Page 35 of Forgotten Comeback (Parisi Family #5)
Chapter
Thirty-Four
Taylor
“Not happening.” I throw the thong bikini at the headset guy, aka the fight promoter, Steve.
He catches it. “This is the new ring girl outfit,” he argues, throwing it back at me.
Catching it, I throw it back at him. “Not anymore. I’m the new ring girl, and I get final approval on my outfit,” I parrot what Gavin told me, hoping he wasn’t blowing smoke up my ass. Which will be a freaking bare one if headset guy gets his way.
“Then what do you propose?” Steve says with an annoyed huff.
“This is what I’m wearing for the weigh-in.
” I motion to my dress. “And I’ll agree to the bikini for the fight,” I tell him, snatching the set from him.
“But I’m wearing boy shorts over the thong.
Oh, and I’m wearing sneakers, not heels.
” Climbing through the ropes is difficult enough without teetering on four inches of unstable stiletto.
Steve sighs heavily. “We’ll have a riot on our hands.”
“If grown ass men can’t handle the fact that I am a human being with agency, then so be it. And hey, at least there’s no glass beer bottles.”
“Knew you were going to be a pain in the ass,” he says in a resigned tone, and I shrug, following him to the stage in the adjoining room. Workers are milling about, getting chairs set up. “You’ll stand near the back of the stage and smile while the fighters are weighed.”
“That’s it?” I wonder.
“That’s it. Think you can handle it?” Steve’s words drip with sarcasm.
“I’ll try my best,” I tell him, matching his energy.
“Follow me to your dressing room.” Steve leads me out and down the hall to the employees-only area. With the scan of a key card, the door opens, and we walk down yet another hall to a door with Ring Girl on the sign.
He hands me my own key card and a thick envelope filled with stacks of hundreds. “Don’t lose your key card. You can store your belongings in your dressing room. Be on stage in ten minutes.”
“Got it,” I tell him, stepping inside the small space with a changing area, a vanity, and peeking inside the interior door, woo-hoo, my own little bathroom.
After a few minutes spent touching up my hair and makeup, I return to the weigh-in room and make my way on stage. I begin my job of, drumroll please, smiling. Which isn’t something that comes naturally to a woman with resting bitch face.
I glance backstage, my eyes landing on The Hammer and his entourage. Panic bubbles in my chest when I don’t see the two men from the other night.
A woman appears with them, and I do a double-take. It’s the head mean girl from Ace’s. The former ring girl runs her hands up and down Mike’s chest, whispering something in his ear. But he’s not paying her any mind; his eyes land on me, his beady gaze sending a wave of unease up and down my spine.
Why have I attracted the attention of every psychopath in the Tri-State area?
The announcer takes the stage, and I snap my focus to him. “Ladies and Gentlemen, who’s ready to throw hands?” he says in dramatic fashion, and the crowd explodes with raucous cheers.
The featured fights are announced, with The Hammer being one of the boxers in the main event. Gavin’s not in that bout, which eases my nerves somewhat. Why that is, I don’t want to analyze.
The boxers are announced based on their fight lineup, and it’s fascinating to watch the spectacle, each of them trying to get into their opponent’s head.
Gavin’s bout is the last of the featured fights, and he silently takes the stage in his mask and a pair of boxer briefs. Despite my protest, my ovaries still high-five each other.
He removes the spider mask, handing it to his masked trainer before stepping on the scales. His rock-hard ass is facing me, and my cheeks flush at the memory of my dream.
Gavin’s weight is announced, and then his opponent gets his turn on the scales, before the men stand toe to toe in an intense face-off.
The announcer calls the boxers in the main event onto the stage, and Gavin struts off, having never noticed me. Why that annoys me, I also don’t want to analyze.
The Hammer and his opponent are weighed and face off to a rowdy crowd, but unfortunately, Mike notices me. His eyes hold mine, promising something unspoken before the men leave the stage.
The preflight ceremony comes to a conclusion, and Steve whisks me offstage and leads me to my dressing room. “Be ringside in five minutes.”
I nod, stepping inside and closing and locking the door.
Gavin
Taylor reaches behind her, grappling for the zipper on her dress.
“Need help?” I call from the couch, and her eyes snap to me.
“How the hell did you get in here?” she demands.
“I have my ways.” I rise and saunter across the room, moving behind her and running the zipper down, loving the way her creamy skin pebbles.
She throws an elbow behind her back, but I easily dodge. Spinning around, she crosses her arms. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your bout?”
“That’s why I’m here. I need a good luck kiss.” I pat my puckered lips.
Taylor sighs heavily. “Then come here.”
She telegraphs a jab as I close the distance between us. Rolling, I wrap her in my arms and hoist her over my shoulder.
“Put me down!” Taylor shrieks, pounding my back.
“Still not ready for bare-knuckle boxing,” I inform her. “And I’ll put you down, but only if you go on a date with me after my fight.”
“You’re going to make me miss the first fight!”
“Not if you say yes.”
“I’ll say yes, but only if you knock out your opponent in the first sixty seconds of your bout,” Taylor says smugly, thinking she’s won.
“Deal.” I place her on her feet and walk out.