Fight or Fall Read online

  Fight or Fall

  Anne Leigh

  Copyright © 2014 Anne Leigh

  This is an e-book property of Anne Leigh. All rights reserved, unless permitted by the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976. This cannot be reproduced, stored, transmitted, or copied in any way, shape, or form, without the permission of the author.

  All rights reserved.

  This novel is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to peoples living or deceased is purely coincidental. Names, pigments, and characters are figments of the author’s imagination. The author is NOT affiliated with real life sports commissions/organizations, rules, regulations, and international governing bodies.

  The author respectfully acknowledges all registered trademarks and owners of trademarked products that may have been included in this work of fiction.

  Cover: Okay Creations

  Interior Design: Bookmarked Designs

  Editing: KMS Editing

  ISBN E-BOOK: 9781311695789

  To my husband: For loving me. All of me.

  To my readers: For waiting. All the time.

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  Bee got the Christmas gift she wanted again. Whatever she wished for, she just got it. She had just opened her present. Her blue eyes could not contain her joy, and excited shrieks of glee escaped her mouth once she saw the kitchen Barbie doll set.

  “Milo, look! Isn’t she pretty?” she called out after messily tearing up the snowflake wrapping paper. Couldn’t she have opened it nicely? Santa must have taken forever to wrap that oddly shaped Barbie set.

  “Yes, she’s pretty, Bee.” I nodded, rolling my eyes for the fifth time. Barbie’s pretty annoying, that’s for sure. How many dolls did Bee need? All of them looked the same; they just had different outfits on. She would make a mess of them and I’d have to help her store them back in their toy chests.

  “Milo, son, come here.” Dad’s voice was commanding yet tender. He must have seen my eye-rolling.

  I stood from where I was sitting on the floor beside Bee, wading through the mess that she’d made of the ribbons and gift wrap.

  Dad’s green eyes were scolding. “Son, don’t roll your eyes. Bellisima’s excited to open her gifts.” Today Bee was Bellisima, yesterday it was Bella, the other day Bellini. Dad had too many nicknames for my sister, Brynn. It was hard for me to say her name when I was younger. Bee was easier.

  “I’m not rolling my eyes…” I tried to get out of it, but dad gave me that look, the look when he knew I was lying.

  “Why?”

  “Because she has too many cooking sets already and she makes a mess with her toys!” I sat beside him on the small sofa. Bee was clutching the Barbie in her arms now. It was going to be her friend for the next week or two.

  “Is that how you treat your sister, son? You roll your eyes because she got the toys she asked Santa for and she’s going to make a mess of them?” Dad asked disapprovingly, his eyes sharp.

  “No,” I replied. Dad knew how much I loved Bee. I fixed her toys, tried to glue the broken pieces back together, and searched for the missing plastic kitchen utensils when she lost them, which was often. “I just think she has too many of the same toys already.”

  Dad shook his dark head. “You have the same train sets, a lot of legos, and collection of car toys…do you see Bellisima rolling her eyes at you?”

  I don’t know. Maybe Bee did. “No, I don’t.”

  He placed a strong hand on my shoulder, “Whatever she wants, she gets, okay? You and I…we’re here to take care of your mom and your sister.” I knew this. I’d protect from sister from anything. No one would hurt her.

  In her red Christmas pajamas and green socks, Bee walked up to me and dad. “Milo, let’s play. I’m making cookies today.”

  She loved to pretend to bake cookies. She made me eat those plastic cookies, too. But for Bee, I’d eat anything. She clasped her tiny hand in mine before sitting on dad’s lap.

  “Daddy, do you think Santa will give Milo the new Fewwawwi he wants?”

  Dad’s eyes crinkled at Bee. “Why do you ask, Bellisima?”

  Bee’s tiny voice came out, “Because it’s only fair, dad.”

  “Fair?”

  “I got my wish. Milo should get his too. He’s my brother. Santa knows he’s the best brother.”

  My dad reached over my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. “That’s right, Bellisima. Milo’s the best brother. I’m sure Santa has him up on the nice list.”

  Bee leaned in to pull my shirt. “See, Milo? I know Santa will give you a Fewwawwi. I prayed for you, you know.”

  Bee’s eyes sparkled like the flickering Christmas angel on top of our tree. She prayed for me so I could get the Ferrari 458 Italia model which was on the top of my Christmas wish list. She wasn’t selfish. She was the coolest sister ever.

  I haven’t opened any of my Christmas presents yet. I was waiting for Mom to come out and join us in the living room. She was finishing baking my favorite chocolate chip cookies. Once Mom was here and I had my cookies and milk, I’d open them up. Not like my sister. She was impatient. As soon as we woke up, she ran to the Christmas tree, and when Mom and Dad gave her the go-signal to open them, she almost stepped on the other presents surrounding the white Christmas tree so she could get to the presents with the giant “B” on them. She knew those were hers.

