Read Online FURY: A Rio Games Romance by Alison Ryan - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Ryan
Ads: Link
job, brother. Hope I get another crack at you next year.”
Adonis, drunk on his victory, looked first at Solomon’s face, then his offered hand, then back up to meet his gaze, making no effort to return the fist bump. “My best advice to you is to change weight classes, bud. Unless I do. In that case, stay right where you are.”
Solomon was floored by Adonis’ refusal to shake his hand, to acknowledge him as any sort of peer, and he let his arm sink slowly back to his side. Gavin was stung by the champion’s words, and he tried to ease Solomon away from the DeCarlo family; Adonis, his parents, younger brother, older set of twin sisters, and an assortment of extended family. “Let’s go get something to eat, Solomon.”
Solomon, however, was having none of it. He dropped his bag to the floor and in a fluid motion put a hand on the barrier and vaulted over it, landing and taking a step so that he was directly in Adonis’s line of vision, inches from the taller boy’s face.
“I’ll never run from you. I’ll be back next year and the year after that and I will beat you,” Solomon snarled.
“If you’re lucky enough to get back on the mat with me, I won’t take it easy on you next time, punk.” Adonis replied, and he punctuated his remark with a two-handed shove to Solomon’s chest.
The flurry of activity drew the notice of security, teammates of both Adonis and Solomon, and meet organizers.
“Throw that team out of here! They should be banned!” bellowed Adonis’s father over the buzz of the growing crowd.
The ruckus was quickly defused, but the gauntlet had been thrown down; any future rematch between Solomon Kano and Adonis DeCarlo would mean more to both fighter’s pride than whatever tournament titles might be on the line.
* * *
T he American judo community began to take notice of the Fijian kid from Cincinnati over the next few years. Adonis DeCarlo abandoned age group tournaments, much to Solomon’s chagrin, but it left the throne vacant and Solomon was eager to claim it as his own.
Gavin ran out of things to teach his star pupil, and he had to turn him over exclusively to Sensei Shinji, who, despite his advancing years, was as eager to teach as ever, and had a flexibility and iron grip that left Solomon awestruck.
Solomon’s time in America transformed him from a boy into a man, growing to six-foot-two with a thickly-muscled frame. His dark hair was long and wild, and on a visit home to Fiji he’d acquired his first tattoo, the word “kailoma” on the inside of his left forearm. Gavin wasn’t crazy about the ink, but he understood that Solomon wasn’t fully American, nor Fijian, and that it was his way of reconciling the two cultures, the two worlds, by writing it on his body.
As a concession to his nephew, Gavin got his own tattoo, the word “BULA” in block lettering on the left side of his chest. Beneath the word were five capital letters, each with a small halo floating above. P, T, L, J, and K. For the five souls lost in the terrible tragedy in the South Pacific.
As soon as Solomon saw what his uncle did, he knew he’d made the right decision, coming to America. Gavin was his family. More than anyone else he’d ever known.
* * *
S olomon spent his school years with Gavin in Cincinnati and his summers in Fiji with his mother’s family. He felt like his heart was always in two places, a fact that often made him feel guilty no matter where he was.
When he was a senior in high school he was accepted to Xavier University. They didn’t have a martial arts team, but they did have a very active martial arts club that his uncle had recently taken over as a sponsor and coach.
Despite now having the best of both worlds, Solomon ached for something more.
He’d always assumed it was for his parents. Or for his need to excel in judo, to be the best.
Little did he know, it wasn’t any of those things that his heart was missing. But he couldn’t have known that at the
Adonis, drunk on his victory, looked first at Solomon’s face, then his offered hand, then back up to meet his gaze, making no effort to return the fist bump. “My best advice to you is to change weight classes, bud. Unless I do. In that case, stay right where you are.”
Solomon was floored by Adonis’ refusal to shake his hand, to acknowledge him as any sort of peer, and he let his arm sink slowly back to his side. Gavin was stung by the champion’s words, and he tried to ease Solomon away from the DeCarlo family; Adonis, his parents, younger brother, older set of twin sisters, and an assortment of extended family. “Let’s go get something to eat, Solomon.”
Solomon, however, was having none of it. He dropped his bag to the floor and in a fluid motion put a hand on the barrier and vaulted over it, landing and taking a step so that he was directly in Adonis’s line of vision, inches from the taller boy’s face.
“I’ll never run from you. I’ll be back next year and the year after that and I will beat you,” Solomon snarled.
“If you’re lucky enough to get back on the mat with me, I won’t take it easy on you next time, punk.” Adonis replied, and he punctuated his remark with a two-handed shove to Solomon’s chest.
The flurry of activity drew the notice of security, teammates of both Adonis and Solomon, and meet organizers.
“Throw that team out of here! They should be banned!” bellowed Adonis’s father over the buzz of the growing crowd.
The ruckus was quickly defused, but the gauntlet had been thrown down; any future rematch between Solomon Kano and Adonis DeCarlo would mean more to both fighter’s pride than whatever tournament titles might be on the line.
* * *
T he American judo community began to take notice of the Fijian kid from Cincinnati over the next few years. Adonis DeCarlo abandoned age group tournaments, much to Solomon’s chagrin, but it left the throne vacant and Solomon was eager to claim it as his own.
Gavin ran out of things to teach his star pupil, and he had to turn him over exclusively to Sensei Shinji, who, despite his advancing years, was as eager to teach as ever, and had a flexibility and iron grip that left Solomon awestruck.
Solomon’s time in America transformed him from a boy into a man, growing to six-foot-two with a thickly-muscled frame. His dark hair was long and wild, and on a visit home to Fiji he’d acquired his first tattoo, the word “kailoma” on the inside of his left forearm. Gavin wasn’t crazy about the ink, but he understood that Solomon wasn’t fully American, nor Fijian, and that it was his way of reconciling the two cultures, the two worlds, by writing it on his body.
As a concession to his nephew, Gavin got his own tattoo, the word “BULA” in block lettering on the left side of his chest. Beneath the word were five capital letters, each with a small halo floating above. P, T, L, J, and K. For the five souls lost in the terrible tragedy in the South Pacific.
As soon as Solomon saw what his uncle did, he knew he’d made the right decision, coming to America. Gavin was his family. More than anyone else he’d ever known.
* * *
S olomon spent his school years with Gavin in Cincinnati and his summers in Fiji with his mother’s family. He felt like his heart was always in two places, a fact that often made him feel guilty no matter where he was.
When he was a senior in high school he was accepted to Xavier University. They didn’t have a martial arts team, but they did have a very active martial arts club that his uncle had recently taken over as a sponsor and coach.
Despite now having the best of both worlds, Solomon ached for something more.
He’d always assumed it was for his parents. Or for his need to excel in judo, to be the best.
Little did he know, it wasn’t any of those things that his heart was missing. But he couldn’t have known that at the
Similar Books
