"That's impossible, there were hundreds of people there," I said.
Kev slipped an arm around my shoulders. "Don't feel bad, Kya. I mean, you are a delicious distraction, but our boy's been off his game since before you got to Vegas."
"Maybe Fenton doesn't like it here, either." I slipped out from under Kev's arm.
"What's not to like? You just need to come out with me. I can show you the real fun of Vegas," he said.
I dodged Kev's other arm as it snaked around my waist. I was about to dive onto the dance floor to escape him when I spotted the strange man from the MGM gym.
"Do you know that man?" I asked Kev as he reeled me back in.
"Now that you mention it, I have seen him talking with Fenton lately. Wonder if he knows what's bothering our boy," Kev said.
"I did hear him delivering some kind of news Fenton did not really want to hear the other day," I said.
We started across the party together and though I despised working with Kev Casey, I hoped the plain looking man might be to blame for upsetting Fenton instead of me.
"How did we lose him? He was right here," Kev said. He was so annoyed he unhooked his hand from my waist and turned all around. The man with the average build and medium brown hair had disappeared. "That was weird, right?"
"Yes," I agreed.
Before we could think anymore about the nondescript man and what messages he might be bringing Fenton, there was a wave of cheers. The party erupted outside the master suite as Fenton himself appeared. He had a muscular arm around two blonde women that on first look appeared to be twins. A second glance, though, showed me one had black roots under her blonde hair, while the other had bleached out her mousy brown hair. They were dressed in identical, silver mini skirts with pink halter-tops. Fenton had not bothered to put on a shirt and showed off an angry bruise under his ribs proudly.
The girls alternately held up tall drinks with straws and I could tell from the gold liquid that Fenton was drinking tequila.
"Everyone grab a drink – it’s time to get knocked out!" he roared.
The crowd cheered again and the DJ turned up the club music. Fenton strode through the suite, his hands roving all over his companions as he shouted obscenities over Peretti's fighting style.
"A lucky punch," Fenton said. "I let my mind drift for one moment, otherwise Peretti would never have landed that hit."
"People are saying you were out all night at a strip club before the big fight? Is that the reason you were distracted?" an interviewer threw a microphone into Fenton's face.
"I might have broke curfew, pissed off my coach, and had a little too much fun, but this is Vegas, baby. What else is a man supposed to do?" Fenton declared.
The crowd cheered again. More barely clad women surrounded him and they all posed for the flashing cameras.
"Well, what do you say to Mario Peretti? He now thinks he'll be up against Maxwell Lewis in the title fight instead of you. Do you think that's possible?" the interviewer asked.
Fenton took a long drink of tequila and nipped a lime wedge right out of a woman's mouth. "Let Peretti think whatever he wants. One lucky punch is not going to get him the title."
"So, you're not worried?"
"Worried? I've got nothing to worry about except hotel security shutting down this party before we have enough fun!" Fenton yelled.
The crowd roared again and surged around him. The entire suite was one giant dance floor. I slipped away from Kev's insistent arms and fought my way towards Fenton. He was surrounded by a briar patch of stiletto heels and sharp elbows, but I managed to wiggle my way through.
Somehow, he saw me coming, and his blue eyes locked on mine. A thrill of fear and attraction spear through me as he pushed his arms wide, knocking back a swath of sparkling women, and pulled me towards him. He yanked me hard against his bare chest and his blue eyes blazed.
"Surprised to see you," he said. "Again."
"I'm sorry," I said. "I don't mean to keep popping up at the wrong time in the wrong places."
"You don't get it," Fenton said. "I don't need your endorsement deal, I don't need your advice, and I certainly don't need your help getting myself in trouble."
"How about getting out of trouble?" I asked. I pushed off his hard chest and arched back even as we kept swaying and dancing together. "You can't tell me this is what you really want."
"It’s not about what I want," Fenton said. "It's about what is best, and I'm better off alone."