Riley Goode is an entertainment reporter for Associated Press. Her first big story is to cover the fight of the year in Vegas involving undefeated heavy weight champion, Yasir Belair.
Riley's best friend, Lena convinces her to live just for the nig...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I pulled my bag back on my shoulder and continued to fight my way into the room. Every reporter within a hundred mile radius was trying to get into this press conference. My hair was probably sweated out and my make up may have looked oily but it didn't matter. I made it into the room and that was an accomplishment in itself. I took the first open seat I saw and pulled out my tape recorder.
Yasir walked out, looking like a piece of art. He stood there without a care in the world as cameras around the room flashed non stop. When his challenger, Gabriel Hernandez walked out, I watched Yasir's expression. It didn't change much. He was still pretty unbothered.
Yasir Anthony Beckham Jr. was the undefeated heavyweight champion. He was twenty six holding tightly onto that title. Fighter after fighter challenged him and lost, badly. He was cocky but he definitely had a reason to be. Everything that came out of his mouth could be backed up.
As he stood at the podium, question after question was being asked. "One more question." Yasir announced as his eyes scanned the crowd. Taking a deep breath, I finally raised my hand. "You, wearing the pink blouse." Our eyes connected but there was no way he was talking to me. My brows furrowed a little as I saw multiple heads turn in my direction. I looked back at Yasir, seeing him smile at me.
I cleared my throat. "Riley, the Associated Press. Which is more important to you, to be respected or to be feared?"
I was expecting a smart remark because Yasir was known to be a showboat and an asshole but he was really pondering my question. "In a perfect world, I would want to be respected. Respect goes a long way. In a lot of ways, I prefer to be respected than to be loved but since we don't live in a perfect world, fear is more important. Fear sets me away from everyone else. I'm not just a shit talker. Everyone knows I am able to deliver. But no one has had the skill set to beat me. They talk all this trash," he finally broke our eye contact and faced Hernanadez "but they know they're shakin' in their panties." He smirked before looking back at me. "So I'd rather be feared, sweetheart." I nodded my head. "Aight. That's it. I'll see y'all tomorrow at the fight."
"Yasir wait. Yasir. Yasir!" The reporters yelled as he made his way off of the stage. He didn't wait until Hernandez stepped up to the podium. His disrespectful nature was unmatched.
I sat there out of respect as Hernandez answered his questions. He was trying his best to be just as cocky and unbothered but I could see through the facade. Yasir was 22-0. That record alone would have me scared but also anxious.
Hernandez was barely off of the stage before I grabbed my bag, turned my tape recorder off and made my way out of the room. I had to travel down the strip to get back to my hotel room.
Standing in the lobby of the hotel, I pulled out my phone to call an Uber.
There was a big commotion going on but I stayed in my own little bubble, minding my business. That wasn't a good characteristic, especially since I was in the media. My best friend, Lena always told me I wasn't nosy enough to be in this business and I was beginning to think she was right.
