Hundreds of women.
Hundreds of them.
Big, small, tall, short, brunettes, blondes, dumb, smart, good in bed, bad in bed, tongues, teeth, lips, fingers, positions we tried, positions we didn't. The list goes on.
I squeeze the new phone so hard I wince. I thought he saw me, but he didn't see shit.
I’m sitting in a chair next to the window, legs crossed, ignoring the view and facing the door, when I hear it creaking open. Izzy tiptoes barefoot into the room, holding her heels in her hand, not turning on the lights.
“Hope you enjoyed it,” I rasp from the gloom.
Izzy jumps and lets out a small shriek. “You scared the hell outta me.”
“Ditto. Where have you been?” I stand up and walk toward my sister, skimming her. Yeah. She definitely looks guilty. Flushed as hell.
“I went for a walk.”
“Down Liarsville? How’s the weather there?”
“Blaire.”
“Izzy?”
She drops the heels on the floor and plops on the bed, rubbing her feet. “I’ll tell you once you take a chill pill for real.”
“Do I look like I need more lies and secrets in my life?”
“Fine. I went to see Shane in his room.” She grabs a bottle of water from the minibar. Shaking her head. She takes a gulp and stares past me out the window.
The strip is still alive. Everyone else in this town seems to be enjoying it. She turns on the TV.
I snatch the remote, turning it off. "I don't want to know if he won or lost," I explain.
Izzy nods. "Shane broke up with Gemma before he came to Vegas." She smiles thinly. Not surprising, after what she told me about their little escapade abroad. These two will either kill each other or get married in the next few months, I'm sure.
"I'm sort of glad to hear it,” I say, “even though Gemma doesn't deserve it. She seemed cool. He met her at an I Prevail gig."
"Who's side are you on?" She throws a pillow at me, but I duck in time.
My new phone bleeps again, making Izzy send a puzzled glance my way. It’s 4 a.m. I peek at the new text.
My Remorseful Boyfriend says, You’re wasting your time, Barbie. I’m not giving you up.
Shouldn’t Ty be asleep? I'm sure he must be exhausted after the fight.
“Where the hell did this come from?” Izzy is ogling my new phone like it’s a nuclear device.
“You weren’t here when it arrived?” I pinch my eyebrows. “So who got it into our room?”
We both stare at the phone with dazed eyes.
"Hotel staff. Like, d'uh," Izzy blinks twice, trying to decipher why I'm so slow.
"He started sending me gifts," I mutter to myself.
"That's so nice of him," Izzy concludes. "But unnecessary. Not being a man-whore would have been more sufficient."
Chapter Fifteen
I drown myself with extra shifts at Ned's now that I'm not busy with school anymore. I'm functioning, which is great. I pour a beer with a perfect head for a middle-aged guy who always tips generously.
I lift my eyes to the flat screen TV that's mounted on the wall and catch a glimpse of a rerun of Ty's bout on ESPN. I don't want to look, but my eyes dart to the screen, betraying me completely.
There are only a handful of people sitting here, drinking beer. I wipe pint glasses with a dishcloth while watching the weigh-ins on screen. This is what Ty was starving himself for, for weeks.
The Invincible Eoghan Doherty is the first to step on the scale for the main event of the night, and after him, Tyler “The Zombie” Wilder follows. There are a bunch of ring girls in bikinis applauding behind them, and my heart tweaks in agony when I think about the close proximity of these babes to Ty.
The commentator is enthusing about Ty’s newest addition to his tattoo collection. “Looks like Wilder got some new ink ahead of the fight. He’s tattooed Bmine on his chest, above his heart. I wonder who the new girl is who he’s asking to ‘Be mine’?”
Jesus Christ, I think I'm hyperventilating again.
Ty and Eoghan launch at each other after going on the scale. Doherty has his fist balled up to Ty’s face. They’re yelling and pointing at each other, but you can’t hear shit through the heavy metal music.
Back at Ned’s, the men are watching the rerun intently, even though avid XWL fans already know how this fight ended last weekend. Everyone here is rooting for the Zombie from Concord. It's like cheering for your home team. You don't have a choice. That's your team and you stick to it.
“Such a great guy.” The man who I just poured a beer tugs his baseball cap at the TV and beams at a very pissed off Ty. “Always nice to everyone in my shop whenever he drops by. Says hi and takes pictures with my boys. They're fans," he explains.