Page 17 of Sucker Punch Drunk Love

“Oh my god, you followed me,” she shot back. “I can't believe you would stoop so low as to invade so something personal.” Bringing the phone closer to my chest, I couldn't help but shout the next part.

“What privacy? You're staying in a god damn shelter. Come outnow! O iré por ti?*!” I threatened, and like clockwork, she stormed out pissed off as she slammed my car door.

“You know, you could get me in a lot of trouble,” she spat with a cross of her arms. Lifting my index from my temple, my brows furrowed.

That's all you have to fuckin’ say?Nenita?*, no wonder you can't afford to eat. You're fuckin’homeless.”

“Look, I swear it's only temporary,” she argued with an outstretched hand.

“AndIshouldn't have to say thisun otra vez?*! No secretos!?*” I shot back. Not knowing this shit, stilted my ability to give myfighters what they needed. I should have known about this the first day.

“I know, and I'm sorry. This isn't ideal, but I wanted to see if I could do it on my own. It sucks to have people look at me the way you're looking at meright now. And it sucks to ask anyone for help. You said it yourself, I'm getting better, right?” she asked, peering at me with those sweet doe eyes.

“Sierra, don’t you look at me like that! That's not even the point. You have to tell me these things. Otherwise, once the limelight hits you, I can't protect you from the backlash. You have to be more honest with me. And I mean that shit!” I demanded it, and like a ticking time bomb, she blew up.

“Fine, you want me to be honest with you. The reason I got into fighting is because fighting is all I know. When it wasn't my mom choosing her loser boyfriends over me, it was me defending myself from those same assholes. I’ve been on my own since I was thirteen, only to run into the arms of men that showed their love the exact same way. My entire life I've been someone's punching bag. I figured if I was gonna get hit, the least I could do is get paid for it. I don't recognize my life when it's not in survival mode, so I apologize if things I'm dealing with just seem like a regular Tuesday.” I took a heavy sigh, softening my tone.

“Look, I didn't mean to yell at you. The reason we all get into fighting is personal. As much as I hate to admit it, all my drive. All my grit…I see in you. You’re tenacious. Compulsive. You’ve got that hunger. It just looks different for you because you're a woman.” I sighed.

“Look, how much of your stuff is in that shelter?” I asked, knowing that every decision I made with her I'd regret, but she was my fighter. If I was going to take her seriously, that started with helping her where she needed it the most.

“Why?” she questioned, irritation lacing my tone.

“Medina, what did I tell you about questioning every got damn thing?” She shrugged.

“It's just this and another duffel bag with my clothes. Not much.”

“Okay. Well, then grab your stuff before I change my mind,” I ordered, starting my car back up. “I'm not about to invest more money, more time, or more effort in you for you to be my first failure. I have the extra room. You're gonna stay with me.”

“But—” she questioned as I cut her off.

“You question me one more time and I’m gonna leave your ass here. Now c’mon. No desperdicies mi tiempo?*!” She left the car, returning in the building to gather the remainder of her things, as a phone call I've been waiting for hit my cell.

“Hey.”

“Your girl free the 29th? That girl from Ohio’s manager is ready to set things up.”

“She'll be ready. Consider it done,” I said, ending the call as she opened the back door and threw her duffel bag on the seat. “Ya?*?” I asked, as she nodded and I put the car in second gear. “Good. And before I forget, it’s showtime. I got you your first fight.”

* No crying

* Or I’ll come for you

* Little girl, but informal, like you’re familiar with each other

* One again

* No secrets!

* Don’t waste my time

* Filler word with many contexts, but in this context, like saying You good? Or Ready?

CHAPTER SEVEN

Sierra

With the turn of a doorknob, I stepped inside the coach's luxury duplex, as waves of wonder and amazement hit me all at once. Coach definitely lived nicer than he let on, and he actually lived on the safer side of town. I wasn't even begging for a quarter of his success, but if I had it, it would have been more than enough to provide for my daughter. I didn't know you could even live this nice as a fighter. He tossed his key chain on a nearby surface as I slipped my shoes off at the door, following his lead.