Last Chance To Fight (2 page)

I collected myself, found the right baggage carousel, and set about waiting for my things. It wasn’t long before I heard a squeal of delight and felt a pair of slender arms wrap around my waist.

“You’re here!” the voice exclaimed from behind me.

“Could these be Betsy’s arms?” I asked, looking down at them. “I certainly hope so, because otherwise this would be weird.”

“Of course it’s me, dummy. Turn around, already.”

I laughed and spun happily on my heels to face my dear old friend who had come to pick me up.

“Oh, Anna, you look wonderful!” she gushed as she looked me up and down. “You look exactly the same after, what? Was it four years ago that I came to visit?”

“Four years? God, I don’t even want to know,” I told her. “I feel old. I can’t believe you had a baby that I haven’t even met yet. Is she here?”

“Oh no,” Betsy said, her expression suddenly changing. “She’s at home with Ted. I didn’t think that would be a good idea.”

“What?” I asked, surprised. “Why?”

“You know, because, well—”

“Oh,” I said. “I get it.”

I knew exactly why Betsy hadn’t brought her daughter with her, and I wanted so badly for her to be wrong. I didn’t want to feel bad for myself, or jealous of my best friend’s happiness. I just wanted to be happy for her, like a normal best friend would. It was easier said than done, however.

“I’m sorry,” Betsy said. “I just—”

“It’s all right,” I told her. “Let’s just get my stuff and then when we get in the car, you can tell me about everything that’s happened to you over the past four years.”

“OK,” she said, and we turned around to watch the luggage as it made its way around the carousel. In a few minutes my suitcase appeared and Betsy helped me carry it to her car.

“Is this all you brought?” Betsy asked.

“Yes,” I answered. “I figured I would have plenty of time for shopping when I got here. I need a better wardrobe, and everything is better and less expensive here than in Australia.”

“Good point,” she said. “I remember that from my trip to visit you. I couldn’t believe how much even a decent pair of shoes cost.”

“Yeah,” I said, laughing. “But you bought them anyway. Five pairs of them!”

“I was on vacation!” Betsy exclaimed. “What else are you supposed to do on vacation?”

We got outside and Betsy loaded my suitcase into her trunk, and I felt a pang of sadness as I saw the empty car seat in the back of her car.

Betsy looked over at me as she started the car and smiled apologetically.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring Avery,” she said. “I was just afraid that it would be too much, with you just getting off the plane, you’re probably tired and stressed and—”

“I’m fine, Bets, really,” I told her, though I wasn’t entirely sure it was true. “I’ve been dealing with this for a long time. I’ve had lots of counseling.”

“I know,” she said. “I just didn’t want to rub it in your face, you know? She makes me so happy, and then I thought how unfair it would be for me to be happy, when other people can’t be happy like me, so—”

Betsy had a tendency to talk really fast, and her words sometimes took on a snowball effect. She’d start and then keep going and going, working herself up to near hysteria. Over the years, I’d gotten pretty comfortable with interrupting her.

“Betsy, please,” I said. “You never have to feel bad about being happy for my sake. I’m your friend, remember?”

“I know,” she said. “I’m sorry. You’re right. You’ll meet her soon.”

“Can I at least see some pictures?” I asked.

“Pictures,” Betsy said, breaking into a smile. “God yes. Here, look, I have a million of them.”

Betsy whipped out her phone and thrust it toward me as she pulled out of the parking lot and into the infamous Los Angeles traffic.

“Avery June. God, what a cute name,” I remarked as I tried to navigate through her phone to the pictures.

“You think so?” she asked, smiling like a proud mother.

“Of course. And, oh my dear Lord,” I muttered as I finally saw the first shot of little Avery June herself. “She’s amazing.”

We spent the rest of the car ride chatting amiably about Avery, and Betsy’s husband Ted, and what it’s like to be a new mother. After a while, I managed to forget about my own jealousies and insecurities, and was able to just simply feel happy for my friend. Mostly, anyway.

See? You can do this,
I thought to myself.

“Anyway, enough about me,” Betsy said. “What’s new with you? Are you seeing anybody?”

