Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

Cameron

Chris and I didn't usually speak so frequently, but I was sure he was concerned with what was happening in his precious apartment. If I ignored his call, he would just call back so I decided to answer.

"Hello, Chris. Everything is fine. The apartment is exactly as you have left it," I stated.

"That I already knew," he replied.

"Don't tell me you have cameras set up all over this place," I snarled. I didn't like being spied on, not even if it was his place.

"No. The housekeeper was there today. Let me guess, you forgot about that. Maybe that is a good thing. It will keep you on your toes," Chris chuckled.

I wasn't in the mood to joke around. There was something else on my mind, and it wasn't even the title match. Sydney might have surprised me with a kiss, but my reaction to it surprised me way more. Instantly, my cock was hard, and I wanted, no I desperately needed her. I'd never needed anyone like this before. Maybe she hit me in the head harder than I thought, because I could barely control myself when I felt her breast pressed against my chest. If I hadn't pulled away when I did, I might have forgotten why the hell I was in Boston in the first place.

She's a huge distraction. A sweet, beautiful distraction.

For once, I was glad Chris had his stupid rule about no women in his house. It was the excuse I gave myself for not taking Sydney home with me.

"Cameron, are you there?"

Shit. I forgot he was on the phone. I needed to stay the hell away from Sydney. At least until the fight was over.

"Yes, I am here. I am eating." Or at least trying to.

"Keeping your weight up?"

I didn't want to tell him that I dropped another pound. Down to 163. The fight was tomorrow night. I couldn't afford to lose any more. My manager was already giving me shit about dropping weight. Hence why I had enough Thai food to feed three people. Won't do me any good unless I actually put it in my mouth.

"I am meeting weight requirements. Are you planning on being there?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know better than to ask. Boxing is not something I enjoy watching."

"Is there a sport you do enjoy?" I teased.

"Yes, but none that you do," he replied.

"I have no issue with Polo."

"You came one time with me and all you did was hit on women," he stated. "That didn't go over very well."

"I wouldn't say that. I got five phone numbers that day. Not bad for not even trying," I laughed.

"Yes. That is the sport you love most. Collecting phone numbers. When are you ever going to settle down?" he asked.

"You're the number one son. Isn't it your responsibility to make mom and dad grandparents?"

"Not with my work schedule. You have plenty of time on your hands," he said.

"Really? Boxing takes training. Lots of it. And traveling. Just like you. Stop making excuses. "

He might be a billionaire, but I wasn't far behind. If I won this match, between the prestige, marketing opportunities, and money in the purse, I would make about fifteen million dollars if not more. Even if I lost, I'd clear at least a million dollars. Yet Chris looked at this like it was a hobby for me.

"Fine. Neither of us are having any children. Our parents will just love it when you tell them this," he said.

"Why me?"

"You'll be seeing them very soon," he stated.

"Not planning on going back to Ohio for a few months," I said.

"They landed in Boston earlier tonight.

"You're telling me this now?" I snapped.

"You'd know this if you ever answered your phone."

"What are they doing in Boston?" I asked. It wasn't a place they ever said they wanted to see. Hell, they did not like to travel, not even for fun.

"Too many hits in the head? Can't figure out for yourself? They are there to support you. Cheer you on," he said.

They had never come to any of my fights before. Mom was like Sydney in that way. Neither of them liked violence, and even though I considered it a sport, those two didn't. All they saw was brutality. My dad sided with my mom because he believed in the adage, ‘happy wife, happy life'. Since they had been married for almost forty-five years, I couldn't argue with him on that logic.

Their absence no longer bothered me. Over the years, I used it to my advantage to solely focus on winning and not who was in the audience.

"Shit, Chris. You should've told them not to come. You know Mom is going to hate every second of it," I reminded him.

"Mom is the one who insisted on being there."

Great. I had no time to spend with them before the fight, and now had plans with Sydney on Sunday. I had planned on giving myself Saturday to recover before our date. Didn't look like that was about to happen.

"Please don't tell me they are staying here," I begged.

"No. They have a hotel. And don't worry, I have scheduled some sightseeing for tomorrow. They understand they cannot see you until after the fight. That is unless you get your ass knocked out and need to go to the hospital," he joked.

