DIRTY READS

by Scott Hildreth

  But there was no way it was the end of the round.

  I waited for her to come to me.

  Again, Ripp’s hand slammed against the mat twice.

  What the fuck?

  I stepped close to her and swung a left hook into her stomach and followed with a hard right. The right caught her square in the face.

  Fuck yes.

  And it was at that instant that I heard it.

  “BRAAAA-LER!”

  A tingling ran along my spine.

  I took another step.

  More people joined in. The crowd was shunting my name. My name. “BRAAA-LER!”

  I came close to being overwhelmed with emotion. I acted unaffected and thought of what Ripp had said.

  Against the ropes. Hard right, then hook to the head.

  He wasn’t pounding the mat because the round was ending. He was pounding the mat because I wasn’t listening to him. I was trying to lure her into brawl.

  I took another step toward her, absorbed the punches she threw at me, and as soon as there was a lull, hammered her with a hard right hand. The punch plowed right into her mouth. Before my glove came into contact with her skin, my left was already on its way.

  Boom!

  The left hook knocked her to the side, and she began to stumble hard. The ropes were the only thing keeping her on her feet.

  I wished I had her in the center of the ring where I wanted her so I could knock her down.

  I pounded her with another right. She fell into the ropes and swung a right hand into the air.

  She was hurt and it was obvious. The last three right hands caused her some damage, and she was showing it.

  “When you’re working your opponent on the ropes, never let up. On the ropes, always become a boxer. It’ll pay off in the end.”

  I straightened my stance slightly.

  Alright, Mike fucking Ripton. I’ll box for a few seconds and see what happens.

  I hit her with a quick four shot combination to the head, followed by a hard right hand. Her eyes went glassy, but she didn’t fall.

  “BRAW-LER…”

  I swung a left hook into her jaw. She stumbled to her right.

  “BRAW-LER…BRAW-LER…BRAW-LER!”

  I pounded her again. This time with a straight right. Then a left. She stumbled along the ropes. I chased after her, hammering her with lefts and rights.

  The ropes were her only salvation.

  And then it made sense.

  If we were in the center of the ring, she could have escaped after any series of punches that I’d thrown. Ripp wanted her against the ropes so she couldn’t escape. He wanted me to give her the beating that she needed to be given without a chance of her getting away from me.

  I pushed her into the ropes and blasted her with another right. Her head flopped back and forth from the impact of the punch.

  She looked like a crash test dummy.

  I followed with a left hook.

  And another right.

  And a left.

  “BRAW-LER…BRAW-LER…BRAW-LER!”

  My youth. My father. Ethan’s current state of being. There were many things I could have claimed as my inspiration to pound her into the ropes, but they would have been lies. Fairy tale bullshit. Something for a book about my life. Or whatever…

  But they wouldn’t have been the truth.

  I was in that ring for one person.

  Me.

  I wasn’t there to prove a point, or stand up for women’s rights. I wasn’t there for money or for fame.

  I didn’t want a shoe deal with Nike, or an Under Armour contract.

  I wanted to win because despite all of the information to support the fact that I was a loser, I wasn’t a loser.

  I was a winner.

  Hard right, then a left hook.

  I hammered her with another right hand. She staggered. I inhaled a sharp breath, cocked my left, and swung it hard, raising my foot completely off of the mat.

  The punch plowed into her jaw and lifted her from her feet. Her body came to a crashing thud at my feet.

  I glared down at her. “Jaz Briscoe, bitch. Don’t fucking forget it. Get your ass up, let’s fight.”

  Ripp was right. Keeping her on the ropes was the right thing to do. When she got up, I had plans for her. I was going to lather, rinse, and fucking repeat.

  The ref stepped between us and directed me to a neutral corner.

  I gladly stepped to the corner, and waited for her to come to her feet so I could finish her arrogant ass off.

  He reached for her arm and tried to help her up.

  She fell again.

  He lifted her by the arm, got her to her feet, and began to ask her questions.

