Those are my two priorities.
I turned the motherfucker off for a reason last night. Everyone who needs to get a hold of me knows my house phone number for emergencies.
Getting out of the Jeep, I toss my phone to Casey. “Silence that fucker. I don’t want to hear about it until after training today.”
“Yes, sir,” Casey says with a laugh as he starts fooling around with it to make all the chimes and dings stop. “You want to know what it’s all about?”
“Nah,” I say, “it’s probably bullshit anyways.”
Casey drawls out, “Okay.”
And I get the feeling maybe I should find out what’s going on.
But as I walk into the gym, I don’t think I’ll need the help.
Chase, Bear, and Dale are all standing near the front desk, looking up at the large TV that plays the sports updates. Once I see what they’re watching, my entire body starts to go numb with deep-seated rage.
Turning to see who came in the door, Chase gives me a pissed off look. He motions for me to get over to him before he points up at the screen.
Dale spits out, “Fucking Silva.”
Over the clatter of the men and women working out around us, I hear the sportscaster talking about something Silva did on some social media platform last night.
Last night while I was having one of the best nights of my life, this douchebag was talking major shit.
I stick my hand out for my phone and Casey hands it to me quickly. Swiping it on, I check to see what I’m missing. It doesn’t take me long to find it, Brett sent me a link through text.
Opening the link, my hands start to tremble as I watch a video of Jamey reenacting the end of our last match. Except whoever the fuck he has acting like me is howling and screaming like a girl about his arm.
The fuckers even reenact the part where Jamey knocked out Tommy, calling him a dead little bitch.
I stare at the phone long after the video ends, the craving for the dark, blackout stage of being drunk calling to me.
“I’m going to fucking kill him,” Casey whispers beside me.
“I get him first,” I growl and throw my phone across the gym, sending it slamming into an empty wall.
“Shit!” Casey winces as he chases after it.
I hope I broke that fucker, but knowing the case I bought for it, I doubt it.
“Well, I guess you know the first thing I wanted to talk to you about,” Dale says as he walks over to me.
“Yeah, what’s the second?” I ask, staring at him.
“The company called this morning. Seems they had a cancellation for next month’s match. It was supposed to be a title fight, but one of the guys got a bad staph infection. They want to know how you feel about moving your match up a month,” Dale says in a way that I’m positive he already knows my answer.
“I want a bigger payout for beating him,” I say, and then look around me.
Chase is still pretty pissed off, and I bet I know the reason why.
Dale laughs in his harsh, almost raspy, way. “Already did, figured I’d act like I gave you an option.”
“Anything else or can I go get changed?” I ask.
“Yeah, were you the reason why Bree didn’t make it home last night?” Dale asks and his voice has this deadly calm to it.
A calm he only gets when he’s ready to hurt someone.