All of Me by Tiffany Patterson

Chapter 6

Gabe

A few days after helping move Lena into Jodi’s cabin, I walked into No Sweat’s conference room, where Preston waited. We were meeting to discuss our latest prospect.

“You know Roger Wolcott died?” he asked as soon as he turned from the large window that peered down into the gym.

I nodded and strolled over to stand next to him at the window. Below, a handful of fighters, including Eli Gatlin, worked through a round of drills.

“I heard. A few weeks ago,” I said while still studying Eli.

“Heart attack,” Preston said.

There was a beat of silence.

“You think that’s why he agreed to come to Texas?” Preston asked me about Eli.

“Probably. He trained at Wolcott’s gym in LA.”

“What was your read on him in Thailand?”

I thought back to my time in Thailand while training with Eli. “He left abruptly,” I finally said. “Stayed only three months.” The initial commitment was to remain in Thailand for nine months. But one morning, out of the blue, Eli came to me and said he’d learned everything he needed to and he could find real competition back in the US.

“He’s lazy or arrogant.”

“Or both,” Preston countered.

“Or both,” I agreed. “But he’s good. And he’s got a hell of a shot in the league when he goes pro.”

It was Preston’s turn to nod. He, like me, knew raw, pure talent when we spotted it.

“He could go with the NFA soon.”

In our sport, there were two major leagues, the National Fighting Association and the International Mixed Martial Arts Association or IMMAA. I was a fighter for the IMMAA, but I knew we could get a better deal with the NFA for Eli.

“They’ll take him. He’s young.” Preston turned to me. “You think he’s ready?”

I looked from Preston back down to the gym and carefully watched Eli as he sparred inside of the gym’s cage. His movements were fluid, precise, and within a few minutes, he managed to wrap his opponent up in a triangle, forcing him to tap out.

“He’s ready.”

“Let’s call him up,” Preston said.

Minutes later, Eli, sweaty, in a pair of gym shorts and a tank, strolled into the conference room.

“You guys are interrupting my training,” he said before he pulled out the chair at the head of the table and sat.

Preston and I looked at one another. A muscle in Preston’s jaw ticked.

“This better be important,” Eli insisted, looking between the two of us with his arm draped across the back of the chair.

“We wouldn’t have pulled you from training if it weren’t important.” I kept my voice level even though he was treading close to my patience running thin. “In short, we want to sign you with the NFA.”

“But not before you sign with us,” Preston added.

We both stood on either side of the table, our arms folded.

Eli pushed out a breath and held up his hands. “Okay.”

Pres and I peered across the table.

“Okay, what?”

“What’s the number?” Eli questioned.

“Five years, twenty percent off the top.”

Eli whistled. “You think you two are worth that much?”

“We’re worth more,” Preston said before I could.

“And my payout for each fight?” he asked.

“We’re probably looking at eighty to ninety thousand per fight for your first contract,” I answered.

“The fuck?” Eli yelled as he stood. “Eighty to ninety per fight? And I have to pay you twenty percent off the top and another ten to the coaches and training team, right?”

“That’s how it works,” Preston said. “Ninety is a solid number for a new contract.”

“Solid my ass. You aren’t the one getting fucked up in the cage,” Eli demanded.

“We’re both fighters,” Preston replied.

“Used to be,” Eli quickly retorted, looking between us both, frowning. “Neither one of you fights anymore.”

“Correction,” I interjected, “Preston is fully retired from fighting. I am not.”

Eli snorted. “Whatever. Ninety per fight ain’t enough. Not considering everyone who gets paid before me. And with what, only two fights a year, pretty much?”

“Two fights are more than enough,” I said. “This is only your first contract. Once you prove yourself, the league’s offer will be more.”

“Also, that’s base pay,” Preston added. “Your more lucrative deals will come in the form of sponsorships.”

“Which we’re already in the process of nailing down for you,” I said.

Eli was silent for a beat. A skeptical look appeared on his face.

“What’s the problem?” I asked. “You’re young, healthy, and just starting in this business. You’re not able to demand top dollar.”

“Especially with those two losses in your amateur career,” Preston added.

“Then what’s the point of all of this?” Eli demanded. Gone was the bravado he’d worn when he first entered the conference room.

“The point is you get a career doing what the hell you enjoy,” Preston said, his face reddening in irritation.

