Page 98 of Falcon

Over the next thirty minutes, questions are bounced around between Jose and I. Some are ridiculous and I don’t know how these people have jobs in the journalism, and some are actually things I’m happy to answer. It’s a process I’m beyond comfortable with at this point. It’s all a part of the job.

When we wrap everything up, I head off the stage and finally get my hands on Faith and my mouth on hers, uncaring that there are hundreds of eyes on us. I just need her lips.

When we break the kiss, she pulls away just enough to say “Wow. What was that for?”

“Because I wanted to.”

I go in for another when someone clears their throat beside us. I look to my right and see the source.

Fuck’s sake. Doesn’t she ever learn?

“Same room as last time, Falc? They did always give you the biggest green room.”

“Jennifer, enough.”

“What?” She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll spare the new girl, and keep it simple. I’ll see you after the fight…like always.” She slides her hand across the bicep as she walks away.

Faith watches her with a face that reads only as disgusted.

“She better be careful. If that dress were any shorter, you’d see her well broken-in and probably droopy vagina.”

I toss my head back and laugh. “Wow. That’s an image I didn’t need.”

“Trust me, it’s not one I relish either,” she sighs.

“You know what, we can order in dinner,” I tell her. “No one likes those damn dinners anyway, and there’s something I’d much rather do with you.”

“Are you sure? Really, we don’t have to. I mean that.”

“I want to skip it and spend time with you.”

“If you really mean that, there is something I’d like to do.”

“What’s that?” I ask her.

“Find me a gym with a punching bag.”

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