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Dean bounces around excitedly in the plane seat next to me. He can’t stop looking around and checking out his surroundings. He actually reminds me of taking a puppy on a car ride.

Which is weird I know because he’s my son and I probably shouldn’t compare my kid to a dog, but that’s what he looks like! He is all but wagging his damn tail and trying to put his face in the wind.

“I can’t believe I’m going to Vegas!” He leans back in the seat, his attention finally back on me.

“You do know you’re not old enough to do like…anything in Vegas, right?”

“I’m sure I can find
something
to do.” The grin on his face is one of trouble.

As a going away gift, did Logan give him a manual on how to walk, talk, and act exactly like him?

Before my mouth can scold him, he exclaims, “I can’t believe I’m on a plane! Like, a real plane! I never thought I’d be on one. Hell, I never thought I’d live long enough to have a reason to…”

The last part of his sentence chokes a sob in my throat.

Did I mention I am an emotional wreck? My appetite has finally calmed down, but now I’m super sensitive to things and horny around the clock. Weirdest combination. And suckiest combination. Especially since Logan threw down the rule book about not touching myself. Don’t even get me started on how hard it is to read a Salice Rodger’s book and not wanna touch yourself.

“Well, I’m glad I’m bringing you with me. Logan’s gonna love seeing you.” I slide down in my seat.

“And I get to see him fight!”

“Yup.”

“Live!”

“Yup.”

“And professional!” Now realizing he’s not talking to me I just watch him continue to gush. “Man, this day just keeps getting better and better.”

At least his big news for Logan is how well he did at the game this week and not the fact that he’s almost three months pregnant.

“He still has no idea we’re coming, right?”

“Nope. It’ll be a huge surprise. Do you remember what we talked about?”

“Yeah,” he recalls, his eyes wandering over to the stewardess who is bending over to pick up something she dropped. I shake my head and slug him in the shoulder. He chuckles and looks at me. “Not my fault.”

“Exactly like Logan.”

“That’s a compliment you know.” I smile at him and roll my eyes. “I remember the plan. We’re gonna go see him fight. Jake was cool and got us seats where Logan won’t be able to tell we are there. You’re gonna escort me back to the hotel, go to his and tell him our family’s getting bigger cause he knocked you up, and then the three of us are gonna grab something to eat. See. I got it.”

“Please refrain from trying to sneak into casinos or bars. Speaking of, give me the fake ID I know you have.”

Dean adjusts his jeans and tilts his head at me. “I don’t have a—”

“Don’t lie to me, Kid. Just cough it up and I won’t ground you when we get home.”

“Seriously?” he sighs pulling his wallet out of his pocket. “How’d you know? Did Uncle C.J. rat me out?”

“Kid, you’re a replica of Logan. I know how his brain works, which makes it that much easier to know how your brain works.” He hands me the card, and I smile playfully in return before shoving the thing in my purse.

“You think once the baby is born we can take more trips? I’d hate for this to be the only time I ever fly. Although, it is the most kick ass vacation ever.”

“Mouth.”

“Ass? That’s not that bad.”

“Dean—”

“They say it in on the radio. And on regularly scheduled programming.”

I go to fuss at him when a girl, who can’t be much older than him, turns around from the seat in front of us, her face overly made up much like her overly lightened blonde highlights.

Her hair looks like she has skunk stripes. No matter what magazines tell you, that’s not cute. Your hair doesn’t need landing strips for bird shit, which is what it looks like.

“Did you say this is your first time flying?”

Dean cocks a smirk and leans forward. “I did. Why? Wanna hold my hand for takeoff?”

Sound familiar? It’s like living in the Matrix or something.

She lets out a flirty giggle and I try to refrain from ruining this moment. “Well, if you come sit by me, maybe I will.”

He shoots me a look and I roll my eyes again before nodding. She turns back around, which is when I grab the sleeve of his black polo shirt. In a stern voice I whisper, “Dean Kellar, I swear if you try to lose your virginity to join the Mile High Club, I will devise a punishment so severe and obscene that you may never wanna have sex again. Got it?”

He gets a frightened look before nodding slowly.

Good. Maybe that will slow down his unstoppable transformation into the next Logan Kellar.

