by Bailey Hull
“What are you planning on having him killed or something?” I ask with a laugh.
“Hey I’m serious. This is no laughing matter Jordan.”
“Megan you can’t be serious. And how could you even think I would be party to that. Even if he was my worst enemy I wouldn’t help you kill him.”
I get up to leave and she puts a hand on my arm.
“Kill him? What are you talking about Jordan?”
“I thought that’s what you were talking about.”
“I just want to know what kind of training he’s receiving. Is he training in Muay Thai or Brazilian Jiu Jitsu? Is he taking hard style karate like Shotokan or something with more finesse like Chinese Kung Fu or Korean martial arts like Tae Kwon Do? Is his primary focus on a striking art like Kempo or more control and submission like Jiu Jitsu or Aikido? Does he plan on taking Brandon head on like a bear style of Shotokan or redirecting and using his opponent’s energy against him like Chinese style like Bok Fu?
“Oh… uh wow...okay...”
“And find out who his primary trainer is.” Megan says. Any information you can find out about him is helpful.” She finishes.
“Chase put you up to this didn’t he?” I ask.
“What makes you think that?” She asks defiantly.
“Oh come on Megs, there’s no way you would have known what to ask me unless he put you up to this and told you exactly what to ask. You were way too specific for someone with your limited knowledge of martial arts.”
“Okay you got me. I just asked him if there was anything I could do to help. So I basically just asked you what he asked me.”
Wow…and his true colors come out. I thought he was this upstanding guy, the white knight of Lincoln high but instead he’s this pathetic loser who thinks he can’t win without cheating. This brings me to another conclusion. How’d he win the first time? What fail safe did he have in place last time to make sure he won that he doesn’t have this time around? Was it steroids? That can’t be it. He can just take them now. Was the fight fixed? Did he have his gloves altered? I heard about boxers putting something in their gloves or treating the leather so it’s harder and tears the skin causing your opponent to bleed more than usual.
“Okay.” I reply. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Shouldn’t be too hard right?” Megan asks. “You could probably find out just by asking your dad and Brandon. They’ll never suspect a thing from you.”
“No, you’re probably right. I’ll see what I can find out.”
“Do it fast Jordy. It’s only three weeks before the fight and it’ll take time to process whatever you find and to come up with something to counter it with.”
“Got it.” I reply. “I’ll talk to dad and Brandon the next few days and I’ll have something to report to you by Monday.”
“Sounds good.” Megan replies. “Just don’t get caught.” She also warns.
It was almost like an afterthought. Don’t get caught.
“Hey speaking of don’t get caught, can you believe the assembly today?” I ask. I want to see if there’s any of the old Megan left inside this new heartless stranger.
“I know…isn’t that great. Now those poor kids from the West side will have something to be proud of. They’re kinda cool too, those bracelets. Makes me wish I’d have chosen those instead of a badge. Oh well, I’m not copying them now.”
“Yeah…that reminds me of something that happened a long time ago.” I say. I’m not sure how far I should push this.
“What happened?” Megan asks.
“You know, it’s on the tip of my tongue. A long time ago a group of people were asked to wear something to identify themselves…damn but I can’t remember it.”
“Hmm…I don’t know Jordy, but maybe Mr. Meyers knows what you’re talking about. He probably got the idea from there. Definitely a great idea right?” She says.
“Do you think it’ll make kids proud or singled out?” I ask. I decided to push it a little further to test the waters.
“Singled out, are you kidding? This should unite them if anything. What I did with the badges that singled us out. We’re just fortunate that we’re smart enough and forward thinking enough that the badges united us not divided us; right?”
“Yeah…that’s right.”
