Vi Keeland - Worth the fight

Nico picks up where he left off and I take a minute to get a better look at his face before he locks my gaze with his again.  I notice a small, healed scar above his left eye and another longer one on his right cheek.  They are faint, like they’ve been there for years, but his tan skin color yields a lighter shade to scars, making them stand out more than they normally would.  The scars make his face look even more rugged and somehow emphasizes the masculinity of his chiseled jaw.  The face belongs to a strong man, a man I can’t take my eyes off of for some reason.

William speaks when Nico is done and his voice finally makes me remember that he’s in the room.  I hope I wasn’t drooling while his client was speaking.  I try to focus on William as he talks, but my eyes keep wandering back to Nico, who catches me each time.   I see an ever so slight twitch at the corner of Nico’s mouth each time, secretly acknowledging that I’ve been caught.

William is able to refocus me by drawing me into a conversation about how the Weiland case could apply.  Nico wants out of an endorsement contract he is in because the manufacturer uses child labor.  The fact that the man is willing to give up what amounts to a multi-million dollar contract for such a noble cause makes him even more sexy to me.

After almost an hour, William looks at his watch and begins to wrap things up.  Nico asks me my opinion on his case and I tell him I need a copy of the contract and some time to do a little research on the company before I can give an educated opinion.

William nods and stands, “Are we on for Thursday, maybe we can discuss it further then?”

“Umm, yes.”  I catch Nico looking between the two of us.  I think he is observing our interaction.

Nico shakes my hand again and my heartbeat speeds up at the simple contact.  He doesn’t release my hand right away.  Instead he uses his other hand to motion between William and I and asks, “Are you two a couple?”

I respond no at the exact same time that William responds yes.  I look to William and then to Nico, who is still holding my hand from our handshake, and I think I catch a glimmer in his eye that matches the smirk on his face.  He’s amused at our answer and I don’t blame him.  He finally releases my hand and I find myself oddly disappointed that he’s not touching me anymore.

I turn to William and find he is still looking at where Nico’s and my hands had been joined.  His face looks conflicted and confused and I feel badly for the disrespect that I’ve just shown him.  He lowers his voice to me, “I’ll see you Thursday?”

I nod, thinking it best to have whatever conversation needs to be had between us in private.  I stand at Regina’s desk as the two men walk out the door.  Nico looks back at the last second and smiles at me.  William never looks back.

I toss and turn all night, unable to get the picture of Nico Hunter out of my head.  The man is sexy as hell and it bothers me that I can’t control my thoughts.  It feels like I only fell asleep ten minutes ago when I wake up to the music blasting on my phone alarm.   I drag my half-sleeping body into the shower and let the cool water pour over me in an attempt to force myself awake.    After a few minutes of self inflicted torture, I adjust the temperature on the water and close my eyes to relax into the warmth.  It hits me then.  My eyes dart open, trying to force out the picture that appeared from the darkness of my memory without warning.

Nico Hunter.  Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter.  I was there the night that he killed a man.  It was the one and only fight I’d ever gone to.   And it all comes flooding back.   I referred to the fight as the cage fight, but now that I think about it, it was called MMA, mixed martial arts.

My stepfather is a retired policeman.  Sometimes he works security at sporting events, a lot of retired cops do.  He had been given two tickets to a big MMA championship fight, and offered them to me.  I wouldn’t normally go, considering my past and how I feel about watching people pummel each other, even if it is consensual.  But my little brother Max is a huge fan of the sport and I got suckered into taking him.  I just couldn’t say no to the excited twelve-year-old who momentarily forgot he was supposed to act cool and was jumping up and down like he did when he was four.

The fight didn’t last long, two rounds. I remember it clearly. It was probably less than ten minutes in total.  The pre-fight festivities lasted an hour longer than the actual fight.  Our seats were good, only about 10 rows back from the center of the ring.  I remember flinching every time one of the men threw a punch, yet I couldn’t turn away.  I close my eyes and watch instant replay of those last seconds.   Most people think having a photographic memory is a blessing, but in my case it’s a curse.  Yes, I remember lots of figures and words, but I also remember all of the bad things I’d rather forget.

