Page 67 of His Greatest Muse
My muscles are stiff as I grunt, “No.”
She’s not scaring me. Just poking at my inability to be around people I’m not comfortable with. They’re not strangers, but they’re notnotstrangers either.
“See?” She pokes her tongue out at her son. It almost makes me laugh.
Sometimes I forget how similar she and Tinsley are. Maybe I just try to ignore it. If I started to pay attention to those types of things, I risk growing close to others. The idea is not appealing to me.
Thankfully, I’m not forced to continue to speak to anyone. The lights cut in the arena before flashing rapidly as a deep, throaty bass guitar is pushed through the speaker system. I swallow the lump in my throat as the familiarity of the song hits me.
It’s my song.
The main track of the album.
Smoke shoots from the stage into the air. It fills the arena, sticking to my legs and crawling up my chest. The light show continues as the music grows louder. It’s dramatic, but I don’t look away. Don’t risk the chance of missing her run out. She’s dreaded the show that comes before the fight, so it won’t be long now. In Tinsley fashion, she’s probably backstage, begging the crew to hurry this the fuck up.
“Jesus Christ,” Easton shouts, hands gripping his knees. He seems just as uncomfortable as I do.
My discomfort only grows worse when my voice carries through the crowd, Dagger’s guitar lifting it in a way critics declared wasbeautifully hauntingjust days after the album was released. I watch the end of the platform for Tinsley, mentally flicking through the ways I’m going to make her pay for surprising me with the decision to use my song as her entrance track. I fucking love that she used it. But I hate surprises. She knew that. Maybe that’s why she did it. To test how far she could push me before I’ll punish her again.
I’ll add this to the growing list of things she’s done to deserve it, right beneath avoiding talking about what happened a week ago.
A man with a microphone appears in the ring amidst the lights and smoke. The music continues to play in the background, but the sound of the man’s voice stifles it. It’s a bunch of boring welcome bullshit. I only tune in when he introduces her.
Tinsley “Fast Track” Lowry. One hundred and sixty-five pounds. Five foot ten.
Fast both on her feet and in the league, jumping past competitors who should have been her superiors had they held half the talent she does.
Hunter helped with the name. He insisted she have one when she fought against the idea, declaring it too “showboaty.” This entire league is.
I swallow my tongue when the grey lights spin and focus on the tunnel full of shadows. She’s there, bouncing on her toes. A silver robe that looks as if the edges were dipped in black paint drapes her frame. It shines, glossy beneath the lights as she moves, a matching set of gloves on her hands. She hits them together over and over again.
Her hair is hidden beneath the hood of her robe. The hood casts shadows over her face, but still, I find the determination in her stare. It’s enough to have my hands clenched, desire thickening my blood. So few things scare her. It’s incredible.
“That’s my girl!” Braden shouts, standing from his seat.
He’s wrong. She’smygirl.
She comes jogging down the platform now, with Hunter and her medic close behind. When she parts the red ropes and slips inside the ring, her narrowed stare drifts through the crowd, searching. I push to my feet and wait for our eyes to meet. When they do, the arena grows muffled, the screams and music disappearing. My hands are still in fists, and when she looks at them, she smirks.
I lift a brow and cock my head. She makes a show of looking at the ceiling, where the music is coming from, and then pursing her lips and kissing the air. My responding glower is a preview of what’s to come as soon as she’s out of that ring.
Her head falls back with a laugh I wish I could hear. Then, she’s focused again. We all become invisible to her. The only thing she sees is the ring and a win with her name on it.
* * *
It takesfive rounds for Jules Collins to begin to lose steam. She has a dangerous punch, muscle mass making up for the height she lacks. It’s an advantage she has over Tinsley.
Tinsley’s bleeding from her forehead, a small gash having opened up after taking a hard hit at the beginning of the round. Her medic is poised and waiting outside of the ring, a small red bag in her hand. Two minutes feels like an eternity when I have to watch her fight injured.
Blood drips from the gash, but she stays focused, not letting it distract her even as it affects her vision. Her teeth are gnashed painfully hard around her mouthguard. Each move she takes is calculated, her hits skilled beyond belief. I swap my attention between her and the ref as the round ticks down.
Finally, the round finishes, and she collapses on a stool in the corner of the ring. Hunter and the medic slide between the ropes and rush to her. I can hear her telling the medic to leave the gash, swearing the next round will be the last one. Hunter scolds her and nods at the medic. The next minute moves in fast-forward. I’ve cut my palms with my nails by the time they finish putting pressure on her gash and swab it with what I know has to be epinephrine to stop the bleeding. Tinsley will need the cut closed after the fight, which she’ll hate.
My golden girl didn’t so much as flinch when there was a hand pressed to her cut skin. I’m in awe of her. She was born for this. Boxing to her is what music is to me. I want to be by her side while she wins fight after fight. Iwillbe.
When the next round is about to start, Hunter smacks her on the arms before leaving the ring with the medic. Tinsley stands and twists in my direction. Her eyes are tired beneath all of that drive to win. I push myself to smile at her. It’s the least I can offer her right now. Her shoulders lift and fall with the weight of her exhale, but she smiles back despite her exhaustion.
My anxiety returns when the ref calls both Tinsley and Jules to the middle of the ring and makes them knock gloves. Another bell rings, and they circle each other again. This time, Tinsley is on the offensive. The strategy she made before coming out tonight is working.