  “Okay, it’s time for presents!” Mom came in carrying freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on a plate, along with a small glass of milk for me. She was wearing her Santa pajama outfit that dad had gifted her with a few years ago. Her blue eyes twinkled as she neared the three of us. I reached for a cookie and she handed me the glass of milk.

  “How are the cookies?” she asked, sitting beside me while pulling me into a hug.

  “They’re the best, momma.” I smiled. My mom always baked my favorite cookie. She even decorated it with a chocolate snowflake so it would go along with the sugar cookies she often baked for Christmas.

  “Son, you want to open your presents now?” my dad questioned.

  Bee clapped her hands and pulled my hand. “Come on! I wanna see your Fewwawwi!” She was pretty sure I got it.

  My heart thrummed. I really wanted that red, one-of-a-kind model. It had left and right forward steering and a dashboard controller with multiple frequencies. Having it would complete my vintage car collection.

  Mom and Dad looked on as Bee and I searched for my presents. After unwrapping a lego set from Aunt Margie, I carefully proceeded to open the big red and white striped gift. I glanced over at mom and dad as they looked on, their eyes glowing vibrantly like the silver giant star on top of our tree.

  Mom asked, with her hands clasped in dad’s hands, “Did you get it, son? Did Santa give you what you wanted?”

  I remembered my classmate Roy’s sad words before Christmas break. “You’re so lucky. Your parents are together. My mom and dad can’t even stand to be in the same room for two minutes before they start fighting.”

 
Seeing the love between my parents and the smile that lit up Bee’s face, I knew Santa gave me what I wished for every time. My unchanging wish. Porsches come in different colors and sizes. Ferraris come and go. But what I wished for every year was right here in this room. My sister. My mom. My dad. All together. My family.

  "Ms. Troudeau, we're landing in forty-five minutes."

  I heard Kathy, the flight stewardess, try to rouse me from sleep. It'd been a while since I slept this long on a flight. I was awake for the first four and a half hours of the flight - answering e-mails, synchronizing my schedule in my Blackberry, and catching up with Brynn. The last one took the longest and brought warmth to my heart. My best friend since first grade, Brynn, is now happily involved in a hot-and-heavy romance with the World's hottest swimmer. Judging by my best friend's giggles, Kieran's talents extended way beyond the Olympic pool. My Brynnie deserves it. She'd been through so much in her life that it was about time someone gave her the love and care that she rightfully deserved.

  I straightened myself up, slowly unwrapping myself from the light blue cashmere blanket that covered my pajama-clad body. One of the great things about traveling in my father's planes was that I could wear, eat, and pretty much do whatever I wanted.

  "Kathy, did Daria say anything about what I'm supposed to wear tonight?" I asked as she lifted the window shades across from me. It was routine to have the window shades lifted during take-off and landing, and Kathy knew that I loved to see the view at all times.

  Daria's my assistant, personal shopper, pizza-delivery lady, and sometimes confidante. She's the woman who organizes my closet, tells me which designer to wear for an event, and ensures that I had enough orange Tic-Tacs in my matching purse to last me through the event.

  Kathy slumped back on the chair in front of me. "She mentioned Lisa Kincade for tonight, Ms. Troudeau."

  Lisa Kincade? Oh, the gold one. Hmm. Tonight must be special. Thinking back, Daria sounded hyper-alert and even asked me to put on extra make-up tonight when I talked to her before boarding the plane. She seemed extra bossy, making sure that I arrived on time in Vegas and almost had a conniption when Jose, the limo driver, made a wrong turn on the way to Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris.

  Was it because tonight's the opening of the new business venture which my father had been trying to get up and running for the past two years? I'd been to so many events for my dad that most of the time I didn’t even recall what they were for. Luckily, I had Daria on hand to remind me and fill me in on the details.

  I slowly stood up from the chair. I could've slept inside the private bedroom, but I liked talking to Kathy. She regaled me of her stories about her ten and sixteen year old daughters. I'd met them in person and they were a bunch of sweethearts. They had their mother's engaging personality and adorable blue eyes. Kathy was a single mom whose husband left her when the girls were two and eight. She was a hard-working woman, and I respected her more for raising two wonderful girls alone.

  "Ms. Troudeau, would you like another glass of champagne?" Kathy inquired as I walked across the aisle so I could start prepping for the event tonight. As soon as we landed, I had exactly twenty minutes to hop in the limo, get briefed by Daria, and face the paparazzi.

  "Kathy, how many times have I told you to call me Ava?" Gosh, she really had to stop calling me Ms. Troudeau. Almost everyone in the world called me that. It was exasperating at times and made me feel older than my twenty four years.

  She gave a little laugh. "You know I only mean well. You are Ms. Troudeau, and I must maintain a semblance of professionalism around you."

  "Come on, Kathy, my father's not here." When my father was around, everyone acted and looked their best. He was not a man to be messed with. He demanded, no, obligated everyone around him to act and look their part. No room for excuses; apologies were nothing but afterthoughts.

