what?” she asks.

“Thinking about drinking the “
Garganturita
.” This thing has enough tequila to carry five worms. I keep stirring it, but I’ve only taken a couple sips.”

UAPITA: Everly where are you?

“Is that your phone again? Everly, if the guy is engaged to someone else, then why the hell is he texting you?”

“I don’t know why he’s texting me. Because he’s a glutton for punishment, because he’s crazy, because . . .”

“He loves you. Everly Ann McGowan, I’ve been your best friend since your dreaded crush on that disgusting French teacher of ours.”

“His name was Mr. Yokum, Jessi.”

“Whatever! He was short, disgusting, and balding for god’s sake. He was gross. I never understood what you found so attractive about the guy. Now that I’ve been your designated bff for the last ten years, I feel it’s my duty to tell you that you’re making a humungous mistake, just like you have for the last thirteen guys you’ve dated. It’s ridiculous to build a relationship off someone’s voice alone. It’s time to grow a pair, Everly. Choke down some nuts, drink some liquid courage, and go tell that beautiful-ass boxer how wet he makes your pussy.”

I laugh. “He does make my pussy very wet.” The bartender behind the bar quirks an eyebrow at me and I wave him off. “Why is it whenever a man hears the words wet pussy, they turn into begging dogs? The bartender just gave me the eyebrow.”

“Is he cute?”

“I dunno, my hotness radar must be malfunctioning. Jessi, I don’t know if I can tell him how I feel. Maybe I’m just not supposed to be loved.”

UAPITA: Everly, answer your damn phone.

The phone beeps and I see that UAPITA is calling me. My heart wants to pick up the phone, but to hear his voice right now would crush me.

UAPITA: Damn it Everly, you can’t get into the fight without a ticket.

“Answer him, Everly. Do it before it’s too late.”

“Jessi, I love you, but let me handle my own shit, okay?”

“Fine, but don’t call me when you’re bawling your eyes out because you lost the love of your life due to stupidity. My give-a-shit meter runs out at the end of this phone call.”

“I don’t cry.”

“Says the girl who bawled over the cutest little girl with tattered pigtails.”

“That’s different . . . I don’t cry over men.”

“You will, Everly. Welcome to the world of being in love. Hope you get a refund for your ticket because you’re about to miss your bus,” she torments.

“Warning noted. I will be fine, Garganturita is going to keep me company and maybe by the end of it, my hotness radar will kick back into effect and I can hit on the bartender.”

“Everly, I still think you should tell the sexy boxer how you feel. You love him, that’s big. Don’t let it go. Not many people get to experience true love.”

Jessi has a point. I hate when that bitch has points. For months now I’ve sparred with Caleb and my feelings for him. Seeing Kristene come out of his room was like a sucker punch to the face. It’s my fault. Caleb has given me every opportunity to accept the connection we have together, and all I do is fight it. Now I’m too late.

“Response has been received. I will contemplate it at a later point in consciousness. Preferably one where I wake up in the morning with a hot ass foreign dude in my bed.”

“You’re reverting. Stop doing this to yourself, Everly. As your best friend, it is my duty to tell you, you’re a fucking moron! Take two aspirins and call me in the morning. Best friend out!”

I’m met with a dial tone. I hate the fact that she’s right. I’ve struck out with accents. This is a proven fact. The problem is deciding when is the time to start anew. Maybe Garganturita will wipe my slate clean. I take a big drink from the mammoth straw, grab my phone and reply to Caleb’s text.

Me: Congratulations on your engagement. I hope you two will be super happy together.

He texts me back almost immediately, but my thumb was already surfing the power button, and I turn off my phone.

“Bad breakup?” The bartender asks, hovering in front of me.

“You have to be in a relationship for there to be a breakup.” I notice he has a T.V. on, and right now, they’re introducing Caleb’s fight. The television zooms in on Caleb’s chiseled face and I can see, almost immediately, the hurt skirting his eyes. He looks distracted—something a boxer should never be during a fight. This fight is supposed to be big. Caleb is considered the underdog. It doesn’t matter what his record is; his opponent, Bruno Kingston is the one everyone has picked to win tonight. Knowing that Caleb is about to get his ass beat is even more of a reason to leave.

“You a boxing fan?” The bartender asks, following my line of vision. It’s the first time I actually get a chance to really look at him. He’s short with an average build, a well-trimmed goatee covers his mouth and he’s wearing a black skin-tight shirt over blue jeans. I guess he’s cute in that, stay-out-of-my-bubble-just-listen-to-my-problems kind of way.

“Hal, let me tell you something. I’ve spent the better part of a year fighting. Boxing is the closest sport to my heart right now.”

“My name is Brett.”

“Of course it is, Hal. Your name doesn’t matter. Right now, you’re playing my conscience. Because that’s what you guys do right? You sit there while I tell you my sob story. You give me advice while pouring me more drinks in hopes that I will go home with you. Trust me Hal, it isn’t happening. See that fine sexy man specimen on the screen? Not the big brute in the red shorts. The gorgeous one in the purple trunks. That’s the man I love, and I blew it. Now he’s getting married to some desperate tramp, and I’m here drinking my worries away on this mammoth adult Slurpee.”

