Taming McGregor

Mayweather vs McGregor : NYC Backlash

"Yes, I understand that the statement could be considered racist, but Conor was just complimenting the African-American men," I cringe at my statement, "the gesture made for his beautiful black female fans could possibly be obscene yes, but he was just showing his admiration for the females is all," and I sigh at the expected eruption of questions from one of these gossip websites through the phone. It was hell being the PR agent of one Conor McGregor. The man said whatever he wanted, did whatever he wanted and I was forced to clean up his image; plunger his shitstorm down the proverbial toilet. He made a lot of money, that he did. And he was having the time of his life, and who would I be if I didn't let my client enjoy everything to the fullest? But there's a line drawn when he makes your job hard, when you don't enjoy a damn thing about his services except for when he's either training or asleep, somewhere where his words aren't plastered in controversy.

"HEYYYYY WHAT THE FOOK IS GOIN' ON?!" The man of the hour burst unceremoniously into my office, effectively scaring the living shit out of me while his grin was akin to that of an imp. I hung up the call mid-rant and pressed a hand against my hammering heart. "My lovely lady! How's this fine mornin'?" He sat down, dressed in one of his designer shirts that he decided not to button today with some sleek pants and sneakers. I glare at him.

"It's been terrible, given that I've been emailing, calling, and deleting shit from these numerous websites and paparazzi for the crazy things you've been saying. But what's really new?" I deadpan and roll my eyes at another ping! giving away a new notification on my iPhone. He gives a faux pout before cackling like a Disney villain.

"It's what I pay you for, right? You've been doin' a bang up job, I haven't gotten any calls." He has this shit-eating grin spread across his lips and I want nothing more than to jam my heel into his damn nose. I puff my cheeks in an exasperated exhale. "But, that's not what I'm here for!" He exclaims, holding a finger in the air.

"Then what brings you here Conor?" I don't hide the bite in my tone. I think my sass just revs him up honestly, ever since he became Notorious and started providing more than enough challenges for my job I stopped being the complacent professional and released my inhibitions. He seemingly loves it since we've been at this for three years. I've had about five raises that could correspond with my rare tantrums I throw if he does something really dumb, probably an apology without him actually apologizing.

"I wanted to go out. Eat somethin' new." He shrugs, uncharacteristically shy with me. My face is in a deadpan with the occasional slow blinks. Seeing that I haven't gave an appropriate reaction Conor follows up, "With you! I came to get you! The rest of my boys are sleepin' the party from last night off and you're the only one that won't just follow me around."

"Riiiiight," I sigh, "well unfortunately for you, I don't go out much since every time I have a semblance of free time, I have to come listen and fix whatever outrageous thing you've done or said some minutes prior so yeah," I trail off. Conor glares at me and seeing that cocky facáde break made me sport my own smirk. "That's not a good idea anyways. It's too many eyes, too much press for you to be trying to take me out on a lunch date." I tease.

"It's not a lunch date! I jus' wanted some food and didn't wanna go alone, that's it." He took the bait and I laughed. The fighter notices my ploy and sighed in defeat before joining me and chuckling. "I see. Well, since there's no lunch, I'm gonna go see what else shit I can fook up for ya'." He hops up refreshed with a wide grin on his face.

"You better not!"

"Too late!" He sprints out. I groan and smack my desk in anger, guess I'll be here a while.
____

Not even an hour later my office phone rings. It's now 3:42 PM and I swear I'm not pulling another all nighter in this place. I gather my nerves and pick up the phone.

"This is Areslani King, speaking on behalf of Conor McGregor, how may I help-"

"What the hell is Conor doing?!" I hear the familiar voice of one Dana White. I smile because Dana is...a shady individual. Sometimes he deserves some of Conor's backlash so answering to my client's boss doesn't really scare me.

"Hey Dana, I actually have no idea what he's doing right now. He left about an hour ago blabbing about lunch-"

"The man vacated an entire all-you-can-eat!" Ok, so Dana's gotta stop cutting me off. The news still registers however and my hand is on my forehead instantly. I think facepalming is a natural response at this point.

"....how did he do that, exactly?"

"He bought all of the seats, which essentially means he paid for everyone's meal right? Well before they could really enjoy themselves on a professional athlete's dime, he kicked them all out, much to the anger of the people."

My personal phone vibrates.

Dickhead : Assuming you've heard the news, I found a place to eat with no eyes. Be here in 15 or I'm eating all of the sushi~

"Ooh, that little fucker!" I clutch the phone up to my ear.

"...excuse me?" Dana's still here?

"I meant- I'm gonna go get him and solve this. Like I usually do. Just what exactly do these Irish drink to be as crazy as this guy?" I pocket my iPhone and run a hand down my face, fixing my hair before rounding my desk. "Alright, thanks for the heads up Dana. One day that guy's gonna kill me."

"He'll kill me first." He laughs, "Please take care of him?"

"Always." I hang up, grabbing my keys and cursing Conor the entire trip to the restaurant all over the gossip sites.

Of course when I pull up I have to shove my way to the door of the Japanese establishment, praying no one recognizes me as the person they would end up talking to. I make it in past Conor's security and find the Irishman sitting at the very first table.

"Glad you could make it!" He spreads his arms before taking a look at his Rolex, "And with three minutes to spare! Here I was thinking of letting the sushi chef off early."

I don't think he understands deep down just how much he irritates me. When he isn't like this, Conor is a decent guy. When he's out of camera shot, he's much more mellow. And how he can easily blend into this cocky rich guy is uncanny. I know that it's just who he is, just more outspoken but..still.

I probably didn't even make sense just now either.

But that's how it is.

You can't put Conor McGregor into words.

"Well? You eatin'?" He's already dug into his soba noodles. Making a loud slurp as a noodle slips through his lips, he gives me a boyish grin. My stomach chooses that time to growl and I eventually give into Conor's demands.