It’s as if I flipped on a video and hit play right as those last few seconds play out.  I see Nico throw the punch, and then I watch in slow motion as his opponent’s head turns to the side with the force of ten men.  He drops to the floor, his head limp and rattling around before it even hits the canvas.  The screaming crowd becomes silent and the medical team rushes into the cage seconds after it all happens.

As horrible as it is, seeing that all play out in my mind isn’t what haunts me.  It’s the still of the fighter dropped to his knees when he realizes the man isn’t getting back up.  He’s shattered.  I can’t take my eyes from his face as I watch him break into a million little pieces.  I should’ve felt sorry for the man that just lost his life, but I don’t even look his way.  I’m fixated on the man who will never be the same.  Never.  I know it.  I feel connected to him for a stopped moment in time.

In my mind, it’s high noon and the shadow of my past is twice the size of me.  Towering over me.  I can’t escape it.

Elle

I’m later than usual when I finally get to the office.  I’m still in a fog and find myself dazing out as I catch up on emails and plan my day.  Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter.  I didn’t know him before the fight, but that was his name.  I remember watching him walk into the cage and smile a cocky smile at the crowd.  The ladies went crazy.  It didn’t take long to figure out what his name meant.  I remember feeling a jolt when I took in his smile and that body, that incredible body.

The press had a field day for weeks after that fight.  His name may have been Nico “The Lady Killer” Hunter before the fight, but the press removed the “Lady” part from his name after that.

I’m typing words into Google before I even realize what I’m doing.   The pictures that were etched into my brain are no different on the screen when they appear.  The referee had ruled the fatal blow a clean hit, but that didn’t stop the press from sensationalizing the story.  A few weeks later, after the press had moved on to whatever carcass was yet to be picked over, I read a small story hidden in the back of the paper amongst the advertising.  Nico’s opponent had had an unknown underlying head condition and was a walking time bomb.

I’m able to push thoughts of Nico into the depths of my head and finally get some work done after two more cups of coffee.  It’s midafternoon when Regina buzzes in to tell me I have a client in the lobby, but I don’t have an appointment on my calendar.

I walk into the lobby, my thick sandy blonde hair being held in place on top of my head in a lopsided bun held together by two strategically placed pencils. I stop in my tracks as I see Nico rise from the couch in the waiting room and toss a magazine back on the table.

I’m surprised by his appearance, but he seems oddly familiar after spending half of the night and most of the morning in my mind.  I put on my best game face and straighten my posture.  “Mr. Hunter, did I have an appointment with you today?”  I pretend I’m concerned I may have forgotten an appointment, but there is no way I’ve forgotten anything about the man from the two times I’ve seen him.

He takes two steps closer to me, just an inch or two closer than one would consider normal space between people.   But I notice it. He’s taller than me by at least eight inches, if not more. “It’s Nico, please.”   He smiles at me and the room feels smaller, warmer.

I smile back.  I don’t have to fake it, it’s a real smile.  I’m happy to see him and I can’t hide it anyway.  I have no idea why.  I should be freaked out after what I remembered, but I’m not for some reason.  I’m curious about this man.  I nod my head.  “Nico, what can I help you with?”

He smiles, it’s a mischievous, lopsided smile that makes me think the man is playful.  But damn if it isn’t the sexiest thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.   “I remembered a few things I thought I should tell you that I didn’t mention yesterday.  Do you have a few minutes?”

I tilt my head to the side and study him.  What is it about him that doesn’t want to make me run even though I can feel my heart racing through my shirt?  “Sure, let’s go talk in my office.”

Nico smiles a victorious smile and it’s contagious.  I smile back and I’m not quite sure what we are even smiling about.  He follows me down the hallway and as I turn into my office I catch his eyes lingering on my behind.  He looks up just as I take in his line of sight.  A normal response would be to be embarrassed at being caught, but not Nico.  He grins at me unapologetically.  Instead of finding it rude or harassing, for some reason I find it turns me on.