I turned to face Vin when he came back into the bar and walked toward us.
“Hollis, may I have a word?” Vin asked.
I nodded and then looked at Patrick. “I’ll be right back.” I walked over to one of the corners of the bar with Vin and stood by the high-top pub table he had stopped at.
“I want you to tell me the moment that son of a bitch tries to contact you again.”
“Vin, I’m sure he’s just blowing off steam and bitching—”
“Probably, yes. But we all know how he is and what an absolute pain in my ass he was when he was fighting. He was nothing but trouble at fights that weren’t even his. All the rallies that encouraged violence and fights among spectators who happened to be wearing a fighter’s shirt he wanted to lose.”
“I know. I remember my little brother being worried when he saw the shirts and signs at a fight that read ‘Decapitate The Dragon.’ I remember all of Silva’s crap.”
“How is your brother?” Vin asked when I mentioned Chase. He knew Chase had attempted suicide last November and that I had taken off until the end of January to be there for my family.
“He’s doing well. I found out today that he’s considering trying out for the soccer team at his school, so I’m happy that he’s finding interest in things again.”
“Good, I’m glad to hear that.” Vin paused to look around the bar, I thought to check to see who might be within earshot of us. “Look, Hollis, I was thrilled to death when you entered TCF. I knew you’d change the face of the sport and give it a better image than where it was. Everyone was happy when you yanked that title away from Marcos and kept him from ever getting it back. I don’t want him messing with you, and I don’t want him messing with other fighters. I’ll ensure he doesn’t get into a fight as a spectator. But you’ve got to give me your word that the moment you see him or hear from him that you notify me and your security team.”
“I understand. Everyone’s glad he’s retired from fighting.”
“He would never pass the medical physical,” Vin confirmed.
“It’s good to see more families and young kids at fights again.”
“And I want to keep it that way. You keep being you, and you let me know if he surfaces.”
“I will,” I promised.
Hollis
Twenty-four-years-old | July
Though I’d been taking a slower and less aggressive approach to training since everything had taken place with Chase, I still trained. Last night’s win with my first fight back felt damn good.
I leaned on the balcony of my hotel suite and looked out over the city as the sun peeked out over the mountain. Vegas had become a second home to me. Since most of my fights were here, I’d really grown to love it.
“Hey.”
Since I had the balcony door open, I could hear Patrick. I turned and saw him weaving around furniture on his way to me. Patrick set some newspapers on the table and then waved one in the air as he stepped out onto the balcony with me. “I got one for your mom and grandparents, and one for you.”
He pulled out the sports section and smiled proudly as he showed me the front page. The photographer did an impressive job. They’d caught my uppercut to Manny Johns that ended up knocking him out deep into the first round. What was so impressive about the image were the droplets of blood and sweat that had been knocked off Manny’s face and head had been captured in the photo. I smiled at the picture and then read the headline.
“First fight since The Dragon’s first loss ends in a stellar performance,” I read out loud.
“Yeah, but check out that picture. That’s one dope photo.”
“It was the first thing I looked at.”
“Your mom is really going to love this one,” Patrick said sarcastically.
I laughed. Mom supported me to no end, but she wasn’t a huge fan of blood—either my own or blood I knocked out of others. We stepped inside when the catering staff brought breakfast in. I piled my plate high with pancakes and bacon.
“I can’t believe you’re still standing around in your boxer briefs,” Patrick teased as he poured coffee.
I raised my eyebrow at him and then flexed my biceps.
“I worked last night,” I reminded him.