We make small talk for the remainder of lunch period. I decide to talk to Brandon on the ride home from school. Fortunately the rest of the day goes without incident; for me that is. But the rest of the student body is on edge. Everywhere I see a kid wearing a green band they look uncomfortable as hell wearing one. Most look like they’re trying to cover the band up with a long sleeve shirt or sweater even if it’s a bit warm for that today. Seems like every time I round a corner I run into a scuffle in the halls and it’s always between someone with a band and someone with a badge. This is not good. I can’t wait for the day to end and when it does I pick up Brandon to give him a ride home. I pick him up at Pete’s Coffee today so as not to draw attention to myself.
“So my dad find you a new trainer?” I ask him after we get going.
“Yeah…he’s pretty damn good too!”
“Great, is he famous?”
“Used to be. He’s a retired MMA fighter. Used to go by the name of Blindside. Apparently he was so fast no one could see him coming. He’s really working on building up my speed. He’s got some great ideas on how to build up my striking speed and my reaction timing as well. I really like him.”
“How is he making you faster?”
“Basic calisthenics really. He has me start with one hundred pushups. Every day at the beginning of my workout I do 100 and again at the end. I do it for three days then I do one hundred single clap pushups.”
“What’s that?”
“You clap between each one. Then you do double, then triple clap pushups. In order to clap three times, or even twice you have to push hard and with all your might to be able launch your body up so you can clap three times and get your hands underneath your chest so you don’t fall flat on your face. Eventually you get to where you can clap three times behind your back between each push up.”
“No way, that’s impossible!”
“It’s true. I saw my trainer do it in a video once. He can only do double clap pushups in front of him now but when he was fighting he could do triple clap behind his back and not once fall flat on his face. I can already see a difference in my striking speed and power. By the time I fight Chase I’ll be doing triple claps behind my back. I’ll be the new blindside.”
“That’s... amazing Brandon. What else my dad get lined up for you?”
“He’s got me on this diet. Well my nutritionist does and it sucks.”
“Sorry about that.”
“I like my other guys though.” Brandon says.
“What other guys?”
“Some dude is teaching me Brazilian Jiu Jitsu for ground fighting and grappling and a Chinese Kung Fu style for new striking techniques. I’ll be way more prepared than I was for our last fight.”
“Why you wanna know this Jordy?” He asks. “You were never into it before.”
“Sorry, just worried about you that’s all. There’s a lot riding on this fight. If you win there’s gonna be a riot in school. If you lose, who’s going to stand up for the Westside kids? They’re likely to get trampled beneath the celebrating Eastsiders. It’s going to be like Europe here in the late nineteen forties with Germany on the move sweeping through the country.”
“It’s not going to be that bad. Come on, it’s kids we’re talking about not adults.”
“Some adults are pulling the strings Brandon! This is bigger than this school even though it’s taking place in a school. You think it’ll be bad if you lose? Wait to see what happens if you…when you win.”
Chapter Twelve
Sweet Interlude
Looks like StrikeForce is pulling out all the stops for the UCC’s second fight between Brandon the Beast Taylor and Chase White Knight Crawford. Strik
eForce is a local promoter and they’re the company that is going to turn this event into a huge sensation. The new venue is supposed to be able to hold fifteen thousand people and tickets are selling from $45 for general admission seats to ringside seats close enough to get spattered with blood for $150 a seat. I have no idea what UCC fights normally cost to watch but I have a hard time believing that people normally pay over a hundred bucks for a seat. I also hear that the fight is going to be broadcast on pay per view as well for a tidy sum I’m sure.
Brandon’s trainers and nutritionist are having a startling effect on Brandon’s body. I mean, he had a pretty amazing physique to begin with but now… I feel like I won the lottery or something. I’m pretty fit myself but I can’t say I rate Mr. America level. Heck he’s more like Mr. Universe now, and to top it all off, he’s a deadly killing machine. I rarely see him now. Three weeks before the fight he pulled out of school, hired a tutor and eats and breathes training. Someone from his new gym picks him up at 6:45 every morning and drops him off at 8:30 every evening. Determined to finally talk to him I wait at his door for him to come tromping up the stairs. I’m going to catch him before he hits the showers or I’ll never get a chance to talk to him. I sit down with my back to his door, close my eyes and relax.