“Yeah, sort of,” I answered. “I mean, I had started seeing this guy before I left. But it isn’t serious.”

“Oh really? Is it that Ben guy I met while I was there?” she asked with a smile.

“What? Ben?” I asked, and then snorted. “No way. Ben is just a friend.”

“Really? Just a friend? But he’s so good looking.”

“This just in: I don’t want to date every attractive guy out there,” I told her. “And anyway, he wasn’t so good looking when I met him. He was bald and skinny with bags under his eyes, and he spent a lot of his time throwing up.”

“Oh, geez, sorry, I didn’t realize,” she said, getting quiet. “You met him at the hospital?”

“Yeah. We were going through chemo at the same time. He was the only other person there under forty, so we kinda became friends.”

“Makes sense. Well then, what about this other guy? Who is he?”

“Oh, his name’s Nate,” I said. “Yeah, I don’t know. It’s not serious, like I said.”

“Are you still seeing him, though?” Betsy asked.

“Not really,” I answered. “We didn’t break up before I left, but it doesn’t really make sense to keep dating while we’re on different continents.”

“No, I guess not,” she agreed. “So why didn’t you break up before you left?”

“Well,” I said, “I tried to. I told him exactly what I just told you, that it didn’t make sense to keep dating while we’re on different continents.”

“What did he say?”

“He argued with me,” I told her. “He said we didn’t have to break up, we could just see what happened.”

“I see.”

“So I guess that’s what we’re doing.”

“Sounds like he’s into you,” Betsy noted.

“I suppose,” I said. “To tell you the truth, the whole thing was a little weird.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “When he was arguing with me about staying together, he just seemed a little off. I don’t know what it was. It was just strange.”

“He was probably upset that you were leaving,” Betsy suggested.

“Maybe,” I said.

“Do you like this guy?”

I shrugged. “A little, I guess. To be honest, I only really liked him because he kind of reminded me of someone else.”

“Oh, and who might that someone else be?” Betsy asked, raising her eyebrows.

“Well,” I hesitated, not quite sure if I wanted to admit it or not. “Nate used to be an MMA fighter, before he moved to Australia.”

“Oh I see,” she said. “
That
someone. Still hung up on him, huh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a little,” I admitted, hoping that Betsy wouldn’t keep asking about Hunter. I wasn’t quite ready to talk about it, because I really didn’t know what my real feelings were yet. It didn’t seem possible to still love someone after not speaking to them for nine years. But at the same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I was grateful when Betsy changed the subject.

“So are you seriously going right to work after spending the last twelve hours on a plane?” Betsy asked me as we got closer to Santa Monica, where I’d be both living and working from now on. The staff at the clinic was kind enough to secure me a temporary apartment, until I could find something more permanent. They told me it was within walking distance of work, which was exactly what I wanted.

“Yeah, not for a full work day or anything. I just want to meet the director and check out the layout before I meet with my first patients tomorrow.”

“Always such a go-getter,” Betsy said as she reached over and patted me on the knee. “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

“Not too much, I guess,” I answered. I hoped she was right. I hoped that life around me hadn’t changed so much that I couldn’t go back to being the person Betsy knew nine years ago.

Soon we pulled up outside the big office building where I’d be working, and Betsy leaned over to give me a hug.

“It’s so great to see you, Anna,” she said. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to have you in my life again.”

“Me too, Bets.”

“Congratulations on getting a job at the Spenser Clinic, by the way. Ted went there last year when he blew out his knee. It’s supposed to be the best in L.A.”

“Thanks, I’m really excited to be here, too. I hope I don’t ruin their reputation too much.”

“Haha, yeah, right. Like you could be anything less than perfect,” Betsy said, shaking her head. She was always perfectly supportive, and I was so grateful that she was there to help me settle back into life in L.A.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But thanks,” I said, reaching for the door handle.

“All right. Call me soon, OK? I want you to meet Avery! And Ted wants to see you too.”

“I’d love to see him,” I said. Ted was Betsy’s high school sweetheart, just like Hunter had been mine. Again, I tried not to be jealous that Betsy’s life had turned out so differently than my own.