“So if you love the guy, why are you here and not fighting the tramp for him? If he’s a boxer like you say he is, he likes a good fight.” Hal has a point. Caleb has been spending the entire course of a relationship chasing me. I’ve bobbed and weaved from every advance he’s taken, but now as I watch him take his stance in the ring against Kingston, all I can think is how I would do anything for just one more shot with the champ.

“Because I’m a moron. If I could lift this Slurpee, I’d say, cheers to everyone who ever tapped out before they threw their first punch. To a life of singlehood. Thanks for the drink, Hal!” I take another long swig from my straw and train my eyes away from the television just as Kingston throws the first punch.

I told myself I wouldn’t watch his fight, but as I skirt the rim of my drink, all I can do is watch the train wreck playing on the television. I feel obligated to watch it now. I just can’t be ringside to do it.

I can tell by Caleb’s facial expressions, he’s not even ready for this match. His opponent is a giant compared to Caleb. I’m not even sure why he agreed to fight this guy. He’s outmatched both in height and build.

The two fighters hit gloves and then the bell goes off to start the second round. Caleb barely moves. I can see Chris in the background screaming at him. Bruno thrusts his hand forward and punches Caleb in the face. Blood squirts from his mouth and the camera zooms in on it, replaying it in slow motion. My heart drops, and I gasp when I see Caleb hit the ring floor. Fuck, Caleb never fights like this. He’s not even trying. I’m starting to feel sick.

Caleb is going to let this guy kill him.

Caleb gets back on his feet just before the guy finishes counting to five. He puts up his hands as Bruno begins assaulting him with strong jabs, a hard hit to his chin, and a fury of quick punches to his torso. Every punch, I feel deep in my gut. I’m watching the man I love get beaten to death on national television. I think I’m gonna hurl.

This is all my fault. Caleb isn’t fighting because of me.

I have to stop this. Caleb is going to throw away his boxing career because of me. I pick up my phone from off the bar and turn it back on.

Holy hell!
Seven missed calls and twenty text messages . . . all from Caleb. I decide to listen to his calls first.

Call one: Everly, please pick up the phone. I really want you at my fight. Please show up.

Call two: (Heavy breathing) Everly, it’s Caleb, I’m not sure what makes you believe that I’m engaged, but you’re wrong. Call me so we can talk this out like adults.

Call three: PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE. THIS IS GETTING RIDICULOUS, EVERLY!

Call four: Fuck.

Call five: (Loooong groan) I can’t deal with this shit right now, Everly. You’re making me crazy. Please just pick up the phone. My fight starts in less than ten minutes. I left a ticket for you up front. Please come talk to me.

Call six: Everly . . . (sniff)

The sixth call broke me. His tortured voice reached in and grabbed my soul. These are not calls from a man who’s engaged to someone else. These calls are from a man who is desperate and in love. Though, he’s never actually said the words to my face or said it at all. His emotions through this phone call, mirror the inner turmoil I’m fighting within myself right now.

Call seven: I should have told you this a long time ago. Before we even met, I dreamt about you. Well, not you exactly, a girl with raven hair and no face. I knew the moment I laid eyes on you that you were her—the girl in my dreams. It’s why I haven’t given up on the idea of us being together. It’s why I’m so relentless in my pursuit of you. The dream started the chase, but it was you that made me stop in my tracks. I love everything about you, Everly. I love how your eyes shine when you’re pissed off, and how good you are with the girls and Holly. You’re like a quarter; with a simple flick, you go from angry to loving all in one turn. I love that about you. You have this hard, edgy exterior, but are soft and almost fragile on the inside. You can’t hide that side from me, Everly. I see it when I look in your eyes, feel it through our kisses, and hear it every time you tell me you hate me. I understand I’m not what you pictured when you think of the man of your dreams, but I can honestly say that you are
literally
the girl of mine. I wish I didn’t have to fight. I wish you were here so I could say this all to your face . . . but they’re calling my name, and as always, we’ve run out of time. I love you, Everly . . . I’ve never loved anyone before. Please don’t force me to find love with someone else when I’ve finally found love with you.

The call ends there with a profession of his love. He loves me. He wouldn’t say that if he was engaged. Jessi was right! I’m an idiot. A single tear leaks from my eyes and splatters onto my hand. I’m crying. I’m actually crying over a man. What’s going on with me? Caleb has laid all of his feelings on the line, yet here I am, contemplating my emotions, while straddling that invisible barrier between love and hate, struggling to let go.

I read the text messages next. Every single one of them just solidifies the fact I’m a moron. He’s not engaged. He doesn’t want to fight unless I’m there. He’s worried about me.

Hal stares at me from behind the bar and smiles. “Looks like you got your answer, Beautiful. Your boyfriend is getting his ass kicked on national television, and my guess is it’s because you’re sitting here talking to me and not over there cheering him on.” Hal points up to the television.

