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Still working too hard, and not playing enough. Maybe I do need to add some...juicy worthy fun into my life.
Now all I needed was for Cameron to be on the same page.
Definitely going to need a good night's sleep because I have a feeling, I won’t be getting any sleep Sunday night.
At least I hope not.
CHAPTER 9
Cameron
“Oh Cameron, I’m so proud of you, but I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared in my life. He kept hitting you again and again. And look at the cut above your eye. It looks...horrible,” my mother said, reaching out to put the ice pack on my eye… again.
I hated her fussing over me. This was my time to be alone and heal. Relax. But I wasn’t being allowed that luxury, especially with them here at Chris’s apartment with me. Thankfully, they weren’t spending the night. Mom had insisted that they ensure I got back here safe and sound. As though I was still her child who needed to be tucked into bed or something.
“Mom, I’m okay. This happens all the time.” I regretted those words instantly.
“That doesn’t make me feel any better about this. Why can’t you get a normal job like your brother? I don’t lose sleep worrying about him, like I do over you and your career,” she stated.
“There’s no reason for you to worry about me either. It’s not like I’m fighting in the streets or in some gang. I’m a highly trained professional,” I reminded her.
She huffed and turned to my father. “Why are you just standing there? Talk some sense into your son,” she demanded.
“Sarah, he is not a child. Cameron makes his own decisions, just like Chris. We don’t have to agree with them.”
I took the ice pack off my eye and looked at him. “You have an issue with me boxing too?” That was the first I was hearing of it.
He looked at my mother, and she crossed her arm.
“He’s talking to you, not me. Cameron already knows how I feel,” she stated.
Dad turned to me, “I used to watch boxing with your grandfather when I was young. Your grandmother hated boxing. She would go out onto the porch and do her knitting just to avoid hearing it on the TV. That never stopped us from watching. If your grandfather were alive today, he’d be as proud of you as I am. And he would’ve been ringside cheering you on. And even though your mother doesn’t like boxing, you should’ve heard her yelling and cussing when he had you up against the ring. I think if she could’ve climbed into the ring and hit your opponent herself, she would’ve.”
“Patrick, that is not true. I wasn’t that bad,” she tried defending herself.
“Did you or did you not swear repeatedly at the referee?” he asked her.
“Maybe once or twice,” she snorted.
Dad laughed. “Yeah. Okay. And when Cameron started to lay into the other guy, I believe you said, ‘give it back to him’, with a few other adjectives in that mix.”
“You make it sound like I cuss like a sailor.”
I had never known my mother to use foul language, but she wasn’t denying it. I was too preoccupied with the fight toeven think about where they were seated or whether they were enjoying the fight. Somewhere along the line, I stopped listening to my parents’ debate about what transpired at the fight and thought back to the match itself.
For a while, I wasn’t sure if I was going to last the second round, never mind, win the belt. I had trained hard and even though I felt ready, I had gone up against a three-time winner. I knew that the odds weren’t in my favor, and anyone who wagered money knew it as well. All that did was make me push even harder.
It paid off, but it wasn’t a knockout. The judges determined by points that I was the winner by a slim margin. Not going to lie, I got lucky with the last few jabs to his right temple before the bell rang and the match was over. We were both tired and bleeding. We had both given our all. Yet sitting now on Chris’s couch with the belt nearby, it felt surreal.
My cell phone buzzed again, and my father asked, “Aren’t you going to answer it?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight.” Chris and I had spoken on the phone already and the other person I wanted to hear from did not even have an idea that there was a title match tonight. It was best that way, otherwise, Sunday’s date might not happen. Everyone else could wait until morning. “All I want to do is soak in the jacuzzi and get rest.”
“Do you want me to go run you a hot bath with some salts in it for you?” she offered.
I looked at my father and he read my mind.
“Sarah, he doesn’t need our help. What he needs is his privacy.” He got up and extended his hand to my mother. “Come on, let’s go to the hotel.”
