Page 2 of Ever's Last
“What did that bag ever do to you?” I turn to face said douchebag, my friend, Brick Stevens. His real name is Rider, but we call him Brick because of his size. He’s one asshole I don’t ever want to piss off. I’m not scared of him, though. We’ve been friends since high school. True friends. There was only one other person I would call that, but I’m sure she hates my guts now.
“Some guy said I was old.” I glare at him. He doubles over in laughter. I’m kind of wounded. Yeah, that kind of hurt.
“By some guy, you mean Sal. And I don’t think he said you were old. He said you needed to slow down.”
“And the image problem?”
“Well, that’s different. You’re a dick. You start fights, sleep with anything with a pussy, and start fights.”
“You said start fights twice.”
“Yes, I did,” he nods in response.
“And what am I supposed to do? I can’t help it people think they can take me on, trying to get in my face.”
“You could be a better person and walk away. You should know better than anyone that your hands are lethal weapons.”
“Fuck me.” I open a bottle of water and down the entire thing. I pushed myself hard today, hoping to relieve some of my frustration. Didn’t happen.
“You know, if you settled down instead of screwing around, your image would be a tad better.”
“And how do you suppose I do that? Be on a dating show? Who wants to date Memphis Evans?”
“That’s not a bad idea.”
“Says you. It’s a horrible idea. I take those girls out because I’m expected to and they know the score— I treat them to dinner, they spread their legs.”
“Youarea fucking dick,” Brick says with a chuckle.
“I get that. After Skye . . .” I don’t have to finish my sentence. He already knows everything there is to know about that entire situation.
I wasn’t always a dick trying to stick it wherever I could. I used to be a decent guy who wanted nothing more than to provide for the girl I loved. I even put a ring on it, ahugeone, after winning my first pro match.
I loved Skye Drake since middle school. We had these big life plans. Except life doesn’t always work out the way you expect it to. I stupidly thought we would always be together. I guess that makes me a pussy, thinking she was going to stick it out and stay with me. She had promised that to me when she said ‘yes’ but fame and fortune went straight to her head. I wasn’t fighting enough, making enough, or spending enough. And though we fought, we stayed together.
We even got married. It was lavish and luxurious, according to her. Gaudy and unnecessary, if you ask me. But I would have done anything for her, and I meant that, until the night it meant nothing.
The night my feelings changed, the night she finally meant nothing, was a long time coming. I should have known something was up when she didn’t want to come to one of my fights. She loved to travel because it gave her new stores to shop in, new places to see, and new people to converse with. I called Skye from the airport and she didn’t answer the phone. I was trying to surprise her. It turned out I was the one surprised when I found her in bed, having a threesome with two men, both of them claiming to be friends of mine. We were all sponsored by the same gym. Let’s just say that made work a bit difficult for a while.
Skye didn’t even stop when I screamed at her. The guys looked a little shocked at first, but it didn’t stop them from getting their rocks off. Instead, they came and then decided the best idea was to extract themselves from the standoff. Their time would come, no pun intended. She smiled at me like some devil reincarnate until I told her to get her shit and leave. The one smart thing I did was getting a prenup. Skye would get absolutely nothing, not a piece of furniture, not a precious penny. She knew it, too. I kept the house but decided to sell it. It held too many memories. Luckily for me, it raked in more cash than any of those memories were worth.
I donated all her shit, burned pictures, and went on a drunken binge. And then I showed up at the gym, taking those guys to the mat. They deserved more than the beat-down I gave them and their stupid apologies fell on deaf ears.
After that, I left, moved to another town to start over. I needed to, after everything that happened. I can’t help it that I haveneeds. It seems impossible to trust any woman after what Skye did, especially because I knew her since we were kids. Trust is forged over time, you know. It really fucked with my head that someone I knew for so long could do that to me.
Sal wants me to go out in public, but I’m not doing it alone. He sure as hell can’t expect me to be celibate. I wear condoms, and I’m not stupid. I never get drunk around them, that way they can never try to rope me into a sexual assault case. Some have tried, too, except they never think about evidence or the fact I always have people watching. Credible witnesses and alibis always win cases.
“Come on, let’s grab a beer. I think you need one,” Brick says. He’s right, especially after thinking about that rotten woman.
Okay, that sounds like I'm a whiny little bitch. Maybe I am. I haven’t had a fight in a while, but that’s my own fault. I’m older than most fighters. I guess Sal is kind of right. I could try to book one and get all this extra testosterone out of my system. Sex is the only other thing that helps. Plus, I love it.
I’m not ready to settle down though, and I’m not ready to quit fighting. As far as the bar fights, I will try to walk away when some stupid drunk idiot challenges me. But I can’t make promises because the past always comes back to bite you in the ass when you least expect it.
Chapter Three
Ever
Iyawn and roll out of bed, not really wanting to start this day. To Anne, this is another one of those days she will take credit for. It’s the Christmas Fair and she entered me in the pageant. She thinks I will make the perfectMs. Christmas Wreath. Dumbest name I’ve ever heard of.
