Fighting Fate (Fighting #7)(70)

“This place is great.” I peer down at her, and she genuinely seems proud of herself.

“You’ve been here a month and never talk about home. I figured you might be homesick.” She swings an arm out. “Thought this might help.”

I take another glance around and grin. “And no jellied eels.”

She laughs and drags me off to a booth in the back. “Nope. Not a single jellied eel in sight.”

The waitress who takes our order could be a Lucille Ball impersonator, all except for her accent. We place our orders, and I study the American license plates that take up an entire wall. One from almost every state. I find Nevada and the plate reads HI RLR.

“So…” Fleur leans back and squints. “What’s your story? How did you end up fighting for the UFL?”

“I’ve always been a fan. Then when I was fifteen, I was at the airport with my mom picking up my uncle, and there was a guy who—f*ck, he took up the entire room. He was at least a foot taller and a foot wider than anyone else, and when I took a closer look, I realized it was Jonah Slade.”

She slams her palms on the table, eyes wide. “The Assassin!”

I grin at her enthusiasm. “The one and only.”

Lucille Ball drops off our Cherry Cokes, which I’m sure Caleb will kick my ass for tomorrow, but I’ve gone a month without soda, and I can’t come to this old-timey diner without having one.

I take a long pull and groan when the sweet fizz hits my tongue.

“I would die; that guy’s a legend! So what did you do?” She’s talking fast, making her French accent heavier than usual.

“I walked up to him…”

She gasps.

“I told him I was a huge fan, started spouting off his fight stats like a nervous idiot, and asked him for his autograph. He was really cool, and even though I probably weighed ninety-five pounds back then, he encouraged me to give fighting a shot.”

“Just like that? The Assassin says give it a shot and now you’re a fighter?”

I laugh and push back the ache forming in my chest. “Not exactly. About a year later, I met a girl.”

“Ahh…” She rubs her hands together. “Now we get to the exciting stuff.”

“I don’t know how exciting it is.” I try not to remember how amazing it was. “She was the new kid at school. I found her in the parking lot screaming at her car.” The day I met Axelle is as clear as if it just happened. She was cursing up a storm, totally unaware that I was watching her, and even with the voice of the devil himself pouring from her lips, she looked like an angel. “She needed a ride, and it turned out her mom was the administrative assistant to the UFL CEO.”

She shakes her head and whispers, “What are the odds?”

“I ran into Jonah and he remembered me, and it turned out the girl’s mom was dating Blake Daniels.”

“You’re shitting me!” She stares at me in awe. “So here you are, helping out this girl, and you find yourself just chatting it up with The Snake and The Assassin. You jammy bastard.”

“I think they felt sorry for me or something. I don’t know, but they offered to let me come in and help out around the gym. One thing led to another and here I am.”

“Wow.” She takes a long pull off her straw. “You owe that girl a bit of gratitude, huh? Does she have any idea she super-started your career?”

“We’ve been…are…” I rub my forehead. “We were best friends ever since.”

Fleur doesn’t seem to catch my fumble. “What a great story.”

“How about you? Why did you become a fighter?” And not a model or an actress?

“Simple really.” She stirs her soda with her straw. “Olivier practically raised me. He loved to fight, and since our mum worked crazy hours, I had to tag along.”

“Why did you guys leave Paris?”

She shrugs a shoulder. “Olivier got the offer to come here and train, and there was no way I was going to let him leave me behind.”

“You ever miss it? Miss your friends back home?”

She leans forward, her forearms crossed and resting on the table. “We try to go back and visit family as often as we can. I grew up in an MMA gym, so I didn’t leave behind a load of mates or anything. I find I get along better with blokes anyway.”

I can see that. She’s easy to talk to, and if it weren’t for her looks, I’d probably forget she was even a girl.

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to check the caller ID.

Ryder.

This is the fourth time he’s called in as many days. I hit “decline” and shove my phone back in my pocket.

“Was it not important?” She tips her chin, indicating my phone.

“No, just someone from back home.” I take a sip of my Coke. “I’ll call him back later.” It’s a lie. Talking to Ryder means risking information on Axelle, and in order to stay numb, I can’t think of her.

“Do you miss your American friends?”

I clear my throat and lean back. “I don’t talk to them much.” I drum my fingers on the tabletop, feeling a little exposed. “I’ve been really busy and focusing on my fighting. I don’t have time.”

Stupid f*cking excuse.