  She fell to the mat again.

  She was hurt and she was hurt bad.

  He looked into her eyes.

  And he waved his arms over her, signaling the end of the fight.

  The end of the fight?

  What?

  My lip began to quiver.

  What just happened?

  I looked around me. The ring was filling up with reporters, random people, and promoters.

  It was over. It was really over.

  I had won.

  I shoved my way through the crowd. Sitting on my stool with his head in his hands, Ripp looked like a 240-pound child. I knelt down beside him and pushed my glove against his chin, lifting it slightly so I could look into his eyes.

  I spit my mouthpiece out at the base of the stool. “What’s wrong, Boss?”

  He lifted his head. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.

  “Nothin’. For the first time in my life, everything’s right.” He laughed and wiped his tears. “Everything.”

  A tear rolled down my cheek.

  He stood up. “Congratulations. You did it.”

  I shook my head and stood. “We. We did it.”

  “Ladies and Gentlemen!”

  The announcers voice rang out over the sound system. We turned toward the center of the ring. Cameras flashed. People crowded us. Microphones were everywhere. I felt like I was going to vomit.

  “Ending at 1:41 of the second round, by knockout…presenting the new WBC Champion of the World…”

  “Jaz Brawler Briscoe!”

  Ripp gripped my wrist, raised my gloved hand high into the air, and let out a yell that was heard by millions of viewers on national television.

  “Fuck Yes!” he bellowed. “We did it!”

  Above the sound of everything, I heard someone scream my name.

  And then, commotion. Someone was shoving their way through the crowd, shouting my name.

  “It’s Dekkar,” I heard a reporter say. “Shane Dekkar.”

  “Jaz!”

  I turned toward the voice.

  “Jaz!”

  “Get out of the fuckin’ way,” Ripp snarled, pushing someone to the side. “Give the girl some room.”

  Dekk stepped between us. Fighting to catch his breath, he held his phone out. His level of excitement was undeniable. “You need to get this.”

  “Kelsey?”

  He shook his head. “It’s the hospital. But it’s not Kelsey.”

  He handed me the phone. “You need to brace yourself, Jaz.”

  I swallowed hard and raised the phone to my ear. But there was nothing I could have done to brace myself.

  Nothing.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Jaz

  Day one hundred five.

  The elevator doors opened. I ran down the corridor as fast as I could, my legs burning the entire way. Ripp and Dekk were somewhere behind me, I had no idea where. Hell, I didn’t care.

  I slid around the corner, ran past the nurse’s station, and rushed down the hallway until I was in front of the room.

  724.

  I took a deep breath and faced the open room.

  Kelsey turned to face me.

  Tears rolled down his cheeks.

  He opened his mouth.

  Nothing.


  My lip began to quiver. I took a few slow steps. My legs began to shake. I reached for Kelsey, pulled him into me and stepped beside the bed.

  “How’s it…how’s it…uhhm…how’s it going?”

  Incapable of speaking, he simply nodded.

  A pen and paper sat beside the bed. I picked up the pen and scribbled a quick note.

  Ethan,

  I love you so much.

  Signed,

  The WBC Champion of the World

  I kind of cried and kind of laughed as I placed the note at Ethan’s side. It was a weird combination that included an uncontrollable blubbering of emotion, many tears, and a little laughter.

  He lifted the pad, stared at it, then picked up the pen. After a moment, he dropped it at his side.

  I picked it up.

  Jaz,

  I love you, too. When I get this tube out of my mouth, I want a kiss.

  I never doubted you.

  Ethan

  FORTY

  Jaz

  Day one hundred twenty-one.

  I’d never seen a dining table that could seat so many people. I looked around me. The group of people were proof that family may or may not be bound by blood. Some are developed through love, friendship, and a special bond that forms when people close their mouths and open their hearts.

  “You didn’t win shit. I’m tired of it, Mike. Just sick and damned tired. Leave those stories at the door. The girl won the fight. You were just watching,” Ripp’s dad said.

