Page 57 of Fight for Forever

“Nothing to do with that is important. It can wait for me to get to the gym.”

“That’s because you have no fucking clue what he’s accusing you of.”

That gets my attention. I glance at Megan and mouth ‘sorry’. She mouths back that it’s okay. We’re nearing the block her restaurant is on.

“Just give me five minutes and I’ll call you back.

“You better. This is going to affect your career.”

“What? How?” All thoughts of hanging up are forgotten. Hell, I barely even notice Megan in the car with me now.

“He’s just accused you of doping.”

My hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Hewhat?”

“Yeah, important enough for you. Get your ass down here. Now.”

“You can’t fucking think he’s right,” I snap back.

“Of course I don’t, you moron. But we need to deal with this right now. I got a lawyer coming in and a guy from the fighting commission. So get your ass down here.”

“Yeah, I’m on my way.”

Sam hangs up. I glare through the windshield. That fucking asshole. I don’t answer to his bullshit remarks so he goes full throttle and tries to destroy my career?

“Fuck,” I slam my hand into the steering wheel.

A sharp inhale reminds me where I am. Fuck. I turn to Megan. Her eyes are wide as she watches me, losing my shit.

“Jesus, sorry. I’m… That was just an overreaction.”

“It’s okay,” she shifts in the seat. “He’s talking about Marris?”

I forgot she knows all about that prick. I don’t want to talk about him with her. I need to get to the gym and find out what the fuck is happening. I will have to prove to everyone that I’m not taking performance-enhancing drugs. My fighting license could be suspended until it’s cleared. Not only that, but I could also lose endorsements.

Not that there is any evidence. Nor have I ever taking any fucking drugs.

But perception is sometimes greater than reality. People are quick to jump to conclusions and decide without knowing the full story. Just putting this question mark over my integrity is potentially going to fuck me up the ass.

I have the sudden urge to kill that little shit.

Megan touches my arm and again I have to snap out of the spiral.

Being around her right now is crazy. I am not capable of holding back the shit storm in my head at hearing Marris has sunk this fucking low. She doesn’t need to see that.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, her voice quiet.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” I scrub a hand down my face. “My team will have a plan but…”

“It’s alright. Here, the restaurant is just across the street. You can let me out here and get to the gym to sort this out with Sam.”

I’m too distracted to hear the tone of her voice. But I nod and pull over so she can get out. She pauses, half in, half out of the car.

“It’ll be okay.”

“I’m not so sure,” I say.

Not because it’s fucking true, because an accusation like this has the potential to ruin everything. People won’t trust me, even if I prove I have no drugs in my system. That doesn’t mean I haven’t in the past. That doesn’t mean everyone will not question every fight I’ve ever won, scrutinize every move I’ve ever made.

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