For all accounts, the deal we were offering Eli was one of the best for someone his age and with his experience. With two fights per year, his base salary would come in around $180,000. Yes, he would have to pay a significant portion to us as his managers and to his training staff, but he’d still make out pretty well, financially, if he kept his shit tight and didn’t overspend.

Plus, with the sponsors we could line up for him after his first or second fight, he could stand to make mid-six figures within the next two years.

“Two years? You expect me to wait two whole years?” he demanded after I explained all of this to him.

Both Pres’ and my patience were dwindling rapidly.

“This is a deal of a lifetime,” I said.

I couldn’t figure out why he wasn’t throwing himself at this opportunity. But Eli had dollar signs in his eyes. He was more concerned about the money than having a long-term career, it seemed.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that shit before,” he replied before sighing.

“Look, this is the best you’re going to get with your record,” Preston said.

“You came to us,” I reminded Eli. After he left Thailand, we didn’t hear anything from him for months. About two months earlier, he called No Sweat wanting to renegotiate a contract for us to manage him and to get him in the league. Now, his ass wanted to play hardball.

“What about sponsorships?” he asked.

“We told you what it would take to get them on board,” Preston said.

“Two years is too long.” Eli ran his hand through his hair as he paced back and forth.

“We could get sponsors on board sooner,” I said, causing Preston and Eli to stare at me. “If we can get you into an exhibition fight once you turn pro.”

I glanced over at Preston, who didn’t look too happy at the compromise I proposed.

“The exhibition likely won’t pay more than 50K. But, depending on how well you perform, it could set you up for a few lucrative sponsors even before your first official fight.”

Eli’s eyes twinkled. “How much?”

I shrugged before slipping my hands into my pockets. “Not easy to say, but based on our contacts, we could probably do one or two six-figure deals. The benefit is the upfront payout.”

Eli considered this idea while I could feel Preston’s gaze drilling into the side of my face.

“I’ll take it,” Eli said.

“We need to talk,” Preston said before I could reply. “My partner and I,” he said, for emphasis. “You can go back to training.”

“What for?” Eli asked impatiently. “Are we doing this deal or not?”

I glared at him. “My partner said we need to talk. Privately. We’ll get back to you once we’ve conferred.”

Eli pushed out a harsh breath. “Man, don’t jerk me around.” He headed for the door, slamming it behind him.

“What the fuck?” Preston asked, arms stretched wide.

“You saw him,” I explained. “He wants more money.”

“Everybody wants more fucking money. We don’t promise anything before we sign someone.”

“Did you hear me make any promises?” I asked. “I told him the sponsorships are contingent on his performance.”

“At an exhibition we haven’t even set up for him.”

“Yet,” I added.”

Preston’s frown deepened.

“The kid wants money. This is a way we can get him paid sooner while also coming through on our promises as his management.”

“All of it is a big if. If we can get the exhibition set up. If we can get him into the league. If he even wins the damn fight.”

“I was there in Thailand. I’ve seen every single one of his amateur fights. He has a long career ahead of him. We can get him to where he needs to be for more lucrative deals in the future.”

Sighing, Preston slid his hands into his pockets. We stared at one another from across the table.

“What’s your gut say?” he finally asked.

“My gut says to sign him.”

After a beat, Preston nodded. “I trust your gut.”

I dipped my head, knowing that he did. It’d never steered us wrong in the past three years since we started No Sweat.

Ten minutes later, Preston and I were in the gym, face-to-face with Eli.

“What’s the verdict?” he asked as he shoved his gear into his gym bag.

I stuck out my hand. “Welcome to No Sweat Management,” I said. He stood from the floor and shook it. I squeezed his hand firmly, pulling him closer. “Don’t make a liar out of me.”

He squinted, glancing between Preston and me.

“We’re drawing up the contract now, and we’ll have you sign in the morning.”

Eli nodded as he shook Preston’s hand.

“We should celebrate,” Eli suggested. “Protein shakes on me.” He pointed toward the gym’s kitchen, where they sold protein shakes, among other items.

“Can’t.” I took a step back. “I’ve got plans.”

Preston lifted an eyebrow, but I shook my head.

“Another time.”

Signing Eli was big for No Sweat, but I also had a personal situation I needed to tend to. It involved the one woman I couldn’t get off of my mind since she showed up at my brother’s wedding.

