her friend.
“Oh my God, I know. I love watching him fight, but more, I love watching him fuck after a fight. He’s an animal.”
My tears flow harder and it hurts, God dammit, it hurts.
“That guy with him is smoking, too. But no one beats Max.”
“You’re right. Max is a legend, but it’s only because he fights out of broken emotion and not just rage.”
What the fuck is she talking about? I turn and give her a quick glance. She’s a tall, gorgeous brunette. She’s Max’s type, through and through. If he wasn’t with me, I always picked him with a woman who looks like her.
“Oh, because you know, Tam,” her friends scoffs.
“I do know. I was here the night he had that massive breakdown.”
Breakdown? I shuffle closer, still keeping my eyes on the ring where Max and Raide are fighting and blood is pouring, and around it the crowd is going wild.
“I know Max,” the girl says. “I’ve seen him at his worst.”
“I heard about the breakdown,” her friend says. “But I didn’t see it. What happened?”
“It was like five years ago, just after he started managing the club. He was married then, remember?”
“Oh yeah, to that uppity bitch. I can’t even remember her name. She never came here.”
My heart pinches, because they’re right—I never came here. When Max took over the club, I chose to stay away. It’s why I didn’t even know he was creating a fighting ring. I don’t know why he didn’t tell me, but I assume it was because I was happy not knowing. It wasn’t long after that that he changed. Does this girl know why?
“I was here the night he came in and beat that man nearly to death,” the girl says to her friend. “He had lost his mind, I swear. He was drunk and God knows what else. One of his security team had the crowd cleared out, but I was in his locker room, waiting for him to finish the fight. I wanted him so badly and had been trying for a while, but he wouldn’t have it. Anyway, you know me, I’m not a quitter.”
“Slut.” Her friend giggles. “But seriously, what happened after that?”
“Well, they came in and Max was freaking me the hell out, so I hid. He was smashing things and finally he started telling the security guard what happened to him. He was saying things about a car accident he saw one night when he was driving home from work. He said there was a kid that was thrown from the car and that kid like, died in his arms or something.”
It feels as if someone has punched me right in the heart. It twists in pure agony. I know there was an accident, Max had told me that he’d witnessed one and had to give a statement to the police, but he never, ever told me he had seen something like that, or lived through it. He said it wasn’t bad. He hid that from me. I didn’t piece it together, because the accident was at least a month before he started running off the rails. He went out one night around a month after, and I swear he came home different.
Was that night the night this girl is talking about? Did he lose it? Was he suffering before I thought it began? He was working so much after the accident, he seemed normal . . . but then . . . he was so busy, and I didn’t think anything was wrong, so I didn’t pay closer attention. I lived for a month in the same house as my husband, and all the while he was breaking and I didn’t know. If I had known, maybe he would have never gotten worse. Maybe he wouldn’t have had the breakdown that sent him down a spiral of darkness.
Max.
Oh God.
Tears are running down my face right now and I step forward, pushing through the crowd, needing to get out. I need air, God, I feel like I can’t breathe. The world starts spinning around me and my trembling hands shove at people as I try to get past the endless streams of them. It seems as if they just don’t end. I don’t know where I’m going. My vision blurs and I start panting, hands shoving, my body being pushed around.
The crowd is still roaring, people are still stomping and I’m being thrown about the sea of people as if I weigh nothing more than a