Not funny.

It was a possibility. One I didn't want to enter my mind the night before the fight. Leave it to Chris to throw it at me.

Love you too, bro.

At least he had made arrangements to keep them busy. That was something. Not enough because I didn't want Mom to try to nurse my wounds after either. Never allowed anyone to do that. I had a cutman by the ring and my physician who I trusted totally. That's it.

Still had no idea why I allowed Sydney to clean the cut on my head. Maybe it was because she was so damn stubborn and wouldn't take no for an answer. Or maybe it was because she had put the cut there in the first place.

"Do you have any other news you want to share with me?" I asked sarcastically. "I mean, there's no pressure to keep my head clear and focused or anything."

He laughed. "No. I enjoyed that one enough. But I did want to wish you luck tomorrow."

"Don't want to lose your money?" I asked.

Chris replied in such a serious tone that there was no way I would doubt his sincerity. "Didn't even bet. I know how hard you've worked on going up a weight class. You've earned this opportunity. I hope you come out with the belt. But no matter what, I hope you know how proud I am of all you've accomplished."

It was the first time she recognized this was work, not play. It meant more to me than having him here.

Damn it. Now you tell me you're proud?

Good thing I wasn't an emotional guy, because this touched me, even if I wasn't about to admit it to him.

"Thanks Chris. I'll do my best."

"I don't expect anything less from you. Now, go eat and get your rest. You have a big night tomorrow. You got this," he said.

I sure in hell hope so.

"Will do. Thanks," I said and ended the call.

I put my phone on the table and stuck my fork into the cold spicy chicken with glass noodles. Before even taking a bite, I laid my fork back on the table. Easting was something I needed to do, but not what I wanted. My mind was still on Sydney and seeing her was what I wanted. Seeing her right now would be the worst thing for me. Might as well toss in the towel on the fight now. But a text couldn't hurt.

ARE YOU STILL AWAKE? I asked her. She could easily be in bed. It was almost eleven and she had work in the morning.

YES, I AM. DO YOU NEED SOMETHING?

You in my bed. In my arms.

HOW WAS YOUR DINNER?

That was as lame as asking her about her job, or the weather. I'd never used anything like that as a pick-up line. If I had, I probably would still be a virgin.

STILL EATING. IT'S GOOD AS USUAL. HOW ABOUT YOURS?

Yup. Boring conversation. And not anything I wanted to ask her. CAN I CALL?

She replied, OF COURSE.

I dialed her number, and she answered right away. "Is everything okay?"

"Ya. I just wanted to make sure you got home safely."

"Yes, I did. More than an hour ago," she chuckled. "What's really on your mind? Are you calling to cancel Sunday?"

"No. Why would I do that?" I asked, enjoying the fact that she called me out on not checking in on her sooner. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

"Well, everything is okay and you're calling me late at night. What should I think?" she asked.

That I'm missing you?

" Maybe I just wanted to hear your voice? Is that shocking?" Because it is to me.

I could hear her smile. "A bit. And I'm glad you're not backing out. I mean, the weather is not looking favorable."

"If it rains, we do something else. I mean, it's Boston. There are endless things to do here."

"What are your favorite things to do?" she asked.

I walked right into that one. I wanted to hear about her, not me. "I...haven't done as much here as I would like. Do you have any suggestions if we get rained out?"

"Do you like live music?"

"Some. Not a headbanger, and the opera puts me to sleep. What are you thinking?" I questioned.

"Country?"

"Definitely. Would you rather go to a concert?" I offered.

"What if it is sunny on Sunday?" she asked.

I had the perfect answer. "Okay. How about I pick you up at seven as planned? You can pack your beach attire. If it is sunny, then off to the beach. I could also bring something for dinner, and we could go to a concert after. There is no reason why we can't do it all, is there?"

She laughed. "All in one day?"

"Why not? Do you have something else that day?"

"No. I'm free," she said.

"Good. Then it's a date."

"Yes, it's a date. See you Sunday, Cameron. Good night."

"Sweet dreams, Sydney," I said, ending the call.

I know I'm about to have some.