* * *

Lena

“Arrgh,” I growled, frustrated as I ripped the paper from my notebook, balled it up, and tossed it on the floor.

Like the previous three pages, it landed somewhere in the middle of the living room. I still hadn’t written a damn thing. Not one chorus, not one line, or even a title of a song that I liked. Nothing was happening.

When I tried to play the guitar, no notes came. Even old songs I tried to play came out wrong. Everything felt scrambled in my head. That made me feel more helpless, which led to deeper desperation, leading to me being less able to write anything.

I was on a freaking merry-go-round of inability to write, compose, or even sing.

My eyes watered, but I refused to let a single tear fall. Giving in to a crying fit wouldn’t serve me any good. Self-pity wasn’t going to win me this war against my lack of creativity.

Picking up my pen and notebook again, I inhaled before trying to think of something. It was only a matter of seconds before my phone rang. Usually, the ringing of the phone would’ve pissed me off if I were in the middle of a writing session. Yet, it was a welcomed distraction.

“Hello,” I answered without looking. I was confident it was either Rayven calling from the grocery store or Jodi calling to check in on me.

“Do you have any new music for me yet?”

I stiffened at hearing Nate’s voice on the other end of the phone. I pulled it away from my ear, recognizing the number, even though I’d previously removed it from my contact list.

I knew he’d call eventually.

“Nate, why are you calling me?”

I rose from the couch, kicking the balls of paper on the floor out of my way. The hardwood floors felt cool against my feet as I made my way into the kitchen.

“Because you owe me an album,” he answered.

“I don’t owe you a damn thing.”

He let out a chuckle. “That’s not what our contract says,” he reminded me. “You’re still signed to my label for four albums. So far, you’ve only delivered on three. You want out of the contract, then you know what you need to do.”

Each word he spoke felt like a noose tightening around my neck.

“I’m writing plenty of new music,” I lied.

Nate didn’t say anything at first. “Is that so? Because last I heard, you were having trouble writing.”

“No, you didn’t,” I replied, knowing no one who knew about my writer’s block would dare talk to Nate about it. Mostly because Rayven was the only person who knew, and she hated Nate.

My cousin disliked most men, but she openly despised Nate since long before we broke up.

He chuckled. “You caught me in a lie there.”

“Not the first time that has happened.”

He pushed out a heavy breath. “I told you a hundred fucking times, that girl was a one-time thing.”

“Okay, Nate. If you say so.”

“I say so. You’re lucky that after you flew off the handle, I was nice enough not to press charges against you.”

I squeezed the phone in my hand, willing myself not to throw it across the room. I’d just gotten it a few weeks ago.

“Gee, am I supposed to thank you for that?”

“You should. Hell, you burned up my entire sneaker collection,” he answered. “Including all of my custom Nikes. Do you know how expensive those Air 90s were to get made?”

With a roll of my eyes, I answered, “Considering I was the one who bought and had the artist design them for you, I’d say, yeah, I know how much they cost.”

He sucked his teeth. “It’s not about the money.” He paused, pushing out a frustrated breath. “Look, all that other bullshit aside, you can’t deny we make a great team. I know you haven’t sought out a new manager yet or even consulted with a new label.”

“How do you know that?” I demanded.

“I’ve got connections everywhere, Lena. Why don’t you quit playing games? Put the pettiness aside, and re-sign with my label, like we talked about before all of this bullshit.”

By bullshit, I assumed he meant me burning his clothes, and our very messy breakup splashed across the internet.

Something between a laugh and a grunt pushed through my lips. “You really must be out of your mind.”

“So, what? You’re going to manage yourself?” he taunted. “We both know you don’t have a head for business. Or production. You need to stick with what you know. Let me take care of the rest.”

“Good-bye, Nate,” I said before hanging up on him.

I balled my fists and paced back and forth in the kitchen, letting his words play out on repeat in my head. I hated how true they sounded.

When I stepped back into the living room, my heart sank even more at the crumpled pieces of paper on the floor. The one thing that I was good—no, great at, I couldn’t do.

Before Nate’s words could send me completely spiraling, Rayven walked through the door, her hands full of groceries.

I quickly bottled up my feelings and threw a smile on my face.

“Did you get anything good?”

Rayven eyed the scraps of papers on the floor before looking up at me. “Few things,” she said. “There’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” I asked as she placed the bags onto the wooden table in the dining room, off the side of the living room.