Once Dean gets settled next to the girl, who seems to be flying without a chaperone, I toss my head to look out the window after buckling my seatbelt, dread filling me up at steady rate.

No, I don’t hate flying. I hate knowing that there’s a good chance that telling Logan I’m carrying his kid isn’t gonna go like some sort of grocery store paperback novel with him swooping me off my feet and rushing to the church. What? Be optimistic? Ha. Because when has that ever worked for me?

***

With my bag swung over my shoulder, I head towards a blonde woman who is wearing a gray pinstriped skirt, a white button down shirt that is slightly unbuttoned to expose her obviously bought for boobs, and a pair of stilettos that would make Erin proud.

She looks like she belongs on a slutty corporate America brochure.

Putting the sign down she smiles. “Maxx?” I nod and she extends her hand for me to shake. “Which means you’re Dean.” After shaking his she introduces herself, “I’m Miranda, Jake’s personal assistant. He informed me to take you by the hotel to drop off your luggage before escorting you personally to the fight.” She turns quickly and begins walking at a speed that is hard to keep up with when your legs are only as long as a preschooler’s.

Hey. I’m short! Tall people often forget that we can’t walk that fast! We require more steps, people! Our strides aren’t as long as yours.

In this process, she leads us outside to a black stretch limo where the driver is holding the backseat door open. Before I even have a chance to react, Dean loses his composure. “A limo! We get to ride in a limo!”

Miranda smiles and waves her hand for us to go ahead. Once we’re all inside and the vehicle is moving, Dean pushes his face against the glass, any possibility of hiding his excitement nonexistent.

“Do you see that?” He points to a building in the distance. “What about that?” He points to something else. “Do you see that?”

“Just because we’re in a different city doesn’t mean my eyes are broken, Kid.” I push my falling box frame glasses up.

“Not just a different city…Vegas!” His eyes get huge. “Man, if I were a little older—”

“I’d be a little more terrified.”

The comment gets him to laugh and he ponders, “I wonder which of the guys from The Hangover I’d be.”

“You do know that’s not what Vegas is really like?” Miranda says looking up from her cell phone.

Dean lets a sulk roll over his body. “It’s not?”

She shakes her head but shoots me a look first. “It’s better.”

Even more excited, he looks back out the window and I merely chortle.

Have you ever been to Vegas? Land of legal hookers, free liquor, and all night partying. The place where they take your money and most people act as if they are allergic to sunlight like gambling vampires? This is my first time. Not like my aunt and uncle traveled together on family vacations much. I will say though, I am hoping that it’s not like The Hangover. I don’t know how I would handle losing the Kid or finding out that Logan has married a stripper. While I don’t think I’m anything like that woman or Logan like that guy, statistically speaking, he’d have the highest chance out of all of us to get drunk and married in Vegas.

Miranda plays host and explains several of the surrounding hotels while escorting us into ours. She has the concierge take our luggage, give us our keys, and promise to be of assistance when we actually return from the fight. Afterward, we’re quickly shuffled back into the limo by her. Apparently we’re on a schedule, and it doesn’t even leave time to pee.

You know, I don’t know if I can handle all this constant hustling and bustling. It’s kinda exhausting. What? What do you mean I’ve only been here less than an hour? What does that have to do with anything? I need a nap…

“Jake is glad that you decided to come.” Miranda grabs my attention with her words, but when I look up she’s adjusting her makeup. “He hopes it’ll please Unbreakable.”

I try not to smile. “Has he been unpleasant?”

“To say the least,” she mutters. “That’s according to Jake. I rarely see him. I’m sure he’ll be more than excited to have you here with him.”

My face does its best not to smile again, but loses.

Can you blame me? There’s something about knowing that he’s miserable while I’m not around that kind of…warms my heart. Makes me feel like surprising him with this visit might go better than planned. Like when he says he misses me that those are more than just words.

After barely surviving traffic that puts morning rush hour back home to shame, we arrive in front of the hotel that is the venue for the fight. Like she’s built to conquer the world with every breath she takes, Miranda gets out of the limo and is greeted by security.

“Bruno here works for Jake. His job is to keep us protected from crazy fans to crazy paparazzi.”