  Giving her one last glance before I stepped inside one of the two private bedrooms on the plane that I considered my own, I enthused, "Thank you for the offer, but I better not chance it. I need my full wits tonight before I say something inappropriate to the press."

  Now halfway inside my bedroom, I called out, "You can keep calling me Ms. Troudeau, Kathy, but you can't stop me from sending your daughters their favorite chocolate bars from Switzerland."

  One time, I had an unopened leftover candy bar in my purse that I offered to Alissa, Kathy's youngest daughter, and she had loved it so much. I grabbed the chocolate bar at Switzerland's Zurich airport, unknowing that it would cause an obsession for Alissa. Since then, I'd a revolving quarterly Swiss account of chocolate delivered to Kathy's house. Alissa had been diagnosed with a rare neurological disorder of an unknown origin, and caused grand mal seizures at inopportune times, making her a least likely candidate for air travel. It was the least I can do for someone as sweet as her and for a mother who obviously took great care of her daughters. I was already planning on asking Tina, Alissa's older sister, for their wishlist for Christmas. Last year, a secret Santa gifted them with a new entertainment center which turned out not-to-be-such a secret after all because the delivery guys outed me. Kathy wanted to give it all back because she said it was too much. I shrugged her off and informed her that it was a last-minute sale and therefore non-refundable. She, of course, thanked me profusely, to which I had to actually put a stop to it by threatening her with termination if she kept thanking me. I'd never fire her though. She was one of my father's most loyal employees. She deserves a medal for putting up with his extremely high and unreasonable standards.

  Opening my closet, I took out the silk gold dress from Lisa Kincade's new fall collection. Lisa was fast becoming my favorite designer. Her collections spoke to a woman's body - the curves, the pleating, the fabric, the details. This one was no exception. The feel of the silk was heavenly, but the crisscrossed pleats at the bodice and skirt added to the mystique of the outfit. The fitted, slight A-line silhouette was very intriguing. Usually, dresses like these were more skintight than A-line; hence my increasing admiration for Lisa. She was a risk-taker, a new force in the fashion industry. I had to make sure to text her later on how I felt about her dress.

  “Miss Troudeau and Kathy, in a few minutes we’re going to be landing at McCarran International Airport. Local time is 6:22 PM and the temperature is 72 degrees. For your safety and comfort, I ask that you please remain seated with your seatbelt fastened until I turn off the fasten seatbelt sign. On behalf of Troudeau Enterprises, I’d like to thank you for joining us on this trip,” Peter, the pilot, announced over the plane’s speakers.

  I sat back down on the chair by the window and fastened my seatbelt. After years of flying, I knew the safety precautions to take during landing. Even when no one was looking.

  “And Miss Ava, have fun tonight.” I grinned at Peter’s affectionate voice over the speakers. He was a retired Air Force pilot and had been my family’s personal pilot for many years. The co-pilots alternated between Adam and George, but Peter was the captain of the crew.

  I looked over at the glass window. I don't look over at the windows during take-offs. But landings I couldn’t miss. When a plane lands, it reminds me that I'm here, at my destination, ready to step out and meet the world again. Flying had never been my favorite thing. Who would want to have their life be at the mercy of a pilot, a human, a person who could fall asleep at the cockpit or have a momentary lapse in judgment and forget how to turn a knob, a control, or instructions on how to land a plane? Definitely not me.

  The shimmering lights of the Vegas skyline was on full display tonight. The towering buildings, the congested traffic, the colorful billboards; I could see them clearer now as the plane hovered in the air. Vegas was a city of sin and delightful treats. It's where one can lose themselves and indulge in pleasures that may be unfamiliar to them, but had longed for. The overt extravagance of each hotel, the abundance of various foods from many different cuisines, the decadence of entertainment shows, the pre-conceived notion that anything that h
appens here stays here – these are the things that Vegas stood for.

  Leaning forward in my chair, I straightened my pajamas with my right hand. To some, Vegas was the symbol of opulence, realization of desires, and hidden pleasures. It's a city where dreams can be fulfilled and vows can be broken. It's where the lights never seem to go out and the fun never dies. Vegas, with its 135.8 square miles of land, was a glorious sight at night. And one man was responsible for keeping all that glory intact. One man who had the city in the palm of his hand since he moved here thirty five years ago. He owned seventy percent of all the entertainment venues, casinos, and restaurants.

  He was known to the world as Maxwell Troudeau.

  I knew him as my father.

  "Ava, you look beautiful tonight! Who are you wearing?" Kelsey Cameron, former Ms. Teen USA, now entertainment news correspondent for Hollywood Tonight, posed the question after I walked the short red carpet lined up with celebrities towards the entrance of my father's latest business venture.

  Smiling at her and facing the camera, I replied, "This amazing gown is by Lisa Kincade. She's becoming a new fave. And my shoes are Louboutin's." I always gave credit to the designers who sent me clothes, shoes, and accessories to wear. They were kind enough to let me wear their creations, and it was a small favor to mention their names in front of the press.