I got out of the car and waved to Betsy as she pulled away, waving frantically at me and almost running into the curb. I laughed and shook my head. Typical Betsy.

OK
, I said to myself as I looked up at the building.
Time to start your new life.

I
woke up that day the way I always did: a little bit hungry, a little bit turned on, and ready to get going with my day. I guess I’ve always been kind of a morning person, and this was no exception. I hopped out of bed at five-thirty, had a big, healthy breakfast, and went out for a run all before heading to the gym at seven. 

By the time I got there, I was all warmed up and ready for anything my coach might have planned for me. Of course, he was already there when I showed up, looking at his clipboard and making notes as usual. No matter how early I got up, I could never beat him to the gym, not once in all the years I’d known him.

“Morning, old man,” I said as I gave him a friendly slap on the shoulder.

“Watch yourself, Finn,” he warned. “I’ve still got a lot of unresolved issues and I wouldn’t mind taking them out on you.”

“Isn’t that what makes you a good coach?” I asked. “How thoroughly you enjoy punishing me?”

“Could be. And I’ve got plans for you today to test out the theory. Are you ready for it?”

“You know it,” I answered, throwing my gym bag on the floor.

It wasn’t long before Clive had me sweating up a storm and cursing his name. But that’s what I paid him for. There aren’t many athletes who have to train as hard as MMA fighters, and if I wanted to make it to the CFC championship this year I was going to have to work my ass off. To be a good fighter every single muscle in your body has to be inhumanly strong and toned to perfection. And you have to have endurance, too. Not only that, but your mind has got to be agile. You’ve got to think faster than your opponent, anticipate his moves. That’s why Clive always had me running around in complicated obstacle courses, wearing me out and still testing my brain.

“Keep it moving! My dead mother, God rest her soul, moves faster than that,” he’d shout, and I’d try not to laugh because it would waste precious energy.

Not that I really needed Clive to motivate me. I wanted to win the heavyweight tournament and then the championship more than anything. Last year I had come so close to winning, only to ruin my chances by breaking my ankle during a routine practice fight a month before the title fight. Before that happened, I was the favorite to win. And I wanted it badly enough, I knew I could have pulled it off in the end. But I had to go and break my bones and ruin any hope I had of winning. I couldn’t even walk, let alone fight a match. But this year, I was determined to make up for it.

Ever since I got out of that cast and started putting weight on my foot again, I was hell bent on making the fastest recovery ever. I went to physical therapy several times a week and pushed myself harder than anyone could believe. And now, a week before the tournament semi-final, I was pretty much back to normal. But normal wasn’t good enough. I had to be great. I had to be the best. And the way I figured it, there was only one way to be the best, and it wasn’t dumb luck. I had to work for it.

“All right, good. Now cool down and do some weights while you wait for Jake to get here,” Clive said, tossing me a towel.

Jake was a good friend, teammate, and most importantly, the current reigning CFC heavyweight champion. After I hurt myself and had to duck out of the competition, Jake went on to kick the last reigning champion’s ass. Which was great, because really nobody deserved it more than Jake. He was a young guy, just starting his career, and about as nice as you could get and still beat people up for a living.

I did what Clive said and set about lifting some weights, and pretty soon Jake and Trina, who was my manager and Jake’s girlfriend, showed up.

“Hey, man,” I said, shaking Jake’s hand. “Hey, Trina, sorry, you probably don’t want to touch me right now.”

“You’re right about that,” she said with a smile.

She was a smartass, and I liked her. It probably seemed like a conflict of interest, having the girlfriend of my number one competition as my manager, but I trusted them. When Jake and Trina started dating, he already had a manager he liked, and my old one had been long gone ever since my injury. Trina had a background in PR and was looking for work, so I took her on. So far, I didn’t have any complaints. 

“So, you guys are going to spar, or what?” she asked.

“That’s the plan,” Jake said.

Sparring was another important aspect of my training. You could run through obstacle courses until your legs were jelly, it was still not going to prepare you for taking on another sentient being in the ring. So Clive arranged for me to fight with other members of the team as often as possible, and today it happened to be Jake.