I watch in complete horror as Caleb pretty much throws his fight. Bruno is relentless, every hit is hard and straight to Caleb’s body, but it isn’t until Bruno upper cuts Caleb’s chin and he goes sprawling backwards that I jump to my feet, grab my purse, and throw a massive tip for Hal on the bar. I don’t know if I will be able to get to the fight in time, but I have to try.

It takes me a total of twenty minutes to get into the fight. Ten of those minutes, I spent at the front while they checked for my ticket and used one of those wand metal detectors on me. Caleb bought me ring-side tickets. When I get into the arena. People are booing. Murmurs of Caleb purposely throwing the fight are swarming around me. I run down the stairs, taking them two at a time, watching in horror as Caleb lets his fists down allowing Bruno to connect with his face once again. Bruno hits him with one of the strongest hits I’ve ever seen in my life. In slow motion, Caleb’s body falls, hitting the mat with the biggest thud I’ve ever heard.

Caleb’s out cold. Everyone is booing, and Bruno is looking around, triumphantly throwing his fists in the air. He has ruled this fight and Caleb didn’t even try. I run towards the ring. Some security guards see me and grab me by the waist just as I’m at the ring’s edge.

“Let me go,” I scream. “Caleb, get up and fight! Why are you letting him bully you like this? You’re being such a pussy right now.” Caleb’s lifeless body is sprawled on the mat. I knee one of the guards in the balls and shoot past them, crawling between the ropes so I can reach Caleb’s hand.

“Don’t you do dare do this to me, Caleb. I know you’re better than this. Get up, stupid.”

The referee is counting; he’s on count six and I know if he gets to ten, Caleb’s done for. He’ll lose his first match, ever. “I swear to god, Caleb, if you don’t get your ass up, I’ll never speak to you again.” Tears are rolling down my cheeks. The color of death cradles his face; it’s a pale white that reminds me of newly fallen snow or chalk dust. I don’t know what I can do to make him wake up, so I grip his hand tightly and whisper. “I love you, please don’t leave me.” I feel him squeeze my hand in response. It’s weak, but I still feel it. “If you get up and beat the ever-loving-shit out of this guy, I’ll date you. I won’t fight us anymore. I promise. I put that on Holly. I put that on our love. If you win this fight, I’m yours. Please stop letting him win.”

The referee reaches count nine. My heart feels like a lump in my chest. Caleb just lost this fight and it’s all my fault.

Next thing I know, Caleb shoots up to his feet. He staggers a bit, dazed from that last blow Bruno hit him with, but he’s up just as the ref gets to count nine. He looks down at me and smiles. “I’m holding you to that,” he yells down at me. He turns his attention to Bruno and smiles. “Let’s make this a real fight.” Bruno looks at him in shock. The security guard grabs me around the waist and pulls me away from the ring.

“Can I, at least, watch Caleb beat this guy’s ass before you arrest me?” The guard smiles and laughs.

“I guess it’s the least I can do for the girl who’s going to help me win big on this fight. He turns me around and cuffs me, but angles me so I can watch the fight.

The fight is on!

When Bruno punches out towards Caleb, he counters, connecting Bruno’s chin with his glove. Bruno looks a little shocked. He wasn’t expecting Caleb to fight back. The next two minutes are basically both of the men dancing around the ring, occasionally throwing out punches. Caleb’s face is covered in blood and bruises from the assault Bruno’s punches gave him earlier. Bruno hasn’t even been touched yet.

“Do you want to be with me or not, Caleb?” I shout. “Fuck his shit up!”

Caleb smiles, and I know he heard me. Hearing my voice was all he needed. Caleb blocks Bruno’s next attempt to punch him and then pummels him with a series of punches to his torso. Caleb’s fists are moving so fast I can barely focus on them. Each hit is calculated: one against his ribs, another hit to Bruno’s ear. Bruno is starting to look winded. A crack against Bruno’s lip breaks it open and blood squirts Caleb’s face.

“That’s it, Caleb, fuck him up,” I scream.

The security member who is holding me is laughing his ass off. I’m not a big boxing fan, but watching Caleb recover from what was quite possibly the most horrifying boxing match I’ve ever seen is exhilarating. He’s like a god up there. Bruno connects with Caleb’s cheek, and his mouth guard goes flying out of his mouth. Shit, I don’t want his perfect teeth fucked up. When Bruno goes to punch him again, Caleb ducks and gives him a strong uppercut to the chin. Bruno rocks backwards; it’s enough for Caleb to finish his assault. Ten punches to his face, five to his ribs, and one last hard punch right across his jaw are all it takes before Bruno’s body hits the mat. Everyone is screaming and cheering.

Bruno doesn’t move. The ref circles him. Bruno’s trainer and posse are screaming for him to get up, but it’s too late. The ref reaches ten and Caleb is declared the winner by knockout.

Caleb turns to me and smiles, blood is dripping down his face and into his mouth. It’s the most grotesque I’ve ever seen him look but quite possibly also the hottest. He points to me and mouths, “You’re mine now” and I giggle. Then I feel myself being dragged away by the security guards. I’m fucked. I’m still on probation. I could be looking at jail time this time.

I shouldn’t have kneed that security guard in the nuts.