  Ripp dropped his chicken bone onto his plate and glared. “We won it.”

  His dad wagged his fork toward Ripp. “I didn’t see you swing a punch. Not one. Jaz won it.”

  “Is that your name, honey? Jaz?”

  I turned toward Ripp’s mom, prepared to respond.

  “Leave her alone,” Ripp snapped. “It’s close enough.”

  Ripp’s mom shook her head. “No nicknames at the table.”

  I shifted my eyes to Ripp. He shrugged. I looked at Dekk. He shrugged. Dekk’s wife, Kace, wiped her hands on her napkin and turned toward Ripp’s mom.

  “It’s Beth.”

  “Yes, Ma’am. It’s Beth,” I said. “But I don’t go by that. I go by Jaz.”

  She shook her head lightly. “Not at the dinner table, you don’t.”

  I laughed to myself. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  “See, Mike? You can eat and have manners at the same damned time. Jaz called your mother ‘Ma’am’. That’s a proper upbringing. I don’t know what happened to you. We tried, and tried, but somewhere…”

  “Shut it,” Ripp said as he reached for the chicken.

  “The chicken is great, Mrs. Ripton.”

  “Thank you Ethan. Eat all you want,” she said.

  I rubbed my hand along Ethan’s thigh. He turned toward me and smiled. His hair was short, but covered all of the scars on his head very well. In another two months it would be as long as it was before they had to shave it, and personally, I couldn’t wait.

  “So, Beth. What’s next?” Mike’s brother-in-law asked.

  “She’s going for the other title,” Kelsey interrupted.

  “Is that right?”

  “Yes, Sir. Maybe two more months,” I said.

  “We’ll all have to make it to that one,” he said. “Keep us posted.”

  “I’ll let ya know, A-Train,” Ripp said.

  “No nicknames at the table Michael.”

  “Alec! Alec! Alec! Alec!” Ripp grunted. “How’s that?”

  “Mike…” Ripp’s wife said. “Play nice.”

  “They’re ganging up on me.”

  “So, Ethan. We going back to the firing range tomorrow?” Kelsey asked.

  Since the incident, Ethan had been enjoying time at the firing range. It seemed to calm his nerves, and it was something easy for him to do and do well.

  Some of his progress in recovery was slow, while other things were very rapid. Shooting guns seemed to build his confidence, which was great for keeping his spirits up.

  “I’ll go the next time, if you don’t mind,” Alec said.

  Ethan pointed the tip of his fork at Alec. “I’d like that. A few pointers from a Marine might get me to beat the old man.”

  “That jarhead isn’t as good as you think. He’s lucky,” Kelsey said.

  “No nicknames at the table,” Mikes mom said.

  I looked at Kelsey. He sighed heavily. “Jarhead ain’t a nickname. It’s a derogatory term. I use it with affection. Right, Jarhead?”

  Alec rolled his eyes. “Right.”

  “Beth, when you’re done, there’s pie.”

  “Thank you, Ma’am.”

  “She ain’t eatin’ no fuckin’ pie, Ma. She’s in trainin’,” Ripp snarled.

  “Michael Allen Ripton,” his mother snapped back. “That’s a bad word. No bad words at the table.”

  “I’ll have a small piece,” I said.

  “The hell you will,” Ripp responded.

  His dad poked him with his fork. “Don’t argue with her, she’ll whip your ass.”

  “No bad words at the table.”

  “Ass isn’t a bad word.”

  “It most certainly is.”

  “It’s a body part.”

  “So’s cock,” Ripp said. “And we can’t use it.”

  “Michael!”

  I grinned.

  It was like a circus.

  But it was family. And it was the only family I had. After dinner, we sat and talked until long after dark. After all the stories were told, the pie was eaten, and the coffee was gone, I thanked them for my first Sunday dinner.

  “Thank you so much for having me,” I said.

  “I’d say come anytime,” Mr. Ripton said. “But that’s not how we do it. So I’ll say this. See you next Sunday.”

