[ shawn's view ]
A slow haze of cigar smoke slightly clouded the table before being blown apart by a passing by waiter. I glance at my watch and then look around as Steven, the man who would become my new manager, set down his cigarette on the ashtray and looked at me. He is a bit older than Charles, maybe by ten years or so, and has black hair with some gray strands.
"Have you got your stuff packed?" Steven asks me as he helps light a cigarette for Charles.
"Most of it." I reply. "But I'll have it ready two days before the flight."
"Good." He nods.
The restaurant was dark and was where the wealthy dined out. Steven and Charles were in suits, while I was in the same, but without a tie. I ran my hand through my hair and then took a sip of my drink.
"Want a cigarette?" Steven asked me.
"No. I don't smoke." I reply.
"So when is my flight set for?" I ask.
"Whatever time you're comfortable with. We have a jet for you ready to take you." He replies.
"They're expecting us whenever?" Charles asks.
"Anytime before midnight." Steven nods.
I take another sip of my alcoholic drink and then finish it. The empty glass sits in front of me on the white table cloth. It was a few minutes past one in the morning and there wasn't a hint of tiredness in me. Knowing that something I had worked incredibly hard for was so close made me anxious and eager. There were about six other tables with people eating and drinking. This looked like the type of restaurant Jasmine would like to come to and still order something like a burger or chicken tenders.
Jasmine. For the past three days we were consumed with packing for our own moves. Both of our places were filled with boxes and bubble wrap. She'd gone dorm room shopping earlier today while I went to speak with her parents briefly while she was out. We both were under stress and made an agreement to not mention the Hampton's ever again. I wanted to make this work just as much as she did and bringing up the lying wouldn't help the situation. Instead of talking about it like most couples would do, we just decided to stick it in a bottle and throw it into the ocean.
"Hey - are you listening?" Steven says to me as he throws an ice cube at my empty plate. it bounces off and falls to the floor.
"I'm sorry, my mind blanked." I confess.
"This part is important," Charles tells me. "Pay attention."
"As soon as you get to Vegas, you're gonna meet your opponent for your first televised fight. You two will get to know each other and then a week from then you two will have a press conference and then comes the promotional pictures and interviews." I nod my head along to the information I've received and glance casually down at my watch. I'm glad that no one can see my knee bouncing rather impatiently under the table.
"How are you feeling about this, kid?" Charles asks me.
"I'm ready." I say. "I've been working up for this moment. I'm ready."
"Good. That's what I like to hear." Steven says.
"How's Jasmine taking the move?" Charles asks.
"Who's Jasmine?" Steven asks.
"My girlfriend." I answer him.
"You two serious?"
Are we serious? "Yeah, we are." I clear my throat, "She's taking the move okay. She's moving, herself."
"Oh, where to?" Steven asks.
"Chicago. She's going to university there."
"Bring her to the first fight. We'll fly her out. It's good PR. People see you with a beautiful and sweet girl on your arm - which I presume she is?" - I nod my head - "and you have more women swooning after you. Most of the people watching fights are women. They see two strong built men, sweaty and fighting, and they go fucking nuts! They see you, pretty boy who can do some serious, serious damage with a girl on your arm? Kid, you'll have girls throwing themselves at you."
