Fighting for Us - Bella Emy Page 0,18
over, Carissa. We’re not through.”
“Good-bye, Steve,” Emy exclaims, forcing him out.
As he leaves my apartment, I quickly lock the door behind him and stand with my back against it. I’m instantly met with Emy’s disapproving glance. “What?”
She raises an eyebrow like The Rock. “What? You’re joking, right? You don’t know what I’m going to say?”
“I know. I’m sorry. I let him back in. I should be more careful,” I reply.
She frowns and marches into the living room. I follow.
Pulling out her phone, she rolls her eyes and furiously types something into it.
“Who are you texting?” I ask.
When she’s done moments later, she looks up at me. “Shannon.”
“Shannon? Why the hell are you texting Shannon now?” I know why. She’s going to tell her exactly what happened. Fuck.
Emy stands and crosses her arms across her chest. She lets out a deep exhale. “This could have ended so much worse than it did, Carissa. So much worse. I’m sorry, but I worry about you, and seeing him here after so long, knowing what he’s capable of, really scared the crap out of me. You’re my best friend, and the last thing I want is for some asshole like Steve to hurt you all over again.”
I shrug. “I know. I just… I don’t know what I was thinking. He said there was something he needed to talk to me about, so I lowered my guard.”
She nods. “You’re a good person, Carissa. And sometimes, that causes people to take advantage of you. Like Steve. Here he was with his hands on you all over again. If I would have gotten here one second later, God knows what could have happened or what I would have walked into. I love you, chica.”
I smile. “I love you too.”
“What made you stop by anyway?” I ask.
Emy sits back down on the couch, and I take a seat across from her. “I was coming to drop off this.” She pulls out a flyer for the upcoming event this weekend. It’s a different one from last time. The guys are now standing in the middle of the ring.
“Look. These are the brand new flyers going around.” Throwing the flyer onto my coffee table, she smiles from ear to ear.
I lean closer to get a better look. “Okay… I’m not sure what you want me to see here besides the fact that it’s a new flyer.”
Rolling her eyes, she picks it up off the table and stands. She walks over to me, grabs me by the arm, and makes me stand. “Look again.”
I take another glance at the flyer and then I see it. “Oh my God.”
She giggles. “That’s him. Guns’s name is Lorenzo Trevano. It’s written right here underneath his picture.”
“Wait… it can’t be—”
“Guns! It’s Guns!” she exclaims. “He’s the stud muffin from the bar the other night. What are the odds?”
I swallow thickly as images of him from the night at the bar come back to the front of my mind…
“No way…”
“Oh, yes way… look at this.” She pulls out the first flyer from her pocket and places them side by side. The man from the bar the other night is Guns…
I take a moment to process my thoughts. “So he’s going to be fighting this weekend at the matchup?” I obviously already know the answer because Daniela told me already, but I can’t believe it. What a small world.
“Hang on,” she says, bringing up her cell phone again. “Okay, Shannon’s on her way to make sure you’re all right after the little stunt Steve just pulled.”
I shrug. “She really doesn’t have to stop by.”
She waves a dismissive hand in my direction. “But yes, he is in the main event, fighting The Big Shot this Saturday.”
“Wow,” I say, taking a seat again.
Emy sits next to me. “Yeah, and just think. We’ll be there like two rows away, watching him up close.”
I snap my head in her direction. “I don’t think I—”
“Oh, hell naw, girl. I got tickets, and we’re going. We’re so going. Don’t give Shannon and me another reason to beat you down. We’ve already got one.”
“Great. I can’t wait.”
Chapter Eight
Lorenzo
Anger flares deep in my veins. Every year on this day, it appears as though I never find peace. Instead, I’m angry and blaming the world for all that was robbed from me and my little girl. Why us? Why did we have to go through it? Why was Sylvia taken away from us?
But this kind of anger will allow me to do all I’m meant to