I began pulling out the groceries to place them in the fridge.

“I need to go back to New York.”

I popped my head out from the refrigerator. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She said everything was fine, but her voice lacked conviction. And she avoided looking me in the eye.

“Are you sure? You’ve been acting weird ever since the night of Jodi’s wedding.”

Rayven never really opened up a whole lot, at least not so much anymore, but she’d been even less forthcoming since the wedding.

“I already gave you my answer,” she said. “Some business I need to take care of. This town seems safe enough, and the security system on this place is quality. I doubt you’ll have any problems, but I can call someone to come down here if you need.”

“Come down here?” I asked, feeling like I was five steps behind in this conversation.

“To keep an eye on you.”

I shook my head, realizing she was referring to hiring another security person. “That won’t be necessary. I don’t think,” I said. “Jodi says this town is safe, and I’m mostly here at the house anyway.”

I didn’t have any plans to go out and make my presence known around the city of Harlington or anywhere else in Texas. I had one purpose for being there, and it was to make music.

“All right. Call and let me know if you need me to send someone down,” Rayven said before moving from the dining area toward the hallway.

I followed her to the smaller bedroom she had claimed for her own when we moved in a few days earlier.

“You’re packing now? When are you leaving?” I asked as Rayven tightly folded the few clothes she’d unpacked into her suitcase.

“My flight leaves in a few hours.”

I was shocked. But my cousin didn’t stop to turn to look at me or even notice. I peered at the few items she’d unpacked. Her bed barely appeared as if she’d slept in it. I put two and two together.

“You never planned on staying with me,” I said.

That got her to turn around. “I didn’t intend on remaining here in Texas for the entire time you were here. We talked about that.”

When I originally planned to come out to Texas, I thought I’d only need a couple of weeks or a month. But as the days dragged on and no music came, I decided to extend my stay for however long I needed.

I nodded. “Yes, I know. But I thought you’d at least stay a month or so.”

“You’re moved in and comfortable. It’ll be quiet out here, which is what you’re looking for. You’ll be fine. You know how to reach me if something pops off.”

I wasn’t worried about my safety or any possible danger. My concern was more so about companionship. I didn’t know anyone else here, aside from Jodi. I still hadn’t confided in my assistant about my whereabouts and didn’t plan on letting her or anyone else know.

I let out a sigh. “Are you sure everything’s okay with you?” I continued to watch as Rayven zipped her suitcase. “Did something happen?”

She stood her suitcase up. “Something’s always happening. Nothing I can’t handle.”

That cryptic answer was as much as I was going to get. Rayven never gave more than she wanted or was ready to let slip. It worked well when it came to her work as a security professional, but it was hell on a relationship of any kind.

“Do you need a ride to the airport?” I asked, knowing I couldn’t stop her if she insisted on leaving.

She shook her head. “I’ve got an Uber already on the way.”

“What’d you do, call it from the grocery store?”

I meant it as a joke, but she answered with, “I scheduled it last night after I booked my flight. I went to the grocery store to make sure you had enough food for the next few days.”

We spent the remainder of our time together putting away the groceries and going over the security system. Rayven made sure I knew it inside and out.

“I’ll call you when I land in New York.”

“Okay,” I said, pulling her in for a hug. As usual, she stiffened at the embrace but eventually wrapped her arms around me for a short time.

“Gotta go. Love you,” she said as she was halfway out of the door.

I followed her out onto the porch, where the Uber waited. She paused and turned back.

“Lena?”

“Yeah?” I responded, wondering what the serious expression on her face was about.

“Be careful of the wolves out here.” She leveled me with a pointed glare.

Gabriel Townsend’s tattooed back immediately came to mind, and I inhaled. The winking wolf’s eyes that matched his real-life eye color. I’d dreamt about those eyes.

“Th-Thanks,” I said. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Rayven got into the car, and within a few short minutes, she was gone. Yet, her words echoed in my mind.

I went back inside, but the air felt thick and heavy, even with the air conditioner on. It wasn’t the outside heat that caused the feeling. When I dropped my eyes to gaze at the bundles of paper on the floor, Nate’s phone call penetrated my memory, and the feeling of being trapped clawed its way around my neck.

I needed to get out of the house for a little while. I’d have to find something to do.

Dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, an off-the-shoulder dappled dot black and white top, and a pair of gold strappy sandals, I headed out of the door, unsure of my destination.