“Jordy…Jordy wake up.”
I look up and Brandon’s standing over me looking at me with his twinkling blue-green eyes.
“How long you been waiting for me?” He asks.
“I don’t know, a half hour I guess. What time is it?”
“Almost midnight.”
“What? What happened to your 6:45 to 8:30 schedule?”
“We had a team meeting after training tonight and it went way over.”
“Can we talk?” I ask. “Please… we have barely spoken a word to each other in weeks.”
“I think I can spare a few minutes for the girl who just camped out at my door for four hours.”
We go into his room and lie on his bed. I lay my head on his powerful chest and he strokes my hair gently. I can hear and feel his heart beating against my cheek and it’s wonderfully soothing. When I’m lying here like this with him everything makes sense in my world. There’s no Eastside Westside, badges against bands bullshit anymore. It’s just me and Brandon against the world. It wouldn’t even matter what was going on either. We could be in the middle of world war three and all I need is to hear his heart beating against my cheek to know that everything is going to be okay. And with that realization comes another one. I am in love! I love Brandon Taylor. I don’t know if the feelings are returned but somehow deep down inside I think they are. Back in foster care it was me and him against the world and it the world fell apart when we were adopted to separate families so long ago. I lost him then and I can’t afford to lose him now. I don’t know how long we lay here before he breaks the silence. I think I could have stayed here forever.
“What’s on your mind babe?” He whispers in the darkness.
“I’m worried about you.”
“I’m gonna win the fight Jordy. It’s not even going to be a contest. I don’t even need this last couple weeks but my trainers are not letting me off the hook. They’re building me up to a peek and I’m supposed to peak at the day of the fight. If I stop before the time is up I’ll be on a downward spiral the night of the fight. These guys don’t leave anything to chance. They got it down to a science Jordy. They plug me into these monitors and study everything from my heart to my breathing, the wattage my muscles are putting out, the speed and power of my strikes, everything. I can’t even make sense of it most of the time. I serious, there’s no frigging way Chase is getting training like this. I mean, you still see him at school every day right?”
“Yeah pretty much. Megan sees him just about every night too so I don’t know when the guy’s hitting the gym.”
“So what’s your strategy for defeating him; besides training 100 hours a week?”
“I’m going to overwhelm him with my attack from the get go. You heard the saying about it’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s-”
“It’s the size of the fight in the dog.” I finish for him. Yeah I heard that one from you a few times I believe.”
Before long his masculine scent begins to overwhelm my senses. Slowly I breathe him in. He’s a heady mixture of sweat, leather from his gloves, oils his trainers massage into his aching muscles and now a faint whiff of me. And in a minute he’s going to have a lot more than just a whiff of me on his skin. Presently his heart begins to pick up its rate and beat just a little harder. Then his hand slips in beneath my top and begins to caress my skin. His heart rate picks up. I let a soft moan escape my lips just to let him know I like where this is going. That’s all the encouragement he needs. He pulls my shirt up and I lift myself up on my elbows enough so he can pull it up and over my head. Glad I chose not to wear a bra tonight.
When my cheek touches his chest again his heart is thumping right along so I decide to spare him the heart pounding trouble and assist his efforts. I sit up and straddle his waist with my thighs. His hands find my breasts effortlessly in the dark and he begins to caress me in all the right places; but I need more. Carefully stand up and with one hand using his headboard for balance I use the other to slip out of my flimsy skirt; panties follow. I look down at him from my position straddling his bare-chested body. His eyes are gleaming in the darkness. He looks at me for a second then slips out of his jeans and tosses them to the floor along with his underwear. He reaches up for me so I slowly sink down until I feel the bulging head of his cock pressing against my velvety lips. At first he feels way too big for my body to accommodate, but he just keeps pressing and rubbing up against me until one last thrust and he’s inside.