  “Okay,” I said with a smile. “See you next Sunday.”

  We bid our farewells and said goodbye to the group.

  “You ready, Ethan?”

  He nodded. “About to pass out from overeating.”

  I reached for Ethan’s wheelchair. “Thanks again.”

  As I pushed Ethan toward the door, I thanked God for friends, family, and, as always, for Ethan.

  He was the love of my life, and always would be, no matter what. The incident may have broken some couples apart, but it seemed to draw us even closer.

  In another month, they were going to be able to operate on his spine and relieve some pressure. We all reserved a little hope that he might be able to feel his legs afterward.

  The post-op possibilities, according to the doctor, were only limited by finances. It seemed money could buy the best doctors, the best surgeries, and the best rehabilitation.

  Kelsey negotiated 24 million for my next fight. All I had to do was keep winning, and money would be no object.

  I loaded the wheelchair into the van, secured it, and gave Ethan a kiss.

  Before I closed the van’s door, I took a moment to admire him. He was the most handsome man on earth, and he was mine. I couldn’t have been any prouder of him. If he spent the rest of his life in the wheelchair, not only would I accept it, I’d embrace it.

  But, if money could fix him, I’d spend a mountain of it to do so.

  All I had to do was keep winning.

  And, if there was one thing I knew how to do, it was win.

  EPILOGUE

  Ethan

  I parked the truck and glanced to my side. Jaz sat in the passenger seat, blindfolded and mad as hell.

  “Can I take it off now?”

  “No,” I snapped back playfully.

  “This is bullshit!” she shouted.

  “Just shut it, you mouthy little shit,” I said. “It’ll be over before you know it.”

  “I hate surprises.”

  I got out of the truck, walked to her side of the vehicle, and opened the door. “Just hold on to me.” I guided her hand to my shoulder. “There.”

  I gazed out at the ocean, glad we’d finally reached a point th
at I was able to take time and drive down to the coast without interfering with her schedule. The last six months had been filled with surgeries, more surgeries, and countless weeks of therapy.

  My neck was still going to require some skin grafts for cosmetic reasons, but other than that, I had recovered one hundred percent. I had no intention of returning to boxing immediately, but it was anyone’s guess what might happen in the future.

  “Why did I have to wear these ridiculous boots?” she asked.

  “Because. It’s a surprise.”

  I walked half the distance between where we parked and the edge of the water, stopping about twenty feet from where the ocean met the sand. I reached over, removed her blindfold, and stood back.

  The most beautiful woman on earth stood at my side and gazed out at the endless horizon of water.

  “You finally made it,” I said. “You can take off your boots now. I didn’t want you to feel the sand until, well, until I wanted you to.”

  She stood and stared.

  Without speaking, she reached down, removed her boots, and smashed her bare feet into the sand.

  She glanced at me and swallowed hard. “It’s…”

  Her eyes welled with tears. She’d waited a lifetime to make it to the beach, and had sacrificed many potential trips just to make sure I got the surgeries I needed when I needed them the most.

  “I know,” I said. “It’s pretty breathtaking, isn’t it?”

  “Can I get in it?” she asked.

  “You can do whatever you want,” I responded. “But before you do, I need to ask you something.”

  She turned to face me. “What?”

  “In the last year, a lot has changed. I feel like we’ve gained a family at the Ripton’s, and I’ve been working toward fixing things with my father. You’ve won two championships, and we bought a house. You’ve got a new Range Rover, and you bought me a new truck. Hell, we don’t ever have to do anything to survive. We’re set for the rest of our lives.”

  She smiled a prideful smile.

  “But something’s missing,” I said. “Something big.”

  “Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it,” she said flatly.

  “Good. It ought to make this easy, then.”

  “Just tell me what to do.”

  I reached into my pocket and removed the ring. “I think it’d be better if I just asked.”

  She looked at the ring. Before I could muster the courage to continue, a tear rolled down her cheek.