“Why would they bother us?” Dean inquires shoving his hands uncomfortably in his pockets, keeping his chest broad and beefed up while examining Bruno, the 6’4 bald black man wearing a black t-shirt and black jeans.

Anyone else starting to feel like shit just got real?

“Unbreakable is a little more than popular now. His growing fan base from back in Texas looks like a Sweet 16 party compared to what he’s got going on now. He’s gonna be huge. Hell, he already is.”

Dean gives me a look, and I’m not sure how to take it.

Huge is a good thing, right? Huge means lots of money, lots of fights, lots of time in the spotlight. Right. It also means lots of time on the road, lots of time away from his family, and lots of time with women throwing themselves at him. Okay, well that last part is not really any different than back home. Except now we’re actually dating…we’re still dating, right?

Miranda leads us to our seats, informing us that she will go retrieve Jake. Dean watches her walk away before he speaks loudly, “Can you believe we’re here?! Can you believe we’re actually gonna see him fight? His first pro fight?”

I smile and slide down in my seat, doing my best to hide the discomfort from wearing jeans.

I hate wearing jeans. My yoga pants are stretchy and comfy while these are stiff and don’t like to bend. Ugh. On record, I tried to fly in my yoga pants but Erin somehow magically knew I wouldn’t have time to change. She’s like a fashion fortuneteller.

“Think he’s gonna be excited that we’re here?”

“Of course.” I reassure Dean briefly before Jake is standing in front of us smirking smugly.

Does he have to have that stupid smile?

“Pleasure to see you again, Maxx.”

“Nice to see you too, Jake.”

“You must be Dean.” He extends his hand. When Dean shakes it he says, “If you fight half as good as Unbreakable, it might be you I recruit next.”

“No,” I say in a very motherly tone.

Dean flashes me a look and drops Jake’s hand. “But what if I wanna fight?”

“The answer is no.” My words receive what I imagine to be a look I’ll receive many more times as a parent.

You know the one that’s a cross between I hate you and you aren’t the boss of me. The one cloaked in so much attitude and tension suddenly you wonder how they’re gonna retaliate for being told not to do something. Great. Just what I needed today. You know, I knew parenting wasn’t gonna be a walk in the park, but teenagers are really fucking moody.

Jake clears his throat and pushes his hands into his gray suit pockets. “Well, I hope you enjoy the fight. I am expecting a win. I’ll be escorting you to the resort part of the casino and helping you pick up the key to his room afterward.”

“Thank you,” I softly sigh before he nods and makes his exit.

The moment he’s gone I turn to Dean. “Kid—”

“I think I should get to do what I wanna do in life.”

“I highly doubt you know what that is at 15.”

“I’m almost 16.”

Really? That’s his argument?

“Even so. It’s a big world with lots to offer. You don’t have to fight.”

“Logan did.” The point I knew he was gonna bring up follows next. “And we came from similar households. With the same story. And look at him now. He’s damn near famous.”

“Kid,” I take a long hard breath before continuing, “I’m gonna paint you the picture of Logan that no one sees. It’s the one where he was beaten before he left his mother’s stomach. The one where he had cracked ribs at three. The one where he saved other kid’s lunch leftovers to have dinner when he was six. Logan was taunted, beat up, shamed for being poor, for being hungry because they didn’t always have enough food, for being dirty because his mother’s eye was too swollen for her to get laundry done. Now, imagine what happened to him when his father beat his mother to death. Whatever feelings he had inside of him for his family died. Imagine suddenly being a complete orphan. Suddenly having so much rage, aggression, and anxiety inside of you that there are only two very distinct paths. Suicide or homicide. Hurt yourself or hurt someone else. He didn’t choose to fight because he had a whirlwind of options waiting for him. He chose to fight because it was life or death, Kid. Now you wanna fight? Fine. We won’t stop you, because you’re right. You should get to do whatever it is you really wanna do in life. And we want you to be whatever you want in this life, Kid. Whether that’s a fighting champion or a rocket scientist. I’m just saying…you don’t have to make that choice right now. Not at 16.”

“15,” he corrects me and I slug him in the arm playfully.

Jackass.

After a beat he says, “I don’t really like getting hit.”

With a smirk, I turn my eyes back to the ring. “Yeah. Neither does Logan.”