I can’t help but gasp as he fills me up. I sit upright on his waist rocking with him in the darkness. After a few minutes I lie on his chest so I can kiss him as we continue to make sweet blissful love. My whole body tingles like it’s on fire. Every nerve ending is getting stimulated tonight and it’s almost too much of a good thing. When I finally reach my own orgasm I have to pull away from him to give my body a chance to wind down and relax and for a while I’m content with just hearing him breathe again. As we lie here spooning in the dark I can’t help but wish to never get up again. If I died right now I would have died satisfied. Who cares that I’m only eighteen. At least I will have died in love and in the arms of the one I love. I will have been saved my father’s fate of watching his wife die from cancer. That’s how love is. Love is loss. I lost Brandon once and the longer we stay together the greater the chance of experiencing that loss again. I’m not strong like my father. He was able to survive my mother’s death. I cannot survive Brandon’s. No…better to die tonight than to live and lose…
Chapter Thirteen
The Big Night
Arco Arena…
Tension hangs in the air like a deep gray fog heavy and laden with rain. It almost makes breathing difficult and I find myself pursing my lips so that I can inhale without taking in too much water. Behind me the arena is darkened so that everyone’s attention stays focused on the one place that is lit up; the boxing style ring. For the first time in either boy’s lives they will be fighting in an actual cage that is free standing in the middle of the cage. The heavy rubber coated wire mesh serves two purposes according to the website. One it prepares the two young men for the atmosphere they both will be fighting in as adults should they continue with a career in UCC as MMA fighters. And two, the cage also serves the purpose of forcing the fighters to be a little closer together than in a traditional boxing ring which is sixteen feet by twenty-five feet. The cage the guys are battling in is a sparse sixteen feet square; not much room to run away from the guy that’s kicking your ass.
My position in the Eastside Pride Club means I get to be in the standing room only, roped off area for Chase’s friends, family, and most devoted fans. On the opposite side of the cage is a similar roped off section for Brandon’s friends, fami
ly, and uber loyal fans? Both fighters have been given equal space but Brandon’s side is rather lacking in fans at the moment. Rumor has it that Melissa and, believe it or not, Mary, have ventured west of the St. Lawrence with a rented bus to bring Brandon some fans that might not otherwise be able to attend a live event. Each fighter was given a certain amount of tickets for free that they could distribute to family, friends and whoever else they chose to give the tickets too. According to Melissa every family member and friend chose to give up their tickets so that people who can’t afford the steep price tag are able to come tonight. So I expect that just before the fight is to begin Brandon’s side will start filling up. Mary’s uncle happens to be a DJ for the popular KROC radio station and he has been sneaking in ads supporting Brandon in the fight.
Tonight’s bout is set to begin at 9:00 sharp. According to my HTC One smart phone it’s 8:27pm and the crowd is beginning to get just a little noisy. In the background KROQ has been playing tunes ever since the doors opened at 7:15. At 8:41 a long line of young fans come streaming into the arena chanting Brandon’s name over and over again. One of the spotlights finds Melissa and Mary leading the rowdy bunch of fans to the roped off section for Brandon’s people. I think I even caught a glimpse of my father and Brandon’s mother somewhere in the crowd. At least they had the good sense to not try to force me to cheer Brandon on in his section.
At ten minutes before nine the crowd has whipped themselves into a frenzy as opposing sides attempt to drown out the other side. The only thing that prevents what looks like a sure riot is the dimming of the lights even further. Now there’s a single spotlight focused on the announcer who is standing in the middle of the wire mesh cage.
“Ladies and gentlemen!” He begins in his booming baritone. “Welcome to UCC 102 and for the young men fighting tonight, it’s UCC 2. Chase Crawford will defend hi -”
The crowd completely drowns out the announcer for the next ten to fifteen seconds. He must have paused at some point because when he can finally be heard over the crowd he’s talking about Brandon and his unquenchable thirst for revenge. I completely missed it, but now I see Brandon in his corner getting last minute instructions from his manager. Chase is in a similar situation in his corner as he listens to his own trainer.