Page 155 of Forgotten Comeback
“Look, I don’t make the rules?—”
“You’re the fight promoter; we both know you do,” I call him on his bullshit.
“Taylor, we have one fight left in the season, and then the championship. Can we please hold it together?”
“The next tongue that gets shoved in my mouth uninvited will be bit off and spit in the ring,” I promise him. Would’ve bitten Mike’s off, but I was so shocked by him kissing me, and then by Gavin’s knockout, that I missed the opportunity.
“Ring girl! Take off your shirt,” a spectator calls from the second row.
“Take off yours,” I counter. “You want to compare cup size?”
“Cunt!” the man hurls at me.
“You’re supposed to play the role of fantasy girl,” Steve chastises.
I shrug. “Not my fault that man’s fantasy is humiliation.”
The evening proceeds with the usual barrage of insults and/or pickup lines. “Hey, ring girl, what that tongue do?”
“Verbally lash you; spit on you. That sort of thing.” I smile and wave.
Gavin wins his bout in the second round by KO, and that cements it. My man has a winner’s mentality, and it’s time I do too.
Chapter
Sixty
Taylor
“On a scale of zero to ten, say, ‘I am cursed,’” my therapist instructs.
“I am cursed.” I try out the words. They don’t hold the scary emotional charge they once did when I first started EMDR.
“How true does that feel?” she prompts.
“Zero.” I grin.
“And on a scale of zero to ten, say, ‘The man I love is going to die.’”
“‘The man I love is going to die.’” The words don’t choke me with fear, but I don’t like the sound of them on my tongue.
“What number?”
“Three. But that’s only because he has a dangerous job,” I explain.
“The man I love is going to die because of me. How true does that feel?”
“‘The man I love is going to die because of me.’” I pause, feeling into my body. “Zero,” I say triumphantly.
My session ends, and I step outside to find Gavin waiting for me. “How’d it go?” he asks, opening the car door for me.
“I love you. Say it back.” I grin, bouncing excitedly.
“I love you.” He helps me into the car before hustling around to the driver’s seat.
I try to crawl over the console, but he stops me. “What’s wrong?”
“One more week, and then I’m going to destroy this pussy,” he promises.
